Nudist Massage Workshops
Sensual Nudism: Exploring OurselvesWHAT IF YOU PUT YOURSELF OUT THERE AND ATTENDED A NUDIST WORKSHOP? WHAT REALLY IS THE POINT?
The introductory session began at 9:00 AM in an open air pavilion facing the sea. We were an evenly matched group of seven men and women, including a married couple, along with our instructor, Rebo. We were wearing loose fitting yoga clothing.
Rebo began by saying, “The point of this therapy is learning how to relate to the opposite via sensual massage. By sensual I mean responsive, or learning as you go how to pleasure your partner without genital touching, though more on that a little later.”
“This isn’t physical therapy,” she continued. “We’re not treating old football injuries or tennis elbow. We’re learning our body’s response to sensual touching while being completely free to express ourselves. Now grab your first opposite sex partner to your right and pick a mat on the lawn.”
What? With our clothes on?
“After a short session wearing your clothes, we’ll break, have a discussion, then you’ll remove your clothes, choose an opposite sex partner and have another session.”
After twenty minutes of massaging an attractive woman, Gwenn, about my age (38), it was her turn to do me. I laid on my stomach and she worked my back, arms and legs. It felt good, but not sensual – more like getting a friendly back rub.
Rebo finally said the session was over and we broke for tea and fresh fruit.
As we were serving ourselves Rebo said, “For the next session, I want each woman to pick a man. Except for our married, we’re all strangers here, so I know it’s a bit nerve wracking. Don’t worry about it.”
Gwenn, from my first session, choose me for the second. She didn’t seem to hesitate. About half of the rest of group milled about like they were attending a high school dance.
“Now,” Rebo said, “you can go to your rooms to freshen up, then return here in twenty minutes in nothing but your robes.”
Oh my, I thought. Gwenn blushed, then left to follow Rebo’s instructions.
Rebo is in her mid thirties, I suspect, extremely fit, with a husky voice that reminded me a bit of Scarlett Johansson’s. (You’ve of course seen her around this site, for which she is a photographer and editor.)
She became a nudist in college, explaining “Being naked gave me a sense of freedom that let me just be me, a sexual being, but an unmediated one. Clothes mediate who you are, by either enhancing or distracting from the real you. Naked, it’s just you.”
After the break and having returned from our rooms “freshened up,” we reassembled. Rebo returned, wearing a robe herself, and said, “Okay, let’s get started. We’ll take off our robes and return to the mats with our partners.” Rebo took off her robe, as did the rest of us.
Now, we’re staying at a clothing optional resort near Tulum, Mexico, so I’d already seen several of the group naked by the pool and on the beach, but not Gwenn. She’s tall, maybe 5’ 9”, with short clipped blond hair and perfectly proportioned. Her breasts were medium size (a B cup, I suppose), with a very firm derriere. No scars, no tattoos.
I mention her physical looks because the sight of her naked made me do a quick assessment of my own bodily features. Size 35 waist (very tough to find jeans that fit properly), fair about of muscle but, unfortunately, my buttocks are a disappointment. Oh well.
“Okay, “ Rebo said, “Do the same massage you did before to start, but for five minutes, then switch, flip over and do the front.”
I was first to receive. Lying carefully on my stomach, pulling my testicles and penis into the full and upright position (I didn’t want them squishing between my legs, feeling very squeamish about how that’d look to Gwenn), and tried to relax.
Gwenn’s hands were warm and she had a tender touch. She did the same as before, but being naked made it an entirely different experience. It wasn’t quite sexual, but I would say very near the edge.
Rebo instructed, “When you come to the buttocks, consider them optional. Try to read whether your partner wants you to go there.”
What? How does one do that?
“If you feel any tensing up as you near your partner’s bottom, skip to the legs,” Rebo added.
I didn’t tense up but Gwenn skipped my buttocks. I told you they were a disappointment.
Then it was my turn to do Gwenn. I immediately notice how much more care I was giving to my massage, and how her body now almost telegraphed instruction. I heard a slight moan as I did her shoulders. As I moved down the back and got near the buttocks, her back arched a bit. I took it as encouragement. I gently massaged her buttocks, staying a few inches from the crack. She didn’t protest.
Now it was my turn to have my front massaged. Immediately, clues arouse from my nether regions that a bit of tumescence was forthcoming. I felt tense.
Rebo read my mind. “Okay, now, if you men feel you have an erection coming on, don’t let it bother you. Try to relax. Women, please do your best to just ignore it for now.”
I immediately relaxed but there was no stopping an erection. I erected.
I heard Gwenn laugh, but in a friendly, “there, there” way. My erection began to recede to just a pleasant tumescent state, halfway between full alert and normal.
When it was time to massage Gwenn’s front I was finally relaxed enough that I barely noticed my own nudity, but became very aware of hers. Her nipples were tight and erect, her skin seemed to be blushing. As I began I noticed her breathing become deeper.
Rebo said, “Where men may experienced some tumescence receiving their front massage, women may show some swelling of the labia and pertness in the nipples. These are signs that her body is responding to the sensual experience of receiving the massage. You didn’t see that when she was wearing clothes.”
No, I didn’t. Now I do. Gwenn’s labia was now much more pronounced. Should I assume she’s aroused?
As I approached her pubic area, her back arched a bit, and she released a deep breath. I teased the area, but moved down to her legs in short order. She spread her legs a bit as I worked the insides of her thighs. Now it felt like we were making love, in a strange way. I didn’t know this woman from Adam, so to speak, and I’m kneading her thigh muscles inches from her labia, which seems to be smiling.
Though she doesn’t use the term, Rebo is a sort of Dakini, or instructress, but in an almost demure way. In four more sessions, the last ending with exotic oils and candlelight under the moon, I massaged three different women, learning how to read their physical responses as silent instructions, coaxing my hands to do her will. In the final session we were encouraged to feel as free as possible and, to say the least, we abided, as the photography will attest.
The point of Rebo’s workshops are to help us explore our sexuality without having sex. “It’s not coitus, which in truth is the ultimate precursor to creation,” she said. “Sensual massage is like a dry run, and can be as erotic if not more so than having intercourse.”
Her statements align with her general philosophy that “life is foreplay” (you may have seen the first rumblings of a new branch of this site with that name). “Everything in life should acknowledge and nurture the fact that we’re sexual beings, which is the foundation of our existence. It’s our evolutionary mandate.”
I get it. And I tend to agree. Would I recommend a workshop? Definitely, but it’s not for all. One woman excused herself after our second session (Rebo filled in), never to be seen again. Nudist Massage Workshops
PHOTOS: TULUM NUDIST WORKSHOPS/NUDIST MASSAGE