Magic Man

How do you define a Magic Man?

Is it his hands, or his smooth candor? The way he smiles and brightens the room.

He remains humble and confident, creating a space of comfort.

Here, he will discover my body.

I have prepared my home, hosting this Miracle Masseuse. No stranger to Tantra. He had magnetism. A Southern charm, that mostly left me blushing. Gentle, humorous, and completely open. I needed to feel safe.

This was more than a massage. It was a healing session.

The room was lit in a soft glow. The blinds were drawn and in the middle of my studio sat a well-prepared table complete with sheep skin, a water-proof pad (I had mentioned I was a squirter) and a high thread count sheet that felt amazing on the skin.

The dress I was wearing hit the floor. He was unprepared. I smiled.

Pulling back the top sheet, he placed a lifted pillow under my knees and proceeded to tango with knots that had their own zip codes.

This was my place to receive. I found that wasn't such an easy task for a woman running her own business, dance training full time, and working with the most lucrative modeling agency in the world. Nah, no pressure. Just tons of knots that needed the right kind of touch.

From the moment Magic Man touched me, I softened. No grip, gentle fingers brushing all down my arms, rippling over my belly to the other side. Swiping, flowing; he was fully conscious, watching my breathing, listening. I was sinking. Was I snoring? I was melting further and I felt his hand on my heart. There was a surge of love pouring from him and I felt it all the way down in my pussy. There was a definite connection.

Preparing his hands his found the meat of my muscle and put his fingers and palms just so. Ecstasy! It was becoming very clear to me exactly why massage was considered Tantric foreplay. I was butter.

In my swoon he lifted the sheet and exposed my right breast, keeping the rest of me warm. His fingers were magnificent, cupping, tracing, licking, sucking....he was getting greedy. My nipple disappeared in his mouth. He drew me in powerfully, almost too much but his intensity was enticing. I didn't want him to stop.

His hand traced the sheet downward where he propped my leg outward. Fingers, slow, so patient, brushing the inside of my thigh, kneading the muscle, stroking high in my thigh where moisture met his hand. My body started to tremble with electricity. Tensing, releasing...was this a new method of relaxation therapy? This was an upgrade to the flat Savasana where you tense the body and let go.

It was suddenly apparent that if he kicked me on too quickly, we wouldn't finish the work I needed. He was subtle, and moved his attention more into the muscle than to flirt with my erogenous zones.

Again, I was sinking in his touch, firm, deliberate and seductively powerful, he touched with complete consideration and I could feel my heart open. My heart has never been a closed space. But she has been protected perhaps too much. It's hard to let love in all the way when you have a vicious watch dog at the door who will not let you enter, save the Queen. No evil shall come here.

As he moved to the left side of my body, I moved my hand to brush against the thick bulge rising in his athletic pants. I could feel his wetness on my fingertips! His cock greeted my hand. Heaven!

He could feel my attention divert. He wanted me focused. I wanted me focused. So he shifted and draped the sheet, exposing my left side.

The touch; him opening my leg to rest it giving him access to my inner thigh. I was trembling again but this time he obliged my desperation and cupped his hand over my pussy. Waves of energy hit my clit and he never moved. I arched and contracted feeling my pussy squeeze. Juicy...I was getting wet and open. Then he paused so I could catch my breath, resuming his work on my muscles now flooded with dopamine and serotonin. A brilliant strategy.

And then...the most outrageous, decadent slip. His hand again cupped me, his fingers found my wet yielding crevices. The fingers that were drenched from a light spray of Amrita Magick, slid right into my ass. Shocker! Yes! No one gets in my backdoor without hours, months or years of getting to know me. He far exceeded this rule. I just needed someone whose intention was sound, his ambitions clear and the willingness to jump in with me. That's why my ass accepted him, and suddenly I realized, my ass had a voice, too. Who knew?

His hands gripped both my thighs as he drove his nose deep into my patch of hair, a soft flick of the tongue and then a full dive right into my pink palace, open to receive his tongue. He was not demure or timid. He was a man driven to consume the nectar of the Goddess that lay before him, on his table, her taste and scent casting an invited spell.

Wet and happy, he lifted and smiled. It was time to turn over.

'Girl where'd you get all the junk in the trunk?'

I love a man who loves a great ass! He wasted no time getting me rubbed down and relaxed.

Butter...melting....moaning...his fingers between my legs with my face down. Shaking...he wasn't waiting any longer and I was cumming. Like a wildcat in heat, my muscles were contracting, body undulating like a primal creature. Again, he soothed me and worked out my muscles. This formula of arousal, relaxation, arousal, release was shifting my state. I was blissed out!

I imagined all of the couples that were missing out on something so relevant. Surely, you don't have to be a pro Masseuse unless you are working on someone like me, but the touch and combination was something everyone could do with the right awareness.

I was a sopping, juicy, hair tussled mess. It was perfect. Slowly I swung my feet over the side of the table. It took a while to come back. I was giddy. Those Magic Hands!

I wanted to devour him. It would not happen today. He had other clients.

I smiled. "Next week then?"

"Every Thursday," he beamed, "I'm available."

"So am I," I said.

I wondered how far he would let me go. I didn't ask. Not yet anyway. We were honoring the space. I was honoring him.

I suppose the majesty of our experience is that I give him what he doesn't yet know in Tantra, the awareness of ancient sexual healing practices that you would never hear in your doctor's office. But, work they must. We are so much more than our meager flesh suits.

He is the Shaman that opens my heart and clears my physical and ethereal knots. It's a beautiful dance, uncontaminated by expectations.

Every Thursday, right on time. I answer the door naked, which is my style completely, unless....

Stockings and Lingerie are always an option, too.

A cum guzzling, pussy loving, ass blessing, Magic Man.

He's got the Magic Hands.

Ah...yes;)