I love giving massages.
It all began with the first girl I ever went out with. I was so nervous. She was the most stunning person I’d ever seen, and I doubted she’d want to spend time with someone like me. But when I asked her out and she said yes, my heart was about to beat out of my chest.
We spent the day walking around the mall, hopping from store to store, talking and joking around. Then we went for a hike, getting high on the trail before I drove her home.
We relaxed in her room, lying on her bed, talking and watching TV for hours. I remember looking at her and thinking how cute she was, how deep her eyes were, how silky her hair looked rolling over her shoulders. I was so nervous I couldn’t make a move.
Finally, she told me I could touch her. We kissed, cuddled, and caressed on the bed. My hands running along her spine, my face buried in the crook of her neck. Her arms wrapped around me, her warm breath rushing past my ear.
I had recently watched a massage video that I found incredibly sexy, and asked if I could give her a massage.
My hands were shaking the entire time they moved over her back, nerves making me worry she could tell how anxious I was. But it must’ve been okay because, as I finished massaging her legs and without making any real moves, she told me I didn’t need to stop. Hearing that was the hottest thing I had ever heard. I was clumsy and shaky, but at the time it was the happiest I’d ever felt.
That experience lit a passion in me to become better at massage. I bought books, took classes, and practiced with anyone willing.
Now, I can’t imagine sex without it. Watching someone relax and gradually become more turned on as my hands glide over their body makes me feel incredibly connected. It’s become my favorite part of intimacy.