In the course of one mundane Monday afternoon, I managed to tot up a number of ‘firsts’ to add to my list of must-dos-before-I-die:
1. to experience a full-body orgasm
2. to be touched by a woman
3. to have paid for all of the above
The idea had sprung from conversations with Moriarty. We were discussing erotic massages and trying to find a suitable venue for him. After looking at some sites and harbouring a certain curiosity about what a tantric massage might entail, we agreed to go together, booking separate tantric massages at the same time and to swap notes over coffee afterwards. I can’t tell you how liberating it is to have someone to talk to openly about these things. The tantric massage was also going to be a first for him (though he has had plenty of erotic massages). We met outside the tube station in the early afternoon, both having dashed from various appointments to make it with minutes to spare. My day had been so busy that I had not really had time to think about what I was about to do or enjoy the full sense of anticipation that comes with trying anything for the first time.
The ‘parlour’ was in a non-descript flat a short walk from the tube stop. We were welcomed by two ladies wearing sarongs. They introduced themselves and quickly took us to their respective rooms. The air was filled with incense and I sat in an armchair opposite a young Australian masseuse. She had a very friendly and open manner and proceeded to ask me some general questions about my motivations and what I should expect. Once the money had been handed over, I had a quick shower and lay naked, face down on the massage table in the middle of the room. She began to pour hot oil over my shoulders, back and legs. She used her hands and forearms to massage my back and I felt her naked belly brush against my arm. Keeping my eyes closed I tried to block out all the distracting, day to day thoughts that tend to cloud my mind. I tried to concentrate on the sensations of her touch. Her hands circled my buttocks and would dip down, brushing past my cunt for the briefest of moments. It was a wonderfully delicate and light touch.
I lay on my stomach for the first 10-15 minutes, then she told me to roll onto my back. As I turned over I saw for the first time that she too was completely naked. I hadn’t appreciated that this was also how they massaged women. I closed my eyes again and she dripped the hot oil onto my chest, gently circling my breasts. Then more warm trickles on my stomach, legs and finally my sex. Her hands worked their way around my body, my arms, hands, legs and feet. Each time she moved up or down my body her hands would touch my cunt for the briefest of moments. When I felt relaxed and warm, her focus moved to my breasts. I have no idea how she did it, but after a few minutes of the gentlest circling and tugging, my nipples were erect and sensitised in a way I’ve never experienced before. Each time her fingers teased my nipples, I felt a jolt in my cunt. No man has ever touched my breasts in the same way, so lightly, so erotically. Gradually, her focus shifted to my stomach and thighs and finally her hands strayed to my pussy. I could feel her place two fingers either side of my clitoris, gently massaging the whole labia in a way that seemed to sensitise every fold of skin. I felt another finger slide inside me, touching me so softly, deeply. Slowly, gradually, every inch of skin became charged, I could feel my arms, hands and fingertips tingling, almost painfully, like having pins and needles. My limbs felt as if they belonged to another body, I could not control my facial expressions, my muscles spasmed, ripped me in two, only my mind floated above the scene. She masturbated me to an orgasm I will never forget. My entire being was consumed. It wasn’t just one point somewhere between my clit and my vulva, but everything, my feet, legs, arms, hands, fingers, face – all were taken over by a black wave. After climaxing for what felt like an eternity, she brought me back down gently, pressing her hand to my pussy in a calming, grounding way. I was shaking, shivering. She took each limb in turn and helped to relax the muscles back to a normal state. It didn’t feel like my body anymore.
Once I had ‘come down’, we chatted about the experience and she was incredibly open and pleased that I had enjoyed it so much. She left me to shower and dress. My knees were weak and I smiled to myself as I dried and slipped back into my knickers and bra. Suddenly, the door opened and Moriarty appeared with his masseuse. I was so utterly shocked to be caught in my underwear, that I held the towel to my body and shooed him out of the room. Mistakenly, his masseuse had believed us to be a couple and thought nothing of ushering him into my room. I was mortified. He seemed very non-chalant about it, which made me feel even more awkward. The strange thing is, that although I can be open, strip naked in front of lovers, pose nude for a painter, book myself a tantric massage, I am still incredibly shy. Given our modus operandi of not being physically intimate with one another (due to the economist), I suppose Moriarty seeing me like that crossed a boundary I had mentally drawn in my mind. He now calls me a prude. Perhaps I am. But at least a prude who has three new firsts to add to my list.