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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might carry their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He hated their question 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 man or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No preference, is what he typically said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his strange response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the truth 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. She was glad when she saw his individual health seemed to be great and that he had great skin. 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 personal privacy to crawl and disrobe under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element 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. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't envision however assist 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, calming enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she observed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Eliminating a 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 on, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. On the other hand, Alan tried to picture a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced provided an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of warmth when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. 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 started 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 very same time. Alan was completely put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to say. Then, 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 scenarios like these. Perhaps 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. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.
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