This Year, I Must…

I think what I need to facilitate my healing and growth is intentional touch, and what better way to jump start my slut phase than to seduce a masseur?

Ordinarily, the thought of fucking some random dude does not appeal to me. I need some kind of connection, usually from talking and getting to know them, before I can fully express my sexual attraction. But what better way to build rapport than to be plastered in oils like a blank canvas?

Last night I got an incredible massage that left me fully relaxed and fucking wet. He worked my whole body, starting with the soles of my feet and pressing firmly against them.

The best part about it was how we were breathing together. I’m usually quiet, but he found all my spots. And worked them. And I told myself while he was touching me, I asked myself, “can you surrender 1% more? Can you ease into his touch a tiny bit more?”

And with those questions in mind I would let myself go, go, go. I let myself float; let myself drift further into the table, into the fibers of the sheets. I let myself breathe. I let myself sigh. I let myself moan. He responded very well to the moans. He saw my tits at some point I’m sure because he had me in some pretzel position while we were both breathing in tandem.

It was so hot, so erotic. I felt incredibly connected to this stranger, this man who I only knew as cute face and strong hands. All I cared about were his hands, the force they’d apply. And his breathing. And how his breath hastened when he made me moan.

“I surrender,” I would say in my head. I was surrendering to his touch, to my body, to my fatigue, to my sadness, to my aloneness, to my worries, to my goals. I was surrendering to everything. And he could sense that energy in me and he received me tenderly. He met me in my vulnerability and he stretched me to sink into it more.

He touched me everywhere except my breasts and pussy. He spent a lot of time on my glutes. He touched down my sternum with his bare hand. This was so hot and erotic, oh my! I wanted him to cup my breasts so fucking badly. He touched my oblique muscles right above my pussy. He pressed down there. God fucking damn I wanted him to rub my pussy.

This year I want to, no, I need to seduce a masseur.

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