Dear sweet freaked-out readers. (Or turned on. Your choice.) Today brings this odyssey to a conclusion and because, like Thomas, you have hung in there this long, there will be a small reward. Toys. For those who missed the first two installments: this is adult material dealt with in an adult manner: direct, explicit; feel free to sit this one out.
To recap, Thomas and I are talking about fantasies. Thomas is frustrated by a particular fact of life, and I’m giving him a picture of the inside of my head, one woman as representative for my sex. At this point, Thomas is pretty sure I’m never going to get to the point: Why do women say they don’t have fantasies, and if they do, they don’t want to share?
ME: So my man's fucking me and I'm fucking my uncle. [*It wasn’t my uncle, but no one needs to know which family member it was.] Even if my partner wouldn't think this is a sick thing, I can't take the risk that he will. Understand, ABOVE ALL, I need control in this scenario. Sound twisted? It gets more interesting.
ME: My fantasy is me being aroused by my uncle. It’s painful but it’s my choice now, not an accident of fate. I’m choosing every fucked up detail, at least that’s what I tell myself, and I let it play out any way it needs to, including fucking through my own self-disgust for having this fantasy, but this is what’s getting me off and so I’m going with it. For some time, I screamed whenever I came and apparently I scared the crap out of a few of new partners ~laughs~ but hey, it’s my orgasm and I’ll scream if I want to. LMAO. I had me some shit to let out.
THOMAS: Atta girl!
ME: Anyway, every time I had this fantasy and came, I got another piece of the puzzle that is me, and I got a little more control. And that experience owned me less. Eventually, I got to a place where I understood what I was doing and why, and then.... Still with me?
ME: Then I got to have a REAL fantasy **************
ME: Then I get to have a REAL fantasy. This is very different from what's been happening so far. Up till now, what I’ve been experiencing (and what my BF insists on calling a fantasy) is really an invasion of my sexual head space that I’m trying to pretend I choose; a head space version of abuse or rape. I'm sure you can grasp the creepiness and fear factor here. But now I’ve reached a point where my fantasy really IS all about my uncle. I am in control of how aroused he gets, when he gets aroused and whether or not he gets to climax. I can make him cum against his will. I can arouse him to the point of pain and refuse to let him cum. I can insist he do me in whatever way I want and not cum till I do. I can rain down hellfire and sexual brimstone if I want and get off on that. The point is, in my head I do whatever scary sexy sick thing makes me feel more in control and I get to cum while doing it. I own his ass.
ME: Believe me when I say:
There is no greater control than this
there is no greater revenge than this
there is no greater turn on than this
there is no better way to heal than this.
ME: And if I thought my man wanted to be in the middle of it, yeah, you think I’d be doing what I needed to do? It would never fucking happen.
ME: You feeling me?
THOMAS: I understand what you’re saying.
THOMAS: OK now Honey, Most Darling Girl, just for the sake of this conversation, I think we are talking about two different things here. I am talking about conversation over a couple of cocktails. Now that being said, I am so totally getting what you’re saying.
ME: I've had those conversations and talking about one thing does not insure that the other thing isn’t going on. Saying yes to simple furry costume fuck does not insure the fucked up past doesn’t intrude.
ME: One in three, baby, one in three.
THOMAS: See now after all you said, I am an asshole if I argue with you. But I am not convinced that this is why women don't share a fantasy.
ME: ~laughs~ okay, okay. So just let me say this:
ME: After I let myself do this for awhile, keeping it to myself and using HIS fantasies to get mine going, once I did this till I was clean, I could name and play any fantasy. It was easy. It was fun. I couldn't believe I'd missed out on such awesome sex.
ME: Respect for our headspace allows us women to do many things we might otherwise resist.
THOMAS: You have no idea how I am totally feeling for you and your pain, My Love, and I really mean My Love because right now that is all I have to offer you is Love, Darling Girl. You have had a lot of pain in your life and I wish I could fix that.
ME: No, babe, I’m clean, clear of it. That’s what I’m trying to say. There’s no pain; it’s just a story now.
THOMAS: I have more respect for women then you can begin to imagine. I’ve been around and not to beat a dead horse, but I still think we are talking about two different things or perhaps I never thought so much detail went into a fantasy. Because all I want is a start, a simple one, one that is not so complicated and all that meaningful. Baby steps, I haven't even gotten that from women.
ME: Yeah. I'm with you, okay? Simple fantasy: black leather and a riding crop. Sexy maid outfit with a garter belt. Schoolgirl in plaid skirt and come-fuck-me pumps. Doctor taking advantage of poor helpless me. I'm with you.
THOMAS: That’s it Honey now you are talking. The boy toy is a lucky guy.
ME: =) Well, he would be if we had more time. Not sure how to make that happen. Anyway to finish up, the fantasy sharing? Yeah, not truly possible till the old crap got cleared. Now it’s all good.
THOMAS: I get it. Honey thank you for the story and insight. It went a long way with me.
ME: Really? Because I can pull out the furry costume.... jk.
THOMAS: Yes it really did. Honest.
ME: Cool, cuz I really need some advice. How-to training.
THOMAS: I have done some training in my day. What kind did you have in mind? I mean, really, like leaving the toilet seat down or were you thinking something more sexual? lol
ME: :) Giving instruction so that it sounds sexy and fun, not like a map. I trained the last BF/boy toy to go down on me. Man is he good! But that was... a challenge. Instructions are not my thing, I’m even bad at maps, and besides we’d been together for quite awhile before I ventured there.
THOMAS: I learned from a lesbian.
ME: Lucky man!
THOMAS: I know and I’m good too.
ME: Wanna train my guy? lol.
THOMAS: Hmmm... I think nipple clamps with a chain might help. You can stop him from doing things with a pull.
ME: Can't say I've got nipple clamps, what's the attraction? And a pull?
THOMAS: Or a collar with a leash.
ME: Collar. Nice.
ME: Maybe we just need to make a trip to the toy box. Maybe he's never been to a sex shop. I hadn't till a few years ago. I know. I’m vanilla. Whatever.
THOMAS: I love to be told what to do and with the training devices you won't really have to talk as much.
ME: Okay, that’s hot. I had no idea.
THOMAS: Don't let him use his hands if he’s not doing you well. This will make him just use his mouth to get you off. He will have to work harder.
ME: Hmmm, could handcuff him behind his back. I don’t have those either. lol.
THOMAS: OK, going back to the I can't believe we are having this conversation! lol So can you let him know with moans and so on when he is doing well?
ME: I'm good at moaning. You can't shut me up. But that's not really helping.
THOMAS: Hmmm so he’s not getting when he’s hitting the spot.
ME: Nope. I'm glad we can have this conversation. I totally need a man's POV.
THOMAS: Ok, then definitely no hands allowed. He has to learn how to get you off with his mouth. Just his mouth.
ME: Houston, we have a first step!
That’s it, boys and girls. Tomorrow we’re back to... I don’t know what, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be my sex life. The conversation between Thomas and me was just a happy accident. I didn’t venture out with the intent to have it, and goodness knows I never imagined I’d be sharing it with you. Perhaps the sex workers who follow me on Twitter, fabulous women every one of them, are having a positive effect on me. I can only hope.
Oh and by the way, if any of you have recommendations for handcuffs, by all means, don’t keep it to yourselves. ^_~
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