The best Tantra Sex Stories of Real People
We at Filthybooks love Erotic and Steamy Stories of all forms! So from time to time we scan all our sources, from the internet to private tales, and write down the most sexy stories of real people. These stories are not only exciting, they are a true source of inspiration!
In this episode we focus on the best Tantra Sex Stories!
In Tantra you learn to feel interwoven with all beings. That is, you experience how a narrow, limited love expands. This is connected with deep feelings of happiness (Source). So Tantra is about feeling each other, feeling and fullfilling the needs on one side and letting it happen on the other side. Sex Positivity in its purest form...
And hey, this should definitely be something everybody should experience once! So dive in and read how others felt!
Finally, if you and your partner want to start with Tantra Sex yourself, hop over to our follow-up article about some of the best resources to learn Tantra techniques.
So scroll down, have fun and get inspired!
The best Tantra Sex Stories - OMG that's what everybody should experience!
What Hilda did not tell me about was where she got the glow on her face after she got back home from camp.
Before then, she had been withdrawn, angry at the way the both of us were slowly drifting away from each other. We had not been married long, but our life seemed like a humdrum existence, like one we had been living for quite a long while.
Sex. That would have put back the fire in it, I supposed, but it did not. We used to be so sexually compatible, but I was losing interest in the act, and so was she.
When she returned with a glow on her face and did not find something to complain about after her camping, I began to entertain the notion that the camping had given her the needed clarity. It was something that I wished for myself too. Sadly, my break was still far away.
She greeted me cheerfully and tried to make conversations, which I found, well, not exactly boring. She seemed like a new person altogether, and I warmed up to that. If this was the person that I was going to share the house with after work every day rather than one that always complained about me giving her little time, then our marriage was not going to hit the rocks.
“There’s something I want to show you,” she said, one evening.
I had just come back from work to find her in the house. She sat across the table looking at me as I ate the meal that she had taken so much care to prepare.
I could not get an answer from her about what she wanted to show. She wanted me to eat, rest, then follow her.
She led me to our spare room. In the middle was a table that she had set up. Close to the table was a bottle of oil.
“I’ll need you to remove your clothes,” she said.
I tried reminding her about how tired I was. I had had a terrible day at work, and I needed all the rest that I could get. But she was insistent and told me that I did not have to do anything. All I had to do was lie on the table that she had set out in our spare room.
It was the mystique of everything that held me back there, otherwise, I would have just gone up to my room and slept. As I lay down, she pulled off my shorts, then helped me pull off my shirt, but she made no attempt to pull off her own clothes. I watched her, fascinated. Hilda has never initiated sex since we got married. I was always the one pulling her into it. When I did not, nothing happened.
I wondered what she was doing until she produced a tube containing oil.
“Just relax and enjoy it,” she said.
Then she started, and I swear I had never felt something like that before. She started lightly around my chest, moving her hands in a circular motion while applying little pressure. I realized that the muscle there were sore.
“Deep breath,” she said.
Like one hypnotized, I took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly at her command. It was something new, something that I had never experienced before. When her fingers grazed my nipples while massaging my chest, I sucked in air, feeling tremors building in my body.
What is this? I kept thinking, still wondering if it was real or if, somehow, a fantasy of mine had finally managed to materialize in real life.
Her fingers slowly increased their pressure on my muscles squeezing out the stress from them.
My muscles, sore and worn, responded to the deft movement of her fingers. I tried to suppress a groan, but it came out anyway.
When I looked at her face, I found out her eyes were shut. Her face was calm, and there was this intense concentration on it. I shut my eyes. Her hands were spreading relief to my body, but they were also doing something else.
I felt my penis lengthening without her touch. I groaned. I wanted her hands down there. I wanted her to spread this warmth that I was feeling all over my body down to my manhood, but she was taking her time, making me want her, making me reach out for her in my mind.
I heard the voice as if from a distance as my longing drowned out every other thought in my head.
I was feeling something for her, something that I had not felt for a long time. Slowly, her hands moved down to my stomach. I drew in a sharp breath. Her hands went back up to my chest and nipples, massaging them while she whispered to me to breathe. My manhood was completely swollen now, looking for something to pierce through, but there was this uncertainty about us getting together in bed. And that thought poured excitement through every pore in my body.
Our sexual routine had graduated from the passionate mating it had been to an activity where we were sure of what we were going to do. The unpredictability was a beautiful change.
Her hands traveled down towards my belly again before one of them went back to my chest. I was trying to breathe the way she wanted, to relax, but the excitement in my groin was too much. I could feel an outpouring building up, one that strained for release.
When her hand touched my hardness, I shivered.
The expectation had built up so much that I was not sure how long she would do what she was doing before I would drop all of my load. Again, she repeated her instruction and poured some of the oil from the tube into her hand. Then she stroked me gently. I arched upwards, but she pressed down my chest gently.
Her hand was massaging my length, stroking lightly, taking the breath out of my lungs. My head was filled with a lot of sensations all at once as one of her hands was still on my chest massaging it and kneading my nipples. She slowly slid the remaining hand towards my length and began a slow and dedicated stroking.
Again and again, her hands, soft and smooth with the massage oil that she had rubbed on them, went up and down my cock. She moved purposefully like it was some sort of worship, dwelling on every point along the length, letting the sensations sink in while my breath faltered.
There was something about what she was doing to me, something new, something uplifting. I was seeing myself in another light through her eyes.
I was seeing her in another light too.
Her hands crept to the tip of my cock and stayed there, massaging it in slow stroking moves. Then she held my length. With one hand, slippery with the lubricant, she pulled at the top slowly, her hand slipping to the top and back again.
Then I took in a deep breath. She repeated the action again and again. My heart was beating faster now even though I tried to slow it down by deliberately breathing the way she wanted me to. What she was doing made me want her more than I have ever wanted her before.
I tried to pull myself up, but she left her work and pushed me down gently. When she was sure I was lying back down on my back, she resumed massaging my cock, breathing in and out like it was some kind of control.
I could feel everything building up to my tip now, but I wanted it to last a little longer. Still, there was nothing I could do.
It took me some time to realize that groaning that seemed to be coming from afar was actually coming from my throat, escaping into the room. I shut my eyes, tried to control my groans and let her hands adore me. They moved slowly like they were in awe of my manhood, and at the same time, I knew they had control of me.
I braced myself for the final strokes, and in no time, the warm liquids spurted out. I arched, groaning before I felt some warmness around my cock. She sucked, taking everything in, one of her hand on my chest again, this time, she was just kneading my nipples. I trembled as she sucked. Her tongue went around the tip while she squeezed out the rest of my load, making sure there was nothing left.
When she was done, I lay on table, the soreness gone from my body.
In its place was this satiation. I stared at her as she bent toward me. A kiss followed, a deep one before she turned and left the room.
I wanted to go after her, to have more of what she had given me, but I did not. I was still too shocked and satisfied by the experience to do anything.
The massage was an excuse to get out of the house as I was already tired of my newly wedded husband and what we were going through.
He was so focused on his work that it was becoming a daily battle trying to get through to him.
The sex, which had been axing from the beginning, had slowly degenerated into something worse than a paid night at an escort’s place. There was no joy, no passion, no feeling. I was thinking about a lot of things, but I wanted it to work between us.
Andrew was the first man that I had truly fallen in love with for everything about him, including his body, but he was becoming something else, and it was affecting my mental health.
At the massage space, I had a lady who usually attended to me. It was a moment that I found a release from the stress that had been building all week long, something that I looked forward to every weekend. Yet, I was afraid that I was going to get used to it.
I was informed that my designated masseuse was not around, but another could be made available for me.
It was a real bummer because I had come to build a kind of bond with the young woman who squeezed the rightness out of my muscles. She knew exactly where to touch to make me sigh in relief.
I was not sure anyone would be as good as her. However, after much reassurance from the receptionist and with the thought that home would not be any better at this point, I decided to settle for this new masseuse. Maybe she would be as good as advertised. If she was not, I would simply come next time for my masseuse.
I got into the massage room and got in position on top of the table, covering my midsection with a towel. A young woman walked in and greeted me. She seemed young than the masseuse I was used to and was more beautiful.
There was a tenderness about her curves that sent blood rushing through my body.
I could not explain it. Perhaps it was the way she walked and spoke, her voice ever so soft as she started on my back.
“Tough week?” she asked.
She spoke with an accent that I placed to be Russian.
My masseuse had never engaged me in any conversation before, but this one seemed different.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Martha will make it easier for you,” she said.
Her touch was sensual, deliberately so as she slid them up and down my back. It was like she was writing a script of arousing, stopping just at my waist, before moving her fingers to almost come around my bust. I liked the daring nature of what she was doing, suggestive with a voice that kept speaking in the background.
“Deep breath,” she would say.
I realized I was doing exactly what she was saying, breathing in and holding my breath till she said ‘breathe out’. Something was happening to me, something that I had no control over. I wanted to ask her to stop, but she had done no wrong yet.
And to be honest, the deftness of her touch brought a better feeling than I had experienced before.
There was this dedication as if she wanted me to see something that I had not seen before.
Then some of her fingers grazed the side of my boobs. I shivered lightly, wondering if it was time to tell her to stop. It was supposed to be wrong, but why did it feel so right?
“Something different,” Martha whispered.
I could tell that she knew exactly what she was doing. Her movement was too meticulous to be something accidental. Her hand moved past the towel covering my midsection and almost touched my backside. I could not bring myself to get up from the table. I wanted to see where all of this was going.
Her smooth touch, her seductive voice, and the tremor that was building inside of me.
I asked what she was doing, but she responded by humming instead. She wanted me quiet while she went about the business of gently caressing my body. Her hands slipped under, and this time, they caught my nipples. I exhaled sharply, but she quickly asked me to breathe in.
From breathing in, I found myself being turned around. She was going to be the death of me. I turned around and lay on my back, eyes shut, pretending this was not happening while I wished for it to happen. It had been so long since I felt the touch of my husband that any touch at all would have brought me to my knees. But this was not any touch. This touch was careful in exploring my body. Apart from the relief that the massage gave me, I was beginning to feel a pent-up sexual energy nearing release.
Her hands slowly circled my areola while she kept murmuring. I was following her instructions, breathing in and breathing out, trying to keep from moaning loudly.
That we could be caught in this state further heightened the excitement I felt at the touch of her hands on my breasts.
She was squeezing them lovingly like they were something to be worshipped, massaging slowly while still murmuring in my ears. I was trembling under her touch before I felt the first moan leave my lips. It was slow and drawn out because I did not want to make any sound at all.
“You have a beautiful body,” she said, her accent overwhelming my senses.
I wanted her to do something more, anything, but I could not even handle what she was doing to me. She was opening up new pathways in my body just by massaging my boobs. Round and round her hands went before one of them started sliding down my tummy.
Another deep breath stayed the moan that was threatening to escape from my lips. The towel was still covering some of my nakedness, but I knew that would soon not be the case as her hand continued sliding down toward my center. I realized that I was getting hot down there. It was the expectation more than anything else. Martha slid her hand under the towel and made the first contact with my fleshy center. She withdrew her hand. My eyes were shut while I wondered what she was up to. When next her hand slid in, it was slippery and oily, managing the flesh down there.
I could not keep the moan this time around as I let it out.
She murmured her breathing instructions again, relaxing her fingers. They massage slowly around my clit as if they were anticipating my moves. I arched and twisted. She was not yet touching the very sensitive part of my body, but she already had me hooked on her every move. She wanted me to feel something, and I was feeling it.
Her fingers slid up and down slowly, massaging lust unto my clit. I wondered what would happen if she eventually focused on my clit. As if on cue, her finger brushed against my clit, causing tremors to wash through my body. Then she continued the calming and arousing massage, taking deep, slow, and trembling breaths.
I shut my eyes tight now. It had been a long time since someone was obsessed this way with my body.
Andrew owned my body, but he had never worshipped it, not like Martha was doing. It occurred to me as well that I had never worshipped his body either. Just then the massage extended to my clit, eliciting tremors from every part of my body. I arched up and tried to grind my thighs together. The towel came off when Martha pushed them aside gently. Both hands were down there now, slowly and purposefully massaging it, causing sensations to spread through my body.
I moaned again, unable to hold it in. She made no efforts to intensify her movements. They continued as before, but I could feel some sexual tension building in my abdomen. Spasms after spasms racked through my body as she continued.
It was the consistency and the time it took that geared me toward the edge.
I knew I was going towards orgasm. And when it came, I had to grab the edges of the table to keep from falling off it.
Her hands slowly came to a stop. She picked up the towel and covered me with it, then she turned and walked away, her job done.
I lay on the bed, wondering about what had just happened. I had never exhibited any lesbian tendencies, yet I could not stop what happened just then from happening. It was like a message. I felt so flush with energy and sexually satiated that I decided I had to do this to someone else, preferably Andrew.
Perhaps, it was exactly what we needed.
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