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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 stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He disliked their question 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 lady or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?

No choice, is what he normally said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told 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 unusual response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent 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 stated. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. Her voice, alone, excited 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 health seemed to be good and that he had great skin, she was delighted. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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 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 much faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

Alan could not be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not imagine but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had 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 appealing than anything Alan might have ever said. Ally was strongly attracted to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Removing a little 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. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his hamstrings, calves, and inner-thighs, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan attempted to think of a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided an unrefined type of sonar 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 arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung simply above his spinal column. He imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He pictured her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, 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. Scoot 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 discovered it at the exact same time. Alan was fully put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had 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 excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their method from her chest to the location below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last thirty minutes had actually been ample preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.

 

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