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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 tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not exercise. He hated their concern 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 prefer a guy or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a woman, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean 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 told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual response over the phone previously, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find 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 client of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal health seemed to be good which 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 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 space, offering him privacy to disrobe and crawl under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped 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. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't be sure. The fragrance was mild 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 pictured 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 enjoyment that directly contradicted the stimulation that had actually 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 attractive than anything Alan could have ever stated. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Meanwhile, Alan attempted to picture a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally emitted supplied a crude kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild 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. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. And so it went by doing this 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 lifted the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was totally erect. 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 attempt to construct out Ally's reaction. 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 customer's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. However at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the place listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had been more than enough preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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