Sue’s After Dark Diaries Episode 24 | The Trouble with Tantric Tutorials

SUE’S AFTER DARK DIARIES | EP. 24

The Trouble with Tantric Tutorials

Welcome back to Sue’s After-Dark Diaries, where even a quiet evening at home has a habit of turning into a complete disaster.

This time, Sharon has discovered tantric enlightenment on YouTube, Dan is being his usual judgemental self, and I’ve somehow been persuaded that a man with a bun and a suspiciously soothing voice can help me unlock the secrets of the universe.

Naturally, things don’t go according to plan.

There’s a silk robe that refuses to behave, some extremely questionable breathing exercises, and Mark turning up at precisely the wrong moment.

Or possibly the right one.

Pour yourself a drink. I suspect you’ll need it.

Sharon Arrives with “Spiritual Emergency” News

I knew trouble was brewing the moment Sharon barged into my flat like a woman who’d just outrun a tax audit. She didn’t even knock – just kicked the door open with the energy of someone who’s about to announce either a pregnancy, a pyramid scheme, or a personal epiphany involving crystals.

Her hair was sticking out at angles only achieved through either panic or orgasms, and knowing Sharon, I couldn’t rule either out.

“Sue,” she wheezed, clutching the doorframe like she’d sprinted across five postcodes. “We have a situation with your lower chakras.”

“My… what?” I asked, already regretting being awake.

“Your lower chakras!” she repeated, jabbing a finger toward my pelvis like she was calling an exorcist. “They’re dormant. Dead. Fossilised. You’re basically walking around with spiritual tumbleweed between your legs.”

I looked at her.

“Slightly rude,” I said.

“Oh, hush,” she snapped, marching into my kitchen. “Roger and I discovered a higher realm last night, and you simply must join us.”

Roger, for the uninitiated, is her massive black vibrator. The thing is so big it should come with an MOT and a parking permit.

Before I could object, she shoved her phone under my chin. On the screen was a shirtless man with a man-bun, glowing skin, and the kind of expression men only get when they’ve never had to queue at the Post Office.

“This,” Sharon whispered, reverent as a nun at communion, “is Ravi. Tantric guru. Sexual shaman. Spiritual stallion.”

“He looks like he drinks herbal tea through his nostrils,” I muttered.

“Ravi,” she said dramatically, “guided Roger and me into a cosmic event last night. We didn’t just reach fireworks, Sue. We reached AI Atlas.”

“I don’t know what AI Atlas is.”

“Neither do I,” she admitted. “But I bloody SAW it.”

I stared at her, trying to imagine Sharon and Roger ascending through a wormhole like erotic astronauts.

“You’re telling me,” I said slowly, “that you had… a spiritual threesome with a vibrator and a YouTube influencer?”

“Yes,” she said proudly. “And it was beautiful.”

I opened my mouth to protest. She cut me off with a single raised eyebrow – the dangerous one – and thrust her phone closer.

“You’re doing his tutorial tonight,” she commanded. “Dim the lights. Pour wine. Wear silky things. Ravi will open you.”

“Sharon…”

“No arguing,” she said, marching to the door. “You need this. Your chakras need this. And frankly, I need someone to gossip with who’s also seen the other side.”

She left with the confidence of a woman who’d been spiritually rearranged.

Naturally, she didn’t bother closing the front door properly. I called after her, but she was already halfway down the corridor.

I meant to get up and close it.

I really did.

And that’s how I ended up preparing for an evening with a man-bun mystic I’d never met, a bottle of rosé, and a robe that barely counts as clothing.

Sue Prepares for Her “Spiritual Awakening” (aka My Terrible Decisions Begin)

I spent a good ten minutes staring at my laptop like it personally owed me money.

Ravi’s YouTube channel was… overwhelming. Every thumbnail featured him glistening like a well-buttered roast chicken.

His video titles didn’t help:

“Unlock Your Sacred Root in 6 Minutes.”

“Become a Vessel of Cosmic Juice.”

“Awaken Your Inner Serpent (No experience needed!).”

I had several serpents in a drawer upstairs, thank you very much.

I poured the rosé.

I lit a candle.

I put on a silk robe so short it was basically a decorative suggestion.

Dan, my loyal pink vibrator, sat on my bedside drawer like a disapproving chaperone.

His light blinked. Judgementally.

“Oh, don’t start,” I told him. “Tonight is about spiritual growth.”

He then buzzed twice.

“Yes, I know what happened last time I tried guided meditation. But this is tantric. Apparently, I’ll discover my ‘internal sunbeam of pleasure’.”

His light flashed three times.

That’s Dan-speak for “You’re about to make terrible choices.”

Ravi Begins the Tutorial (and So Does the Chaos)

Ravi opened with a whisper so breathy it could have powered a wind turbine.

“Welcome, divine seekers. Tonight we descend… into your sacred root.”

“My sacred what?” I muttered.

He instructed me to lie on my back, open my hips, breathe through the perineum, and “invite cosmic expansion”.

“I can barely invite the postman to leave parcels on time,” I grumbled.

Still, I tried.

Tried being the key word.

I positioned myself on the rug, legs slightly apart, robe slipping dangerously because apparently, gravity had chosen violence.

Dan lay beside me like a plastic emotional support alpine guide, blinking faintly as if preparing to witness another one of my bad decisions.

Ravi hummed. Loudly. Repeatedly.

It sounded like someone trying to pleasure a didgeridoo.

“Let the vibration enter your pelvis,” he whispered.

“Wrong person vibrating,” I replied.

He then instructed viewers to make an “unblocking sound”.

According to Ravi, the sound was:

“Hoooooooooaaaaaaah.”

I tested it.

“HOOOAAAA…”

The sound echoed off the walls like a horny foghorn.

I swear the neighbours upstairs paused their TV show.

Ravi then encouraged “pelvic spirals”, which, judging by his demonstration, looked like he was trying to draw crop circles with his hips.

I attempted to follow along.

My hip cracked loudly enough to qualify as a jump scare.

Dan buzzed in alarm.

“Okay,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Maybe a smaller spiral…”

Nope.

Somewhere between the third spiral and an accidental enthusiastic thrust, my robe untied itself like it was trying to escape the situation entirely.

“Stay closed,” I growled at it.

It refused.

Ravi suddenly said, “Now stroke your inner thigh in long, loving motions.”

I did.

Or tried.

But my legs were already half numb from the awkward positioning, and my hand slid a bit too far, sending me jolting upright.

“Jesus Christ,” I yelped.

Ravi took this as spiritual confirmation.

“Good,” he whispered. “Your inner fire awakens.”

“No, mate,” I snapped. “That was pins and needles.”

Then… THEN… Ravi said:

“Press your pelvis toward the sky and let your mouth open as if calling to the stars.”

Of course, the only stars I could see were from nearly cramping myself into hospital admission.

I pushed my hips up.

The robe slipped further.

Dan slid down the rug like he was abandoning ship.

I grabbed him mid-slide.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” I whispered.

He flashed once… the vibrator equivalent of side-eye.

Ravi hummed louder, his chest shimmering like he’d been lightly basted in coconut oil.

“Let your breath sound free,” he moaned.

So I tried another sound.

A quieter one, or so I intended.

Instead, what came out was:

“HOOO-HAAAHHH-oh bloody hell…”

Which echoed through my apartment like a haunted orgasm.

I froze.

Dan froze.

Even Ravi paused briefly, as if he’d sensed chaos somewhere in the universe.

And that’s exactly why, thirty seconds later…

The Tutorial Takes a Dark Turn (and So Does My Robe)

Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, Ravi leaned closer to the camera, eyes intense.

“Now,” he whispered, “you must stimulate your Root Gate.”

“My what now?”

“To find the cosmic opening,” he purred, “you must touch the place where the earth meets your desire.”

“I rent,” I told him. “I don’t meet the earth, I meet my landlord.”

He ignored me and demonstrated with a flourish of hand movements that looked suspiciously like he was trying to polish a very small doorknob.

I sighed and attempted a modest version of the same thing.

My robe gave up entirely.

Not slid.

Not loosened.

It gave up on life, flung itself open, and exposed everything like a desperate house on the market.

At that exact moment, Ravi shouted, “YES! LET IT ALL BE REVEALED!”

“I’m not revealing it to YOU,” I yelled back, scrambling to cover myself with a cushion.

Dan buzzed.

Of course, he did.

Then Ravi said, “Now, moan your truth.”

I moaned my frustration instead:

“OH, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

And that’s when I heard footsteps outside the door.

Mark Walks In at the Worst Possible Moment

“…Sue? Are you okay? I heard…”

Mark had apparently found my front door ajar and, after hearing noises that probably sounded like someone being strangled by a foghorn, had come to investigate.

He stopped.

Dead.

Frozen in the doorway.

Eyes wide.

Mouth slightly open.

Because there I was:

Sprawled on the rug, legs parted, my robe having completely fallen apart.

One nipple was dramatically pointing at the ceiling like it was signalling an aircraft.

Dan was sitting next to me like my guilty little accomplice.

And Ravi was moaning “open your root chakra” from my laptop at full volume.

I looked at Mark.

He looked at me.

His eyebrows rose slowly, and the corners of his mouth twitched as he struggled not to laugh.

“Mark,” I croaked. “Hi. This isn’t… what it looks like.”

“It looks,” he said slowly, “like you’re having tantric sex with your laptop.”

Fair point.

“I was just… well, Sharon said… look, the robe slipped, alright?”

“It did a bit more than slip, Sue,” he said gently. “It seems to have resigned.”

I tried to pull it closed.

It didn’t cooperate.

My lady garden was essentially waving a little hello.

Mark stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and his tone softened… warm, teasing, and unmistakably interested.

“I mean… if you wanted company for this ritual thing,” he murmured, “you could’ve just asked.”

My stomach somersaulted.

My thighs did too.

Ravi hummed louder, but Mark’s eyes were already fixed on me with an energy that made Ravi’s cosmic nonsense look like child’s play.

Mark and Sue Get Very Naughty (The Universe Opens Something, Alright)

Mark knelt beside me, gently brushing the robe aside like it was never needed in the first place.

“You sure you’re alone in here?” he teased, nodding toward Dan.

“Dan doesn’t mind sharing,” I breathed.

That earned a wicked smile.

Mark’s hands traced my thighs… slow, warm, deliberate, and sending shivers everywhere.

His voice dropped to a whisper I felt more than heard.

“Tell me what this… tutorial wants you to do next.”

“Well,” I said, swallowing, “Ravi says I need to relax my hips.”

Mark’s hands slid under them, lifting me effortlessly.

“Like this?”

“Oh… God, yes,” I whispered.

Ravi continued droning in the background, but Mark drowned him out with kisses down my stomach, over my hips, lower, slower, until every nerve ending lit up.

He paused… teasing… his breath warm against the most sensitive part of me.

“Is this… spiritual enough?” he murmured.

“It’s definitely awakening something,” I gasped.

His tongue replaced his words, and my entire body arched so sharply I nearly kicked the laptop.

Dan buzzed rapidly like he was taking notes.

“Mark…” I cried out as waves rolled through me.

He didn’t stop.

Not until I was trembling, grabbing fistfuls of the rug, and chanting a very un-tantric string of “Oh God yes… Mark… don’t stop…”

When he finally moved up to kiss me, I was half delirious.

“Still want to watch your video?” he whispered against my lips.

“Shut up,” I said, pulling him down on top of me.

The next twenty minutes were…

Not tantric.

Not spiritual.

Not cosmic.

But absolutely earth-shaking.

At one point, I think I actually did reach AI Atlas.

Or at least several planets near it.

The Morning After: Sharon Demands Answers Before the Kettle Boils

I’d barely opened my eyes when my bedroom door flew open like it was being raided by Scotland Yard.

Apparently, Mark had closed the front door behind him last night, but neither of us had thought to lock it.

And Sharon, naturally, had interpreted that as an open invitation.

“SUE!” Sharon yelled. “Did you reach AI Atlas?! Did Ravi open you?! Did your chakras unblock?!”

Mark sat upright, horrified, blanket around his waist like a startled Victorian widow.

Sharon ignored him entirely.

“Tell me everything! Was it cosmic? Did you chant? Did you use Dan? Did anything vibrate in new languages?”

I rubbed my face.

“Sharon… Mark’s here.”

She turned.

“Morning, Mark. Lovely to see you again. Now, Sue… details.”

Mark blushed.

I blushed.

Dan buzzed twice, the traitor.

Sharon sat on the edge of the bed like she’d bought front-row tickets.

“Well?” she demanded.

I sighed.

“Let’s just say my chakras are absolutely wide open now.”

Her eyes widened.

“Did you reach AI Atlas?!”

I looked at Mark.

He looked at me.

We both burst into laughter.

“No,” I said, grinning wickedly. “I think we overshot and reached the whole bloody solar system.”

Sharon clapped like a proud mother.

“Finally! Someone else who knows the cosmic truth!”

Mark groaned.

I groaned.

Dan buzzed.

And that, dear readers, is how a YouTube tantric tutorial turned into a full-blown erotic disaster… which, frankly, is exactly what happens every time Sharon tries to help.