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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not exercise. He hated their question nearly 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 choose a female or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?

No choice, is what he generally stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual reaction over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide 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. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. Her voice, alone, excited him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.

Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his personal health seemed to be excellent and that he had great skin, she was pleased. 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 space, 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not be sure. The scent was sweet and mild. 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 couldn't assist however picture 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 satisfaction that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Alan heard it. 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. Getting rid of 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. Alan attempted to envision a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off offered a crude type of sonar 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 pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Therefore 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 much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was completely put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed 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. The butterflies found their way from her chest down to the place listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had actually been more than enough preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.

 

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