"Where does it hurt?"I haven't had a massage in over a year. Everything hurts. That's what I am thinking laying naked, covered with a sheet, face up, on the massage table. She is massaging my head. I have no answer. "Any particular area that has been bothering you?"She asks as her fingers massage deeply in my neck and jawline. "My back. Everywhere." And with that, the enchanting Celtic ambient music begins. And the massag...
I approach you slowly, Laid out on the bed,All your skin exposed,And curls upon your head.I admire every line,The smile on your face,The firm muscles below skin,Awaiting my finger's trace.My heart filled with joy,Before the first caress,I think of all our history,Passing every test.My fingers work their magic,Along your supple skin.Kneading stress away,Healing can begin.I rub along your shoulders,Through your pretty hair,...
« Did the Waitress Just Wink at Me? Today, dear readers, the exploration of my sexual identity continues. As you loyal bloggies — if people who write blogs are bloggers, those who read them must be bloggies, right? — are aware, it's a topic that has been on my mind lately, basically ever since I cast off my third boyfriend in six months. (For the record, the orgasm ratio in those three relationships combined was about 40:...
I generally do not like massages. There is something about a fully clothed stranger touching me while naked that resonates weird in my mind. It brings to mind the clinical setting of my doctor’s office instead of a relaxing environment. Masseuses also ask awkward questions; “What do you like?” and “What do you want me to work on?” in a coy manner. These inquiries remind me of the strip club venue, being awkward but withou...
