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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 carry their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. 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 choose a male or a female? 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 chose a woman, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?

No choice, is what he usually stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual action over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, 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 conceal 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, excited him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.

Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal health appeared to be good which he had excellent skin. 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, providing him 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 element of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, 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 started to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not be sure. The aroma was mild and sweet. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan might feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he imagined her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not think of 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, relaxing pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was strongly drawn in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, 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 powerful figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to envision a more total photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided 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 imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the very same time. Alan was completely erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the set down 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 all set to have sex.

 

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