Monday, January 23, 2012

Sexual therapy in Indian Mumbai


During my work as a sexual therapist, I often travel to various locations around the world. My specialty is to cater to women that seem to have lost their sexual desires and lost interest in sexual details. 
 
I have come to notice that one can detect a number of different groups, among my female clients. Some are businesswomen that have too little time to spend on a relationship, and feel a lack of intimacy in their lives. Another groups is constituted by housewives, that have too much spare time, too much money, and see far too little of their spouse, to feel sexually content. They generally want something new, and preferably exciting in their lives, having tried most things when it comes to shopping and dining.

One of my counseling sessions brought me to मुंबई, Mumbai. I found myself at the airport. Mumbai airport is very busy, and I was relieved to find a driver with a sign with my name on it waiting for me already there.

My driver was a slim man. He did not talk, nor look me in the eyes. He took my luggage, and placed it in the back of a spotlessly clean car, and showed me to the back seat. It was comfortably equipped with cool air condition and even a little minibar. He looked at me in the mirror, and only uttered two words: “three hours”. Then he closed the screen between the front and the back seats.

I poured myself a mango juice drink, and comfortable fell asleep after the long flight.

Most likely three hours later, I woke up just as the car came to halt. The door was opened. My luggage was already out, and my driver pointed me up a hill. My eyes not used to the bright sunlight at first had trouble taking in the view. But after a while, adjusted, saw a swirling path up to a beautiful mansion.

I walked up the path. The surroundings were breathtaking, the nature adoring. The doors opened just before me. I was greeted by a woman in a bright, red saree. She invited me in.


We sat down and had tea. She explained briefly to me that we were in her summer residence, and that she had let all her staff on vacation, for us to be able to work in calm. I understood by her way of speaking and her aristocratic manners that she must be of a very high rank in society. I also understood that by the size of her advance payment and the way one of her assistants had helped my book a flight just a few days before our scheduled meeting.

She told me, in India you cannot show skin, cannot kiss, cannot show sexual affection in the streets. It is a thing for the house, for privacy. She also told me that due to her social standing, it was very difficult for her to meet other men, and to have the experiences she wanted. In her society, she continued, a woman should not desire sexual pleasures, and should only live to be married. She, however, had no intention only to have one sexual partner in life, and wanted to learn. She look very strong, but vulnerable, where she sat. We decided that therapy would begin after a short walk and a moment of relaxation.

Back in the house, she showed me to another room. The walls were clad in thin, beautifully decorated drapings and curtains. Let me take off your shoes, she said, fell to the ground, and softly helped my feet out.

On the floor must have been thirty or forty pillows, resting on an enormous Persian carpet. Come, she said, let us lie down.

She said she was happy to have found such a handsome instructor, she had always admired the looks of the Nordic people. Here, all men are dark, she complained. I have always been curious, if there are any more differences. I mean down there. In India, women are supposed to be gentle, and not ask these things. But in this setting, I hope you don’t mind, I will leave conventions aside.

-By all means, no, miss. I am here to help you, to serve you and to guide you.

-Good, she said. Then unbutton your pants! I want to see already now.

Admittedly, I quite hesitantly started unbuttoning my pants.  Her eyes were focused on my crotch.

-Now, pull down your pants, she ordered.

I did as she wished me to, exposing my soft penis .

She seemed delighted. How light and pale, she said, almost giggling. And your hair, it is so much lighter. And so much shorter, she added with a nod.

-I have trimmed it, I mentioned.

Now, you should see mine. She lifted up her saree. To my surprise, she wore no panites, no undergarment. The area between her thighs was completely shaven smooth.

-How do you find it? She asked.

-It’s very beautiful, just like you are, I admitted.

-I rarely get to use her, she said. All I can do is touch her myself. Is that wrong?

-It is only natural.

-But I would prefer the touch of a man. An experienced man. All men here, they are so greedy. They just want to take what they need, but give nothing in return.

-Not all men are like this, I am sure there are plenty of men here,  that would do anything for you.

-Perhaps, this is not all I want. Some time, I would also like to take what I need. Or give like a man.

She had now opened her garment, letting one of her breasts peek out slightly. She circled the nipple gently, while thinking.

-I wonder what it would be like, to be a man. To hold that thing, she pointed between my legs, and put it into a woman. To feel a man around me, against my skin. To tell him what to do.

-Do your men tell you what to do? I asked.

-They do. Or they just move me, using their strength. For once, I would like to be the one with strength. With power. To be able to tell and be obeyed.

She let one hand move down between her thighs, lightly sliding a pair of fingers up and down.

-To take what is rightfully mine.

-What is it that you would like, madame?

-I want to see you caress yourself, she said. As if she’d been thinking about it for years.

-To make yourself hard for me, while I watch you. Do it.

-It is quite unorthodox, it can…

-Just go on, she said. Do it.

Understanding that this was one of her desires, I did what she asked of me. I pulled down my underpants to my knees. Placed my hand around my balls, squeezed, and started a pumping motion around my cock. It quickly rose, to her delight.

-You have a beautiful penis, she said. And uncircumcised, which I adore.

She watched me.

-How does it feel? She asked.

-I enjoy it, I answered truthfully.

-I want to see your butt, too, she added.

She went over to me, and turned me half over.

-Don’t stop, she told me.

-What a cute little bottom. Like a baby’s.

She let one hand slide between my butt cheeks.

-So very soft.

Her fingers slid from my scrotum, across my anal up the crack.

-It is very lovely, you’re so beautiful, she said.

Suddenly, she licked one of her fingers, and pushed the tip inside my butt, my body twitched from surprise.

-There now, she whispered into my ear. Don’t be afraid.

She reached around my waist, and let the fingers of her other hand grip my penis. She started jerking it, gently.

-Now I’m inside you, she continued whispering.

She pressed her finger deeper inside me. A moan escaped me.

-So you like that? Feeling me inside you?

She started masturbating my cock harder. She pulled out her finger, and started pressing two fingers against my butthole. She eased them in, her sharp nails just barely touching me inside.

-Now I will fuck you, she whispered harder, breathing more heavily into my ear.

She started pushing her fingers more deeply inside me, the other hand working my cock. I felt her 
warm lips on my neck, her breath against my skin. She started biting me, my neck. Her pelvis started pushing along with her fingers, as if she were fucking me from behind.

Harder and harder, she almost forced herself on me, working vigorously with her fingers, lips, mouth and teeth. I was her single focal point of desire.

To her utter delight, I exploded in an orgasm by her hand, at her will.

Her hand wet by my seed, she continued stroking me, until I was completely soft again.

-Now, tell me everything you know about sex!


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