In the first days of august, 2011, I had what you might call my "initiation".
I was in my holidays, and I was back on one of my infrequent, unscheduled intervals of non-ejaculatory experimentation. And for some reason, I decided to do what I had not done in years: Grant myself a real tantric massage applied by a professional.
I decided on a rather high-priced offer - mainly because I wanted to know whether the price made any difference. And also because I liked their webpage, and the lady who owned the place seemed rather attractive (even though they have to hide their faces and obscure their real identity, because tantric massage is legally considered prostitution in my country).
When I called, I didn't reach the owner, but talked to a woman with a very deep, rich, very erotic voice. I was slightly disappointed to hear that the boss was out of town and I would get a session with the lady from the phone; I still went for it, because I knew that if I hesitated now, it would take me forever to get back to a point where I would grant myself this expensive, somewhat forbidden and time-intensive pleasure.
The studio was in a faraway corner of the town, tugged in between a major train station and the economic university - both aren't exactly friendly buildings, but the street was slow and small, and ironically, a fundamentalist christian friend of mine lived nearby, so I could count on some spiritual help, should things get ugly.
There was an extra door beside the main entrance to the building - a door obviously leading into a below-street level apartment. A stained-glass door. I was a bit nervous when I pushed the nondescript button for the doorbell.
The lady with the deep and rich voice opened the door, wearing only that colourful cloth that they always wear in tantra seminars and the like. She warned me to behave as silently as possible, because another session was in process, and showed me where to leave my shoes. Then she silently led me to the little room where my tantra massage was to take place.
I am happy to admit that I was overwhelmed.
The room was only dimly lit by a few electric candles flickering some red light on the luscious fabric that covered all the walls, and a wide mattress on the floor. There were several cushions of different shapes and sizes on said mattress, there was a chair for me to undress myself, and there was an already-heated pot full of massage oil.
The lady, whose name was Michelle, asked me if I had any questions - which was a bit odd as a conversation opener, but I figured that her education was in erotic massage, not in communication, and politely declined, since I already knew the basics. I was told where the shower was, and was left alone to undress, proceed to said shower (wearing one of those stylish tantric cloths... which I can never get to really stay on my body by themselves, so I always have to awkwardly hold them with one hand), and make myself comfortable on the mattress.
So then I was there, properly cleaned, and didn't wait long until she came back, sat with me on the mattress, bowed before me and gently put my hand in hers, telling me to relax completely.
I will not go on to bore everyone with the long-winded narration of every single stroke. I will say as much as the following: She did use her hands. She did use clothes (the same tantric... I think). She also used beads. And she used her whole naked body covering me, which must have been one of the most intense experiences I've ever had in a setting like this.
This is the usual way: you first get your back massaged, and then the real fun starts - it's a classic dramaturgical trick that works every time. So when she asked me to turn around, and I was now lying on my back, it became increasingly difficult to stay in the completely passive mode that is required of the recipient of a tantric massage.
I lived through some rather wild fantasies, and I believe that, for just that little time, I was utterly in love with this person.
In the end, she brought me to orgasm, and by her breathing along with me, I had the impression that she did enjoy this part - perhaps not as much as I did, but this was definitely not a handjob deliverd by some professional sex worker who wants to get things done and pick up the money.
I shall also say that the orgasm itself wasn't really the important part. I'm quite serious here. It was a nice addendum, but I could have done without it. What really mattered was the buildup, and what really really blew my mind was the intense feeling of touch, especially when she had covered me with her whole body. It's relaxation and intense erotic arousal at the same time - maybe this is really the secret of it: doing away with the stress of "getting the job done" or "achieving orgasm".
Coming to think of it, I would really like to share a tantric experience where the orgasm actually is not the goal - neither for the giver, nor for the receiver. I think this is one thing I shall pursue in the future. And I'm also fairly certain that this is not to be found in a professional tantra studio. I somehow cannot imagine that this would work for the masseuse, even though I'm prepared to give it a try... next time.
And I'm 100% positive that there WILL be a next time. This is far too pleasurable to not be repeated. It has proven tremendously "sexual healing" in the sense that it boosted my self-confidence enormously, and gave me a lasting sense of relaxation and energy that I have rarely experienced before. It actually enabled me to do some stuff that I was afraid of doing before. In the weeks since, I have had lots of overwhelmingly positive experiences, and managed to steer my general attitude even more in the direction I want it.
So, in summing it up, I can only recommend it. Have an open mind, stop thinking about outcomes, and enjoy.