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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not work out. He hated their concern almost as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a male or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, 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 anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his weird action over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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 said.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be excellent and that he had great skin, she was glad. 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, providing him personal 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. 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 faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help but imagine 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, relaxing pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was just him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever said. Ally was highly attracted to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Meanwhile, Alan tried to think of a more total photo of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released offered an unrefined kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of heat when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He visualized 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. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he pictured 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 observed it at the exact same time. Alan was totally erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly 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 say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the set down 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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