How a tantric massage changed my whole life

There are sensational titles and there are inevitable titles. The one in this post belongs to the second category. A single session of tantric massage made me see things that are impossible to unravel, so I decided to break silences that hurt me, without my noticing, for the past twenty-many years.

The more skeptical I am about life and the universe, the less I believe in chance. Last week, during a meeting with friends, I listened to a colleague's experience with tantric massage and thought "It's chaotic. I'll just do it to find out".

I got in touch with the professional who attended to my friend and took out a truck of doubts about Tantra, in addition to telling why I was looking for this type of experience: I became a militant of affection but, like many people affected by it, I haven't been giving myself the luxury of opening my heart to romantic couples lately. This, in my land, is called hypocrisy.

On the date and time agreed with André Imano Miten - that's the name of the therapist who came home to see me - I felt very anxious. The situation of paying a professional to make you have supposedly mind-blowing orgasms seemed too weird even for me, who am weird. It turns out that André rang the intercom and I decided not to yellow.

I had already left the room with half light, a mat on the floor and a towel beside me, following his instructions. We talked about the meaning of tantric massage and he explained that, for some people, it can be a very strong experience; for others, just an experience. I suspected that I would fit into the second group and, when he asked if I would prefer more gradual sessions or start with a more impactful experience, I opted for the last one - also because poor is a disgrace: I don’t know where I would get the money from to keep making consultations until enter the white tunnel I've heard of.

The initial massage is almost a mess that comes in waves. Light touches for every millimeter of the naked body, coming from someone who is dressed and breathing in the "follow the master" scheme. If you breathe at the therapist's pace, in addition to creating trust and connection, your body responds better to any stimulus.

During the procedure, I did not experience any sexual arousal. The feeling was that I was gaining an affection that, if my memory serves me correctly, I only experienced in adolescence, when we have that unwavering faith in love (and no previous disappointment). During this stage, my mind went to some paradise where my whole body was accepted the way it is. I don't even do it myself, mind you. So I thought that I was in no position to refuse. I surrendered to the experience.

Now, comes the part of the erotic tale without eroticism. The massage on the genitals is done with gloves, oil and vibrator. I was intrigued by the method of gently pulling the clitoris up and out in place of everyone's famous DJ movement, crushing the poor organ of pleasure instead of stimulating it. Living and learning.

At that moment, I want to remind everyone that my problem to be "cured" was that of not allowing me to have great exchanges of intimacy. So, when I started to feel signs of orgasm (since the physical part was excellent), I tried to get around the embarrassment of coming there, with that stranger. If I understand the explanations correctly, Tantra also discourages excessive control over oneself. Despite this, I started to get frustrated for not controlling my body a lot and started to cry quietly.

It was at some point in this battle between the physical and the mental that I realized that the physical had overcome rationalization and that, well, I was almost orgasmic. When André said: "you can feel it, this is yours", I felt a jolt of the head and trunk forward. I was lying on my back and I went up without control of anything, because in no situation of life did I feel so much pleasure and, much less, an orgasm that increased over time instead of decreasing.

When I was amazed at the duration and intensity of the enjoyment, the shock came. I started screaming and crying, all mixed up, asking him to stop because "it hurts too much, too much". It was not a physical pain. I felt spiritual pain or something, as if I had received news of a violent death. The more I tried to stop crying, the more I cried. Apparently, my physique had taken a hit on the mind, taking over the fucking control panel. Unintentionally, I went to some horrible place in the past that I didn't quite know what it was.

André held out his hand to me and waited patiently for my crying to give way, again, to our steady breathing. We decided to go on, and again I found myself trying to contain orgasms. When I felt that the second orgasm would be uncontrollable, I realized that he was much stronger than the first. Trigger warning: From here, the content addresses child sexual abuse.

IMPORTANT: Dial 100 is a support and protection service for children and adolescents who are victims of sexual violence. If you have been through this or know of a victim who needs help, ask for guidance there.

I pondered a lot about exposing the case, about exposing myself publicly and even about how my family would feel knowing what I hid my whole life, but I remembered that this story is, above all, mine. As much mine as the orgasms of today that caused me disgust because there between 7 and 9 years of age, I had two sexual abuse from men. One, from an adult in my neighborhood; another, from a boy my age. Do you know that little joke about shaking your cousin to learn how to get laid? Stop telling your children. Stop doing it. Stop this violence without size.

The abuses came to my mind as clearly as if I were watching them in a cinema with an Extreme Digital screen and a moving chair. I screamed and cried so much that, honestly, I am ashamed to run into neighbors for the next few days. Again, nothing physically hurt, but the pain of realizing that I spent my life feeling guilty and dirty for being touched without consent is unspeakable.
From that moment on, who knows how many conclusions, in fractions of a second, about my sexual functioning.

- I am afraid of my body because it can attract potential attackers if I am too beautiful or sexy;
- I have an aversion to very strong or temperamental men because I fear that they will force me into things that I do not want;
- I feel more comfortable dominating than being dominated thanks to the dread of being led to something traumatic;
- To feel pleasure in the sexual intercourse had been, in all these years, a "confirmation" that I was guilty of the abuses that I suffered.

It is funny that I have reported abominable things and feel, at that moment, happier, more free and grateful than ever. It was as if they took my ability to feel pleasure, wrapped it in a beautiful package and put a card "here, this is your own gift. Now, you have the right to feel pleasure forever, how and with whomever you want, because the your pleasure is not dirty, it is beautiful, it is a party ".

That said, I recommend tantric massage to men and women who are capable of realizing that therapy has nothing to do with slutty. Slutty was the way they manipulated my little body when I had no age, strength or repertoire to defend myself. Slutty is you have pinned your classmate at school without her asking, slutty are other things.

In addition, I will continue with sporadic sessions until I am sure that there is nothing wrong with feeling a lot of pleasure - or until the neighbors threaten to sue me.