My First Forbidden plunge: The Tantric Massage That Shattered My Innocence
Monday, 1 PM sharp, I rang the bell at Charlotte’s door in my small town. Heart hammering like a drum. Twenty kilos overweight, libido shot from croissants and chocolate binges. Tennis coach’s video crushed me. Needed escape, not sex. Just a massage. Tantric, naturist. 200 euros for an hour, manual finish. Not cheating, right? Door…