It won’t be my first gangbang, but definitely the first of this type. It’s an open event. Nearly 500 people have responded as interested so far. I don’t know how many of those will actually show up. I will be one of the entertainers, joining four other women as the meat on display. I can’t say I’m not excited, but also apprehensive.
I’m not sure I can actually go through with it, my anxiety rising. Are there going to be cameras, my primary concern. I know my spotter will have my back, but with the mini cams now, it’s pretty hard to tell. I will have a face mask on, but I have to wear it without my glasses, which will mean I’m essentially blind.
I wish STIs were not a thing, the condom issue also a big one for me. I’d fuck the whole city if not for the risk of herpes, HIV. I’ve been clear my whole life, knock on wood, and I know doing behaviours like this are risky. But I feel it’s necessary for my healing process.
I can picture them surrounding me. Men on all sides. Their naked flesh coming towards me. The sensations all at once as they devour my body as if it were theirs to consume entirely, and I guess it will be. The touches, the penetrating phalluses in each hole, the smell of the men’s bodies surrounding me, pheromones and cologne and sweat. I can almost hear the screams from the other women and the grunts of the men as they thrust.
I need that hedonistic escape. The release of my mind where all I do is bliss out on bliss. Meditate on that divine pleasure until joy is everywhere and everything, and nothing is left but me and those bodies. There’s only one life, and it’s meant for living.
It’s been a difficult week. I need this distraction. A friend died, suddenly from a heart attack, leaving two small children and a grieving widow. Then the doctor’s yesterday went sideways from the get-go. A simple examination turned into me being sent to the hospital immediately to get several further tests. A breast irregularity. The skin suddenly changing and looking like an orange peel, not in colour, but dimpled and hard. Slightly warm to the touch. It’s such a small patch, I felt embarrassed even going to the doctor.
He took it way too seriously for my liking. This has to mean there’s something there, doesn’t it? Is this the big C? My mind wanders in thoughts I don’t even want to confront, so I distract myself. Call or message everyone I possibly could.
I call my ex-husband J. He answers my call on the first ring. “What’s up, Bexxy?” He inquired excitedly. He shoots the shit with me for an hour and a half, me only telling him what’s up an hour into our conversation. We talk effortlessly, endlessly. Ever since our first meeting. Always able to find the beauty in each other’s words and ideas and random thoughts.
He calms me enough that I feel relieved. I take some deep breaths and do some yoga. A sun salutation. I meditate afterwards, doing my mind trick where I leave this earth and go on a magical journey. I pretend there is an endless field. At each direction of the field is a growing fruit, on its tree, vine, bush. You examine it carefully, inspect each fruit with each of your senses. How does it look, smell, taste, feel? What do you hear as the wind runs through the trees? You go around in each direction, until your mind is a blank. Not remembering where you are except in an endless field feeling joy.
My mind comes back to tomorrow and its festivities. Joy. Excitement. Fear.
I know it’s nothing. It’s probably nothing. It’s gotta be nothing.
What’s your go-to distraction when anxiety starts taking over?
If this piece made you think about the strange ways we cope when life gets frightening, restack or share it with someone who might recognize themselves in it. 🖤
Leave a Reply