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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 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 at home might not exercise. He disliked their question nearly 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 prefer a man or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he typically stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his odd 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 find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the fact 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.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual health appeared to be good 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 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, providing 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 almost vanish, leaving him with an intense 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help however think of 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, calming enjoyment that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands functioned as her eyes. Getting rid of a little 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, as her thumbs dug into his calves, hamstrings, and inner-thighs, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to picture a more complete photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off provided a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Run 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 discovered it at the very same time. Alan was fully put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her leave, 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. Below her, Alan's cock 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. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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