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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several 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 in your home might not exercise. He disliked their question 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 repeated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he typically stated. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his strange reaction over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide the fact 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. 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 client of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be good and that he had excellent skin. 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 room, offering him personal 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 sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make certain. The aroma was mild and sweet. 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 warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not imagine but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she saw she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. 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. Mildly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands functioned as her eyes. Eliminating a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to picture a more total image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off offered an unrefined type of finder in his pitch-black world.
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 envisioned 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 raised the sheet to make it simpler 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 lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't know 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 circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she will 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 set down sheet brought her excitement 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 prepared to have sex.
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