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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 may bring their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could not work out. He disliked their question almost as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a guy or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a female, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he usually stated. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange action over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform 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 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 client of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be good which he had good skin. 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 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 nearly vanish, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make sure. The fragrance was moderate and sweet. 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 envisioned her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not picture but 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, soothing enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually started 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 said. Ally was strongly drawn in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. 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. Eliminating a little 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 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 notified. Alan tried to think of a more total photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off supplied 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. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 raised the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was totally set up. 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 construct 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 stack of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was prepared to have sex.
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