What is Quantum? You may well ask.

Quantum - In physics, a quantum is the minimum amount of any physical entity involved in an interaction. The fundamental notion that a physical property can be "quantized" is referred to as "the hypothesis of quantization". Wikipedia.

But that’s not how I interpret it. It’s not how I have come to know about Quantum. Quantum is a place I visit to experience sensual climaxes. It has its similarities: there is the concept of a minimum amount of physical contact, and there is the concept of minimum interaction, and of course, I think you can define an orgasm as a quantized outpouring of sexual need, desire and eventual release.

My favourite Quantum-ite is Melissa. She knows how to play my body, how to get the most from it, sometimes without touching me. I find the whole process electrifying. Quantum is a kind of massage-sex parlour for want of a better term. The introduction to the room, the person and the description is all rather clinical. But, once undressed and sitting in a round open chair with soothing music all around you, it becomes self-absorbing. I never fail to feel sexy.

The room is spherical and mirrored. Wherever you look you see reflections of yourself. You cannot help but catch a glimpse of your open pussy from all the different angles, the way your breast falls or the way you lick your lips in anticipation is all revealed by your reflection.

They keep you there a good ten minutes to relax before the masseuse enters. I call them masseurs but there is no real massage going on at all; it’s the best description I’ve found. I’m having Melissa. There’s no pretence here. She’s already naked and looking at me like I’m a piece of meat that’s on heat and gagging for it. She’s right of course.

I catch a glimpse of her pussy as she leans over me; her breasts deliberately dangling centimetres from my mouth. She sways to and fro but they never once touches me.

I can smell her arousal. I believe the masseurs play with each other before they enter a room so that they reek of the scent of sex; their arousal is already blatant to my eyes. I think they bring themselves to near climax so that they feel lusty. I’d do the same if I were in their shoes.

My stomach tightens and I squirm in the chair as I feel the slightest touch of a fingernail slide over my shoulder and up the side of my neck. It stops at my earlobe and then makes its way downwards. My nipples tighten in anticipation and I can feel cold air caressing them.

I’ve closed my eyes and my heart is racing because I know she will touch them and give them a quantum-tweak with her fingers. But this time, she doesn’t do that; she lets her hand cup them from underneath instead, hardly touching them. I look upwards and into her eyes. I see that her gaze is much lower down my body. When I look in the mirrors I can see what she sees.

My folds are glistening brightly in the lighting; they are open and waiting for attention. I want to slide my finger over them but I also want her to do it first.

Her hand, underneath my breast, makes me shiver. She’s so tender and her touch so light. I swallow hard trying to hide my impatience though my mind is screaming ‘fuck me.’ She’s lowered her lips to mine. I push mine up to meet her but we don’t kiss. I want to but she won’t let me. She’s teasing me and then she whispers something that I struggle to hear.

She moves position and I nearly jump out of my skin. The pad of her finger touched the inside of my thigh, so close and yet so far away. I raise my bottom off the chair in an attempt to spur her on but she just looks at me with amusement on her face.

I’m looking at her breasts that dangle so effortlessly in front of me.

“I’m so fucking wet,” she whispers.

My eyes are torn from her breasts and I immediately search out her pussy in the mirrors. There it is, I see it between her thighs, delectably open with her finger caressing her folds up and down; her red fingernail demanding my attention at the entrance to her pleasure zone.

I want her finger to be caressing me, bringing me off, finger fucking my hole before circling my clit for the finale. I want her mouth on it and I can see, in her eyes, she wants that too.

Our breasts nearly touch. I can feel the air between them brush over my sensitive nipples but my eyes are glued to her pussy. I want to touch myself but I know that’s not allowed. Not here. Her hands slide up my thigh and I find myself nodding my head; I want her to touch my sex so badly, wanting her to cup it, stroke it and push her finger up it. I want to feel her inside me.

My body shudders at the touch but it’s over in a femtosecond. A quantum of interaction that is far too short. But she touched it; wetting her finger as she drew it over my sex. The same brief interaction scrapes over my tummy, touches my nipple and then strokes the underside of my chin like one would do to a pussy cat before she places her hand on the back of the chair.

She’s driving me insane. I want her to cum so badly on her finger. I watch eagerly in the mirrors and can see her finger driving itself home, plunging into the depths of her pussy. It looks so elegant, so beautiful. I clench my buttocks hard; it’s all I can do to try and feel the same as her.

“I’m coming,” she whispers, “fuck, I’m coming.”

I clench my buttocks rapidly in tune with her breathing; my eyes glued to her sex, my ears listening for the slightest whimper, my nostrils flaring with the scent of sex. I suddenly feel a finger brush briefly against my lips and I find myself in heaven with the taste of her on my lips; she removes it just as quickly. Her touch is all that is missing. I so much want to touch her; preferably with my lips and tongue.

“Oh! My God.”

Those words from her make me open my eyes wide. It’s as if I’m fingering her, making her climax. I want this. I want her to come all over me.

“Fuck!”

That’s it, she’s coming. She’s coming over me, but still, she manages to keep our bodies separate. Our breasts yearn for contact but my nipples are denied the kiss from hers. My pussy is wide open and I can see it, desperate to be touched, to be felt. I push my bottom off the chair, I want my pussy to touch hers but it’s too far away. I keep clenching and the more I do, the more my urges climb the wall in front of me. Any minute now, it’s why I chose Melissa. It’s why I always choose her.

Suddenly she pushes herself upright, her finger busy inside her cunt, her foot lands softly on the chair to my side as she rubs frantically at her clit. I feel myself on the verge. I’m panting hard and clenching ever harder. I stare at her pussy, watching, waiting. My eyes briefly stare in the direction of my pussy and all I can visualise is her tongue lapping at it, prising it open, pushing itself inside. All my mind can see is the pleasure that she would give me. It’s all my mind needs to act.

The gush of fluid that erupts from her cunt is pure delight. My eyes open even wider and I let out a loud gasp, my hands automatically want to reach out and grab her hips, pull her fountain towards my mouth, drink in her juices, but I mustn’t.

My body finally touches a part of her, or at least the stream of liquid that is descending on me, splashing over me. My breasts feel the heat of her outpouring and my nipples ache under its touch. I finally let go of all the pent up energy and I too shudder with my release. I pull my knees upwards as I jerk spasmodically and I cannot help but grasp my breasts with both hands; my head and neck lurching towards her with my bottom pressed firmly into the chair.

Our bodies seem to shake and pant in unison. My breasts heave in the now dimming light. My hand eventually cups my pussy and I feel it throb; all of that from so little interaction; our very own quantum of orgasm.