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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 might bring their stress 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 concern nearly as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a lady or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he typically said. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, 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 his odd reaction over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the reality 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 said. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. Her voice, alone, aroused 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 appeared to be good and that he had excellent 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 room, offering him privacy to crawl and disrobe under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered 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 thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The aroma was moderate and sweet. 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 help however 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, relaxing enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she observed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of 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 complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided a crude 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 discovered it at the same time. Alan was completely erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to say. Then, 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 scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest to the location below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had actually been sufficient preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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