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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 may bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought 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 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 guy or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he normally stated. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his weird reaction over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the fact 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. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. 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 appeared 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 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 room, 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, 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. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was moderate and sweet. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan could feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he imagined her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't think of but help 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, soothing pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she observed she could smell him. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly attracted to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, 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. Meanwhile, Alan attempted to think of a more complete image 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 envisioned her hips, her smooth belly 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 imagined 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 noticed it at the exact same time. Alan was completely set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard 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 frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement 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 all set to have sex.
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