An ode to the Muse of Erotic Massage

An ode to touch, the one I love so much. The love language that’s in its own league, I am eternally in devotion to its breed. The breed of those who do not oppose the full body rub down from head to toes. From conservative to hoes, jaw down in the mirror as I devour your flesh suit once you strip off your clothes. Welcome to the temple where intimacy is godly and touching you is my hobby.

You’re laying in prone which aka face down, awaiting your seduction in liminal town. My femme masc grip will palm your calve, with hemp oil to partner with this ancient craft. The black candles are burning, wax dripping, in-sync with your curiosity. Sliding up and down your legs, playing snakes and ladders skin to skin, already drenched in the eros portal and its just 5 minutes in.

I have now been introduced to peach wonderland, I imagine you strut and we are hand in hand. Paying attention to this perfect fruit, I rub your ass for you, as I know what it goes through, It holds you when you sit and attaches that stunning upper figure thats so fit. In devotion to your being, I hop on the table for a better angle, ready to glide from your gluteus maximas, I merge onto yours and we mangle.

You are now receiving my babe weight, we are an open sandwich, I am cheese melting into you. Your head turns out to the mirror on the right side, finally your sight sense is activated as witness me glide. The ambient darkness makes our bodies look magnetic, moulded into pretzels we are swimming in the poetic. I slither off the bed I feel like a creature, regain my balance and back to the main feature.

You are the one, the star of the show, I wait for the beat to drop and my breasts begin to flow. The oil is the lube of choice, my boobs are sharing their voice, slip and sliding they are riding taking you to wet and wild, the theme park you began to slide. Thrown into pleasure as your loins light up, there is nothing quite like titties in the world of lesbian luck. Erotic massages are the VIP way to fuck.

I am above your head, I rub the tips of my fingers through your hair, I am an orgasmatron scratching your itch, waves of pulsing energy you throb and twitch. It’s time to roll over and open yourself up like a flower, still so much devotion to devour. The heater keeps us warm alas I can continue to adorn, time to approach the the sides of your breasts, let the nerve endings do the rest. I tease around your fatty tissue as my under arm pit makes way to your nose, the smell of our eros is exposed. Pits are my fetish and you are the gate keeper, a spicy pheromone to encourage you my day dreamer.

The pleasure loop is an infinity hoop, we both take a moment to wipe away some sweat and regroup. I am enticed by your nipples and begin to pamper them softly as if they were a pinch of salt, righty tight lefty loosey, tampering with your perky bolt. I reach for the rose watching over us, it directs me to your erogenous zones, sending shivers through your bones. It was the romance of the rose spirit who added more charm, as I caress your neck with my palm. I stimulate your ear lobes with one hand as you surrender on this horizontal throne, the other fingers massaging your collar bone.

Your reverse cleavage is art as I steer this odyssey, my job is the pleasure you, a revolutional fantasy. Whether you are curved and plump or flat chested, I would still be seduced and deeply invested. An esoteric experience to be at one with your naked form, to spot you on the d-floor I would immediately swam. I am the honey and you are my queen, salivating at the thought of a cunnilingus O scream.

Staring at you kips, soaked in gay anarchy, I stimulate mine with yours - a vital part of the massage legacy. A kiss to seal our envelope, in lesbian terms we are basically eloped. My time with you a triple X hot mess, let’s have a rejuvenating shower and let the aftercare do the rest. Spooning, hugs, tea and smiles in our debrief, space to giggle and even to queef. Draped in robes to hold our tantalising anti-sins, adding the elements into sexual expression well thats a whole other transcendental sling.

I am in awe of your trust and openness to be in my touch sphere, it is the ultimate blessing to be a hot queer. So proud of you for gifting yourself this therapeutic leisure, it is of high importance that we all reclaim pleasure. It’s a radical act to love ourselves enough to know our worth, a cosmic and chaotic journey we tour from birth.

We’ve fought for this; both sex work and the right to scissor, there didn’t use to be the same praise when you’d say ‘I’m with her’. The praise for the gays instead of the erase, thank god it wasn’t a phase.

A ode to the muse of touch, whether you’ve got a pussy, cock or non bino crutch, hot daym you deserve a sensual massage for lunch.