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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 carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. He disliked their concern nearly as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a female or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a female, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he usually stated. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his weird reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual health appeared to be good and that he had excellent skin, she was happy. 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 personal privacy to disrobe and crawl under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. 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 began to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not assist however picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she saw 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 could have ever stated. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Eliminating 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. Later, as her thumbs went into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to think of a more total photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off offered 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 could determine the length of her upper arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung simply above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, 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. Therefore it went this way 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 lifted the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was totally erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely 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 say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. However 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 location below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last thirty minutes had been sufficient preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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