Yeah, I’m going to talk about masturbation and fantasies for a minute. If that’s not our cup of tea you can go back to watching The View, or whatever it was you were doing before.
Alright, so this morning I was having some “me” time. This was not out of the ordinary, even when I’m getting some I still find myself needing quality time… with myself. Anyway, as I was perusing my well loved memories for inspiration I went through the usuals and just wasn’t feeling them. I stretched back further, going over past escapades until I found one that appealed to me. Bada bing, bada boom, I’m sure you don’t need details.
Afterwards, I was thinking though, about the how and why of fantasies… And, just maybe, what they have to say about our current state of being.
On this particular morning, the memory that hit the mark was a bit peculiar. Not in itself, but in how infrequently it’s summoned up for that particular duty.
Many years ago, during the open marriage, I was seeing a woman named Jenn. I’ve written about her before, I was actually blogging shortly after we met and during our adventures (there are links in the menu under “The Ladies“). She was angelic in many ways and probably contributed more to healing me at the time than I ever suspected. When we met I was something of a broken man, having dealt with cheating, separation, the open marriage and an impending divorce. Jenn was sweet, kind, and extremely caring. She had to move for family reasons shortly after my divorce and it felt like a lost opportunity, like there could have been something if we had had more time.
The specific memory was one night when she decided to kiss every inch of my body. We had finished a long night of messing around all over her house, tired, sweaty and naked in her bed. Candles had been burning for a while, filling the air with a pleasant hint of vanilla. It started as a joke, I don’t remember how, but she ended up giving me a full body massage that was interrupted every few seconds for a quick kiss before her hands moved on.
Its not a particularly sexy memory (unlike the earlier portions of the evening), which is why it doesn’t come up often during “me” time, but it’s a treasured one all the same. I remember feeling so safe, so comfortable, and so cared for. It was intimate in far more ways than any debaucherous car fuck or hot quicky on the couch, though we had those too.
So, it got me thinking. Why that memory now? Why that one instead of the regulars, the go-to fantasies (real or made up).
Normally, I go for the ones that are far more sexually explicit. The exhibitionist moments with Cat, the threesomes, the moments when I had a woman quivering at my touch, or scenes from recent pornos watched, the almost aggressively sexual exploits that usually get me going. Why something so different?
Well, it’s probably obvious to anyone reading this now, but my subconscious was craving that comfort, that kind of intimacy. That kind of caring, sensual touch that is missing from more casual partners.
And, to a degree, I think that’s something a lot of us miss at one time or another. There’s fucking, which is hot in so many ways, and shouldn’t be put down, but there’s also other kinds of intimacy that can be harder to find and just as important (if not more so).
With the recent problems at home, that bring about deep insecurity -not with myself but in my previously stable sense of the world, my brain was craving that sense of belonging and reassurance. I didn’t need to be fucked, I needed to be safe and appreciated. Now, if only could find that physically, instead of just in memory.
It makes me wonder how much our fantasies reflect our current reality, or what’s missing from it.