escort diary® of Kaliheartholistic: The Night He Stopped Trying
He arrived looking composed.
Good shirt. Steady handshake. The kind of man who clearly handles his life well.
But when he lay down and I began to warm the lotion between my palms, I could feel it immediately. That quiet tension in his back. That slight holding in his breath.
We hadn’t even moved toward anything intimate yet, and already his body was preparing to perform.
I slowed down.
Long strokes across his shoulders. My hands moving at a pace that didn’t ask anything of him.
After a while I leaned close and whispered, “You don’t have to do anything here.”
It was like something inside him cracked open.
His exhale was deep. Almost shaky.
Later he told me he hadn’t realised how much pressure he carried in sex. How he was always tracking himself. Timing himself.
Trying to make sure the experience was impressive.
We didn’t rush. We let sensation build and soften and build again.
At one point he laughed quietly and said, “This feels different.”
It wasn’t more extreme. It was more present.
There was eye contact without strategy. Touch without agenda. Moments of stillness that felt charged, not awkward.
When he left, he said the most beautiful thing: “I didn’t know I could feel that relaxed and still be turned on.”
That’s the part that stays with me.
Not the intensity.
Not the climax.
But the moment a man realises he can stop trying so hard… and intimacy doesn’t disappear.
It deepens.
