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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house could not work out. He disliked their question almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a woman or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a lady, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?

No preference, is what he generally said. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his weird action over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the fact that she kept herself in shape. Her eyes were almond-shaped, her hair black, and her skin the colour of caramel. I'm Ally. I'll be your therapist today, she stated.

Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his personal health appeared to be great and that he had great skin, she was thankful. And when she shook his strong hand and looked into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair stood on the back of her neck. Ally led Alan to Room 5. She asked him to undress and lay face-down on the table. She left the space, offering him privacy to disrobe and crawl under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

Alan couldn't be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan could not assist but picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Getting rid of a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his calves, hamstrings, and inner-thighs, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands notified. On the other hand, Alan tried to picture a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally emitted provided a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of heat when she took a step towards the front or back of the table. He imagined her hips, her smooth belly and her toned waist above.

When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan discovered it at the very same time. Alan was fully set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.

 

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