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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not work out. He hated their concern almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a guy or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?

No preference, is what he normally said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his odd response over the phone until now, sitting 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 consistent scrubs didn't conceal 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 stated. 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 customer of the day. When she saw his individual health seemed to be good and that he had excellent skin, she was delighted. 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 room, offering him privacy to crawl and disrobe 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 nearly disappear, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan could not imagine but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Removing 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 total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced offered a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of warmth when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He envisioned 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 evaluate the length of her arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung simply 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 pictured 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 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 observed it at the same time. Alan was completely put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping 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 know what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in scenarios 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 reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She found 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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