She had very specific ideas on what her fantasy sex partner would comprise of – ideas she was more than happy to share with the rest of the world through her writing. However in retrospect, this man, this fantasy partner, this ideal, was more of an amalgam of body parts, crafted more as a concept in functionality than as an actual person. This fantasy had no face, no form, and no personality. It had hands, a tongue and lips, a cock and an unquestioning will to please her. No man she’d met had ever come close to approaching what she was looking for, so no trace of past lover touched this fictional amalgam. An amalgam of body parts, vignettes and unfulfilled wishes.
Then she met him. A man truly surreal in his seeming perfection. She was shocked at how precisely he satisfied her unspoken desires. Without prompting he demanded what he wanted from her – he verbally wooed her with his lust and fantasies for her and she was intoxicated by the promise of such an ideal match. Yet, she was also relieved when she found that he had some proclivities, some lusts that she didn’t share, or had never considered. For him to match her too perfectly would have been unnerving – like he was indeed an unreal fancy – ephemeral, illusory…untouchable. Suddenly her fantasy had a face, a body and its own demands. Unexpectedly, this didn’t take away from its appeal. It simply added nuance and more complex dimension to her imaginings. It pushed her to consider scenarios she’d never encountered. Scenarios both frightening and alluring. Scenarios which forced her to explore her own liberality and comfort zones.
And the reality of being with him – of having him use her in any way he pleased, and being open to hearing what she wanted in return without shock or judgement. To be confronted with the reality of what one had previously only fantasized about is more disconcerting than one might expect. How often in life do we ever really get what we want?
She had occasionally doubted herself – that her own, seeming open-mindedness and adventurousness might actually be a façade. An identity that she wanted to play at, but could never actually adopt with any seriousness or ease. However her appetite has now been whetted, and she found myself craving more. She wanted to explore her sexual identity with more depth and urgency now than she had before. To indulge in both his requests and her own fantasies with more eagerness than she would have thought.
She wanted to taste a woman’s tongue again, suck on her breasts, explore each other’s bodies and feel each other’s heat, wetness and involuntary pressing and writhing against each other. She wanted to suck on a man`s cock while he watched – to perform for him, make him hard and have him fuck her while she still had the other man in her mouth. She wanted to bring him to the sex club that she had explored – she couldn’t get the thought of fucking him for an audience out of her head; nothing even elaborate or particularly kinky, the exhibitionism of it was enough.
She was distracted by this complex sexual “awakening.” This new partner and these preliminary new experiences didn’t scare her – they tempted her. They teased her to do more, explore more, imagine more. She wanted to do this beside him, with him. Some experiences were best shared – for and with each other. Others were for her or him alone. She didn’t want to limit him in his own explorations or curiosities. Surely they couldn’t fulfill each other’s every kink or wish – but to guide and experience and learn with each other – the intimacy and decadent indulgence of it was delirium-creating in and of itself….