Some years ago, I had the good fortune to be accepted as a student by a female teacher who had trained a number of other men in tantric massage.
I met her at a summer retreat for members of the local polyamory community, at a clothes-optional resort. Soon after arriving, on accepting an invitation for a by-donation massage from a young woman I’d met at an earlier event, I undressed, and then remained naked (except for sandals) for the rest of the day, like many attendees.
The tantric massage teacher, an attractive woman in her early 50s, was present at one of the events, as her “graduating” student (a man about the same age as myself) demonstrated some techniques with a young female volunteer. She was already on the massage table in the lodge as I came in, draped with an ornate sheet, but after we all settled in and introductions were done, he asked if his volunteer was ready, she nodded, and he whisked the sheet off her beautiful naked body.
Given that I’d read that only a small portion of Tantra is sexual, I was surprised that so much of the massage (and the energy work that it involved), was focused on bringing this woman to the point of climax several times, then bringing her to a lower level of excitement, and back again. When it was finally time, about 40 minutes in, she had an intense climax that could not have been faked (I was close enough to see her chest blush), and she finished her part in the demonstration embracing him, shaking and crying and saying “Thank you.” He held her and then placed his hands on her pubis, then one to her chest, and did whatever else it took to ground her, and hugged her again as she left.
He who hesitates is lost, so I found the teacher later that afternoon. She was seated outside with sun filtering to her through a colorful drape. As before, she was wearing a cape and a long skirt, and her lovely breasts were bare. I was still in my birthday suit. I introduced myself and asked if I might talk with her... I told her about my past training in massage, and my interest in what she was teaching, and asked if she would accept me as her next student.
She leaned in with a quiet smile, put her hands to my face, kept them there for most of a minute as we held gazes, then put her right hand on my chest for a few moments, leaned back with a wider smile, and said, "Yes, I will. Would you like to start next week?"
I did. I met her at her apartment, she at her door in a sheer red robe, welcoming me inside, serving me herbal tea, asking me more about about my goals in learning tantric massage, then inviting me to her massage room, lit with candles (as you might imagine), and with a little incense, but nothing overdone.
She lit one more candle and said, "I will be naked during our sessions" (she slipped out of her robe and let it fall, as she spoke, so that I saw her fully nude for the first time), and so will you, and we can adjust the temperature if you feel cold. Please undress now..." (I did)... "Today will be mostly me massaging you, and briefly, I'll ask you to touch me, so we can begin to get to know each other. My rules are that you are not to touch my sex until I invite you, though you may touch my breasts and hips today. If there is any way I touch you that you feel unsure of, let me know and we'll explore that. Using mostly my hands and arms today, I will offer you a full body massage, and offer devoted touch to whatever areas you would like. Please lie down and tell me about any parts of your body that especially need touching today."
There were many surprises... the fact that she used corn starch instead of oil; how thrilling even her lightest touch could be, on my chest or belly (I hadn't believed in chakras until a few years before... but feeling is believing, and she -- unlike most massage practitioners -- knew all about them); after giving me a sweet, liquid climax toward the end (she encouraged me not to hush, as I did with my previous teacher in erotic massage, but to cry out if I felt like it), and bathing me, her leaning in for a sweet, gentle kiss, with her nipples touching my chest; her beginning to teach me (once it was my turn to touch her) how to touch someone without either holding back or pressuring... letting my hands be "just there"... and the 200+ page manual she emailed me later that day, with such detailed instructions and seemingly endless sequences of steps in each massage -- everything from how far to spread the hips just after the first three spiraling passes, to how to know, at the end of elaborate sequences, whether it's time to begin the first grazing caresses to the genitals -- that I wondered if I'd ever learn them all. I had a lot of studying to do before each session, but I've never minded homework.
She charged very little for each session, and when bad medical news about my daughter placed my finances in uncertainty, she waived her fee entirely. She would embrace me very tenderly, both of us naked, at the beginning and end of each session. I knew it would be a physically intimate process, but I hadn't thought about how emotionally intimate it would be... that we were lovers, of a sort, in addition to teacher and student... in a kind of training where that was not only OK, but natural.
My one regret is that I could only work with her for a few months before my daughter's condition called me away. My teacher and I were well along, but I knew I had so much more to learn. Her training was normally weekly, for about two years. And if I understood correctly, ritualized intercourse with one another (or with someone else who would join us) would have been involved in some of the ceremonies and techniques I was to learn, but we didn't reach that point. I really wish that she and I could have done this together.
She changed my life, and my relationships with my other lovers, in many ways, and I will always be very grateful to her.