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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not exercise. He hated their question nearly as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a male or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a lady, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he normally stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his weird response over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the truth that she kept herself fit. 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 said. If she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel, it sounded as. Her voice, alone, excited him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be excellent and that he had good skin. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed 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, providing him personal privacy to crawl and disrobe 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was sweet and mild. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan might feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he imagined her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not assist however think of Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she saw she could smell him. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever said. Ally was highly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a 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. Alan attempted to think of a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied an unrefined kind 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 pictured her hips, her smooth stomach 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 began to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Therefore it went in this manner for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was fully erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. However at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest down to the location below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last thirty minutes had been sufficient preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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