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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 tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He disliked their question almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a woman 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 said he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he typically said. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange reaction over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual health appeared to be great and that he had excellent 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, offering him privacy to crawl and disrobe 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 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 began to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help but picture 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 satisfaction that directly contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she discovered 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. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to envision a more total photo of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided 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. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 observed it at the very same time. Alan was totally put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's response. 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 pile of towels on a customer's groin in circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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