Because I Can’t Write a Novel – Day 16: “What Are Your Fantasies?”
A friend recently asked me this question and I didn’t know how to answer it. I don’t know. I don’t know what my fantasies are. That’s not a good thing, right? I’m thirty years old. Surely this is something I’d know by now? Or at least I should do? I’ve had little check-boxes I’ve ticked off over the years but a fantasy, a real fantasy …? I don’t think I have one of those.
I’ve always wanted to recreate that scene out of 40 Days and 40 Nights, when Josh Hartnett’s character uses an orchid to make his gal-pal climax. I think it’s more to do with the mental side of things – a lot of what happened in that moment would have been ‘in the mind’. I guess that’s my fantasy? You need to get in my head before you can really understand my body? Or as Tattoo Guy said to me, head-fuck me before physically fucking me.
I’ve always loved that scene out of Nine and a Half Weeks too – the refrigerator scene where he feeds her all sorts and she’s blindfolded. Everything about that film has always done it for me. I think it was the first movie I watched that ignited my non-vanilla side. It’s always been a keen favourite of mine, plus I’ve always had a riding-crop thing before the days of Fifty Shades of Grey. He was my original Mr. Grey, good ol’ Mickey Rourke.
But these little scenes – they’re just things I’d quite like to do. I wouldn’t put them up there as my hottest fantasies. I wouldn’t be upset if I never did them, and I wouldn’t feel particularly accomplished if I actually experienced them, they’d just be nice. It would be nice if they happened. Does that make them my fantasies? Because if that’s the case, I have a shit load.
I would quite like to experience a MFF threesome scenario, the focus entirely on me of course. But then again, we all know how shocking my threesome experiences have been. I’d love to have sex in the rain. There’s something very romantic about the rain so it would need to be a good partner, a partner I would be guaranteed to have GREAT sex with. I’ve always wanted to play around with hot wax so I guess that would be a little fantasy of mine too. I quite like pushing those pain / pleasure boundaries, so I’d very much like to bring a riding crop into the bedroom. It’s just not the kind of thing you can easily bring up, you know?
“Hi, is there anything I’m not doing for you in bed?”
“Well, actually, I’d quite like you to surprise me with a riding crop one night, and maybe pull my hair a little more? And if you could spank me some from time to time, that would be bloody marvellous!”
Perhaps I should just say that? Stop treating me like I’m made of glass because I’m really not.
I think my biggest fantasy, if I’m being brutally honest with myself, is being HIS fantasy. I WANT to be objectified. I want him to tell me what to wear to get him at his hottest. I want him to tell me how I should wear my hair and what colour lipstick I should smear around his cock. I want him to tell me where he wants me, how he wants me, what he wants to do to me. That’s what I want – a man who’s in control but isn’t controlling. Is that possible? I want a Dom I guess, but one without all the bullshit.
But that’s what gets me the hottest – hearing those little noises he makes because I made him make them. Seeing his toes curl ands hands grab at everything and nothing – the bed sheets, my hair, the flesh on my thighs, anything … Watching him losing control in that moment and knowing I got him there, that’s what gets me going. Some of my best blowjobs have made me wetter than any amount of foreplay could have done, especially with BE. Feeling him cum in my mouth, hearing those little noises that went with it – all you need to do is feel into my underwear afterwards and you’ll understand what that does to me. My foreplay is HIS foreplay.
I want to be his sex object. I want to be objectified. I want him to come home and know that I’ll be wearing the underwear that he picked out for me, in the makeup he instructed me to wear, making the dinner he requested. I want him to know that as I’m making dinner, I’ll sink to my knees in his kitchen and do with my mouth what I do best, emptying him and enjoying drinking every last drop. I want him to know that I’ll probably do his dishes even though I’ll grumble loudly about not wanting to, and I’ll want him to know that I also can’t wait to get him into bed. Maybe not even into bed, just the on the couch if that’s where the mood takes us. Just one kiss is all we need to switch from that post-dinner slump to a back-arching torture as he teases my clit with his tongue.
I want him to know that on long car journeys, I’ll always want to tease him, taking my panties off and sliding them into his pocket. I want him to know that I’ll tease my fingers inside me before sliding them into his mouth, and take his hand from the gear stick before guiding it down in between my legs. I want him to know that as long as we’re together, for each and every day, he’ll be the object of my desires, and I’ll always want to create the very hottest of memories for him.
I guess I just want to leave my mark, to make sure I’ve done to him what no other woman has ever done before. I want to make him feel like no other woman can make him feel. I want to know that he’ll always look back at our times and smile, no matter how badly we ended.
That’s my fantasy – being his ultimate fantasy.
Now, I want to know all about yours. Make sure you leave your links in the comments. I can’t wait to read about your tales, and hopefully they’re less of a flop than mine have been!
- Expected word count: 26,672
- Word count today: 1,111
- Word count to date: 21,826 (Well … I’m massively behind!)
Find the rest of the ‘Because I Can’t Write a Novel’ story here.