Making Love To Yourself

He was a tow truck driver, sloppy fat with greasy hair and black under his fingernails. His shirttail hung out on one side, and his khaki pants were baggy.

Gulping inwardly, I welcomed him in. Remembering my ethic of finding something lovable about each person, I softened as I gazed at him.

“How may I serve you?”

“I’ve heard that tantra will help me slow down. I could use that.”

“Yes, I can teach you a way to breathe that will help you with that.”

I began to explain the mechanics of drawing energy up the spine away from the pelvis. I asked him to tell me when he needed to slow down, so I could help him redistribute the energy.

Once he was familiar with the process of delay, I encouraged him to just lie back and enjoy the touch. Caressing him lightly on his legs and thighs stimulated an erection almost immediately. I stroked around his lingam, not touching it, and moved up his belly and chest with my hands. After a few minutes of teasing him, I took his penis in my hands and held it gently.

“Remember, tell me when you want to slow down.”

“All right. It feels really good.”

I poured some lubricant into my hands and enjoyed the slippery feel as my hands slid all over his lingam. Suddenly his body tensed and his eyes grew wide.

“Whoa! Slow down!” Instantly I stopped, but it was too late. His cock twitched and semen began to flow.

“Just let go and enjoy,” I encouraged. “Don’t try to stop it now.” I knew that if he did, he would still have the ejaculation, but no orgasm or pleasure.

As his orgasm subsided, I glanced at the clock. It had been five minutes since I had begun touching him. “Wow, he really does need some help,” I thought to myself. “I had no idea how trigger-happy he was.”

“This is just part of the learning process,” I told him once he was able to hear me again. “You have to learn your body to be able to do this technique. That’s the tricky part. It takes practice. The more you practice, the more you will begin to know when you are getting close, and you can slow down sooner. Practice makes perfect!”

“Should I come to see you again?” he asked.

“Yes, I’d be happy to help you practice,” I answered. “And you can also practice with yourself. Make love to yourself, and practice delaying. You’ll learn a lot.”

“Make love to myself? You mean masturbate?”

“Yes, I like to call it making love to myself. It has a whole different feel than the word masturbation. Masturbation sounds like something furtive and dirty, something you do as quickly as possible so you won’t get caught. That’s why a lot of men have trouble with premature ejaculation. As teenagers they trained themselves to come as fast as they could, hiding in the bathroom.”

“Yes, I did that.”

“So now you can train yourself differently. Set it up as a ritual. Light candles, be in front of a mirror. Pleasure yourself while looking into your own eyes. Tell yourself ‘I love you.’ Celebrate yourself.”

“That’s really different than anything I’ve ever done.”

“Yes, I’m sure it is. Does it sound like fun?”

“Yes, it does,” he said, his eyes wandering off in contemplation.

“The Buddha said that you can travel the world over and never find another person more deserving of love than you. This is a way to express that.”



One of the things that I loved about doing sensual massage was that I reached people who would never have come to see me if I had called it “spiritual” or “healing”. Yet often they were the ones most in need of healing. The promise of an exotic sexual experience lured them in, and once they were there, they often received much more than just a hand job. Like with this man, I used the opening that happened with orgasm as a way in, to plant seeds of self-loving, heart-healing, and a glimpse of a broader reality.

(This is an excerpt from my book, Tales of a Sacred Prostitute.)