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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may bring their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house might not exercise. He hated their question nearly 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 prefer a female or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?

No preference, is what he usually stated. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his odd reaction 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 discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the reality 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.

Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his individual health appeared to be good and that he had excellent skin, she was delighted. 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, 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 element of the massage; his other senses almost vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

Alan could not be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not envision however assist 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 started in his loins), she saw she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was strongly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly 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. Eliminating a 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. On the other hand, Alan tried to imagine a more total image of the body connected to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally released offered a crude type 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 stomach and her toned waist above.

When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might assess the length of her arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung simply above his spinal column. 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, but 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 before following the collar bone to her sternum. And so 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 raised the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was fully put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. 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 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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