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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home might not work out. He disliked 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 man or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he typically stated. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his odd action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide 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.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be great which he had great skin. 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 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 almost vanish, leaving him with an acute 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 returning in, his heart started to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't be sure. The scent 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 couldn't assist however imagine 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, calming pleasure that straight opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. On the other hand, Alan attempted to envision a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided a crude kind of finder in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle wave of warmth. 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 could gauge the length of her upper arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spinal column. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, 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 breast bone. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan noticed it at the very same time. Alan was fully erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. 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 situations like these. Possibly that's what she will 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. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. 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 have sex.
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