HER LAST TIME…

This post has been on my mind for several months and I wasn’t sure how to write it.

A year ago I got a booking from G, a sweet woman in her mid-50s. When we first spoke on the phone, while she was exceptionally shy, she also had many questions for me. She asked if I would be put off if she had bad scarring on her body from a surgery. I assured her I did not mind at all. She asked if it was a problem that she looks a little older than her actual age. I assured her that was not a problem. She asked if I wouldn’t mind turning all of the lights off in the room during the service and I said that would not be a problem. I could tell that poor G was really nervous.

But as our conversation drifted to me and my training and experience- she definitely loosened up quite a bit. We finally agreed to meet the next evening which was free due to a short-notice cancellation (I hate those).

When I knocked on her hotel door, I was surprised to see a woman appear with a face much younger than I’d expected. Big, happy circular brown eyes complimented her sexy mouth and mildly dimpled chin. We sat down and began chatting. Other than her fussing gently with her auburn bangs, she seemed fairly calm. She explained that she’d never had a particularly fulfilling sex life, and she was hoping to experience an orgasm that was “memorable.” I promised her that I would do my best. We worked through the breathing exercise and I could see it was really having a calming effect on her, and I saw the first warm smile from her at that moment. Her warm smile reminded me of the beautiful Donna Reed (from the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life”), whose incredible face is forever etched into my memory as a paradigm of love and beauty.

Before moving on, I advised her to use the restroom and suggested she can come out with as much or as little clothing as she wanted. While I finished setting up, I glanced over my shoulder and was surprised. She was completely nude and had removed her wig. She walked to the bed, turned off the light on the nightstand, and I followed her cue and turned off the other light in the room. There was still enough ambient light from the city outside for me to take in her body as she lied still with her eyes closed. Her thin gray hair was less than an inch long with large patches of baldness throughout her head. Somehow her hair caused her youthful face to suddenly display her difficult journey. Her body revealed the aftermath of a single mastectomy on her right side, and her nipple had been removed and replaced with a football-shaped skin graft that had been removed from her lower tummy- which revealed a sloppy ‘tummy-tuck’ scar from the area where the graft was presumably taken. Interestingly, the left side of her body was worthy of an ancient Greek sculpture. A beautifully-proportioned breast, lovely soft hips and long legs that amounted to sheer perfection on one side- and the ravages of cancer on the other.

As I got started she began talking about her recent cancer treatment and all that she had been through. She was emotionless when she explained that 3 weeks earlier she had stopped further chemotherapy because she “wanted to die peacefully at home, rather than in pain in a hospital bed.” She smiled when she shared that the hospice nurse would be meeting her the next morning at her home. I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility and surging empathy that nearly brought me to tears then- and still brings them to me today.

Her body was ready. About 90 minutes into the service, she had a very slow-building and powerful orgasm that left her trembling and holding my arm firmly as she slowly caught her breath. She smiled as I calmly reassured her afterwards. When I finally came around to asking her if she wanted another one she held up her arms like a child motioning for their mother to pick them up. I leaned down and gave her a warm embrace, which she held for over ten minutes.

“That was perfect… for my last time.”

I tried some light chat as I slowly packed up my things. But I was fighting back a tsunami of emotion.

“Thank you, G” was all I could muster while keeping myself together. My last memory of G was of her completely nude lying on the bed with a gentle smile marking her post-orgasmic bliss.

I am certain that G is no longer with us. But I am reminded of how important those precious intimate moments we share can be. Enjoy them all… most of us won’t know which one will be our last.

YoniMaster Rick