Today was my one solo afternoon in Prague without my travel companions. After all the touring, parks, and museums visits, I needed a mental and physical vacation from the rigorous schedule. To unwind I decided to book a massage experience. I've always loved massages but had never been able to try free myself or submit to the experience. Today I hoped it would be different. I wanted a transformation. I had done a lot of research to find a reputable and skilled masseur, one certified by the international tantric massage association, whose headquarters are in Berlin.
The trip some months prior is what prompted me to consider a tantric massage. I had stumbled into their offices while looking at different shops in the main square and was fascinated by the seriousness of the philosophy and presentation of tantric massage as a healing process. I took away several pamphlets and a list of vetted references across Europe. So that's how I ended up in this studio on a crisp spring afternoon in Prague. The studio was run and owned by Ε tefan ΕehoΕ Cipra. Those people at the TMA demanded your whole government name and all your facts.
They aren't playing around. The studio was aptly name PrΕ―tokovΓ‘ Energie, flowing energy and was simply furnished and gave off a sense of tranquility. The space was in A large apartment in one of those colorful pastel buildings so famous in Prague. His studio was in Prague's lesser town on Misenska street, just a short distance from Karlstejn Castle. Frankly it was idyllic. Yet I was nervous. The mental preparation I had done seemed to be breaking down as the impending prospect of nudity and receiving a massage from some random Czech man who would touch me literally everywhere had shaken my resolve. But I was here. I'd paid the booking fee and signed all the waivers and forms.
In the waiting room the coffee table held a bouquet of reading options. One magazine caught my eye though. It had a new scientific journal type cover but was definitely not the type of boring terse journal. This magazine was called new cell frontiers and was all about Bioenergetics.
As I perused an article about tantric massage and its links with cell biology and energy flow through living systems, I felt a heat rise within me, what was I really signing myself up for? Could I really let some stranger massage my labia and clit? Deep down I knew the answer, and that is why I was still in the waiting room feeling the moistness build between my legs. I calmed myself by going over the information in the pamphlet one more time. Remembering that the client or receiver of a tantra massage is not a giver. Their duty is to receive the massage and surrender to the rediscovery of senses feelings and emotions.
The process was healing, an exercise to bring about a sense of well-being, deep relaxation, and a therapeutic avenue to resolve issues related to bruised relationships, self-esteem issues, and sexual inhibitions, long buried and denied. And goodness's knows I needed help with all of those. Plus, I wanted to challenge myself. I wanted and needed to fully surrender myself and really trust in this experience and another person. Just as I felt myself let go the last traces of resistance, he walked in. Stefan was average height, dark haired and Slavic. He had penetrating hazel eyes and fit muscular frame and I cock so well-proportioned that even in its relaxed state, I could make it out through his trousers. Everything about his look and attitude was sexy and erotic. I was instantly attracted. When he started with the preliminary questions, I was still daydreaming about feeling his dick go from soft to hard in my mouth.