You may touch me there

You may touch me there

You may touch me thereTouch. It’s such an intimate thing really, yet people can choose to give it away so freely, frivolously. It is both warm and sacred, and dangerous and terrifying all at once.

I am different to a lot of people, I do not like physical touch from those I have not given consent for it from, strangers or passers-by in my life. It is special to me, so when people enter my personal space whether from etiquette (a handshake or hug to a kiss on the cheek) or uninvited, I find it quite strange and unpleasant.

Touch is so evocative, makes us so responsive. We use touch to caress, to show affection, all the way up to orgasmic unions of the flesh. From a light trailing of fingertips over gradually goose-pimpled flesh, to lips and tongue meshing together, mouths meeting, the places we enjoy the sensations of ingesting food into us, we share with another. The tender soft flesh of lips upon another’s, tasting them at their entrance there, tongues wrapping round each others, becoming part of each other for that all too brief moment.

All the way to writhing atop another, touching flesh without a break, no gaps, pressing together as close as possible for the shared warmth, feeling their heart beating against you, hearing it through their chest or feeling their pulse in the darkness along with the ragged drawn breaths with the sexual motion.

Touch – it’s important. I won’t give it away freely. I will not have it taken from me without permission either. It is valuable.

So many people yearn for human contact, not just online or even face to face communication but that affectionate warmth. It stirs passions in us, longings for more. Long deadened emotions can be once again aroused when we are touched a certain way.

Conversely, a touch in a familiar way can have connotations to bad memories, being touched in a certain place… what’s yours? Ears? Feet? Ribs? can lead to shudders as the scenes come rushing back all too swiftly and vividly.

Perhaps I am hypersensitive. Perhaps I should open myself up to more flesh to flesh contact, be freely touchable, huggable. Allow myself to be stroked by whoever. I cannot stop myself from feeling it is too valuable a sensation to be anyone’s, however.

I cannot do anything but give it to the select few I have allowed to share that part of me, sensations blooming from the flesh contact, whether in a motherly hug and tender holding of my child, an embrace of a close friend, or the known and intimate, learned touches, strokes, kisses and more to those I have shared all of myself with, body and soul.

If you enjoyed this exploration, you may also like the sex and senses articles written for CaraSutra by Jon Pressick (from ever-awesome adult blog, Sex in Words).




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