Last week, I wrote about my most memorable sexual experience, and I dissected nearly every aspect of it, trying to understand just what about that experience was so resonant for me.
Fantasies are interesting in a way that actual sexual experiences aren’t. Actual sexual experiences are constrained by reality. I may have loosened some of those restraints with the expenditure of gobs of money, but the event of which I wrote was ultimately an event. There was a time limit on our tryst, it was in a sub-optimal hotel room, I had to pay. And so while its memorability to me is informative, and the fact of its having been a staged sexual encounter, scripted and paid by me, brings it a bit closer to fantasy than many people’s “peak erotic experiences,” it nonetheless is somehow less revealing than my peak erotic fantasy is.
Months ago, I wrote about what I called my “core fantasy.” Just to refresh your memory, it involves an endless evening of oral sex, with an endless line (or two endless lines) of providers – and recipients, with me the only man in sight.
Today, I want to revisit that core fantasy, and deconstruct it, tear it apart, analyze each piece of it to understand just why, and how, it works for me.
But before I do that, I need to modify my fantasy just a little: first, the set-up needs work. When I wrote previously about my fantasy, how the evening came about was not a part of the fantasy. But if I’m honest with myself, I have a very specific notion of how it should come about. Ideally, a woman (my wife, a girlfriend, whoever) is the orchestrator of the event. As a gift to me, she recruits an army of women through a variety of means – CraigsList, friends, however. There’s an extensive selection process, and I’m a participant in it, but only in the most high-level, executive of ways: I’m presented with photos, e-mails, of all the women. Every woman who wants to participate has to apply, and I have sole discretion. Perhaps there’s a short application – an essay, say. And (because it’s a fantasy) it’s a highly selective process – there are dozens, hundreds even, of women seeking to participate. I get to weed through them all – face photos, probably – maybe fully dressed body photos, maybe not. Who knows – there might even be an interview. If there is an interview, it’s not an audition – the women keep their clothes on, no sex takes place, and my anticipation is heightened.
Second, with regard to the actual fantasy: I don’t think I need an infinitude of women – five would probably do just fine. I mean, ten could work too, but it need not be the “endless lines” of which I wrote previously. And there need not be two “lines.” I think that, as long as I could be assured of a constant willing fellatrix (or three), and a constant willing cunniling-ee (?), I’d be good. And, as in my actual remembered peak sexual experience, I’d like to direct the dressing of the women, and to have them go through several costume changes each, and to masturbate when not occupied either on my cock or by my mouth. Masturbation while sucking me off would be welcome, encouraged, but not necessary.
Interestingly, I don’t particularly crave the image of the women’s fooling around with one another, and neither do I particularly crave their nudity. In fact, I think I’d like the women dressed while they suck my cock, and only partially undressed while masturbating, or while I’m going down on them.
And once more, my orgasm is not really part of this fantasy – it happens in a sort of timeless, endless expanse of pleasure.
What the fuck is all this about?
A lot of it is exactly how I wrote about when I wrote about the sexual experience I conjured for myself: it’s an attempt to imagine myself as an object of desire, while women are freely demonstrating their own sexual appetites (and thus their invulnerability to, and desire for, mine). But there’s more….
If I’m honest, the most powerful parts of this fantasy for me are the additions, the parts I didn’t even think to include the first go-round (because, I guess, I didn’t realize just how much I could allow myself in a fantasy). The part where I have a woman conjure the whole event is the single-most important part. And its meaning is straightforward, I think: it elegantly delivers to me that which I so crave – approval, acceptance, by a woman, of even my most transgressive desires.
And then the extensive search? The ad, the submissions, the reviewing of applications, the pictures, essays, interviews…. All that is more of the same – tangible evidence of the desirability of my desires, of the extent to which women accept, and are even driven to seek to participate in, the fulfillment of my fantasies.
I think this manifest desire for my desires does double duty: it both establishes the safety and acceptability of my desires and my desirability: jeez, there are dozens of women seeking the opportunity to participate in my fantasy, in my fantasy. (In my enactment of the fantasy, there were only four women, one of whom backed out, and the other three of whom needed considerable money to be enticed to participate.)
Another observation: I suspect that my construction of a circumstance in which I’m omnipotently reviewing dozens, hundreds of applicants, deciding who will have the good fortune to participate in this fantasy, is in fact a bit of a reversal of my experience of life: in real life, I experience (as do many men) women as being in control sexually. I very rarely feel that I’m in control sexually, prior to the moment where a woman grants me control. In this fantasy, I am omnipotent; the women aren’t just powerless, they’re actually supplicants.
This is reinforced by the absence of sex among the women – I don’t want them turned on by one another – I want to be the focal point of everyone’s desire in my fantasy.
So my fantasy accomplishes a few things my real adventure didn’t: it establishes my desirability, it establishes the acceptability of my desires, and it reverses a sort of powerless that I often feel with regard to sex, establishing me as nearly omnipotent, in addition to desirable. (And once more, the absence of fucking is notable, as it spares me whatever it is that scares me most about fucking – the violence? the pressure to perform?)
Have you ever examined your fantasies closely? I’d love to hear some of your “peak” fantasies, as well as your thoughts about what, if anything, they tell you about yourself.