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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home might not exercise. He hated their concern almost 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 male or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a lady, 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 happy ending?
No preference, is what he usually stated. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, 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 hide the reality 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, 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 personal hygiene appeared to be great and that he had great skin, she was pleased. 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 room, 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses almost vanish, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered 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 expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't be sure. The scent was sweet and mild. 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 envisioned her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't envision however help 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 directly opposed 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 might have ever stated. Ally was highly brought in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously 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 gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to picture a more total picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off supplied an unrefined 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 gauge the length of her arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung simply above his spinal column. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and began 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 used, 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. 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 raised the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was fully erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to state. 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 is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest down to the place listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had actually been ample preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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