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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 bring their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home might not exercise. He hated their concern 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 male or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, 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 action over the phone previously, being in the waiting room, 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 conceal the fact 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.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual health appeared to be great and that he had great skin. 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 room, providing him 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with an intense 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't assist but think of Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing pleasure that directly 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 just him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. 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. Removing a little the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to imagine a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off provided a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world.
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 thought of 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, 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 sternum. Therefore it went in this manner for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She raised the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was completely set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She discovered 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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