A few weeks ago, I went to see a Sacred Intimate. I had earlier heard him talk about a coccygeal massage that cause some men to have emotional reactions. Since the way to massage the coccygeal muscle is through the anus, I was more than intrigued.
Since he was on the other side of town, I got there early and waited for my appointment. I went in and we talked about what I wanted to experience. I was trying to unleash my emotions. I'm often not aware of having them. I tend to have to figure out what I”m feeling from the context of my life.
I got up on his table face down so that we could begin with an Esalen style massage which is known for it's long strokes. I particularly liked when he straddled my head to massage my back. I got to feel his balls on the back of my neck and his taint on the back of my head.
He had me roll over and massaged my front. I let myself vocalize the pleasure I was feeling as I surrendered to it. I also began thinking about a story he had recently shared in his blog. It triggered my experience as a child when I was ridiculed for kissing another boy in the first grade.
At some point, he began the coccygeal massage. I don't recall if I was on my knees to begin with, but I remember being on my back. He tied something around my balls and it made me feel bigger. He took his time entering me as I continued relaxing into his delicious touch. I remember feelings of being stretched and of pressure and of feeling full.
I wanted to tell him how I felt I lost a part of myself when I kissed my friend in first grade. I still felt the reflection of his intimate story. He worked on my ass for a while and I was in heaven and full of compassion. Near the end, he allowed me to focus on the touch of my coccygeal nerve. As he shifted his position, he came upon a certain spot and I felt my body fill with warm energy. I felt like giggling. I wished it could last longer, but things came to a close.
When I stood up, I embraced him and told him how I reacted emotionally to his story. How it brought up my pain from the distant past. I cried at both of us having lost part of ourselves long ago and in gratitude that we were reclaiming ourselves. I told him he was loved. I meant it. I still do.