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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not exercise. He hated 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 man or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a woman, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No preference, is what he normally stated. Sometimes, he would add, 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 health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his weird reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the truth 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal health appeared to be good and that 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, 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with a severe 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 coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't imagine but assist 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, calming satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was strongly drawn in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Removing a little the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to imagine a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied a crude kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of warmth when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He pictured her hips, her smooth tummy and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might assess the length of her upper arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. He envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck. He imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, 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 breast bone. And so it went in this manner 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 raised 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 completely put up. It raised 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 reaction. He didn't know what to say. Then, 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 circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had 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, revolted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. But at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the place below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. 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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