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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might bring their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He disliked their concern nearly as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a female or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he generally said. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual response over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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 customer of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be excellent and that he had great skin, she was thankful. 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, offering him personal privacy to disrobe and crawl 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 almost vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't be sure. The fragrance was sweet and mild. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan could feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he pictured her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not picture however assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that straight contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was strongly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands functioned as her eyes. Getting rid of a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, calves, and inner-thighs, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to imagine a more total picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released offered an unrefined kind of sonar 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 stomach and her toned waist above.
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 began to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 discovered it at the very same time. Alan was fully erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed 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 to the place below her navel. 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. The last half an hour had actually been sufficient preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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