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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He disliked their concern nearly as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a male or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a female, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?
No choice, is what he typically stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual action over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide 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. 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 client of the day. When she saw his individual health seemed to be great and that he had great skin, she was thankful. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair based 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, giving 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 vanish, leaving him with an acute 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help however picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing satisfaction that straight opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she observed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was strongly drawn in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Removing a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to picture a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of heat when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He pictured 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 imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. And so it went this way 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 raised the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios 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 cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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