There is something about Mary

tantric massage

There is something about Mary

My eyes wander around the high-ceilinged room of the tantric massage studio: wooden floors, large windows, thick velvet curtains hiding any meagre sunlight there might have been at this hour of the day. The lighting is hidden and there is a slight jasmine scent in the air. Somehow it is implausible that it‘s still Friday afternoon and most people are actually at work or going about their chores. We must have been here for hours, I’ve lost sense of time.

I concentrate on Xander again. He is breathing heavily, lying naked on his back on a thick Japanese futon. His body is glistening, covered with warm essential oils; his eyes shut, his mouth slightly open, gasping with pleasure. The woman on top of him is sliding her whole naked body over his: her shoulders, breasts, hips pressing all over him.

It was my suggestion to come back to the Mary Hash’s tantric massage studio. Last time we were here it was for me. Don’t get me wrong: I am not being altruistic! When it comes to pleasure I am competitive and I know it. Of course I wanted Xander to relax and enjoy a four-hands massage by me and the experienced tantric massage therapist. But it was mostly out of self-interest that I took the appointment for Xander. I was dying to see how Mary would touch him, to copy her moves and learn from her dexterous handling. On my body her warm hands had been magical; tantric experiences transcend eroticism and become almost mystical. How would this work on Xander?

-‘You’ll be my mirror image’, she told me with a smile before we started. 

She is installed to Xander’s left and I to his right. With her skilled hands she massages his feet, his legs, his thighs, his torso, his face and forehead. The back side of his body and then the front. I feel like the magician’s apprentice, clumsily trying to keep up.

-‘It was such an exciting sensation’, Xander confessed to me later, ‘to feel hands and legs touching me and not knowing to whom they belong.’

When we have kneaded and loosened up all his muscles, she decides it’s time to devote herself to less relaxing caresses. She sits on top of him, playing with his penis between her buttocks, when he stretches out his arms and briefly holds her naked oily hips with both hands. I feel a pinch of jealousy. My reptile brain interprets the move as intimacy.

Then she slides down and concentrates between his legs. I breathe in relieved: strangely enough, my inner lizard doesn’t mind the purely sexual part. It’s almost technical and what I came here for. She smiles at me as she is using her both hands over the whole length of his muscle, pulling and pushing him roughly and delicately at the same time.

I am having an epiphany! I realise that so far I have treated this zone as a ‘Fragile-Handle-with-Care’ parcel! When in fact it is a muscle like any other: to be pulled and bent and squeezed and turned at will. With care, but not all too gently and letting your imagination free. As I see Mary cupping and clutching my lover’s well-oiled parts, I realize with awe that from this moment on our sex life with Xander will have a new dimension.

She brings him to the verge of orgasm multiple times and each time she stops just in time, instructing him to breathe in deeply. She relaxes him with deft moves only to start tantalising him again after some minutes. I feel so aroused myself, I am sweating.

As she stands up to leave the room she winks at me and gestures silently with her hands: massaging the feet relaxes the erection. No worries, Mary, I’ll take it from here.

– ‘I wouldn’t like Xander and I to lose sight of each other in a club’, I tell her later on, as we are chatting casually, having a bottle of water to recover before we make our way back home.

-‘Sometimes an image is more powerful and shocking than the first-hand sensation itself. There might be a tiny trace of jealousy there, still, ma chérie’.

Indeed, there is. And I hope it will always stay there.

Photo credit: Pixabay
Sex in the fast lane
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