Moar Artist

I took The Artist out for a belated birthday dinner last night. And hey remember how I’ve said sometimes that the universe brings you what you ask for? And remember how I’ve been wanting someone who gives good massages? It came up over dinner that The Artist has really strong hands from working construction and that his mother is a kinesiologist and his grandmother is a physiotherapist and he’s picked up knowledge from both of them. Also his art schooling would have taught him at least how various muscles work and where they attach, if that counts for anything.

I mentioned to The Artist that I carry a lot of tension in my shoulders and asked if he was any good at massages and he reached across the table and said “Is this where it’s sore?” and probed precisely on the knot I have without having to feel around or anything – he just knew where shoulder aches usually originate from. And toward the end of dinner, unprompted, he said “we need to find someplace to go where I can work on that knot for you. I feel like we’d attract too much attention here.” I had, in fact, just been about to ask him if he wanted to go back to my place and hopefully give me a massage, so the synchronicity there was sort of amazing.

And we had a very pleasant few hours of him massaging and petting me and me petting and snuggling him and us making out. He’s attentive and has really strong hands. I like kissing him. His hair – I hadn’t noticed before – is just ridiculously thick; I buried my hands in it as we kissed, and he invited me to go ahead and pull it if I wanted to. He didn’t push for things to get to a more sexual place.

So, a good time all around. A+. would topless-snugglemakeout again.

 

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