The Ultimate Guide to Sexual Fantasy (7 page)

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If you live together, greet your partner when they get home wearing a fantasy outfit you know they'll like, or have one prepared for them to change into. You can be in lingerie, a schoolgirl outfit, housecleaning in the nude, “caught” getting out of the shower (or watching porn, reading a dirty book, doing what you're not supposed to).

•
     
Change your appearance in a sexy way, by wearing erotic undergarments or shaving your genitals. Try going out on a date wearing no underwear, and tell your partner during dinner.

•
     
Use any of the techniques in later chapters to give your lover a surprise such as a striptease or lap dance (
Chapter 6
), a sudden spanking or punishment (
Chapter 10
), or improvised erotic role play (
Chapter 4
).

The Sex Buffet

Sexual decadence comes in many forms, but perhaps the headiest and most sensual dining experiences happen when you make your lover into a tasty treat. Drizzle chocolate sauce, honey, or raspberry syrup, or slather whipped cream onto any part of the body that begs to be licked. Nibble on pieces of fruit you've placed on their body, slip a tasty morsel over his genitals and then eat it in full view. Set a meal (especially finger food like sushi) on your partner's quivering, excited torso and take your sweet time eating your fill. Just be sure to avoid getting sugars in her vagina, and don't insert any food anally (ever). Read more about messy fun in
Chapter 11
, “Sex Games.”

Talking to Your Partner

Erotic ideas can blossom into a shared fantasy as easily as making a wish—as long as you make that wish out loud. You and your partner may “click” sexually, sharing many of the same fantasies. Still, you have to say what you want. You might receive a mixed reply—part curiosity, part apprehension. A few folks will be met with a reluctance to even talk about fantasies, and some might meet an outright refusal.

Either way, for you to explore an idea together, one of you has to be bring it up—easy if you talk about sex regularly in your relationship, daunting if you never do. Whatever your situation, telling your partner you want to try something new can feel stressful—and if your
fantasy makes
you
uncomfortable, this is an understatement. In fact, even thinking about talking about sex is stressful, sometimes!

If you have what you consider a tried-and-true style of sex, telling your partner that you want something to change is scary, and starting a conversation about your desire to experiment sexually can make you feel vulnerable. This is especially true with sexual fantasies that you enjoyed before you met your present partner. Opening yourself up and asking for something you want takes courage—but it also gives you an opportunity to learn more about what your lover likes and dislikes. Plus you might actually get what you want!

Before you tell all, put yourself in your partner's shoes: If the two of you don't normally talk about sex, and then suddenly one of you wants to, it might be upsetting—at first. Your lover may wonder if you've had sexual secrets all along. It's also very likely that your opening up this erotic treasure trove will give your partner the opportunity to tell you what's on their mind about sex, too.

Think about how you might bring up the subject in a way that would feel safe for you: Would you feel comfortable watching a movie with a scene that resembles your fantasy, and commenting on it after the show? Or do you think you'd feel more secure waiting until you are entwined in an intimate cuddle and then asking your partner what they think about trading fantasies? Another technique you can try is stating that you want to confess a fantasy—a sexual one—and that he or she doesn't have to reply right away. Tell them that you can have a conversation about it later; this gives both of you time to let the idea settle.

Consider ways in which you can encourage your partner to hear you out. Ask them to suspend judgment until you can explain how much fun you think the two of you will have—and how important their participation is to you. Be sure to reassure him or her that you find them incredibly sexy, and that the conversation wouldn't be happening unless you felt safe enough to reveal your deepest desires. Your lover needs to hear that they are the star of your show—and that you're ready to become closer than you've ever been before. The most important thing to think through beforehand is how you are going to make your partner feel safe. Mentally rehearse what you'd like to say before you actually have the conversation. Think about how your partner might react, so that you will be prepared to follow whichever route the discussion might take.

When Your Lover Is Reluctant

For a variety of reasons, your lover may not want to try out your sexual fantasy. Or your partner may want to make you happy but simply not understand what to do or what your fantasy means to you. Understanding these concerns can be helpful in having a constructive conversation about your partner's hesitations, learning how to overcome fears that might hold one of you back, and resolving what to do when one person feels okay about a fantasy while the other doesn't.

If your lover wants to try something sexually that you're afraid of, unsure about, or have a moral concern with, it can bring up powerful feelings. Adding any new sexual behavior to a relationship can feel like a make-or-break situation, and sometimes it is. Asking to try
styles of expressing sexual intimacy can push your relationship to higher levels, or it can bring up so many issues that it rocks the boat—sometimes a little too hard. When fantasies make someone feel insecure, unsure of a partner's motivations, or profoundly uncomfortable, these issues can hit you at the core. This is especially true with fantasies related to degradation, fear, gender, age, or abuse.

When your own sexual fantasy makes you uncomfortable or offends you (and, confusingly, arouses you at the same time), you might worry that somewhere inside lurks a bad person, a person who “deserves” something harmful—or worse, that you actually want your fantasy to come true. Rape and incest fantasies are not uncommon, yet are extremely disturbing to contemplate. These fantasies are just that—fantasies—and so they will remain, in the realm of imagination or in the safety of fantasy play with someone you absolutely trust. Simply having a fantasy doesn't mean you want to see it enacted in reality.

Ready to Play?

Now you're ready to play! Fantasies about simple sex acts, with basic scenarios, can be played out whenever you're both ready, and wherever you like. Just be sure that you have privacy. Home is the best place to act out your fantasies, and with a little hot talk and imagination, imaginary sex partners can join in, you can shift the time and place however you want, and you're free to use sex toys, fetish objects, and props to add to your arousal.

Set aside time when you'll both be free of distractions and can really relax—turn off your phones, make
sure your roommates are really away, send the kids to a sitter. Make sure you've shopped for props and accessories, such as a dog collar, whipped cream, massage oil, full-length mirror. (Don't forget your naughty imagination!) Have these items ready ahead of time, or if you're visiting your lover's house, bring your treats with you. Most importantly, bring a sense of sexual adventure and a sense of humor, because fantasy play is exactly that—play.

Not Tonight

BY
A
LISON
T
YLER

Sounds silly, I guess, but sometimes when I see him, I don't want to fuck him, I want to
be
him. Matt has the perfect male body, in my opinion. Broad shoulders, a long, lean torso, slim hips, and an awesome ass. He has a deeply fuckable body, and I do love to fuck him. But sometimes I don't want him to climb on top of me and pound into me, don't want him to bend me over and take me from behind, don't want him to press me up against the wall and make me writhe with pleasure.

No, what I want is to slide inside him and see the world from within his head. And I want to devour some summertime chicklet dolled up in one of those swishy floral dresses and tie-up espadrilles and fuck
her
while being him.

Too much like that John Malkovich movie?

Maybe.

But why can't I be him? Just for an evening. Or even for an hour. Why can't
I
be the one to move through the crowd and pick up a girl, any girl? (He can have any girl.) Why can't I take one home, or out to some back alley, and push her up against the brick wall out there, tear her panties down and fuck her?

That's all I want. One hour. One hour inside his body so that I can find out what it's like—not just to be a man, but to be
him
. I want to manhandle my throbbing cock, to hold it, to fondle it. I want to force-feed every inch of it to some pretty girl, to make her drink me, and drain me. To make her feel my power.

He's not always that type, I know. He is sweet and caring and gentle. He is monogamous and dedicated to me. But
I'd
be that type if I were him. I'd be the type to control the situation. I'd be the type to take charge. It would feel good to take charge. God, it would feel amazing.

I get to a point where I am all-consumed by the thought. So I take one step forward, or really one roll forward on the mattress, and I curl my body up next to his in bed, and I say, “I have a fantasy…”

He slides one strong arm around me, holding me close. “Tell me, baby,” he whispers back, the way he always does. He likes my mind best. More than my ripe, lush breasts. More than my thick, black hair. More than the curves of my hips or the swell of my ass, he likes my thoughts. My dirty fantasies. My X-rated visions. “Tell me where your mind is going tonight,” he croons in his low, husky voice.

“I want…” I start, but I can't say it.

“Tell me.”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.

“Tell,” he says, and his voice is insistent.

“I'll show you,” I decide. Because that will work best.

“Show—” he starts, but I put my finger to his lips, and without another word, I climb out of bed and grab the satchel containing my outfit and all my recently purchased gear, and I disappear into our bathroom. I can almost hear his thoughts going crazy in the other room—
Where is she going? What's she doing
?—but I pay more attention to my own thoughts. At this point, they're all that matter.

I gaze at myself as I bind my breasts flat with an Ace bandage. I admire my body as I slip into my new harness and adjust my fine, handsome cock. I slide into the faded 501s, put on the boots, and add a wife-beater T-shirt that makes my arms look cut and fierce.

Who am I?

Will he know?

I gel my hair and tuck my ponytail up into a cap, then slip on a pair of his shades. I can see it. I can feel it. I add cologne, from the expensive bottle I bought him last Christmas, and then I walk back into our bedroom and wait to see what his response will be.

“Oh, Jesus,” he says when he sees me, and I know with that ripple of pleasure that runs instantly through me that he's game. “Oh,
god
,” he says, looking me up and down. I'm tall and lean and hard. My hand is already on my belt. I want to undress as quickly as I wanted to dress. But first, I have to strip him down. I have to oil him up. I have to kiss him all over, lovely flower that he is. Because now that I'm him, well, who does
he
have to be?

We don't need to answer that question, do we? I didn't think so.

Even though I feel like being naked so he can really see the transformation, I don't take off my clothes this time. I need him too fast for that. I part my jeans and let him admire my cock. I manhandle my cock, my fist wrapped tight. I want to slide it across his pretty lips. I want to watch him deep-throat it.

He wants that, too.

“Look,” I say. “Get close so you can see me. Really see me.”

He scrambles on the bed to obey. His mouth is open before I can command it. I don't have to tell him what to do. His lips part, and he takes me in. I feel him pulling on my cock. I feel how hungry he is for that. I envision him draining me, taking me all the way to climax with the sucking motions of his ravenous mouth.

Later.
After
.

For now, I push him back. There's lube in the drawer by the bed. Usually, it's lube for me. Now, it's lube for him. I tell him to get me the bottle, and then I let him watch me grease myself up.

“You know where this is going,” I say, seeing his eyes widen, seeing him bite
hard on his bottom lip, as if he might want to say something, but doesn't quite dare. “You know where,” I say, softer, but I can tell from the rosy blush on his face that he understands. Of course he does. Then I roughly roll him over, pull his boxers off, spread those lovely asscheeks of his, and kiss him there. Mmm. I take my time, the way he takes his time, and I can tell he is growing more aroused from the way he shifts against the sheets.

He likes this. My baby likes this.

I oil him up, so gently, so sweetly, my fingers going deep inside him, and while I work them slowly into his asshole, I press my face against his smooth skin and breathe in deep. Oh, is he sweet. He is my angel. My lover. My sweet young thing in a floral dress and tie-up espadrilles, so ready and willing to get fucked against some back-alley wall.