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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 may carry their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home could not work out. He hated their concern 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 choose a woman or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a woman, 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 anticipated a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he hit the gym, 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, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the truth 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. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be great and that he had excellent skin. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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 room, giving him personal 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 almost vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't envision but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Eliminating a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands notified. Meanwhile, Alan tried to imagine a more complete photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released supplied an unrefined kind of finder in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of heat. He imagined 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 actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was totally 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 out 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 customer's groin in circumstances like these. Possibly that's what she is about to 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. However at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest down to the location below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had been sufficient preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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