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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may bring their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He hated their concern almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a woman or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a female, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No preference, is what he usually stated. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual reaction over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform 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. 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 individual health appeared to be excellent and that he had good skin, she was happy. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair stood 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 privacy to crawl and disrobe 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 an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't picture however assist 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 directly contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly attracted 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 sounded like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands functioned as her eyes. Removing 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. Later on, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, calves, and inner-thighs, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Meanwhile, Alan tried to imagine a more complete photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released provided a crude kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of warmth when she took a step towards the front or back of the table. He pictured her hips, her smooth belly and her toned waist above.
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 pictured the perky breasts that hung simply above his spinal column. He envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He envisioned 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. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan discovered it at the exact same time. Alan was completely put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. But at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest to the place below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had been sufficient preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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