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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home might not work out. 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 choose a male or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he usually said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange reaction over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform 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. 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 client of the day. When she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be excellent and that he had good skin, she was glad. 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, 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 element of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. 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 faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The aroma 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 heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not envision but assist 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 enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. It was just him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was highly drawn in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to picture a more complete photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off supplied an unrefined type of finder in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might evaluate the length of her upper arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. He imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, 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 sternum. Scoot 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 saw it at the same time. Alan was fully erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired 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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