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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may bring their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He hated their question nearly 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 prefer a woman or a guy? 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 said he preferred a woman, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual response over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication 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, 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 hygiene seemed to be great and that he had excellent skin, she was pleased. 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 room, providing him privacy to disrobe and crawl 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 vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make sure. The scent was mild 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 pictured her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't envision but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she saw she could smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was strongly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. 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 little the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. On the other hand, Alan tried to imagine a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally emitted offered an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of warmth. He imagined 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. He could assess the length of her arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung simply above his spine. He envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started 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 before following the collar bone to her breast bone. Scoot 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 saw it at the very same time. Alan was fully put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to state. 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 situations like these. Possibly that's what she will do, he hoped. Before 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 customer, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was prepared to have sex.
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