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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may bring their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your 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 male or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a woman, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No choice, is what he typically said. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his odd action over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the fact 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 said.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his personal health appeared to be excellent 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 space, giving him 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. 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 started to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't envision however assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing enjoyment that directly contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever stated. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Removing 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. Later on, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Meanwhile, Alan tried to picture a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced provided an unrefined kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of heat when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He pictured 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 assess the length of her upper arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung just above his spinal column. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He pictured her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, 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 prior to following the collar bone to her breast bone. And so it went this way 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 easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was completely set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Possibly that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment 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 prepared to have sex.
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