The Italian Stallion Part 10
It was late Friday afternoon; Samitra and Max had been in their respective office all afternoon, and had finished wrapping up business for the week.

Apart from each other in two different locations of the city, it wasn't coincidental that both had taken a few minutes to envisage thoughts of tomorrow's schedule; the most compelling appointment on their mind was the upcoming afternoon Tantra session.

For Max, the day of promise had arrived; he had been looking forward to experience his first Tantric massage.

Being alone with Samitra, he was prepared to be yoked with risky temptation.

It was uncommon of him to have found himself smitten for the first time, by a woman that had not fallen head over heels for him.

He had left many broken-hearted women behind in his trails, and had recognized Samitra to be his greatest challenge.

He had become a prisoner to her, harnessed by her smile, led by her almond-eyes, and the sensuality in her walk. He was totally captivated by her being; indescribably.

Many times he had closed his eyes with uncontrollable thoughts of her. He had imagined them coming together as one, having surrendered to his call to quench his thirsty lust and desire.

To him, she was like an exotic fruit which would not yield its sweetness until he rubbed and squeezed it, between his hands.

He rationalized that his sexual code of ethics and standards were high; at least he thought so, which allowed him to enjoy a little pleasure, with designed mischief to be wicked, and without causing intentional harm to his partners.

Although he had enjoyed sex enormously; good at it, equipped for it, pursued it vigorously, and had never been short of willing partners, he knew that forbearance would be the best means regarding Samitra's need for personal attention; business attention.

Max had clearly realized that he could not afford to jeopardize his opportunity for new business, and he was extremely fascinated by her ability to run a business successfully during economic times of plenty, including recessionary times.


For Samitra, the day of reluctance had arrived; she had never given any male gender a Tantric massage, only women.

They both had reached the threshold of a new beginning.


Handsome Max entered her studio, well dressed, and courteous. He was welcomed by Marcelino, a male Tantra therapist that looked more like a well fit, good-looking bouncer.

Samitra had come forward to greet him. Her hair was up and away from her neck in a French-curl having expoed her slender neck, and dressed in a black mid-length Japanese kimono with cherry blossom prints.

She wore black pants, soft-white ankle socks, and ballet slippers.

She had escorted Max into a private studio room he was occupied with wonderlust as to what may be concealed underneath her kimono.

They had exchanged small greetings, and a few polite words.

Samitra had handed him a clip board with a disclosure for him to acknowledge with his signature.

"Oh Sami, he smiled, always business before pleasure, no? What may ask what this is?"

"It is a standard, generic form that simply states you are in excellent health, and that you promise to behave yourself in my presence; otherwise, our session will terminate immediately with you having to leave the premises."

Max paused a brief second in thought, smiled, and signed the disclosure without reading, and handed it back to Samitra.

She then had directed him to a small room to have him remove his clothing, shower, wrap a towel around his torso, adorn himself with a cape-cloth and slippers, and to return to his private studio room where Samitra would be waiting.


In lieu of the standard draped towel or sheet used by other massage studios, Samitra had provided a white, soft, terry-clothed cape which draped from the neck to the knee length.

It contained three ribbon ties; one at the top, middle, and bottom which could be worn front or back depending on the customer preference.

This adornment added a seductive and sensual touch to Samitra's technique in the mind of her customer when she untied one or all while in their relaxed position on the massage table.


Max was impressed with the ambience of her studio; more so, with his captivating private room.

The lighting was appropriate; music was in good taste, and the pleasant scent from candles and incense had already put Max at ease.

Samitra had spared no expense to when it came to her business.


She had adjustable massage tables, electronically designed to swing the arms and legs apart for easy access to every physical limb when appropriate.

The table was thickly padded, soft but firm.

Samitra had electronic finger tip control of every feature in the room; the massage table, lighting, music, including an emergency button to summon emergency assistance.


Having felt refreshed from his shower, Max had been anxious to get started.

He had taken a couple of deep breaths and walked into the studio room where Samitra had been dressed down to a pair of black running-shorts, and a matching tank top.

Her shoulders were exposed, and she was bare-footed; this alone had sent tingles up his spine and had created sensations below his waistline.

She had informed him that this session was preliminary to his Tantra therapy that would be scheduled for next week.

Samitra had untied the ribbons on his cape at which time had given Max a closer view of her eyes and face as he fought his carnal urges.

She had asked him to lie upon the massage table face down; she had adjusted the massage table for proper height, and loosened his towel.

There was peaceful silence between them except for background music; "Conquest to Paradise" to help him surrender to the occasion.

Samitra had dimmed the lighting allowing the candles to emit a soft warm glow, and move him to be more receptive to receiving pleasure.

Samitra had mentally mapped his physical territory in preparation for whole-body caresses; his face, neck, shoulders, underarms, arms, hands, fingers, back, buttocks, inner thighs, behind the knees, legs, feet and toes.

For this sensuous massage, she had used sexy scented oil, just enough to get a gliding effect rather than too slippery.

He was about to experience a symphonic routine as she would touch, caress, and rub him from head to toe to discover which areas were most arousing to him.

His soft whispers, moans and sighs would be the signal.

To Be Continued In Parts.

Submitted by Sami 1/8/11

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