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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 typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not work out. He hated 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 choose a guy or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No choice, is what he normally stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his strange action over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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, excited 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 personal hygiene seemed to be good which he had good skin. 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 space, giving him 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. 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 assist but envision 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, relaxing pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she observed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was highly 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 delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a 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. Alan attempted to imagine a more total photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released provided a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of heat. He envisioned her hips, her smooth stomach and her toned waist above.
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 thought of the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. 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. He imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, 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 before following the collar bone to her sternum. Therefore it went by doing this for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was totally erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try 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 stack of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Perhaps that's what she will 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. With any other client, she would have been appalled, 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 first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.
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