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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 carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home might not work out. He hated their question 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 male or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he usually stated. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his strange action over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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. 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. She was glad when she saw his personal hygiene appeared to be excellent which he had good skin. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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, 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 disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. 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 faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. 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 envisioned her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not imagine however assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she observed she might 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 said. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely 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 gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to think of a more total photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released provided an unrefined kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of heat when she took a step towards the front or back of the table. He visualized 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 envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Therefore 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 raised the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was completely 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 attempt to construct out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the location listed 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 thirty minutes had been more than enough preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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