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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may carry their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He hated their concern almost as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a man or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he usually stated. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his odd response over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the reality 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. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. Her voice, alone, aroused him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene appeared to be great and that he had excellent skin, she was happy. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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 room, offering 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 disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was sweet and moderate. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan could feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he pictured her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not envision but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely 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 gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to think of a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off supplied a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could assess the length of her arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. 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, however 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 prior to following the collar bone to her breast bone. 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 raised the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was completely erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Maybe that's what she will 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. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was prepared to have sex.
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