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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 often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house could not exercise. He hated 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 female or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a woman, 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 anticipated a pleased ending?

No preference, is what he typically stated. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his odd reaction over the phone previously, 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 conceal the fact 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. 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 excellent and that he had great skin, she was grateful. 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 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 nearly vanish, leaving him with an acute 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not be sure. The fragrance was moderate and sweet. 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 heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't think of but assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing enjoyment that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was strongly brought in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Removing 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 attempted to imagine a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied a crude kind of finder in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of heat when she took a step towards the front or back of the table. He imagined 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. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Therefore 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 easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was fully set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. 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 actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.

 

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