The Masseur

Today was my one solo afternoon in Prague without my travel companions. After all the touring, parks, and museums visits, I needed a mental and physical vacation from the rigorous schedule. To unwind I decided to book a massage experience. I’ve always loved massages but had never been able to try free myself or submit to the experience. Today I hoped it would be different. I wanted a transformation. I had done a lot of research to find a reputable and skilled masseur, one certified by the international tantric massage association, whose headquarters are in Berlin.

The trip some months prior is what prompted me to consider a tantric massage. I had stumbled into their offices while looking at different shops in the main square and was fascinated by the seriousness of the philosophy and presentation of tantric massage as a healing process. I took away several pamphlets and a list of vetted references across Europe. So that’s how I ended up in this studio on a crisp spring afternoon in Prague. The studio was run and owned by Štefan Řehoř Cipra. Those people at the TMA demanded your whole government name and all your facts.

They aren’t playing around. The studio was aptly name Průtoková Energie, flowing energy and was simply furnished and gave off a sense of tranquility. The space was in A large apartment in one of those colorful pastel buildings so famous in Prague. His studio was in Prague’s lesser town on Misenska street, just a short distance from Karlstejn Castle. Frankly it was idyllic. Yet I was nervous. The mental preparation I had done seemed to be breaking down as the impending prospect of nudity and receiving a massage from some random Czech man who would touch me literally everywhere had shaken my resolve. But I was here. I’d paid the booking fee and signed all the waivers and forms.

In the waiting room the coffee table held a bouquet of reading options. One magazine caught my eye though. It had a new scientific journal type cover but was definitely not the type of boring terse journal. This magazine was called new cell frontiers and was all about Bioenergetics.

As I perused an article about tantric massage and its links with cell biology and energy flow through living systems, I felt a heat rise within me, what was I really signing myself up for? Could I really let some stranger massage my labia and clit? Deep down I knew the answer, and that is why I was still in the waiting room feeling the moistness build between my legs. I calmed myself by going over the information in the pamphlet one more time. Remembering that the client or receiver of a tantra massage is not a giver. Their duty is to receive the massage and surrender to the rediscovery of senses feelings and emotions.

The process was healing, an exercise to bring about a sense of well-being, deep relaxation, and a therapeutic avenue to resolve issues related to bruised relationships, self-esteem issues, and sexual inhibitions, long buried and denied. And goodness’s knows I needed help with all of those. Plus, I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted and needed to fully surrender myself and really trust in this experience and another person. Just as I felt myself let go the last traces of resistance, he walked in. Stefan was average height, dark haired and Slavic. He had penetrating hazel eyes and fit muscular frame and I cock so well-proportioned that even in its relaxed state, I could make it out through his trousers. Everything about his look and attitude was sexy and erotic. I was instantly attracted. When he started with the preliminary questions, I was still daydreaming about feeling his dick go from soft to hard in my mouth.

Stefan asked me about my health and any points of concern as he led me down the narrow corridor to a door on the far left. The room he ushered me into was spacious but organized in such a way that a closeness instantly embraced you. It was like entering a well-furnished cave. The stones walls looked ancient and sturdy, and the decorations were warm and comfortable. I felt at ease in the room. Then I saw the table and tension seized by body. Stefan must have noticed because he came over and asked me to sit down in the armchair. For the next 30 minutes we just chatted. First about mundane things like what sites I had visited in Prague.

Then we got to my fears and views on the body and my body specifically. By the end I felt safe and understood. It was like therapy with an old friend, and it prepared me for the next stage, the undressing. To a far corner of the room was a large screen to change behind. I went behind the screen and began to undress. I had decided what to wear very carefully. Only three pieces, a shirt, crepe pants and a light coat. I wanted to have only what was necessary on to walk the streets as I knew the more layers, I had on the more fear I would feel about removing them.

Stefan put on soothing music, nature sounds with light rain as the backdrop, an ideal choice. When I stepped from behind the screen the room was dimly lit with numerous candles set strategically around the room to give a reassuring and calming atmosphere. Stefan was at the massage table with his back towards me. I know he heard my approach but remained facing the opposite direction, I was grateful for that. A few feet away from the table and him I stopped. At that point he spoke to me, “Efua, I’m going to turn around and face you now. Don’t be nervous you are safe.” I let myself relax into the moment. Stefan made me feel safe and eager to submit.

Stefan turned around and witnessed me in my full nakedness. His eyes swept the length of my body, and he had a look of pleasure and compassion on his face. He knew exactly how I felt, and he made me feel understood. He reached out his hand and I took it. We stood hand in hand for several minutes facing each other and looking into each other’s eyes. No words were exchanged but something profound was communicated. I broke my stare and positioned myself on the table.

I was ready to begin the journey. Stefan came to the head of the table and reached over to the side table where massage oil was being warmed. He applied a liberal amount to his hands and began a deep tissue massage of my neck and shoulders, which is where I had indicated I carried most of my stress. Stefan used short deep strokes on my shoulders and kneaded my neck with precision and skill. Between strokes he would whisper guidance, “Efua, let yourself be pampered and adored, I am here to serve you and usher you into pleasure and freedom” it was so hot! and comforting, and thrilling, to me seen as deserving pleasure.

I was on my way to relaxation and more. It felt like ages had passed but in truth it had only lasted 20 minutes, yet I felt the tension pouring out of my pores. Next Stefan used long strokes along my back and wings of my body. I felt a curious sensation and realized he was also using his lips and tongue along my rip cage. I felt a heat spread along the area his kisses fell that spread all over my body that began to moisten my yoni.

This continued for some several minutes and I could not help but whimper and moan quietly. Gently, but firmly, began to then massage my legs and inner thighs. He used the same stroke technique along with soft sensual kisses. After working thoroughly down to my feet, he asked me if I was ready to turn onto my back. I said yes and turn over. Stefan began the front massage by giving me a deep scalp massage. It felt like waves of healing water pouring over my head. I cannot capture the release or pleasure in words.

The sensations it unleashed transported me to some of the happiest moments of my life and let desire boil to the surface. I saw or more felt the warmth and love of my childhood home in west Africa, a vision of myself and all my cousins dancing outside our street in a summer rain shower, I felt again the warm rain falling all over us in delight. I was brought to tears. The joy of the memory overpowering me. As he moved down towards my breast and stomach new sensations penetrated me. I felt the first heat of desire and need for something I couldn’t yet name. His hands over my breast made my nipples erect and my chest heave. Stefan took gentle circular motion me over my breast, stomach, and arms, always towards the heart. I was in ecstasy. All I can say is that right then I wanted him to start fucking me and I knew whatever the next stage was I was ready to let myself go to the experience.

Stefan moved from using his hands to his mouth. He blew cool breaths all over my body, then planted light kisses along my pelvic bone. I felt a shudder run down my spine. Then he brought his hands back onto my body and ventured toward my yoni. He moved slowly and thoughtfully, pausing to read my silent messages and body language. When I was ready, he started to massage my pubic bone area and then moved down to the inner thigh area. He did this motion a minimum of nine times. I started losing count with anticipation. Stefan used his right hand to apply a high-quality lubricant to the mound of my yoni, pouring just enough so that it dripped down to the outer lips and covered the outside of the yoni.

I gasped over and over. He steadied me with his hands and kissed me on the lips. I nearly lost it I could feel myself on the verge of orgasm and knew I would start squirting if I didn’t pace myself. His lips on top of mine felt like a magical spell. I honestly felt like Snow White being woken from a death-like sleep by her Prince. But I was being awakened to myself and my true sexuality by a gifted masseur. Whatever it was, it was fantastic and electrifying! He moved away a little and looked deep into my eyes and asked if I was ready, yes, yes! I screamed. I was more than ready for him to enter me, in more ways than one. He gently began to rub the lubricant on the outer lips of my yoni. He then used his thumb and index finger, to gently squeeze each lip of my yoni gently between his thumb and forefinger. Stefan alternated between this technique and sliding his fingers up and down the entire length of each lip.