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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 carry their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house could not exercise. He hated their question 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 prefer a woman or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a lady, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?

No choice, is what he normally said. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual response over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the fact 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. 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 individual hygiene seemed to be excellent and that he had excellent skin, she was grateful. 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, 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 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 feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The scent was sweet and moderate. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan might feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he imagined her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't assist but picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that straight opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she saw she could smell him. It was just 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 worked 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 powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan tried to envision a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off supplied a crude type of sonar 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 pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the very same time. Alan was totally put up. 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 try to construct Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Possibly that's what she is about to 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. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest to the location listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last thirty minutes had been ample preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.

 

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