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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 carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not work out. He hated their concern nearly 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 lady or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a guy, 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 indicate he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he typically stated. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his odd reaction over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide 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 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. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be excellent which he had great skin. 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, 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 almost disappear, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its sensations. 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 faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not picture however help 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 pleasure that directly contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she saw she could smell him. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was highly drawn 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 tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went 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 informed. Meanwhile, Alan attempted to picture a more total image of the body attached to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally emitted offered 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 envisioned 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 started to knead his neck, he pictured 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. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was totally set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. 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 will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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