I’m often overwhelmed by the desire to be held.

I crave the feeling of being able to relax into an embrace and breathe into the support of another person’s warm, strong body.

It has to be the right person. It must be someone who I want to be held close by. Someone who smells like home to me. Someone I can trust to hold me and know that they care about me. There are so few people like this in my life.

A friend and ex lover gives me massages sometimes. I can feel his care in the way he touches my body. I can feel his enduring attraction to me overcome by his desire to help and heal my body.

During each massage there’s a moment where he sits behind me, wraps his arms around me, and hugs my back into his chest, opening my chest with his arms. I long for this moment. I melt into it. It brings tears to my eyes and I absorb as much of this feeling of being held and supported as I possibly can.

He directs me to breathe deeply into my pelvis, to breathe into one side and then the other. He breathes with me. My naked body pressed against his clothed body feels vulnerable and soft. He holds me firmly and tenderly, like he wants to be holding me.

He has seen my body naked so many times before. I know how passionately he feels about my breasts. Yet he doesn’t touch them directly now. I feel his ability to offer me his healing love as a gift for my body without touching me for his own pleasure. I love this about him. I love him with all my heart.

I would let him hold me for as long as he was willing to. It’s one of the few places I feel completely safe and supported. And we’re too different to ever make sense as partners, but I feel blessed to know that his arms want to and are willing to hold me sometimes. I feel so much grief rush to the center of me during the moments I am held. I want to trust so badly that the universe can hold me like this. I’m just not sure it feels the same.

In another intimate moment during the massage, he gently rubs his beard on my face and says something that makes me laugh. It feels so good in that moment. So sweet and innocently playful. He feels as my tears come and go. He holds and moves my body in ways I haven’t imagined before. I am completely surrendered to him.

On my back at the end he caresses my face and rubs his fingers through my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. He kisses my forehead and asks if he can hug me. I say yes and he gets on top of me on the table, the fronts of our bodies touching, our hearts aligned. He whispers some very sweet things in my ear as he lays on top of me.

I remember the feeling of being underneath him just after we had made love, him still inside of me. I remember him jumping on top of me in the mornings. I remember being in this embrace with him and it aches in my heart and in my pussy. I still want him so much even though we’ve been just friends for 5 years. The intimacy and the love is still there.

And then the massage is over. The spell dissipates. We eat dinner that I have made. It’s not as good as I hoped it would be. He talks and I listen. Comments I want to make and responses I’d like to give fade into the distance as he unselfconsciously takes up so much of the space. I know he loves and respects me, but there isn’t the space or invitation for me to show up and express myself in the way I would like to. He doesn’t have the attention span or ability to see me as deeply in conversation as he does in touching my body and massaging my physical stress away. I expect this. I know that it’s always like this no matter how deeply I wish it was different. When I try to carve out space for myself, he argues with me about my thoughts and what is true for me. It breaks my heart.

On my bed after dinner, he cuddles me gently as we watch some TV. His face is so close to my breasts. I can smell his scent and feel his breath. I don’t run my fingers through his hair as I love doing. I don’t rub his back like I know he is hoping I will. I am holding back a bit.

I tell him he can sleep in my office on the couch if he wants to stay over. He says okay. I can’t allow my heart to feel the longing for him to make love to me all night long as he sleeps next to me in my bed. I don’t want to stay up all night hoping he will pull me to him in the middle of the night. The desire to feel his kiss on my lips, his full manhood and deep desire for me between my legs. It’s better if he’s not in my bed. I’ve learned my lesson over and over.

He wants to sleep in my bed with me and cuddle me all night, but I can’t handle that. He’ll sleep like a baby, I’ll be up all night with my heart pounding and waves of desire coursing through my body.

So he goes in the room next to me and closes the door. I get naked and back into my bed. I fall asleep to a fantasy that he will come into my room in the middle of the night and slip under the covers behind me. I’ll feel the warmth of his naked body press against me. I’ll feel his incredible hard cock resting against my butt. His large hands will find my breasts and massage them with such lust and desire. Squeezing my nipples so slowly and firmly just as he knows will make me moan with pleasure. He’ll roll me onto my back and begin to suck hungrily on my nipples one at a time. The fire and wetness between my legs is unprecedented. My liquid desire for him drips out of my pussy just waiting for what I want so badly.

I fall asleep to this fantasy. He stays respectfully in his room. He must know and feel how much my body desires his touch, to be filled up by him in every way. Maybe that knowledge is part of why we remain such close friends. I don’t know. All I know is that I live for his hugs and how incredible it feels when he puts his feet on top of mine, one hand on my low back and one hand in my hair, and I feel his heartbeat against my ear as he kisses my head and squeezes me tight.

I want that moment to last forever.