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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may bring their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He hated their question almost 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 male or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he normally said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, 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 weird response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide 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, aroused him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual health appeared to be great and that he had good skin, she was pleased. 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 room, giving him privacy to disrobe and crawl under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, 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 footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make sure. The aroma was sweet and mild. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan might feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he envisioned her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not assist but imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she discovered she might 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. Ally was strongly brought in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. On the other hand, Alan tried to imagine a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released supplied a crude kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of warmth. 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. And so it went in this manner for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had actually 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 tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to 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 client, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She found 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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