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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may carry their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He disliked their question nearly 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 prefer a woman or a man? 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 lady, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he normally stated. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide 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 said.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene appeared to be great 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 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 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 a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not think of however help 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 actually started in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to think of a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off supplied 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. He might gauge the length of her arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. He envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck. 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. 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 observed it at the same time. Alan was totally put 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 out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the location listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the very 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 been more than enough preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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