Lately I’ve had trouble trusting my body, which causes me anxiety. Anxiety is so much work. I’d love to free up energy by finding ways to know and love myself, and to believe I’m ok and will live a long life.
I woke up in the night to pee, and as I was lying in bed to fall back asleep, I started having a fantasy about a friend who I respect and admire. He and I have values in common, and we both love spiritual work, learning, healing. I didn’t mean to create the fantasy–it just started playing in my head.
I imagined telling my friend that I need help trusting my body, and I’m looking for new ways. He would tell me, “I’d love to help you,” so we plan this encounter. My friend does therapeutic work, including helping people with their bodies, so it makes sense my mind chose him for this fantasy.
I’d be lying naked and face down on a bed or on the earth. My friend would be naked also. He’d touch and address all the parts of my body, in order. He’d start with my feet, saying, “Feet–thank you for your hard work. I trust you. You are reliable, trustworthy feet. You’re ok, and I believe in you.”
He would go slow, lingering on each part of my body, his hands gentle but firm in their touch. His work validating my body’s stability and well-being would go deep inside me, helping me learn that my body is ok. Hopefully I’ll build my health and leave behind the anxiety that can derail me.
Then he’d get to my ass, holding it firmly in his hands, saying words that were almost magical to instill in me that trusting my body is appropriate. I’d feel aroused. His hands on my back would arouse me also. He would linger a long time on my back. Touching me there helps me feel safe, as I carry tons of feelings and needs in my back.
His hands on my shoulders would feel amazing, and on my head. I would relax, trusting him and letting his words heal me, spoken with kind confidence. Yes, I tell myself that my body is trustworthy, but it would help to hear someone else say it, someone who I deeply respect.
He would touch the crown of my head for a long time, and then it would be time for me to turn over. Face up, I’d feel his hands on the tops of my feet. He’d work his way up my body again. As he touched my shins and then my knees, my cunt would ache with arousal, wanting his hands on my thighs, and knowing soon he would touch the fur of my vulva.
Yes, I would shudder with joy, as his hands moved to my cunt. My clit would be large with desire, my vulva throbbing as it wished for my friend to slide his dick into me. I’d listen to his words of care about my body’s well-being. My desire for him to fuck me would mingle with the trust in my own wellness he was reinforcing.
He’d hold my huge hips and tell them, “You are strong, good hips. You’re trustworthy and beautiful. Thank you for the hard work you do. I believe in you, hips.”
My hips would feel safe with him, and they would want to open, to spread my legs wide, to offer my cunt to this friend. He would move his hands and his attention to my abdomen, my stomach, my lungs, my heart, my breasts.
My breasts would feel enlivened as he held them firmly, and I would quietly purr. He would touch my throat, my mouth, my nose, my ears, my eyes, blessing all of me as he validated my well-being.
“Thank you, eyes, for the hard work of seeing. You are trustworthy. I believe in you and your well-being. Thank you for the information you gather. You are amazing,” my friend would say.
Again he would linger at the top of my head, and we would breathe quietly together for a moment.
you matter to me
Then that part of the ritual would be over. He would move to my side and hold my hands, look into my eyes, and hold eye contact with me. “I love you, Nest. You matter to me,” he would tell me, and I would take that into me.
“Can I fuck you now?” he would ask.
“Yes,” I’d say.
The ritual was planned–we knew all of this beforehand. The question is a formal way to get consent, making sure I still want that. My friend would spread my legs and look at my vulva. He would see my plump clit and blushed cunt, reddish-pink and glistening with slippery moisture, wanting him.
Then he would climb onto me and rub his dick on my soft thighs. He would put a condom on his erection, lie on me and keep his body very close, and nudge his hard dick into my soft pussy. He’d find the place and slide into me, then begin to fuck me with all the force he could.
I would be thrilled to receive his thrusts, and he’d spread my legs wider with his legs, to ram himself further into me. It would feel transformative, to receive so much force, as his body was close. It would be a delicious mixture of ecstatic pleasure and overwhelm.
Especially if we were on the ground, and Mother Earth was behind me, holding me, and helping me receive the force of this dick–I would love that. He would push himself as deep as he could, fast and powerful, then finally ejaculate inside me, gasping and shuddering.
Then he would kiss my mouth, our first kiss, and rest on me.
He’d hold the condom on his dick and pull out of me. The fuck and ejaculation into me would seal the deal. He put his love inside of me, given with the validation of my body parts. The hard sex and his orgasm would complete the magic.
I could go on–there’s another part where my friend licks my nipples then goes down on me. He licks my plump clit, and I come quickly on his tongue. The energy of my orgasm further seals the deal.
This fantasy was not authorized. My friend is brilliant, beautiful, sexy, kind. But he never said he wanted me this way or offered to help me with trusting my body. I don’t want to form a lopsided bond, so I don’t plan to have more unauthorized fantasies about him.
But I like this one and feel happy to write it. Trusting my body can be a solitary lesson, but I’m an animal. I enjoy learning bodily truths with other animals.