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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 frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house might not exercise. He hated their question 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 female or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a woman, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?
No preference, is what he usually stated. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his unusual response 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; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide 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, aroused him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual health appeared to be good and that 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 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 personal 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 disappear, leaving him with an acute 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 coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make certain. The aroma was moderate 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 envisioned her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not assist but imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly drawn in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served 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. Alan tried to imagine a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off supplied 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. He could evaluate the length of her arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung simply above his spine. He imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began 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. And so it went by doing this 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 easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He heard 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 reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their method from her chest to the location 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 been ample preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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