Massage Appt. Confirmed

With all massages the main intent is to identify and resolve any disturbances within the muscular structure throughout the body. In the same way that there exist many muscle groups that are designed for different functions, there are many massage types: deep tissue, hot massage, Reiki, hot stone, among a longer list. Each one can take a lifetime to master independently. Each one has a separate focal plane, a purpose of design that is suitable for that unique application. You chose the Deep Tissue massage, but as noted in the Special Comments section: "a lighter touch."

A simple, gliding "diagnostic" massage is exactly what I apply to you first, then combine this detail with your musculature for a personalized plan giving you the best experience possible. And the longest lasting relief probable. I had to mentally block myself from picturing the pending frontal massage, as it will require more caution and patience. There are less prominent muscle groups littered amongst a proverbial minefield of erogenous zones and hidden sensitive areas (tickle spots) that can eviscerate any relaxation immediately (#NoBuenoYo).

Or worst case, where these could quite easily get out of control, from the masseuse side, from the receiver side, someone who has their thoughts run away or particularly if you have a surreptitious bad actor ("...Who Me?!").

Oil only comes into play once you get into harder skin on skin contact, so there is no chance to inadvertently deliver friction burns on sensitive skin. For what I'm doing right now, a light, unoiled hand is the best, allowing my hands to glide over the skin and feel for disturbances within the structures below. All muscles should have a clean path going from point of connection to point of destination. You're able to sense even the slightest anomaly within the muscle structure by using a light touch.

As expected, I wasn't finding anything with your upper back other than common knotting between and around the shoulder blades. This is typically where stress is carried and is the first and last place encountered during the massage. It gets hit twice to ensure that the muscles are smoothed out; once initially, allowing for the muscles to release, then unfortunately contract again, with the second pass where more focus is applied, because it's the one that will be associated with the lasting impression. Sort of like why we eat sweets after a great meal, we walk away having a memorable pleasant dining experience, yet we tend to remember the dessert more fondly.

As I moved down there was some knotting on your lower back which is quite common for females and does require a different technique to really work out. I noted this and moved on attributing it to heavy collegiate workload. Sliding over your body including your majestic gluteus maximus, I felt around on your quads and followed it down to your calves and even the muscle outside of your instep. I started from your feet and worked my way up focusing on following the attention access and bloodline to make sure that you got the best results.

I resisted the temptation to do light touches on your feet in case you were ticklish, that's never any good thing when you're supposed to be relaxing, if you are jerked out of a relaxing mindset, by an inadvertent tickle. Once we were ready for the heavier muscle-work, I took a bottle of farm-raised, non-GMO, organic, free-pasture oil that I picked up from the local YuppyMart and poured some in my hands before rubbing my hands together to get some warmth into it.

It is important to ensure that the body isn't slapped with cold oil, that's just a rude shock and no one needs that. Using my now lightly oiled hands, I rubbed firmly and slowly across your skeletal and muscular structures resolving any of the knots or encumbrances that I encountered along the way. Following up to the calf I used deep needing exercises to really work on the muscles in a way that started lightly and progressed slowly into more firm pressure. I was pleased to hear you making sounds that were positive affirmation that I was hitting the right spot with the right amount of pressure - pretty hot, TBH.

Once I was satisfied with your calves for this pass, I began again working on your hamstrings. I was lost in thought of the type of work that you do, concocted purely upon conjecture and by piecing together possible causes based on which muscles were tighter than others. Whenever I near your erogenous zones throughout your body, I provide you with a warning through firmly applied pressure, so as not to be mistaken for mischievously trying to excite you. Because you could feel where my hands were going, it gave you time mentally to prepare for the impending touch.

However, against my best efforts, and parallel to my experience, I couldn't help but notice, perhaps only within my imagination, that you were actively working on a counter-productive goal. Your breathing had increased in pace, deepened in capacity, and little soft affirming noises were coming from you, perhaps unintentionally? This sounded so cute, like the "mews" of kittens, as they are experiencing the world around them anew. I did indeed want to provide you erotic pleasure, but only after I had soothed your aching muscles could I really get down to work.

Attempting to abide by the professional affirmations, I was not intentionally trying to stir your passion. However, no human (especially male) with an active heart-beat could prevent these thoughts from crossing their minds when they have a fully disrobed, sexually attractive lady laying underneath and graciously allowing for such an intimate touch to happen. I was in both heaven and hell; it was a battle of conscience in a three way "tug-of-war" where the Good, Bad, and "Ol' Dirty Bastard'' were trying to convince me why each was such a good idea. ODB eventually won out with the key phrase ringing in my head of "Go knock something loose, Tiger!"

Based on all of my experience, your body was displaying all of the signs of arousal and I was truly apprehensive about your potential response: There are always two paths diverging from a single decision within a set reality - one path that goes with your preference and one that goes against it. Being a man in my condition of arousal, I was not looking forward to the drive home with such a turid protuberance, refusing to subside and who was mimicking "The Club©" Anti-Theft device on the steering wheel. Sulking and angrily dismissive that I hadn't fought harder to bring him into play, as if "Jim" were a petulant quarterback prodigy being benched during the key football game, whose skills outclassed his personality.

There was barely a sense that escaped being encaptivated by the primal signals displayed. Sight would be the least charged, as there were no outwardly visible signs that you had let your body embrace my touch. However, the remaining senses (unfortunately, excluding taste) were in full-alert and keen on the signals being given: my ears picked up the contented utterances you made with amazing affect, my hands had the most pleasure by receiving the remaining information coming from your body - the way that it had relaxed and was passionately awaiting the next movement, the heat it was generating throughout the touch and most noticeably once I was came closer to your center. I was even able to key in upon the minute vibrations your muscles made as my fingers encroached upon sensitive areas, your body left reacting with trembling anticipation.

As if you were able to telepathically read my mind, your body was already answering before I could pull in my next breath. I felt your body arch back against where my hand rests, reaching out without hands to prod me into action. Such a beautiful sight having your lithe body on edge, having to withstand the past hour's worth of affections being applied to it. Several times during the message, you were almost able to catch onto the wave of the sensation that you had intended to ride. Similar to how you had controlled the situations previously, dictating the context, applying the pressures and contact that you wanted, not necessarily that I had yearned for. Now the tables have turned (or went horizontal) and you found yourself hovering on the exquisite edge of The Void.

The Void is as old as human conscience, that driving force that tempts the gullible into action that leads to folly. It is the voice that dares you to stick your fingers into a spinning fan; only your Protectors know it all too well and have always been there to pull you away from the chasm, close your ears to the soothing, disastrous siren's-call. The Void has another more sensual side, wherein it is on the verge of pleasure. It is the "Event Horizon" constantly beckoning haplessly into the universe awaiting for the careless traveler to be distracted to where the scream of the Banshee is disguised as some entrancing, melodic force, hypnotizing the vagrants and tyrants alike; lulling them into a falsehood where they become prey to this ancient force.

Part of my extra-curricular research came flying through my mind at that time: Fun Fact - In the "before times", the climax was called by many fanciful names. It was not known as it is today, through the clinical, technical terms where even school children starting at a very young age understand the physiology and functionality of our sexual organs, perhaps as young as 3rd Grade in certain parts of the country. In days of yore, the orgasm was called many things; such as "the little death" or "le petite mort '' in its native language of French, which has a more friendly resonance to it than the other terms in differing parts of the world from this medieval period. In the 1600's, it was referenced several different ways like "Cleave the Pin" and "Breaking One's Arrow", whatever the heck that was supposed to describe...

I appreciate living in today's world - a land of wonderment surrounded by information that can lead to endless rabbit holes of one's choosing and to satiate one's desires. I became fascinated by the clitoris since I was that young boy reading that "naughty book" with such a naïve mind. It was just a little piece of skin - didn't really look so impressive, like it didn't do much; It just sat at the top of the cleft like the cutest gargoyle protecting its domain.

I had seen it in pictures by that time in various states of arousal; some clitori standing tall at the top, like a mountaineer whom had just defeated an inner demon by conquering the mountain; others demure and hiding behind the curtain, like some game of "hide-and-seek" that has more intriguing rewards to offer the winner (and loser alike); and some "men in the boat" who barely revealed their presence, let alone one so actively behind the steering wheel, responsible for driving the female to heights of pleasure... that is what got me, "there has to be more to it" and, oh, boy, was I right. As you are about to find out.

"Holy Shit!", I thought as you seemed to allow my touch to penetrate you more intimately. Allowing my hands to do my evil-brain's bidding and enjoying the freedom of Consent that you provided non-verbally, entrusting me with the results that I was dearly anticipating. I know that you had been judging my potential bedroom skills this whole time, trying to tease out what I would be best at once you freed me from my confines of civility.

Hands: strong, knowing, soft, kneading, guiding, lightly traipsing along your skin making it mad, like a "sneeze that just won't snoz." A dastardly Bandit rushing in from the dark edges of the woods to rid you of your worldly possessions. Fingertips: light, bouncing, reconnoitering your skin, finding these secret spots that light your fire, some that lay forgotten from years-past and ones that you didn't even know existed.

Amongst all of the erogenous zones of the female anatomy, I fell in love with the Clitoris. It is like an iceberg and a foundry at the same time. The tip was the only part visible, yet the main areas lie just beneath the surface and is responsible for the amount of pleasure bestowed upon it. And a major heat source capable of reducing to liquid the mightiest of metals and able to create new alloys without noticeable effort.

Unfortunately, "Common Knowledge isn't so common", even some of the owners of this treasure haven't learned that the structure is shaped like a horseshoe and drapes over the canal evenly on each side of the vagina. Like it's male counterparts, the Clitoral structure is composed of erectile tissue that can become engorged just as well as it's more visible male brethren. As it hydraulically inflates, it alters everything around it by reducing the diameter of the tunnel it guards, it's ballooning effect has a similar function to tighten the skin in the surrounding area.

The result is increasing the tension and heightening the nerve conduction making the area more pronounced - albeit by millimeters, but that is enough to make a massive change in the feelings that the nerve bundles produce sending at light-speed to the brain. Last but not least, the more that this erogenous zone becomes aroused, so do the lubrication glands preparing her mistress to receive the mighty sword with just one swipe.

Because of the position that you were in, butt-up and belly-down, it's the perfect position for me to "play my music." Oh, what a sweet sound you made! Your being is a beautiful instrument of feminine arousal. As I made more pronounced gestures around your pleasure palace, exacting movements expertly delivered to arouse your inner lady before your outer lady knew what was going on. If you were wearing underwear, it would've been rendered inconsequential by this time, completely drenched with good reason. I have been making love to you with my sub-conscience since my hands first touched you.

Wishing arousal upon you, thinking of intimate connections, demanding that the Lady prepares for the Lord's welcome. I wanted to actually be able to see your peach pulsate once I could coax your thighs apart just a little more. As your legs parted, I had more of an opening, which is when I enjoyed the aroma of arousal produced all of this time: Strong, but in a great way; Powerful, but not overbearing; Feminine, reminding the lizard brain within our phycology that there are indeed reasons why females are the greater sex.

The scent was mesmerizing, intoxicating, and had an immediate effect on me - you wouldn't have gotten a different result had you injected a bottle of Viagra directly into my bloodstream. The effect was that my shaft became Immediately rigid, I could feel the muscles of my cock begin to strain against the flesh attempting vainly to withhold that powerful force. During a hand stroke, it pushed against your thigh as I used any excuse to reach across your body making contact. You had a wise look about you when we met, so most likely knew what I was doing, my tricks weren't working because you welcomed the contact. It helped to drive your kitty wild with lust. Hips gyrating, thighs opening and closing in the most minute way attempting to capture my free flowing hand in its grip. The warmth coming off of your pelvic region felt amazing in my hands.

We're trying to portray Icarus and his ill-begotten flight too close to the sun. Similar to his outcome, I had no choice but to succumb to the effects of close proximity of your lustful heat. I made sure to set my hands appropriately to gain my control on my instrument of desire and depending on placement, just as a trained maestro can play many instruments, each with equal proficiency. In my mind, and in this instance this, I wanted to play you like a classically trained violinist beautifully interacting with their instrument.

I wanted to pluck your strings delicately with an even tempo, ensuring that the notes are produced in a harmonious manner. Key to me was not being like the other college boys I presumed you have encountered, where they only wanted to steal your honey immediately. Purposeful movements make your body desire my touch, well beyond what your mind would have previously considered a threshold. I could feel each heartbeat as it pumped through your labia, such a beautiful feeling. By using your body's natural lubrication, I was able to slide my fingers around quite easily like a rubber ducky circling the drain.

My intention was not to finger bang you into Oblivion. Any chump can strap a wrist-rocket onto their hands and mechanically produce orgasms with women. Fun Fact: This became such a complication in the 1900s, that doctors had injuries "saving women from the scourge of hysteria." That's how naïve our culture was back then; an incredibly horny woman, with no socially acceptable means to satisfy her desire is no match for society. The obvious result of this problem was the invention of the vibrator. This was a method that the doctors had devised that would not only support the women who came begging to solve their needs, now it could be done easily and in a way that reduces injury. Once I learned of this, I would fantasize about being a doctor back then. "Hey, it looks like you got ghosts in your blood. You should probably do some cocaine about that." - Ol' Timey Doctor

Time was limited, even with the overlap that you earned by being a cool chick, I couldn't take forever enjoying this act of slowly building up your climactic ending. The tension was there, your body wanted it and was doing everything with its power to make it happen. That's what I settled into a consistent tempo with the correct amount of pressure applied, ultimately with the goal of coaxing out the greatest gift your body could bestow upon me.

Throughout my dexterous manipulations, I was building myself a mental map of how your body best enjoyed my navigations. Some people say that "Two wrongs don't make a right", I like to say "That is true, but three rights do make a left?"

This is where my hands decided to divide and conquer; with one going upwards towards your head and the other going downwards towards your feet. The mental "pleasure picture" I've drawn meticulously over the last hour exposes all the sensitive areas that were carefully navigated the first time. Remembering where each spot was, I repeated the same functions yet with a different intent confident that you wanted this as much as I do. Instead of applying heavy pressure telegraphing my impending touch, this time my fingers were on a mission to tease you into orgasm.

Like a keyboardist from some 1980s old rock band, my hands dance all over your body and create a fleeting sensation over your skin. I began to focus my left hand on the base of your skull in firm unrelenting patterns. It was not enough pressure to hurt, but your body required me to make my presence known. Massaging the hard-working muscles that keep your head up and your senses alert with one hand creates a dichotomy of pressure attacking you from your lower core all the way through your spine and your neck, puts your body on notice that this is something it hadn't expected and had never experienced before.

As my left hand was manipulating your neck, my right hand went in for the kill. Using my fingers, I liberally spread your honey all around your pelvic region, so that no movement would distract you from the pleasure that I wanted you to feel. I completely understand that not everyone has the same turn-ons as any one else might have. Sometimes, I think of it like Goldilocks: some kinks are just too much, while other kinks are not enough - and we can spend a lifetime finding the ones that are just right. I say this because I begin to lightly touch the areas around your sphincter. But not in a menacing way, rather similar to a burglar waiting for the right time to break and enter your sacred home; more of a "Hi, I'm new to the area and I thought I'd just drop by and say Hello. All right then. Nice to meet you, I'll catch you later."