Ever since my playdate with Hannah at the rooftop spa in downtown Chicago, I felt a certain void in my love life. I'd enjoyed the various flings with my many lovers over the past few months, but there was always an expectation when the sex was over to move on to the next stage of intimacy. If either partner wasn't ready to invest further in the relationship, inevitably someone's feelings got hurt when one or the other walked away. Every now and then, it was nice to just have a simple, no-strings-attached, take-no-prisoners hook-up.
But it was more than that. I longed for the experience of being feted, of having my body worshipped by someone whose only focus was giving me the maximum amount of pleasure in the limited amount of time we were together. I wanted to return full-circle to my first experimental foray into the world of anonymous sex at the Fantasy Feast dinner party where I could lie back and let someone service my body. Even if I had to pay for it.
One lonely night when I needed to feel the touch of someone's else's hands on my body, I flipped open my laptop and typed in the search words private masseuse. I knew it had to be a female, not a man. Beyond my rapidly increasing proclivity toward having sex only with other women, the kind of massage I had in mind involved more than just the typical therapeutic rub-down. When things got hot and heavy, I needed my partner to keep his dick in his pants while focusing his attention only on pleasing me.
Which was something I'd found very few men capable of doing.
The first few results that came up on the screen provided a list of 'licensed massage therapists' who were available to make house calls in my area. But I knew this was code for the traditional, non-sexual type of massage. Besides, I wasn't sure I wanted my new paramour to know where I lived. Beyond the prying eyes of my nosy neighbors, I didn't want to experience another awkward moment when I had to kick another putative lover out of my house. I wanted to walk in, an out, freely on my own terms from this professional relationship.
I scrolled a little further down the page and hesitated when I saw a listing titled White Orchid Massage–experience the pleasure of tantric massage.
Okay, I thought. This sounds a little bit more like what I'm looking for. The word 'tantric' suggested a slightly different kind of massage treatment.
I clicked on the link and a description appeared beside a picture of a scantily clad masseuse massaging a woman's bare lower back:
Tantric massage is the art of caressing one's body where the boundaries disappear and the recipient learns to experience an elevated and prolonged form of pleasure and relaxation. Your energy flow is stimulated by our personal Goddesses while your senses are gradually awakened toward their maximum potential. Particular attention is focused on attending to the sensitive personal areas of a man's lingam or a woman's yoni. Book a session today to experience the ultimate expression of personal body worship.
Yes, I thought. That's what I'm talking about: personal body worship. This is what I've been looking for. But who exactly are these goddesses, and what do they mean by a man's lingam and a woman's yoni?
I clicked on the button below marked Lingam Massage, and some black and white illustrations of a woman's hands massaging a man's erect penis appeared with a text box to the side.
The Sanskrit word for the male sex organ is Lingam, which is loosely translated as the 'Wand of Light'. In tantra, the Lingam is honored as the vessel that channels a man's creative energy and pleasure. The goal of the one-hour lingam massage is to caress the entire sensitive area including the testicles, perineum, and the Sacred Spot (prostate), allowing the man to surrender to a new, enlightened form of pleasure. Orgasm is not necessarily the goal, but it can be a welcome and pleasant side effect.
Orgasm isn't the goal? What the hell else do you expect the recipient to experience after one hour of massaging his dick, balls, and perineum?
But I liked the symbolism behind the words 'honoring' his sexual organ and enabling him to experience an 'enlightened form of pleasure'. Something told me that although orgasm wasn't the primary goal, most clients of this special form of massage therapy left with a very happy ending.
But it wasn't male pleasure and orgasm that I was interested in. I wanted these special massage goddesses to focus on administering a unique form of female-oriented pleasure. I clicked on the next button marked Yoni Massage, and some more erotic illustrations of a woman's hands massaging a woman's vulva appeared with another line of text below.
Yoni is the Sanskrit word for the vagina, which means the 'sacred temple' of a woman's body. During the yoni massage, the Goddess creates a unique space for the receiver to relax, from which she can enter a heightened state of arousal and ultimate pleasure. When orgasm does occur, it is often more expanded and more satisfying. While delivering a yoni massage, the giver should not expect anything in return, but simply allow the receiver to enjoy the experience and lose herself in the prolonged pleasure of being worshipped for the sexual person she is.
Fuck yes, I panted out loud. That's exactly what I wanted. Someone to focus her attention entirely on my pleasure, who'd tease and torment me until I experienced the ultimate form of satisfaction. But even though I knew it would be an entirely one-way form of erotic stimulation, I still needed to be able to connect in some way with my partner. What did these so-called Goddesses look like? I wouldn't be able to truly immerse myself in the experience if I didn't find her attractive.
My gaze shifted to the menu on the sidebar, where a map displayed red pins showing the location of White Orchid goddesses in major cities throughout the United States. I clicked on the pin centered over Chicago and a photo of a pretty African-American girl named Violet appeared with a link for more details. The page opened with a picture of a dark, slender woman about my age wearing a skimpy leotard that hugged every inch of her lithe figure. It showed her leaning over a massage table while caressing the upper thighs of another woman lying face down with a small towel barely covering her upturned ass.
But it was Violet's ass that drew my immediate attention. Slender and curvy with separate volleyball-sized globes, the downward seam of her tights divided them into perfectly shaped spheres that made it look like her butt had been carved out of marble. I felt my panties begin to dampen as I imagined watching her sylphlike figure flexing and bending while she laid her hands on my body. I read the brief bio beside her picture, then my attention was drawn to the top of the page where a drop-down menu outlined her list of services.
I clicked on the Yoni Massage button, where some erotic pictures of Georgia O'Keefe floral artwork framed the detailed description of her ninety-minute intimate massage sessions. Although the verbiage referred to cryptic terms such as 'somatic pelvic floor exercises' and 'sexual energy cultivation techniques', I had little doubt, just as with the thinly-veiled symbolism of the Georgia O'Keefe paintings, where exactly she intended to focus her attention.
The massage sessions were provided at her personal studio and offered in blocks of four, each lasting roughly ninety minutes, with home assignments and email check-ins between sessions. There was no appointment form or payment link–only an email address where I was encouraged to leave a detailed message with my personal details and booking requests. I immediately clicked on the link and began composing a carefully worded message:
Violet,
I'm interested in booking a session for your one-on-one personal yoni massage. I work from home, so I'm available pretty much any time to meet at your studio, but weekends are my preferred time to concentrate on personal enrichment.
Please let me know the next available slot you have to fit me in. I look forward to learning more about your tantric exercises and experiencing your enlightened form of body worship.
Sincerely,
Jade
After I clicked send, I immediately winced at my not-so-subtle choice of words asking for a 'slot' to fit me in. But as I continued scanning her website page further describing the yoni massage procedure accompanied with more illustrations of the masseuse probing her client's orifices in various sexy positions, I pulled down my panties and thrust my fingers inside my hole, mimicking the Goddess's techniques.
You can press your fingers into my slot any way you like, I panted, running my eyes over her tight figure while I hunched over my keyboard feeling my pleasure beginning to rise...
