“I realized that you were hurting. You had lived a lie and a life of deprivation for many years. You were grieving for Sandra. You were broken and adrift. I recognized this the first time you took me and when we spent the first night together. But, I was also broken, in a sense. I was exhausted and demoralized from the pandemic experience. I needed healing as much as you did. So I decided to say yes. I thought we could heal each other. The money had little to do with it. It was my choice as much as yours.”
“Things have changed—a lot. In a little over a month, both of us are on the path of healing. We are enjoying life and each other. This is a feeling I’ve never had before. I’ve fallen for you. You can have me anytime and anyway you want. And if you want me as part of an orgy, that’s going to be okay as well. I’ve bottomed for you—and I’ve loved it. But, I’d prefer not to bottom for someone else, even if you ask. I was envious today, and maybe a little angry that you let Akim fuck you. He is not a toy. He looks like a boy, but he’s a man, a whore, another human being. I can’t handle that. And I don’t think I can let him have my ass.”
“We’ve both come a long way. Let’s not push it too far or we could lose it all.”
“I know I’m rambling and that this is not all very coherent.”
“The long and the short is that I don’t want to be using these boys—or letting them use us for our pleasure. I’d like to pass on the next two special massages. You’re all I want.”
I was stunned. But, deep down I agreed. We had no right to use these boys. Even if on the surface they seemed to be enjoying us tremendously. In fact, they were even thinking we were gods because of our size.
And I had asked too much of Jorge, so new into our relationship. “Okay, we’ll cancel the special massages. I hadn’t thought about it as you have. I don’t really need that. We have something special going. And I’d like it to have legs. We can enjoy this place without using the boys—although I do want another massage—and I did really enjoy when they helped us to fuck each other. I agree. We’ll stop before the final act.”
“I think there’s an elephant in the room. I am certainly aware that I’m paying for this trip, and that I will be giving you a well-earned bonus at the end. When we started, I tried to convince myself that I wanted someone to be with me—thinking that being alone or trying to cruise in strange environments was going to make this more a chore than a joy. I tried to convince myself that I chose you, and that you chose me, because we were good together. I guess I suspected that we were both getting something—you a chance to recover from the demanding heroism of COVID service, me from a loss of Sandra. Money was just incidental. Perhaps that was naïve on my part. At any rate, things have changed. We are into each other; maybe we love each other; certainly we’ve decided to live together. I wouldn’t do anything to change any of that.”
“Do we need to go farther? Are you okay?”
“I’m definitely okay. I think maybe I’m just a little mixed up. But, I couldn’t imagine being happier than I am with you.”
“Good. Let’s get back to the present. Enough rationalization. With all of this, I realize you didn’t get to take me today. Spoon me now and let’s see what happens.” He pulled me into his arms, as he had the first day, and caressed me into himself, calming me and claiming me. I shivered in the realization of what we had become and flipped into his spoon, feeling his quivering erection in my cleft.
We enjoyed the next few days, and our decision didn’t really affect the incredible sensuousness of this place. But, I had discovered a depth in Jorge that really turned me on. He was a guy that I could live with—confident that he knew what was right and what the limits were. We were definitely good for each other. And we definitely fit together—often!
********
But soon we were ready to transfer to the next hotel—in the rice paddy highlands near Ubud, only a few miles away. It was another Four Seasons but as different as night and day. It was modern, not antique. It was in the hills with rice paddy views, not the sea. And the roof of each villa was a lotus covered pool, providing a small drop pond for the infinity edge pool of the villa above—like the rice paddy steps down the hill. It was natural and soothing. The slowly cascading waters left a quiet background. And it was Zen. As colorful and exotic as Jimbaran had been, the hotel at Ubud was monochromatic, modern, rustic and relaxing. Nearby was an artistic settlement—which we visited only once–and the bustling art center of Bali: Ubud.
Our reason for being here: to attend a class with a master of the Zen hands-free orgasm, the difficult and elusive tantric goal of any confirmed devotee of Asian culture. And I wouldn’t need to be concerned about Jorge’s conscience. This was all about us—and we were paying this guy a fortune.
We began the next day—off campus, so to speak, at an ashram near the hotel. We were introduced to our teacher. We were his only students. He claimed to be a doctor, and his name was definitely Indian. He was terribly pompous. At first, he guided us through nearly two hours of yoga—all done in the nude. We were encouraged to hold poses and positions, to breathe deeply and purposefully, and to stretch our bodies to the maximum of their capacities. Throughout, he explained positions in a pseudo-intellectual, high-class Indian (that is, upper class British) diction—and stroked our bodies, including our shafts and balls, casually and frequently. He was definitely full of himself, despite what appeared to be no formal certifications. (“There are no qualified certifiers,” he explained.) I wondered where he had received his doctorate—perhaps in a box of popcorn. More likely by internet. At the end we were exhausted, even though we had not engaged in a hard workout, we thought.
Then over herbal tea, he began to explain the next part, emphasizing every word and speaking so slowly that I nearly fell asleep during his tutorial. “Tantric hands-free orgasm is an ancient skill. Modern society, as in so many things, has changed the rules, making achievement of the objective easier. They use toys, needle showers, sprays, friction from fabrics, drugs, douches—even the body of another to achieve orgasm without their own hands touching their phalluses. They call this ‘hands-free’.”
“That is not what we do here. We teach only two techniques: the joint hands-free orgasm (both the active and the passive) and the solo. Everything depends on breathing, intense meditation, and muscle control. Most take years to achieve the goal. (I thought, yeah, years and thousands in tuition costs.) Others never do. I note that the two of you are in superb physical condition. That is always a good start, but it also suggests that you are physically oriented, not spiritually inclined. That may turn out to be a stumbling block. So let’s begin with the joint-active, the easiest of the three.”
He moved me to a pad on the floor. “Rest on your back, flat. Arms at your sides, but not touching your body. Begin to breathe consciously and attempt to quiet your soul.”