I’m back in Estonia to give sessions and teach a retreat. During a break day, I visit a friend. He is a tea master, massage instructor of the cock, and old-school leather. When my company from Sweden and I knock on the rustic door in one of Tallinn’s swirling Old Town alleys, a beautiful young man opens. He instantly announces, “You must be Andy. I’m Karl-Joosep and I carry bags and open doors.” I’m a bit lost for words, but I knew I would like him. He shows us into the teahouse where my dear friend is waiting. We hug for a long time before everyone is introduced to each other. Karl-Joosep lets us know that my friend also uses him and his cock for demonstrations in massage classes. My friend add that he is also studying tea and body therapy with him. My brain dreams itself away. Maybe he doesn’t get to touch his own cock, or maybe sometimes he’s allowed to fuck his girlfriend, but no stroking. My friend serves us tea. It is both ritual and social at the same time. I tell him about my Ikebana lessons in Japan just before the pandemic.
My friend brews the latest matcha harvest from Kyoto. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. Traditionally, we share the same tea bowl. First me, then my company, then Karl-Joosep and finally my friend. Silence and presence. Afterwards, we tie rope for a couple of hours and refill my tea supply. When leaving, Karl-Joosep shows us to a hidden restaurant on another backstreet. He returns the bag he’s carried for us and wishes us a pleasant evening before disappearing as elegantly as he first appeared. I don’t know if Karl-Joosep is submissive or dominant, gay or straight. But magical he is. Their relationship is magical. And why is Sweden so fucking individualistic, I think, a little resigned. I want a Karl-Joosep too.