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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 bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not exercise. He hated their concern almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a male or a woman? 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 said he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?

No preference, is what he usually stated. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, 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 weird reaction over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the reality 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 stated.

Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be good and that he had great skin, she was thankful. 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 crawl and disrobe 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The aroma was sweet and moderate. 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 pictured her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not assist however envision 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, relaxing enjoyment that directly contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she saw she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Alan heard it. 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. Getting rid of a 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. On the other hand, Alan attempted to imagine a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied an unrefined kind of finder in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle wave of warmth. He imagined 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 gauge the length of her upper arm, and he imagined 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, 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 sternum. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan noticed it at the exact same time. Alan was fully set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. However at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest down to the place listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last thirty minutes had actually been more than enough preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.

 

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