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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may bring their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could not work out. 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 choose a man or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he generally said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his strange response over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the reality 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 client of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene appeared to be great and that he had excellent skin, she was glad. And when she shook his strong hand and looked into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair based 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, 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 discovered it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not help but think of Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to 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 begun in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to think of a more total photo of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off offered a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of heat when she took a step towards the front or back of the table. He pictured her hips, her smooth belly and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could evaluate the length of her arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung simply above his spinal column. He envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He pictured 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 prior to following the collar bone to her sternum. Scoot 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 noticed it at the very same time. Alan was totally erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. 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. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their method from her chest to the place below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had been sufficient preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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