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Sensual Massage Parlours Bircher HR6

 

Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. He disliked their concern 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 prefer a male or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a lady, 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 anticipated a pleased ending?

No preference, is what he generally stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; petite 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 said.

Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be excellent and that he had good skin, she was happy. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed 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, providing 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 vanish, leaving him with a severe 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 footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. 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 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 couldn't help but imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she observed she could 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 strongly drawn in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Eliminating a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, calves, and inner-thighs, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Meanwhile, Alan tried to think of a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied a crude kind of finder 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 pictured 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. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 discovered it at the same time. Alan was completely set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. Then, 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 situations like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.

 

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