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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 stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He disliked their question nearly 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 female or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a woman, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he typically said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his odd response over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide 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. 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 customer of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene appeared to be good and that he had good 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 escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an intense 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 steps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make sure. The aroma 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 envisioned her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not envision however assist 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, calming enjoyment that directly contradicted the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was just him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could 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 raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to envision a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of warmth. He pictured 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 could gauge the length of her arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung simply above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, however 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 prior to 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. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was totally erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick 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 wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was prepared to have sex.
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