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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 may bring their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could not exercise. He disliked 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 choose a guy or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a woman, did it suggest 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 happy ending?

No preference, is what he generally stated. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual action over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the reality 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 hygiene appeared to be good and that he had good skin. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed 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, giving 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses almost vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. However 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 believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The scent 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 imagined her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not help however picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Removing a little 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 went into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to think of a more total image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off supplied 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 assess the length of her upper arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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. 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 very same time. Alan was completely erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, 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. 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 situations like these. Possibly 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 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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