First Professional Tantra Session

Yesterday, I had my first Tantric massage client. The session was absolutely beautiful.

I had put myself on the schedule, expecting that I wouldn’t get any work on my very first day. I had spent the weekend with Josh and had not finished setting up my place. I had my laundry done, but I hadn’t finished cleaning.

Ra came over unexpectedly because he and his partner had had an argument. We were drinking tea and sharing a joint when I got the text: Can you see a client tonight for two hours?

“Oh shit!” I said, looking around at my messy apartment.

‘Sure,’ I texted back. ‘What time?’

‘8.’

It was just before 7.

Ra and I looked at each other. “Can we have this place client-ready in an hour?” I asked.

“Yes!” Ra and I instantly jumped into action. I scrubbed the toilet. Ra did the dishes. Soon, the massage table was out, covered with linens. The salt lamp and candles were lit. The place looked radiant.

I brewed some tea and jumped in the shower. Ra went down the street to a coffee shop. I changed into a simple green dress and colourful shawl. I took a few deep breaths. My stomach flipped. This was a completely new to me, and I would have to have something more than empty flirtations and posturing to offer the man who was on his way over.

He knocked. I took a deep breath and answered the door. My breath caught in my throat. He was an absolutely beautiful man, tall, with deep blue eyes and light brown hair. His eyes lit up when he saw me. I hugged him and invited him in, took his jacket (very sexy, form-fitting leather) and offered him tea. We each took our cups of peppermint tea and took a seat on the bench.

“I apologize for the small space,” I said, acknowledging the absence of a coffee table.

“No, it’s lovely here,” he said.

We chatted a little. I asked him about his experience with tantra and if he had had any sessions like this before. He was quite experienced, and had seen other practitioners for a variety of sessions. He asked me how long I have been doing this work.

“I’m new to the Temple,” I said. “But I have been studying and practicing this work in a different form for a little over a year. I’m giddy and nervous tonight because this is new to me.” My new thing is to be vulnerable and authentic whenever possible.

I told him my ideas for the session, stressing that it was free-flowing and depended on the energy between the two of us.

We undressed. I draped my shawl strategically over my body. He kept his underwear on at first. We got up on the massage table and sat in almost-yab yum. I reminded him (though I doubt he needed reminding) to eye gaze left eye to left eye and we started to breathe together. I was touched by how receptive and open he was during the meditations. He held my gaze gently, but steadily. We did alternate breathing, followed by more breathing together. By the end of the meditation, I felt grounded and at-ease. Of course, I still had flutters in my belly from being so close to such a gorgeous man, but I felt focused and happy. I placed one hand over his heart and took his hand and placed it over my heart. We stayed like that for a few breaths. Then I let my hands trace his hair and trail down his body, down his arms and over his fingers. He shyly reciprocated. I smiled and sighed softly to show my approval. I liked his touch.

I directed him off the table and to sit at the bench. I got down in front of him and ritually washed his feet with my homemade sugar and coconut oil scrub. The bowl was a bit too small, but I did my best and he seemed happy. Then I asked him to take off his underwear and lie on the table. He lay face down on the table. First, I covered his beautiful body with my orange Egyptian cotton sheet. I felt grounded and full of purpose. First, I traced a Reiki symbol into both of my finger tips and did the chakra balancing exercise that Rania taught me. I know that a lot of people scoff at the laying on of hands as a healing art, but I have always felt powerful things whenever I’ve been involved in such things. When the energy work part was done,  I uncovered his body slowly, teasing him with a feather followed by a cashmere hat that feels so soft. I remembered Rania and Don running something similar down my back and how wonderful it felt.

At one point, I looked up and noticed that he had left the donation too close to one of my candles and one of the twenty dollar bills was starting to catch fire. I quietly went over, moved the bills out of harm’s way and put out the fire before returning to the table. I was pretty pleased with how I handled that curve ball.

I went and grabbed my heated coconut oil off the oil warmer (you know you’ve arrived when you have an oil warmer), and returned to the table. I oiled up my hands and began the massage. Slowly, I ran my hands along his back, guiding him into deeper relaxation. It thrilled me how easily he relaxed into receiving. When I moved my hands down his arms, he clasped my hands in his, and I clasped back, enjoying the intimacy of that moment. I massaged his whole body, from his feet to his head, before inviting him to turn over.

I placed a pillow behind his head and one under his knees. Making eye contact, I poured oil through my fingers onto his chest and spread it all over him with playful, varied strokes. First, I focused on his chest and legs, avoiding his semi hard cock. Then I moved my hand over his cock, rubbing his shaft with the heel of my hand until it grew. Then, I moved my hands up his body, spreading the sexual energy away from his genitals to his heart. I held his heart with one hand, his cock with the other. Our breath synchronized, we were completely present with each other.

“Would you join me on the table?” He asked, sitting up. I climbed onto the table and we entered a full yab yum this time, his cock pressed against my belly, only the thin fabric of my thong between us. We breathed together and he ran his hands down my body, gently, respectfully, giving me pleasure. He took my head in his hands and kissed me, gently, tentatively, as though making sure that it was ok before going further. I kissed back.

“May I touch you there?” He asked, gesturing towards my pussy.

“Yes,” I said. “Just through my underwear.” I loved being able to set boundaries. There was a naked man on my massage table, and I was not expected to fuck him! How positively delicious and liberating!

He touched me very consciously, and made me feel wonderful. I responded to the touch, wanting more, wanting to remove the barrier and let him have at me. “May I push these aside?” He asked.

“I’ll take them off,” I said.

When they were gone, he lowered me onto the table. I had a moment of wondering if I would fall. “I’ve got you,” he said. “There’s plenty of room.”

He ran his fingers over me, touching my pussy gently and pleasingly. I let go into the pleasure, running my hands over my body.

“Do you have any condoms?” He asked.

“I don’t normally go there during these sessions,” I said.

“Oh, ok,” he said, looking a little embarrassed for having asked.

I looked into his lovely eyes and realized that, in that moment, I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to share that experience with him. It would not feel like I was betraying myself if I let myself go there. Far from it.

“I’m tempted to make an exception for you,” I said. “If I do, you won’t tell, will you?” The last thing I needed was for it to get around that I was just another ‘full service provider’ after all I went through to break away from mainstream escorting.

“I won’t tell,” He said.

I got up and grabbed a couple of condoms and a packet of lube. He got up and washed the oil off of his cock, which impressed me greatly. He came back to the table and we sat, facing each other, touching and kissing. I rubbed some lube on his cock and put the condom on him. Holding my head in his hands, he lowered me to the table and slowly entered me. I responded enthusiastically – he felt wonderful. He kept looking into my eyes and I looked into his. My hands trailed down his back and up again. His eyes widened as he came, and I held him, sighing as I felt him reach his climax. He held me for a moment before going to the bathroom to clean up and dispose of the condom. I lay back on the table, completely at ease, comfortable being naked, happy to have shared a moment with someone who respected me and honoured what I had to offer.

He came back to me and enveloped me in a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, kissing his chest. “Thank you for making an exception for me,” he said. “It was my pleasure,” I replied, and meant it.

We held each other for a while before he moved away and started getting dressed. I helped him find his clothes. We hugged once more and then he was off into the night.

I texted Don and Rania to let them know the session was a success. ‘Everything went well. He was very sweet, and gorgeous!’

Ra came back and we high-fived and celebrated my first Tantric Temple client. We walked down the street and had tapas and a bottle of wine to celebrate new and exciting developments.

We came home and hung out a while before going to bed. We shared my double bed, and soon Ra was sound asleep. I traced my clit in the dark, feeling the swelling of sexual energy ebb and flow through my body. Eventually I went into the other room and lay down on the massage table, covering myself with a sheet. I touched myself all over until I was in a frenzy. Slowly, meditatively, I penetrated myself with my dildo, switching my finger for a vibrator. I fucked myself, first slow, then fast, fast fast. Soon, I was having a full-body orgasm followed by laughter and smiles. “I love my life” I said to myself.

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Just When I Thought I Was Out, They Pulled Me Back In!

Last night, I had an eight hour session with a client, and it was an amazing experience. He was a man close to my age, attractive, into similar music/subcultures as myself, and very kind. We drank a couple bottles of wine over the course of the evening and discussed philosophy, human rights, queer theory, feminism, gender relations and literature. I found myself being myself with him, rather than the modified version of myself that I sometimes project to my clients.
He was very shy when it came to the sex part of the night, but I helped him come out of his shell pretty quickly. He had beautiful long hair and dark eyes, and his back was scarred from his forays into the world of hook suspension, something I had at once time considered doing myself.
Sexually, he was very sensuous and considerate. I asked him to let his hair down and run it over every inch of my body, which he happily did. I enjoyed all of what we did after that. I didn’t want to leave. I felt a conflict in a sense, because I know that, if we didn’t have the client/provider relationship, he would be someone I would be friends with, and possibly I would have been his lover under different conditions. Of course, with Josh in the picture, that would have been unlikely, so I am going to be content with the relationship within the context that exists.
He wants to hire me this Friday for another eight hour session, which I am happy about. Today, one of the booking girls told me (off the record) that I am excellent at what I do and that I am one of the best girls they have. It felt good to hear that, and it also makes it harder to think of leaving. I am going to think of it as a process. I can do the agency for a time while I work out how to be a fabulous tantric practitioner and whatever else I want to be. It might even work if I stayed on with the agency on a very part-time basis and catered to a few regular, trusted clients. No more coke dicks for me!

A Ritual of Devotion

I have been thinking a great deal about ritual lately, especially within the context of intimate relationships and sexual work. In our culture, we have disconnected the heart from the genitals, the sacred from the body, to our detriment. As I think about the beautiful gift that I have been given with this deep love for Josh, and how our connection has helped me open to the divine and to heal many inner wounds, I want to do something concrete to express my gratitude.

The last time I was in Victoria, I stumbled upon an info sheet about the ritual of foot washing. The services advertised were based on the Christian tradition and were offered by a pastor. The point of the ritual is one of service and humility, of offering yourself to another with respect and devotion. Although I have deep issues with Christianity, there are parts of it that inspire me, and this ritual is one of those things.

In the context of a relationship, I believe that mutual service and honouring the divine within each other is so important. It is fraught in this culture of gender inequality and dissatisfaction within relationships to approach your beloved with a spirit of service and humility. Still, I think this is necessary in many ways for true intimacy and devotion to blossom. I used to think a lot, back when I was still caught up in the cycle of unfulfilling and abusive/dysfunctional relationships, how nice it would be if both people could approach the other with that spirit of service. Indeed, if both people look out for one another, no one is left wanting.

My relationship with Josh is a revelation to me in that respect. This is the first relationship that has lasted more than a few months in which I feel truly honoured and respected. I know that he is interested in doing things that make me happy, and he has approached me time and again from a place of service and devotion. I want to do the same, and I want to honour him in a ritual sense. I know it seems a little strange, but I want to do this.

When he comes back, I am going to invite him over for a ritual. I will cook him dinner, and after I have fed him, or perhaps before, I will wash his feet in a ritual bath with essential oils and give him a massage. I will take this time to tell him how much he means to me and how he has enriched my life, and how thankful I am to him for his gift of gentleness and sweetness and strength. I will tell him that I have decided to stop keeping my emotions close to my chest like a card sharp and am ready to express them to the people closest to me. Like him. I want him to know how much he means to me, even if I risk rejection in the process. Because what is life without a little risk, right?

Breaking Open to the Divine

I am falling more deeply in love every day. It is frightening, exhilarating, dizzyingly wonderful and profoundly ecstatic. In the tantric school, they said that pleasure is medicine. That is also what the founders of the Sexological Bodywork profession believe. I know this is true.

Sex with Josh is such sweet ecstasy. We keep going deeper into these states of bliss and exploring new and interesting territory. Last weekend, while he was fucking me, I had an orgasm so deep and strong that I couldn’t tell where my body ended and the rest of the world began. I melted into this sweet golden light and the sacred healing energy cascaded through me. There was no part of my being that was untouched.

I remember, years ago, when I was an angry nineteen year old fleeing my abusive lover. I was staying with some people I knew and considered friends at the time. They were strict Christians. I had embraced the Christian faith mostly as a knee-jerk reaction to the pain I felt after being beaten by my lover. I embraced celibacy and maintained a structured existence. Sex, after all, led to loss of control, which led to someone having power over you. I never wanted to feel that fear again, the fear I felt when my lover tossed me around, breaking my skin and choking me until I saw white spots dancing in front of my eyes. The sex with him had been exquisite, but was it worth the price of pain and fear? Was it worth hearing the things he had screamed at me in his rages?

I recall the day I sat in the kitchen with my Christian roommate and her granddaughters. It was a nice moment, a moment of community and sharing. We were desperately poor and lived in squalor, but we had each other. We prayed together, and as we bowed our heads, it occurred to me that there was a dark and painful part of myself that seemed very large and frightening, that no amount of prayer could really heal. In fact, as time went on, the stifling of my sexuality resulted in my spiritual life shriveling up like a plant deprived of water and sunlight.

At the moment, with Josh, when I had that orgasm, I felt that dark and painful place shatter and the golden light pierced the darkness. Before, with the abuse I suffered in intimate relationships, I had felt myself break in pain, huddling on bathroom floors terrified and humiliated. Now, I break apart with the most exquisite pleasure. The walls I built up inside myself shattered and I was left smiling, laughing, and thanking the Creator for allowing me to feel such happiness. I really get to feel this much pleasure. I really get to feel so amazing.

In Christianity and other major religions, pleasure is seen as sinful, as corrupting, a distraction from godly pursuits. This disconnect between sex and spirit, heart and genitals, has caused humanity so many problems. I truly believe that we would not see the devastation of war, greed and cruelty in our world if everyone truly embraced the healing power of their sexuality and used it as a path to the divine.

Two Queens

As I sat in the passenger’s seat of my driver’s car, watching the city lights fade to the stretch of country roads, I mused on the experiences I have had since starting this new chapter in my life. Flashes of men in hotel rooms, men who’s names I do not recall. I remember how many of them came to me with very few words, clutching my body like a flotation device, looking into my eyes as they approached climax. Some of them cried in that moment and I held them, offering them comfort, offering them my lush, yielding, gentle body, and sharing some part of myself, even though we would likely never meet again.

Images of how sex work is perceived flashed through my mind: soul-destroying, abusive, damaging, degrading. I imagine people thinking of women like me as soulless vampires, opportunists, dead inside, unable to feel the sweet ambrosia of sexual pleasure. It amused me in that moment how completely wrong that description is for me. Sex work has deepened my compassion for men, not annihilated it. Men are complex, beautiful, vulnerable, human. So are women. And everyone else.

My parents are astrologers and tarot readers. To this day, I have a deck of cards that I consult from time to time. A reading I gave myself turned up two queens, the Queen of Swords and the Queen of Cups. The Queen of Swords is independent, cold, unattached, set apart. This is how I felt when my marriage ended. I put up so many walls around my heart, not wanting to let anyone in again, not wanting to feel anything too deeply for anyone. The Queen of Cups is emotionally available, nurturing, compassionate, romantic. As I drove down that sporadically lit road, those two archetypes flitted through my head. I am caught between the two. I am bursting with love and desire for connection, but I still insist on protecting myself. Funny how marriage and a live-in relationship prior to marriage caused me to put up walls, while sex work has helped me tear down those walls. Life is full of seeming contradictions.

I focused on the feelings of love that burst from my chest. It was so beautiful that I almost wept. Yes, I said to the night sky, yes, I will be open to love. Yes, I will continue to risk. I will live this way. I will consciously remove these safeguards and make myself vulnerable. It is the more authentic way to live. I will protect myself, but I will not shut down.

Yay for Cross-dressers!

This week, I got paid to fuck a beautiful boy. A very beautiful boy. A boy who likes to wear lacy lingerie and who likes to be called by a girl’s name while my cock is deeply buried in his tight, delectable ass.

This beautiful boy pre-booked his appointment, which is always appreciated. I originally thought he was a different client, a regular, who likes to be dressed as a girl and fucked. The driver dropped me off at the motel in Burnaby. I went up to the room and knocked. I was dressed in a skin-tight black dress, thigh-high stockings, sexy boots, over a gorgeous black lace strappy teddy. I love my job. Honestly, sex workers get to wear the best clothes to work.

I was pleasantly surprised when a gorgeous, twentysomething boy answered the door. He looked Italian, with beautiful olive skin, dark brown eyes you could lose yourself in, a nice body and a cute smile. His reaction to me was even better. “Wow, you look beautiful! Come in! I LOVE what you’re wearing!”

I smiled and thanked him, and we chatted a bit. I like to make a few minutes of small talk to put a client at ease. Soon, we were discussing what he had in mind for our session.

He told me that he likes to be dressed as a girl, and referred to as a girl. He told me that his name was Mark, but for our purposes, he would like to be called Marsha. He wasn’t into pain, just being fucked and treated like a girl. He wanted to start by trading lap dances. The lack of musical options on the TV was a small impediment, but I did my best to lap dance for him. I have learned a long time ago that men are truly not that hard to please. You don’t have to have acrobatic dance moves when you’re dressed the way I was dressed that day. When I had stripped out of my dress and gyrated in his lap, rubbing his cock through his jeans, he told me he would like to give me a lap dance.

I pulled out the lacy lingerie I had packed for him. He put the black lace teddy on and layered the purple slip over top. He danced for me, and I very vocally appreciated his efforts. Soon, we were in bed. I was on top of him, kissing him and rubbing him through his lingerie.

He liked dirty talk whispered in his ear. He had a fantasy of being gang banged by a bunch of guys, and for me to be there controlling him, telling him what to do. “I take huge cocks in my ass,” he said.

“I bet you do,” I said. “You’re a dirty little cumslut, aren’t you?”

I lubed his ass slowly, pushing the lube in before inserting a finger. He loved it. Soon, I was opening his hole with two, then three fingers. When he was begging to be fucked, I excused myself for a moment to wash the lube off my hands and rig myself up with the strap-on. I picked the big, pink dildo and walked back to the bed. “This big enough for you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He looked excited and nervous. “Um, it’s big,” he said.

“I’ll go easy,” I said, thinking that perhaps he had only taken big cocks in his fantasy life. “Suck it,” I said, putting it in his face. He took in only the first quarter, but I was still careful to praise his cock-pleasing skills. I of all people know that gag reflexes happen, although they can be largely unlearned with time.

I started out on top, fucking him slowly, following his lead. Soon, he was wrapping his legs around me and pulling me in deeper. I whispered in his ear how I was going to fuck him and I was going to let a bunch of my friends fuck him, pass him around and use him like a sex toy. We fucked doggy style for a while, and I trailed kisses down his back, whispering in his ear how good it felt to fuck him, how great he was at pleasing cock.

He enjoyed getting on top and bouncing on my cock. My pubic bone is still a little sore from the rubbing of the strap-on, but I don’t mind.

The session ended with him jerking off and me feeding him his cum and describing ten guys ejaculating in his mouth.

After the session, he told me that he had never done anything like that before, and that being with me had been a great experience. He was looking forward to exploring his kink further. I told him that I actually do have a fetish for male cross-dressers and that having him as a client was a treat for me too. He asked me if I could organize a gang-bang for him. I told him about my friends who are male escorts (and a married couple) and he found that idea incredibly sexy. I don’t know how much money this boy has, but somehow, I don’t think he’ll be able to afford the three of us. Still, I am really happy that I had the chance to help him explore his kink, and to teach him that there are women out there who are into what he’s into.

I hope this boy calls again. He said that he would. So here’s hoping.

Personal Sex vs Professional Sex

As I explained to the sexual health nurse at the clinic during my bimonthly STI screening, there is a difference between how I approach professional sex and personal sex. During a professional sex session, I act as a sort of facilitator of erotic exploration. I am focused on the client and on what he or she wants and needs in the moment. While I do not cross lines that put my safety or mental health at risk, I do not need to be thrilled by the experience. While there are times, fairly often, when my erotic tastes and those of my clients match up, they don’t need to for me to feel like a session was successful. There is room for affection, genuine warmth, personal conversation, and caring within a professional sex session. I feel a lot of affection for my clients. It is special to be able to work with someone’s sexuality. It is a very sacred, vulnerable and complicated part of what makes us human.

Personal sex is a bit different. For one, it takes a little longer for me to take a lover to bed than a client. There has to be a connection, a meeting of the minds usually, for me to be interested. During sex with a lover, I am an equal participant. I can help them explore their erotic selves, but I expect them to do the same for me. Since I entered sex work, I have become a lot more selective about who I share my bed with on my own time. No longer driven by a turbocharged libido screaming at me to JUST GET LAID ALREADY WITH THE FIRST WILLING PERSON, I feel more clearheaded.

The funny thing about it is, during my teens and early twenties, the time in my life when I imperfectly practiced serial monogamy, I used to fantasize about having sex with strangers for money, or just because I could. I would dress myself up in elaborate whore costumes and masturbate in front of a full-length mirror imagining myself fucking a client. During the first few months as a sex worker, I found it deeply erotic to walk up to a stranger’s hotel room, knock, and wonder who would answer. Now, I seem to find scenarios with people I know much more erotic than sex with strangers. Although it is still a sexy fantasy, it does not captivate me like it used to. Instead, lately, I fantasize about my regular lovers, and how wonderful it feels to share closeness, pleasure and eroticism with a familiar person.