I write erotic fiction but, whenever possible, I try to draw inspiration from real life events.
[One of my stories was about friends accidentally going to an erotic massage](https://www.reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/1054ioe/i_m30_accidentally_went_to_an_erotic_massage_and/) and I got quite a few questions on how much of it was real.
So I will fight the urge to go all fiction-writer with this one, to keep it 100% facts.
Here’s what happened:
–
I really enjoy spas. Going for massages, skin care, saunas…
One day, I was trying to find a different type of massage (something new and unique I hadn’t tried yet) and I ran into this thing called a “tantric massage”.
I’ll fast forward through this part cause nobody wants to hear about Google Search. Or about how it inevitably became Pornhub Search. The end result is: tantric massage is an erotic massage with masturbation… and I was curious as fuck to try that out.
I looked up a bunch of places online and quickly found out 3 things:
1 – There are a LOT of scams. Places with low credibility that will pretend to offer a massage service but are actually just a front for prostitution; or just a flat out regular massage for 8x the price because someone chose to call it “tantric”.
2 – There are a LOT of people just trying to fuck you. Swing parties, sex clubs, couples looking for a third… all of these can disguise as “Tantric Massages”
3 – The actual true massages are usually given by therapists, and they are more in the meditation-try-to-know-yourself vibe than in the I-am-so-horny-right-now vibe. It’s a therapy in a sense, not a quickie.
The spa had a list of therapists with a quick description of their experiences and their photos (which I appreciated). I was 20, almost 21 at the time and I chose to have a male therapist as that made me more comfortable.
You set a time.
You show up.
It’s like a normal spa all the way.
The therapist comes, introduces himself.
He was very kind, polite and professional.
I was taken to the room where the massage would happen and it was all very… bhuddist? The decour, the smells, the background music. There was a mat on the floor (very cozy one) with pillows, but I was sat at a comfortable couch while the therapist explained to me what would happen.
I know I said I wouldn’t let the fiction writer take over, but if I promise to be as real as my memory will let me, would you forgive me for some dialogues?
“First” he tells me “You’ll have to take off all your clothes. This isn’t like the massages you’d normally have, where you can keep a bikini on or a towel over you. You’ll be naked for this. Then I will touch you. On your tits. On your pussy. And you will love it like a good gir…” nah, he didn’t say that.
That was my bad. Imagination got carried away.
Ok, I’ll behave.
I promise.
What he actually said was “You’ll have to take off your clothes. You can have a shower before the massage, if you want. Then you will lay down on that mat and the massage will happen in two parts. Part One is a normal massage all over your body. Part Two is the massage given to your genitals and I usually don’t recommend that for first timers… It’s better if you already have experience with Part One, previously. But if you’re comfortable with that now, we can do both parts”
Darlings of mine, I didn’t pay all that money and come all that way to have a sexual massage minus the sexual.
So I said:
“I’m comfortable. I’d rather have both parts”
To which he replied with some version of “ok”.
He shows me the oils he’ll use and explains he’ll have to touch me everywhere, and because he has to be clear he adds:
“That means your breasts and vagina, specially on the second part of the massage”
To which I replied with some version of “bring it on”.
The two last things he did before we started:
1 – He showed me the vibrator he’d use on Part Two.
It was a wired bullet powered by eight batteries. I have NEVER found that monstrosity in a sex shop anywhere in my life and believe me I’ve looked. Besides the real thing, that bullet was the best item to ever touch my body.
2 – He asked me not to use words during the massage. Moaning was encouraged, as long as it wasn’t done through words. Like “ohh” and “ahh” are fine. “Fuck, baby” and “yes, daddy, right there” are not.
I already showered before leaving home but by then I was feeling a little too self aware so I showered again.
I had a robe for 2 seconds, but then it was gone and I was naked walking around a room in front of a complete stranger, which (not going to lie, my friends) was a little hot.
I say “a little” because unlike erotica… sometimes when that stuff happens in real life you are so nervous that you can’t fully be turned on by it.
So in retrospect I find it very hot. But at that moment I was a little like “oh god, what am I doing?”
I lay down. Close my eyes and the first part of the massage goes by easy.
It was very different.
Massages usually involve a lot of pressure and squeezing, this one was… the opposite?
The best way I can describe it is: it’s a massage done mostly with fingertips.
Brushing by your body. Soft and slow. Like a tickle.
Like the therapist is trying to trick your brain into thinking about sex.
Here, I’ll help you picture it: Imagine you just fucked someone. You are still naked in bed together, trying to catch your breaths. Then you turn to each other with that sly intimite smile and you cuddle. You are in each other’s arms. Whispering softly, noses almost touching. You know that moment? You feel it? Now picture your hands. What are your hands doing at that moment? You are hugging them and your hands just… kind of… brush? Up and down. Casually. Comfortably. Feeling the warmth on their skin.
That’s a lot like what the massage felt like.
Like I was being caressed by a lover after sex.
Only… since I didn’t just have sex and my libido is just dandy, it started to turn me on pretty hard.
There was some preassure and squeezing to it as well, but it was very mild compared to what massages usually are.
Specially because that man was touching me everywhere.
Nipples, ass, nothing was off limits.
His hands were always warm and there was a lot of oil and I could feel myself getting very extremely turned on.
Then the second part of the massage came around.
I was laying on my back and he pulled my knees up before slowly letting them fall to the sides. Like a gynecologist would do, you know? If a gynecologist did her thing on a mat on the floor with an eight batteries dildo.
He started the massage with his hands and fingers.
And this bit… it was fucking heaven.
I know I speak for a lot of women when I say that clit action is far better than penetration for most of us, so take a second to appreciate what it would be like to have a professional playing with your clit.
And I’m not talking about a male prostitute who knows how to have sex… I am talking about a man who’s been specializing in the art of masturbation so thoroughly that people pay him for that alone. Someone who’s turned hand jobs into a form of meditation.
It was amazing good.
And that was before he started using the bullet.
Cause let me tell you: you can feel every single one of those eight batteries.
Now here comes the problem:
That was my first time having a massage like that. I was completely naked, legs spread open in front of a stranger… so it was a little hard to turn my brain off.
On one hand the massage was absolutely delicious.
On the other hand I was too nervous and self aware.
So that added up to orgasm denial real fucking quick.
I’d get more and more turned on. I’d feel my body going all the way to the edge and as I was standing there, waiting for that final push to tip me over… I’d get in my head and the orgasm would slip between my fingers.
But he was a pro with a powerful tool, so on I went again.
To the brink.
And back.
So many fucking times my body started to hurt. I was still a bit inexperienced at the time, I had no idea orgasm denial could hurt like that.
Like I’d just been in a fight.
And lost.
My stomach hurt. My muscles. My vagina. My breasts.
It hurt on the surface, like a bruise. But also inside, like a disease.
And then he unintentionally taught me the best lesson I ever had in sex: the importance of breathing.
It’s very common, right? You get really close to orgasm and you hold your breath. It’s so intense you can’t even think about breathing. Or is that just me?
So he encouraged me to moan.
Not breathe, mind you.
Moan.
And I did.
I kept moaning and moaning. Loud. Natural. In despair.
All that moaning controlled my breathing somehow, which helped with the nerves.
And that’s when orgasm hit me. I say “hit” because that’s what it felt like: a punch to the chest that robs you of all your breath.
A wave of relief so powerful that brings tears to your eyes.
“Moan, Violet, c’mon” he’d say, breathing out almost like he was moaning with me.
I followed him.
And… I orgasmed again?
At first, I wasn’t sure it was happening. I thought maybe it was just the first one still lingering. But I kept moaning and as soon as the orgasm was over, I felt another one overcoming it.
It was like a ladder. Every time one of the orgasms would be over, I’d feel another one building up and taking me higher than the one before, to the point where I had no air left in my lungs to keep moaning. So I just had my mouth open in a silent scream, tears running down my cheeks and these waves of relief taking over me getting closer and closer together until they sufocated me.
When it was over, I felt this absolute empty.
Not in a bad way!
My mind was void of anything.
My body felt like a shell.
I could barely move.
I couldn’t think.
He gave me some time to… survive it? Before I could get dressed and sit back on the couch so we could talk and he could make sure I was ok.
I’d heard about multiple orgasms before, but that was the first time I actually felt them.
Probably goes without saying that I became a regular client.
Next time I came around I brought a partner. That massage also involved a bath and was somewhat even more similar to the fiction I wrote. But that’s another story for another day!