Ripple

When I was a tantric masseuse, I worked on naked bodies, mostly male. Covering them in a warmed silk sarong to begin. Slowly rippling the cover off before beginning slow circuits around the body, starting from the left toes, up the body to the top of the head and back down again to the right toes. Slowly, lovingly touching the surface of skin with fingertips, hot and cold breath, fur, silk, hair, skin, allowing their energy to rise to meet the touch. The clients asked only to follow sensation, nothing focused on, nothing left out. With zero friction, pressure to please, to have an orgasm or respond to me, thoughts could gently slow, a smiling bliss emerging. The first time I’d experienced the power, space and softness of this for myself, I’d cried.