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Sensual Massage Parlours Bishopsbourne CT4

 

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 tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home might not work out. He hated their concern nearly as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a guy 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 preferred a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?

No choice, is what he normally said. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his odd action over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide 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. 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 personal health appeared to be great and that he had good skin, she was glad. 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, 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not help however envision Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she observed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Ally was strongly drawn in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands acted 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. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to imagine a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave 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 might evaluate the length of her arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung simply above his spine. He pictured 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, but 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. And so it went this way for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She raised the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was fully set up. It raised 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 Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in situations like these. Possibly that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest down to the location listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last thirty minutes had been ample preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.

 

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