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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 might bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He disliked their question almost 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 choose a lady or a guy? 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 stated he preferred a woman, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he normally stated. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual action over the phone previously, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide the reality 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 client of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal health seemed to be great which he had excellent skin. 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 room, offering 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 vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But 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 believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The aroma was sweet and moderate. 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 pictured her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't help but picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming pleasure that directly contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was strongly brought in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to imagine a more complete photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off offered an unrefined type of finder in his pitch-black world.
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. And so 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 easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was fully erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully 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. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. 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 place below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had actually been ample preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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