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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 may carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not work out. He hated 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 male or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?
No choice, is what he normally said. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange response over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal 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.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his personal health seemed to be excellent and that he had great skin, she was grateful. 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 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 intense 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 coming back in, his heart began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't envision however help 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, relaxing pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. 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. Removing 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. On the other hand, Alan tried to imagine a more total image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied an unrefined type of finder in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of warmth when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He visualized her hips, her smooth tummy and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might evaluate the length of her arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung just above his spinal column. He envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, but in a deep-necked top that hung off one shoulder, exposing the line of her clavicle. In his mind, he saw a bead of sweat meander down her neck prior to following the collar bone to her sternum. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was totally set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. 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 pile of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Maybe that's what she will 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 customer, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She found 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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