The Eroticism of Safety: When Touch Becomes Trust

Less is more.

The touch of less has always been more erotic to me. It’s not about how much skin you cover or how long the contact lasts. It’s the restraint, the pause, the space between. That’s what makes it sensual. That’s what separates it from just touching someone.

I think it has a lot to do with how we’re built. Maybe it’s the thickness of someone’s skin, or maybe it’s the way they’ve learned to feel from past experiences. Some people need a heavy hand to even notice. Others, like me and most of the people I have the pleasure of meeting, can fall apart from the slightest graze.

But touch isn’t only about eroticism. Sometimes it creates trust. A light, sensual touch can communicate, “you’re safe here”. It can say, “I’m paying attention, I’m not going to hurt you, I want you to feel comfortable with me”. That’s the kind of presence I try to bring—especially for people who are worried, nervous, or scared for their own reasons.

And it goes both ways. I need that too. I need someone to listen to me when I say how I enjoy being touched. I need someone to respect my boundaries and understand that less really does mean more to me. That’s what allows me to let my guard down and feel safe.

I think about one person in particular.

When we first met, he was grumpy. Closed off. His humor was sharp and passive aggressive, like he always had a shield up. He even tries to push for more sometimes, to see if I’d give in. I never have and never will. My boundaries are clear, and I stay firm with them. But he keeps coming back for more.

Overtime, he realized I wasn’t going anywhere. That I wasn’t going to trick him or shame him. That even though I wasn’t giving him “more,” I was giving him something else—consistency, safety, honesty.

And little by little, he started to let his guard down. He became nicer with me. He still had that passive aggressive humor, but I could tell he trusted me enough to relax around me. I started to see the real him underneath. Not a bad person at all. Just someone who’s been hurt. Someone who’s pushed people away so many times that it became his pattern, his protection.

I can usually tell the difference between a person who’s truly bad and a person who’s just guarded. And with him, I knew. He was a good man. Just wounded.

And that’s why he still comes back. Because what he wants isn’t really “more”, although him and many others may fantasize about it. What he truly wants is the subtlety, the restraint, the gentleness. He wants the eroticism of touch—not the obvious kind, but the kind that says I see you, you’re safe, you don’t have to fight me which translates into he desire to feel safe in an environment without judgment.

That’s what less is. Not withholding. Not empty. But honest, safe and transparent.

Less is more because it leaves space for trust. And trust is what makes touch feel like something deeper than just contact. It’s what makes it sensual and safe to be yourself.