presence
I’m noticing a connection. On Saturday when I saw M., we tried sitting down to talk. Almost immediately, I felt uncomfortable. There really isn’t a comfortable way to sit in that room. He even admitted that. Usually he takes the chair and I sit on the weird folded futon. It’s not comfortable. And there have…
If We Met Again
It begins as if I am dreaming. The air between us is charged, the way it used to hum before a storm. I don’t know if it’s memory or premonition, only that my body recognizes him before my mind does. The space is the same, but something has changed. There is no tension of expectation,…
I Don’t Know What It Means
Here’s something I’ve been carrying for years, something I’ve never really spoken about until now. One of the hardest parts of intimacy with men for me is understanding what their actions mean. I remember one session with M. where I was being massaged and he put his cock in my hand. I felt it there…
Taking Courage to Slow Down
For years, I experienced sex in a way that felt like I had no real agency over the pace or sequence of events, over how my body was touched and enjoyed, and around my feelings of pleasure, overwhelm, discomfort or whatever felt like too much, not enough, or more of what was just right. The…
space between
I keep circling the same question: does S feel something for me beyond our sessions? For more than three years, S has touched me, held me, witnessed me. We’ve moved between massage and conscious intimacy, weaving back and forth across boundaries that feel both clear and porous. The exploration of our naked bodies never feels…
untangling desire & trust
I had gone into today’s session with an idea—maybe I would let M. witness me pleasuring myself. He had suggested it last time, and the thought stayed with me. For weeks I imagined myself opening in that way: vibrator in hand, egg inside, body exposed in orgasm before his eyes. But as the day grew…
the rock + the river
We keep moving—between massage and conscious intimacy, between silence and speech, between giving and receiving. We flow back and forth, like river and rock. Our sessions evolve into something co-created, something we shape together each time. This is what I want: not a script, but a landscape to explore. Not a routine, but a ritual.…
touch, trust, and intimacy
It takes me a long time to trust someone with my body. A long time to let myself truly receive—not just kindness or love, but physical touch, sensual care, erotic presence. I’ve loved massage for years, but I didn’t always know how to receive it. I used to perform the role of the “good client”:…
sacred tension
My appointment was for Sunday at 1:45 PM—a two-hour massage that became so much more. Before I left the house, I was already inside of the ritual. Showered. Shaved smooth. Oil rubbed sensually all over my body. I rolled fragrance oil down my arms and neck, behind my ears, across my lower back. Sandalwood in…
screwed
A former lover once asked me if I’m monogamous. I said I didn’t know. I’ve never been in a long relationship, so how could I know how I’d feel if I got there? But the real answer is more layered. I’ve been wondering about open relationships since my twenties, when a boyfriend said he’d marry…
edges of pleasure
Earlier this week, I was on a little vacation, getting a massage, and something clicked into place. I’ve often wondered if I have a kink around receiving massage—but I’m starting to think it’s not a kink so much as a preference born of wisdom. The truth is, I prefer being touched by men who are…
transactional intimacy
Sometimes I wonder if it’s only ever a transaction between us. I keep experiencing it as more—feeling the sweetness, the closeness, the ache—but then I feel foolish for believing in that more. Like I’m gaslighting myself. You care about me. You’re present within the transaction. But still… it’s a transaction. And maybe sex and intimacy…