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My hands rest gently on his back, the right between his shoulder blades and the left on his sacrum (that beautiful place on a man at the base of his spine just above the soft globes of his ass cheeks, that little crevice where, during a massage, his sweat mingles with the oil to form a tiny glistening pool..), and I ask him, sometimes in English, sometimes in Spanish, to breathe…

Those moments of stillness before the massage begins are so important, so beautiful. They allow us both to relax, to connect, to disconnect from whatever is racing around in our thoughts. We leave the world outside. His journey, my frantic preparation, the searching for my address on google maps and the frustration of little Spanish streets whose name are written in both Spanish and Valenciano, the lighting of candles and incense.. We try to leave behind the nervousness of two people who have just met for the first time, the face we have never seen before, the unfamiliar surroundings, the curiosity of what is to follow… And we just breathe, together. Just breathe..

The first touch with oil is the most important for me, it sets the scene and the tone of the session. I try to be confident but not too confident. Concious not to take my hands off his skin for too long, not to lose to contact when he may be feeling vulnerable face down on the table, as I pour the oil into my hands, then slowly rubbing them together before those first long strokes down his back. I close my eyes and follow the contours in my mind, try to remember them. At first softly, like a whisper across his skin, always imagining myself on the table being touched by a man, imagining how I would like to be touched, and then a little more pressure.. I blow softly on his skin, tracing his spine all the way up to his neck, I love to give different sensations… Then slow as I gently knead his shoulders, stroking over and over, always connecting.

Spreading his feet a little wider on the pillow and gently moving his knees slightly further apart opens up a gap between his thighs. The Perineum is my favourite place on the body.. It is the magic button and if touched properly can cause ripples of pleasure that run up and down the spine. At first I simply blow, at first cold breath from slightly further away and then hot, my mouth almost touching his ass. And then, my fingers, slow, gentle like a snow flake, stroking that place. One movement following another, gradually sliding deeper and deeper towards his hole. To brush a man’s hole so softly is to kiss his ass with your finger tips, so sensual and passionate. Like a whisper..

From the age of about 10 I played the cello. I think of this often during a massage. The pressure, the movements, the feeling, each stroke so similar to music.. I suppose there must be elements of Reiki involved, that universal energy moving through us. It feels amazing.. I feel so centred at that table. So calm. So myself. For me a guy’s feet are the most important place. When I touch his feet, lay my hands upon his soles, I can feel him, like I can feel how he is feeling, I feel the stress, the pleasure, the pain, the anxiety whatever it is, I can feel it. It is such a powerful emotional place to be in. It is beautiful.

Sometimes I think about how my sister recently told me that I should get a “proper job”.

My family think only of money and keeping up appearances. I doubt any of them would know a tantric massage if it hit them in the face! I think about something my brother told me when I was 12 years old, one day in the garage connected to our house, whilst I was trying to help him as he replaced the engine of his car. My brother, the tall, muscular and very heterosexual mechanic who always smelt of sweat and grease and Golden Virginia tobacco, and who I looked up to and admired so much and still do.. He said to me “If you love what you do for a job, you’ll never do a day’s work in your life..”.

How those words stuck with me across the years and countries and changes.. And so here I am. I love massage. I love it’s purity, it sensuality, it’s power, it’s simplicity, I love the connection, I love it’s ignorance of race, religion, sexuality, secrets…

It simply is… Touch…..   

(to be continued….)

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