So there I was, curled up in a soft business-class seat, heading towards the Island of Gods, still stunned by how quickly the new reality unfolded. Yes, I was flying to her - on the wigs of passion. And it was exactly that feeling, that thrilling pulse of new love, that drives people to do either heroic or wildly foolish things.
Which of those this was… I was yet to find out.
Still, there wasn’t a single drop of doubt in me about the trueness of my choice. After all, besides passion, there was another force - one I’ve always followed with unwavering trust: curiosity. Yes, my life has been a rich tapestry of experience, and I see myself as a worldly-wise explorer of this strange, beautiful existence, constantly weaving new adventures for myself. A sensual journey with a woman - that was an entirely new universe. A way to discover new beautiful facets of myself through pleasure. And I felt happy. Truly happy, anticipating our love story. That alone was reason enough to pack my suitcase without hesitation and fly straight to her.
The flight was long. I put on my favourite Sensual Rhythm playlist and slipped into a meditative state - somewhere in between asleep and awake. And then, visions began to appear. Scenes from the future, like a fast-forward slideshow, flashing moments of what my Muse and I might experience together. They were so juicy I could feel myself getting wet. I sank deeper into those images, becoming not just a dreamer but a co-creator, tuning into the divine stream flowing through me. From the whirlwind of images, I began pulling out frames - and expanding them into full cinematic scenes.
I slowly lift the hem of her tight knitted top, revealing a gorgeous breast…
My fingers drift over her soft, velvety skin. I breathe in her sweet-and-spicy scent…and surrender to the urge to taste her aroused nipple - gently, wetly..
I slip aside the edge of her delicate panties and let my tongue explore her wet, pulsing with energy clitoris..
My fingers slide inside, moving in slow, pulsing waves..
She’s lying on the bed, pleasuring herself, while I watch this divine beauty through the camera lens - breathless with desire..
My Muse is tied to the bed with silk ribbons. Several men are worshipping her heavenly body. I direct. I watch. I film. I lean in, softly kiss her luscious lips and whisper, “Enjoy, my beauty. It’s all for you.”
Which of those this was… I was yet to find out.
Still, there wasn’t a single drop of doubt in me about the trueness of my choice. After all, besides passion, there was another force - one I’ve always followed with unwavering trust: curiosity. Yes, my life has been a rich tapestry of experience, and I see myself as a worldly-wise explorer of this strange, beautiful existence, constantly weaving new adventures for myself. A sensual journey with a woman - that was an entirely new universe. A way to discover new beautiful facets of myself through pleasure. And I felt happy. Truly happy, anticipating our love story. That alone was reason enough to pack my suitcase without hesitation and fly straight to her.
The flight was long. I put on my favourite Sensual Rhythm playlist and slipped into a meditative state - somewhere in between asleep and awake. And then, visions began to appear. Scenes from the future, like a fast-forward slideshow, flashing moments of what my Muse and I might experience together. They were so juicy I could feel myself getting wet. I sank deeper into those images, becoming not just a dreamer but a co-creator, tuning into the divine stream flowing through me. From the whirlwind of images, I began pulling out frames - and expanding them into full cinematic scenes.
I slowly lift the hem of her tight knitted top, revealing a gorgeous breast…
My fingers drift over her soft, velvety skin. I breathe in her sweet-and-spicy scent…and surrender to the urge to taste her aroused nipple - gently, wetly..
I slip aside the edge of her delicate panties and let my tongue explore her wet, pulsing with energy clitoris..
My fingers slide inside, moving in slow, pulsing waves..
She’s lying on the bed, pleasuring herself, while I watch this divine beauty through the camera lens - breathless with desire..
My Muse is tied to the bed with silk ribbons. Several men are worshipping her heavenly body. I direct. I watch. I film. I lean in, softly kiss her luscious lips and whisper, “Enjoy, my beauty. It’s all for you.”
…
Bathed in those images, I drifted off - until the voice of the stewardess cut through the fog: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Ngurah Rai International Airport on the island of Bali. Please fasten your seatbelts, return your seatbacks to the upright position, and stow your tray tables. Thank you for flying with us, and we wish you a pleasant stay on the Island of the Gods.”
…
“Hello, my Goddess…” I breathed, embracing my Muse as we finally met again. The long-awaited reunion had happened. We were together.
We..? Together..?
That question hovered in the air for the entire first week of our re-union. We were tuning into each other, adjusting to the idea that now… we were together. And it turned out, accepting that from a distance was easier than standing face to face. Not because anything was wrong - quite the opposite.
The attraction between us was intense. But so was the fear.
Deep intimacy is a terrifying thing, especially for two wounded hearts like ours - both more comfortable being independent, both used to keeping men at a safe, manageable distance. But our story wasn’t built for safety. It was meant to take us to the core. Into the deep waters of tantric experience - which demands full presence, honesty, openness. And though we’d been preparing for years, especially during the last two months, being here, being together, speaking our truth out loud… that was a whole different level.
She began to close off. I could feel it - something was bothering her, something she couldn’t say. I waited. I didn’t push. I kept my touches light, hesitant, trying to silence the flood of sensual images constantly flickering in my mind. Ironically I had arrived at the very peak of ovulation - so desire surged through me at the slightest glimpse of her elegant curves. I wanted her. Badly. But I didn’t know what to do with that feeling when I could sense her inner struggle.
Bathed in those images, I drifted off - until the voice of the stewardess cut through the fog: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now beginning our descent into Ngurah Rai International Airport on the island of Bali. Please fasten your seatbelts, return your seatbacks to the upright position, and stow your tray tables. Thank you for flying with us, and we wish you a pleasant stay on the Island of the Gods.”
…
“Hello, my Goddess…” I breathed, embracing my Muse as we finally met again. The long-awaited reunion had happened. We were together.
We..? Together..?
That question hovered in the air for the entire first week of our re-union. We were tuning into each other, adjusting to the idea that now… we were together. And it turned out, accepting that from a distance was easier than standing face to face. Not because anything was wrong - quite the opposite.
The attraction between us was intense. But so was the fear.
Deep intimacy is a terrifying thing, especially for two wounded hearts like ours - both more comfortable being independent, both used to keeping men at a safe, manageable distance. But our story wasn’t built for safety. It was meant to take us to the core. Into the deep waters of tantric experience - which demands full presence, honesty, openness. And though we’d been preparing for years, especially during the last two months, being here, being together, speaking our truth out loud… that was a whole different level.
She began to close off. I could feel it - something was bothering her, something she couldn’t say. I waited. I didn’t push. I kept my touches light, hesitant, trying to silence the flood of sensual images constantly flickering in my mind. Ironically I had arrived at the very peak of ovulation - so desire surged through me at the slightest glimpse of her elegant curves. I wanted her. Badly. But I didn’t know what to do with that feeling when I could sense her inner struggle.
Still, we were slowly getting closer. Sometimes I’d touch her gently. Sometimes she’d kiss me passing by - and my whole body would light up like fireworks. We agreed not to rush, to give each other space. We talked. A lot. Opened up, shared deeply.
But on the fourth day, over breakfast - just as I let myself kiss the delicious curve of her shoulder - she said, “I don’t know how to say this… but I feel uncomfortable when you touch me.”
Something in me collapsed. Ovulation at its peak. Arousal. Longing. Inspiration. Anticipation. And then the painful realisation hit me on a head:
She wasn’t ready. Neither for this. Nor with me.
Without thinking, I stood up. “I need some space,” I said, and walked away.
All my “awareness,” all my so-called “spiritual maturity” evaporated. I was wrecked. Rejected. Furious. Heartbroken. My mind went on repeat: she had no idea what she’d been saying when she said "yes" to all this. It had all been an illusion. I was wrong - about her, about us. None of my fantasies would come true. I was so angry. At her. At myself. I paced like a caged tiger. And just to add insult to injury, the power went out across all of Bali that day. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Just me - and all those painful feelings. And fuck, it was too much. My deepest wounds were screaming. I was drowning in grief and disappointment.
The next two days were spent in raw, open conversations - peeling back the most fragile layers of our souls. We were drawn to each other, and also pushed apart. She was afraid to hurt me. I was afraid to let myself feel again. She kept telling me this would pass - that we were just in a transition - that we could still grow into it. And I, weathered by disappointment, kept warning her: “You’ll keep pulling me in, only to push me away again.” Every time she held out hope, I answered with cynicism. And yet she kept believing in us, begging me to let go of everything I’d been through and just trust the flow.
My ego fought hard. I wanted to leave. That’s always been my style - walk away the moment it gets messy. But this time.. we had already rented a luxurious villa together for a whole month. And move-in day was almost here.
We had to decide - do we go forward, or do we part ways completely?
I gave myself space. I needed air. I needed beauty. I needed surfers. So I went to the beach. The ocean, the sun, the waves — all of it worked like medicine. It swept away my pain. Suddenly, I felt… peace. I let go of the fantasy. Let go of the expectation. Let go of the feelings. Let go of our story.
I stepped off the hook of desire - and it felt like pure freedom.
I’m on Bali. I’m wealthy. I’m free. I know where I’m headed. Life is calling - and tomorrow, I’m moving into my beautiful new Balinese home to begin everything I came here to do. My close friend is moving in too. And we don’t have to be lovers. If she ever feels ready, we’ll explore tantric practices, we’ll film them, we’ll share them, just like we planned. And if she doesn’t - that’s okay too. I accept her choice. This is exactly where we’re meant to be right now. No pressure. No clinging. Just surrender.
“Shanti-Om, baby. It’s all good. I accept whatever you choose.”
I came home and we talked - deeply, sweetly. The negative tension between us dissolved. We looked at each other and smiled, knowing deep inside:
we had just passed the entrance exam to our new reality.
Something in me collapsed. Ovulation at its peak. Arousal. Longing. Inspiration. Anticipation. And then the painful realisation hit me on a head:
She wasn’t ready. Neither for this. Nor with me.
Without thinking, I stood up. “I need some space,” I said, and walked away.
All my “awareness,” all my so-called “spiritual maturity” evaporated. I was wrecked. Rejected. Furious. Heartbroken. My mind went on repeat: she had no idea what she’d been saying when she said "yes" to all this. It had all been an illusion. I was wrong - about her, about us. None of my fantasies would come true. I was so angry. At her. At myself. I paced like a caged tiger. And just to add insult to injury, the power went out across all of Bali that day. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Just me - and all those painful feelings. And fuck, it was too much. My deepest wounds were screaming. I was drowning in grief and disappointment.
The next two days were spent in raw, open conversations - peeling back the most fragile layers of our souls. We were drawn to each other, and also pushed apart. She was afraid to hurt me. I was afraid to let myself feel again. She kept telling me this would pass - that we were just in a transition - that we could still grow into it. And I, weathered by disappointment, kept warning her: “You’ll keep pulling me in, only to push me away again.” Every time she held out hope, I answered with cynicism. And yet she kept believing in us, begging me to let go of everything I’d been through and just trust the flow.
My ego fought hard. I wanted to leave. That’s always been my style - walk away the moment it gets messy. But this time.. we had already rented a luxurious villa together for a whole month. And move-in day was almost here.
We had to decide - do we go forward, or do we part ways completely?
I gave myself space. I needed air. I needed beauty. I needed surfers. So I went to the beach. The ocean, the sun, the waves — all of it worked like medicine. It swept away my pain. Suddenly, I felt… peace. I let go of the fantasy. Let go of the expectation. Let go of the feelings. Let go of our story.
I stepped off the hook of desire - and it felt like pure freedom.
I’m on Bali. I’m wealthy. I’m free. I know where I’m headed. Life is calling - and tomorrow, I’m moving into my beautiful new Balinese home to begin everything I came here to do. My close friend is moving in too. And we don’t have to be lovers. If she ever feels ready, we’ll explore tantric practices, we’ll film them, we’ll share them, just like we planned. And if she doesn’t - that’s okay too. I accept her choice. This is exactly where we’re meant to be right now. No pressure. No clinging. Just surrender.
“Shanti-Om, baby. It’s all good. I accept whatever you choose.”
I came home and we talked - deeply, sweetly. The negative tension between us dissolved. We looked at each other and smiled, knowing deep inside:
we had just passed the entrance exam to our new reality.
to be continued..