Journey to Sunnyland for Nelum
Flying to Sunnyland from Silverstag Eco Hamlet
Wednesday, February 24th 2016
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Getting there was complicated. Wednesday was a five-hour wait at the local airport near Silverstag Eco Hamlet which climaxed with getting off my (very) delayed plane in exchange for an $800.00 voucher which I could use on future flights. Seeing as how my round-trip cost had been $402, I was getting double back what I'd paid in exchange for my flight being further delayed.
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Thursday, February 25th 2016
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Thursday morning the flights were not delayed. I arrived in Sunnyland, thousands of miles west of Silverstag Eco Hamlet (and Snowland, for that matter). My flight had come in slightly early. Nelum wasn't yet at the airport to pick me up.
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I bought a bottle of water for the outrageous price of $4.50. I used the bathroom. I finished the romaine lettuce I had in my carry-on bag. I pulled out my brush and teased my short hair into a pixie style. I texted Paladin and Hibiscus both to let them know my flight had arrived on time and safely.
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Nelum texted me to know he was outside. I walked outside and didn't see him. It took fifteen minutes for us to finally future out that I was at the area for departing flights instead of arriving flights. I hadn't needed to go to baggage claim, and thus, when I exited the nearest door, I was where departing folks went.
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Nelum had rolled down his windows. I looked into the vehicle and saw him. An array of thoughts and emotions flashed through me. Familiarity (despite having only seen each other twice in person previously, both back in 2010). Compassion (for no reason that I could discern). Annoyance (at it taking so long to get to each other and walking around outside with my bags to no purpose). Excitement. Worry.
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None of that came across in what I said: "Where can I put this?" I asked, indicating my roller-bag.
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"Oh," he said. And he got out of his car and came to open the back. He looked like he might hug me. I wanted to hug him, but first I wanted the heavy bag off my shoulder and the roller-bag put away. It felt like being reunited with a long-standing partner who I had seen just yesterday. There was not the desperation of having long yearned for him, nor the awkwardness of greeting a stranger.
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With the roller-bag stowed in the back of his truck, he got back into the driver's seat and I got into the passenger's seat. I immediately noticed his driving. It was assertive, but not aggressive - like him. I felt comfortable, and yet oddly displaced. How can I close the distance between the Nelum of my dreams who I know and love, and the reality of the Nelum beside me who doesn't even know about Hibiscus yet?
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"I don't even know where we are relative to knowing about each other's place in life," I said. "Maybe I should just start with when and why we moved from Sunnyland to Snowland back in 2011."
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"Okay," Nelum said. And so I jabbered, pausing when he was merging from one high-way to another, or changing lanes, to let him focus on checking his rear-view mirrors. I double-checked his mirrors too - as I always did as a car passenger.
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Many tangents, miles of road, and subjects of conversation later, I got around to Hibiscus. How we'd met. How we'd fall in love. How Paladin can come to live with us at Silverstag Eco Hamlet. I was worried that Nelum might feel uncomfortable that I had not one, but two men back at home. He didn't appear to be.
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When I felt complete with my story, I said, "And what about you? Where are you in life?"
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He told me about having quit his job recently, and about starting up part-time work at another location. He told me about some of his recent disappointments with women, love and work. He told me about his growing feeling that perhaps he needed to get out of the business of massage entirely.
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"Women ask for more. And when there isn't money involved, I give them more," Nelum told me as he drove. "Then I'll find out that she had a boyfriend and she feels guilty about what she did, or that she felt seduced by me even though she blatantly asked for me to touch her nipples.
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"Nobody has reported me, but there is gossip. People will suddenly become cold toward me. Nobody asks me about what really happened. They just assume the woman is telling the truth. If a woman claims she was raped, then people believe her. It makes the wrongly accused the actual victim, sending them to prison for doing nothing wrong. And then he gets raped in his ass in prison. I don't need to live with this kind of fear. I need to find something else to do to earn a living."
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You have such a strong sexual energy, I thought. It is hard to resist. "You induce a trance-like state with your natural way of being and with your massages," I said. "In that trance-state they're less inhibited. Later, they worry about what others would think of them. They shame themselves. Then they turn around and blame you to stop having to blame themselves. I'm sorry, Nelum. That's not fair."
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And it would be a shame for you to have to quit doing what you do so well. You're magical. Just two massages five years ago, and I never forgot you.
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I studied his face as he drove. The sun was shining. It was incredibly warm. I was over-dressed in two pairs of leggings, a long-sleeved shirt, a jacket and a neck-warmer. I took off the jacket and neck-warmer. I was still quite hot and starting to dampen under my arms.
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We arrived at a supermarket I had indicated I would like to shop at. We selected an array of fruits and vegetables including cilantro, cucumbers, avocados and spinach. I also selected several bottles of kombucha and a small bottle of cold-pressed flax oil. We split the purchase into sensible groups for which foods were mostly mine and which were mostly his and paid separately. I packed all the food into one bag together.
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We walked across the sunlit parking lot, me carrying the bag while he stowed his receipt. It wasn't far from there to his office.
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He parked a few blocks from his office. On the walk to his place a man asked us, "Are you registered to vote?" This led to the discovery that Nelum didn't vote. With the man's help, I convinced Nelum that there was no harm in voting, even if the system was corrupt, broken and potentially irredeemable. He accepted a voting registration form.
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"I don't think it is enough," I said, "I believe the votes that we cast with our dollars makes a bigger impact, but voting seems like a worthwhile thing to do, even if one always votes for the green party or some other third party."
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Nelum didn't indicate to me whether he was convinced or not. He led me into the shared office building where he was working and (covertly) living. He opened his office door to reveal a room about fourteen by eighteen feet. Potted plants dotted the room. Sheer red curtains let in some sunlight. Small lamps cast off more muted light, illuminating a massage table, many furniture items clothed in beautiful fabrics, small amethyst crystals, and a couple of full book shelves. The walls were filled with artworks, inspirational quotes, and two large posters about human anatomy, showing the muscle structure in great detail.
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"I want to change my clothing," I said. "I'm over-dressed. See, I'm actually wearing a pair of leggings under my leggings."
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"Oh," Nelum said, looking at me appreciatively. His eyes told me he thought that was clever and that he hadn't been able to tell.
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I hesitated, noticing a feeling of being pulled in two directions. After a moment, I put it into words, committing myself to the verbal transparency that Nelum had repeatedly expressed a desire for.
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"I am noticing that I feel like I can just undress in front of you, and it won't mean anything," I said. "You see naked women plenty in your practice. And yet, I'm noticing that I'm trying to force myself to think of it that way, because part of me wants to undress with the hope you'll respond to it. Yet if I do that, and you don't respond to it, then that would hurt my ego. So that brings me back to trying to mentally brush it back as unimportant."
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"What do you mean by respond?" Nelum asked, smiling a little.
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"What do I mean by respond? I think . . . I mean . . . Indicate to me that you are interested or appreciating how I look in some way."
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"I'm already smiling," Nelum said.
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I smiled, feeling a little heat in my cheeks. I also felt the sweat under my arms. Without further ceremony I lifted my shirt over my head. I glanced at Nelum. He was turning inward, looking meditative. I felt vaguely disappointed by that, but . . . I did just state all of that out loud. If I wanted him to react to my undressing in a different way, I should have concluded what I said differently.
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I changed into shorts and a tank top I had made myself. I placed myself in front of Nelum where he was standing with his eyes closed. Without opening his eyes he began speaking to me.
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How did I forget how wonderful his voice sounds? I wondered. Like Paladin, he was very soft-spoken, especially when in his element. It caused me to focus intently on the sound of his voice.
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"Stand relaxed and rooted. Use the least effort required to stay upright," Nelum directed.
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I felt my shoulders relax and my pelvis move forward. Why does it take less energy to slump like this? I wondered, paying closer attention to my exact balance. I felt the shape of my spine. Slowly I straightened my spine and noticed each muscle that had to tense to hold myself erect and straight.
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He began leading me through Qi Gong movements. He was much more skilled than Gongchan, who had only been practicing for about six months when I met him. Nelum was elegant, unhurried, calm, balanced and steady. I marveled at his patience. It challenged me to move as slowly as he did.
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He's beautiful, I thought. I found myself aroused - and we'd barely even touched since I had arrived.
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My legs began to itch and I moved into a yogic tree pose.
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"If you're bored, or if this is a bit much, you're welcome to do whatever you want," Nelum said.
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"Not bored," I said. Challenged, I thought. "Perhaps a more active movement would be easier for me."
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He demonstrating a twisting, flowing motion. I watched it once through and then mirrored him from there.
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After ten or so minutes we came to a close. I felt drawn to him, powerfully. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling aroused immediately upon contact with his body. Through his thin shirt I could feel the definition of his muscles.
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He returned the hug, tenderly. He began to massage my back as he held me. I moaned. His touch was magic. We flowed from the hug to the massage table, myself undressing along the way.
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The massage table was comfortable. The room was pleasantly warm. I felt exposed and vulnerable as I lay on my stomach, my head cradled in the horse-shoe shaped cushion.
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I had been awake since four o'clock in the morning. Relaxed and comfortable, I drifted to sleep. I woke again in a minute, or a few seconds, I couldn't tell. After a period of time which I could not measure with any accuracy, he rolled me over.
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He massaged my shoulders, his motions impossibly slow. His fingers glided to my shoulders, to the muscles in my chest, and then over my nipples. There was no sense in his motions that he had any hurry or agenda.
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Nelum glided downward, stretching himself over me so that his face came close to mine. To my surprise, I heard a ticking sound.
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Oh, I thought, I had forgotten. He had heart surgery. So this is what his heart-beat sounds like.
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I felt sensation in my own heart, one that I had felt many times before, but not so often - compassion. Arousal momentarily forgotten, I wanted to hold him, to comfort him, to show him the softest, most beautiful parts of my understanding of reality.
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His hands glided over my stomach, my thighs, slowly, intently. He was contained. Not a drop of urgency apparent. Until he kissed me. His tongue was plunging, probing - and very wet.
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Saliva transplant, I thought unhappily. Didn't someone teach this magical man to kiss? Or was no lover brave enough to critique him for fear that he would stop his divine work?
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I certainly didn't want to say anything. Instead, I let his mouth move down my neck, over my breasts, and onto my pelvis. He didn't move my hair out of the way as every man I had ever encountered before did. He simple kissed, licked and explored. His stubble was unpleasant, but his tongue sent shivers through my body each time it caressed my clit.
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I wanted to orgasm, but he was too slow, too patient, too all-over-the-place in his caresses and love. Rhythmic, consistent, I pleaded mentally. You might not have an agenda, I thought desperately, But I do. I want to cum.
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I reached down to his head and touched his hair, encouraging him to stay put (so I hoped). I touched his shoulder and reached for his arm and fumbled a little until I had his hand. I got a hold of his fingers and pulled them up to my opening below his mouth. He stopped and hesitated, as if trying to discern my meaning.
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Then, after only a few seconds' pause, he took my meaning and put one of his fingers into me. Mentally I begged, curl them, don't fuck me with them. Curl. Curl. Why did no one ever teach you to curl your fingers?
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I was too timid to direct him aloud and figured that other women had been the same way. It was rare enough to find a man willing to eat you out, much less one who could massage for hours and then give oral sex for an hour afterward. Who would want to do anything other than sing his praises? Why did this man have so many negative experiences with women? How was that even possible?
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I pulled on his head, drawing him up on top of me and felt his cock. It was hard, and became harder at my touch.
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"Do you have condoms handy?" I asked.
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"Yes," he said.
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I looked at him expectantly. Do I have to tell him to put one on and fuck me verbally? Isn't it obvious that I want that?
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He kissed me and my neck and ground his hips against mine, his cock thrusting against my pubic hair and stomach. It pulled my hair unpleasantly. I just wanted him in me, and I wanted it now.
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"Fuck me," I said. That much direction I wasn't terrible inhibited about.
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He found a condom. I took it from him, opened the package and put the condom on him. I thought vaguely about oil but decided I didn't need it, considering the hours of time I'd filled with becoming increasingly aroused.
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Slowly, slowly he began to enter me. Oh God, please just fuck me, I thought. I'd orgasm right now if you'd give me two hard strokes. He didn't. His attention was riveted on me. Even now, entering me, his composure was complete.
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Tantra, I thought. This madness is tantra. Paladin would like this. Slow, easy, no agenda, no hurry. Maybe I could learn to like this.
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I found myself giving up on orgasming and just paying attention to each present moment. For a long time I lost myself in it, like it was just another form of massage. I felt myself beginning to get sore, which turned into agitation. What is the point of doing this all night? I wondered. I would be very sore.
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"Faster," I begged. He sped up a little. I rose to meet him, encouraging him to be rougher, quicker. I moaned in his ears, I kissed him, I nibbled at him. Anything to make him lose a little composure and pummel me with his cock. He began to lose himself a little. The victory of that sent me over a long-awaited edge. The orgasm wasn't half as powerful as it would have been had it happened while he was eating me out, or when he first entered me, but it was strong nonetheless.
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Nelum smiled at me, pleased to have pleasured me. We filled the night with more kissing, murmuring, and touching. I washed up in the little, shared, office bathroom as well as I could. We shared food and thoughts.
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I'm in love, I thought. I'm already in love. Gods, I love my life.
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Click here to find out how things continued to get increasingly interesting as my stay continued . . .