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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might bring their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home could not work out. He disliked their concern nearly as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a guy or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he generally said. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told 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 weird reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up 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 said.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his individual health seemed to be excellent and that he had excellent skin, she was delighted. 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 space, 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses almost vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. 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 certain. The aroma 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 imagined her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't envision but help 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, soothing pleasure that straight opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Eliminating 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 dug into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan tried to envision a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced provided an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle 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. 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 easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was fully set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, 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. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Possibly 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. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the place listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last thirty minutes had been ample preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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