smut theory

sex inner work

There’s what we were doing in real life–touching, kissing, I sucked his dick, I climbed onto him and slipped his dick into my cunt, and he grabbed me and moved me up and down on his dick until he ejaculated into me.  I masturbated as he touched my nipples.  I felt intense pleasure but didn’t come.

Then there’s what was going on in my mind.  I had some fantasies, and my mind was going wild directions.  It’s rather unleashed.


A few weeks ago, I was masturbating and thought of a friend who I love so much and long for.  My mind starting imagining him pounding himself into me, my mind doing that sort of on its own.

I imagine him asking me, “Do you like that?”  And, “Do you want that dick?”  There’s something emotional about it, for sure, as yes–I do want that dick.  All this desire, something like need, resolved as he finally fucks the shit out of me.  Validation, that I would matter to him, and demonstrated love are mixed in too.  His dick would prove something, in my imagination.  But I know real life is way more complicated.

Wanting him can be comforting, a fantasy about this deep resolution.  But then it can get to the point where the thing that’s comforting me starts causing anxiety.  Kinda like when I was young and smoked cigarettes.  It was a coping mechanism, but then I was afraid I’d drop dead from undiagnosed heart issues, so I had to quit.


So I was masturbating; my friend (in my mind) asked me “Do you want that dick?”  I said yes as he stuffed it in me, so deep and so wanted, on top of me, taking me harshly, forcefully.  I imagined the impact and rubbed my clit, wanting to come really bad.

However, I couldn’t stay simply in the fantasy.  Part of me knew–if he fucked me that way, it wouldn’t necessarily mean anything to him.  I could end up hurting–a lot, way more than I already am.  I got really sad, and I had to stop.  Didn’t start crying, but it was like that, too much grief in my body.

Part of the sad was old, old things, having to do with longing, rejection, and being used sexually, over the years.  My friend in real life isn’t using me whatsoever, but I hit a pocket of that pain, and I felt overwhelmed.

I was telling my sweetheart today–I have a lot of cycles.  Hormonal, emotional, how tired I am, relationship cycles like how close or far I feel, with a particular person.  So that day, probably several cycles aligned, all at a low, so I was incapacitated by something that on most days could be ok.

travel fantasy

Yesterday, I was thinking about a different friend who I long for.  In my imagination, my spouse and I would travel to see this friend and see how we interacted in person.  I’ve known her many years, but mostly as a penpal.

In my fantasy, my spouse was aroused by the possibility-idea of having sex with her.  Every night as we stopped to sleep, on this long road trip, he would lie in bed at night, thinking about her as I slept, and get so horny, he had to masturbate.  He would rub himself, imaging her sucking his dick, then come in his hand every night, longing for her, even though he barely knew her.

Then in the fantasy, when we actually arrived there, we talked and were getting along really well.  We decided to cuddle together, and my spouse was invited.  He was so aroused, finally to be in bed with her, his dick was throbbing, huge, and uncomfortable in his pants.  My friend noticed and asked him to show her what he had in his pants.

Probably you can imagine how it went from there.  The edgy part was how he doesn’t like sex separate from love.  It was ironic that his dick wanted her so bad, contrary to his previous behaviors.

There was a second part of the fantasy; I had to go out a few times, during the visit, and my spouse and friend did it like bunnies, while I was gone.  Doesn’t really make sense, but the edginess was that he would be cautious and slow with her, when I was around, but it was a whole different story, when I was elsewhere–some deception, or a discrepancy in the performance.


These fantasies are pretty hot for me, with mild transgression and the excitement of doing this special thing with this special person who I adore with so much tenderness and love.  But for some reason, it was hard work, feeling all the feelings that accompanied my fantasies.  I was doing some physical activity, with the sex, but emotionally, I was running a marathon, from what I was imagining.

My spouse and I did it for more than an hour, and then we cuddled, rested, looked at one another.  I felt a little clingy, that I wanted him to stay near me for a while.  I was totally exhausted.


I wanted to tell you all this because I made that post a few weeks ago about my ten favorite things about sex; I mentioned healing trauma, but this emotional work that’s not necessarily about trauma is another important part.

You know how kids when they play work through problems and issues?  They practice, see a situation from different angles, enjoy repetition.  Try out new ideas, get out aggression and other feelings, process.

Also dreams can be that way, resolving stuff from the day.  In my fantasies, maybe I’m doing something similar.  Sex inner work helps me understand reality better.  I’m a full-on adult who is working through so many struggles, and I guess I always will be.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *