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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 may carry their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not work out. He disliked their concern nearly as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a male or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he generally stated. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his odd action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent 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 stated. If she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel, it sounded as. Her voice, alone, excited him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be good which he had excellent skin. 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, offering him 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 nearly vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help however picture 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, soothing satisfaction that directly contradicted the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she observed she could smell him. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to picture a more total image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced offered a crude type 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 pictured her hips, her smooth tummy and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could evaluate the length of her upper arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung just above his spinal column. He pictured 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, but 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 before following the collar bone to her breast bone. Run 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 noticed it at the exact same time. Alan was completely set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the place listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last thirty minutes had actually been sufficient preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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