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Sensual Massage Parlours Bettys Grave GL7

 

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 stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could not exercise. He disliked their concern almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a man or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?

No preference, is what he normally said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his unusual response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide the truth 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 customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal hygiene appeared to be great and that he had excellent 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, offering 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 intense awareness of his body and its sensations. 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 quicker. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help but think of 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 directly contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever stated. 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 acted as her eyes. Getting rid of a little the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to imagine a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off offered an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world.

When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could assess the length of her arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. He pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck. He imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, however 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 breast bone. 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 discovered it at the same time. Alan was totally set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. 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. However at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment 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 very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had been ample preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.

 

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