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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might bring their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house could not work out. He disliked their question nearly 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 prefer a man or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he generally said. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his odd reaction over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the truth 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 health 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 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 personal 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 disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't be sure. 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 pictured her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not think of however help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that directly contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she observed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Removing 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. Later, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan attempted to imagine a more total picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released supplied an unrefined kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle wave of heat. He pictured her hips, her smooth stomach and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might determine 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 pictured 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 before 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 noticed it at the exact same time. Alan was totally erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct out Ally's response. 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 client's groin in circumstances like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, 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 prepared to have sex.
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