K. had a section of sex stories, sex comments. I moved some to a blog: pkBowdler. Now I’m deleting that blog. The sex stories are going to a different blog, under an alias; two essays I’ll read in here, this, and the next.
exported to blog 2004 02 28
Everyone has sexual fantasies, no? The kind that I’m thinking of today though concern being with one partner and fantasizing about another at the same time: that too is common enough, yes?
I don’t need any great theorist explaining sexual fantasies to me. But I would love to see an explanation from a scientist of Jared Diamond’s brilliance (are there two?) on why we do the latter: why we fantasize about girl B while we’re with girl A? especially when girl A is exactly the girl we most want to be with. I’d have my favorite girl in my arms, riding her with a good grip on her ass, be just about to come, and think of some other girl in the same position! Who knew who she was thinking of at the same moments?
Saying “the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence” doesn’t explain anything: it merely observes the pattern. (And in that case I can think of why a cow might rationally stick it’s head through the fence to munch grass, but I’ll keep those thoughts out of this piece.)
I’m pleased to report that the phenomenon visits me seldom these days. Have I “outgrown” it? Is age relevant? When I’m alone I fantasize as I please; when I’m with my partner, I’m with her: don’t need to think of anyone else or of their body parts.
2005 03 19 I’d already confided a number of my fantasies in stories told here years before this module was added. One of my favorites is mention in my Tits Like Texas memory. That is: no matter how unbelievably wonderful an orgasm is, it cannot be remembered. No matter how wonderful giving an orgasm is, it too can barely be remembered. What can be remembered and sometimes revisited is imagination. So, the greatest (physical) thing to do is to come and make come, but other times, the best mental thing to do is to fantasize. And a favorite fantasy for me is imagining (and then experiencing) the first moment when I make it unequivocal to a new, not yet touched, object of my affections that I want to stimulate her mouth to mouth: upper mouth to lower mouth: the mouth in my face on the nether mouth between her legs. Thus I dream of first lowering my face to her belly, holding her by the buttocks, and ever so gently moving my lips vulva-ward over her mons.
Does a woman feel much through her mons? Does a girl? I don’t know, but I doubt it. It’s her imagination that I’m engaging as well as my own.
I’m not the acrobat I once was, and I haven’t had an acrobatic partner in a coon’s age. That’s makes my memories of such partnerings all the more precious. And my most precious thoughts concern girls I never really discovered the sexual athleticism of. (I’ve already said, and probably repeated, that my fantasies tend toward girls I thought of but never actually touched: for one reason or another, the most common reason being that they were too young: out of bounds.
Yesterday’s Reuters Sports at Yahoo showed a marvelous photograph of one of my fantasies: modelled by a most healthy, attractive pair.
Bulgarian skaters, March 2005
This skater is riding upside down on her partner’s chest. Her legs are as agape as legs can get. Isn’t her position beautiful? Her snatch is right under the guy’s face (though this competitor is too engaged with the competition to be noticing. I guess he practices with that same pussy under his nose every day.)
There he is: all of the female spread before him: ass too if that’s what he likes.
The most athletic girl I’ve ever know was out of bounds: too young, too close a neighbor, too good a friend, for any hankypanky from pk. But let me tell you I fantasized about her just the same: still do. She and her brother and I did plenty of rough and tumble play on the beach. I’ve played with her in the surf where we’ve been close enough to rub. I have no idea if she was conscious of what sometimes bumped against her hip; I promise you I was: an erection! while in the water! Anyway, I imagined being alone with this Bonnie. Understand: I’ve never touched her. A pat on the bottom, yes: but that’s all. Any talk about sex I’ve had with her has echoed her parents, her priest: be a good girl.
But what a bottom! I know the better because I did actually pat it as well as see it: actually gave her a good firm fondle. She took it as her due: no fuss, no comment. (No demands for more.)
Anyway: if she had the world’s most fabulous bottom, she also had an equally fabulous mons. And I fantasize doing acrobatics with her. Here, stand on your head. Now: do a split, No, legs to the side. I’ll help hold you steady. And there would be a virgin pussy spread before me. I’d have my hands on her waist, then my hands on her bottom, then my face in her crotch.
Very gently at first. Just little surface brushes. Then little smooches. Then a lick. Then a full burrow.
Presuming she liked it and held still. I’m sure she would
Now that’s a ridiculous fantasy because the girl was so out of bounds. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t give me pleasure to have it.
Another, similar, concerns a girl I never touched for very different reasons. We were both fourteen or fifteen. She was a Pueblo girl I’ve already mentioned.
I met her after I’d already allowed some shrew to attach herself to me at church camp. So Singing Raven and I were friends while I necked with Miss. Shrew. Some found some other guy to neck with Signing Raven. I wished we’d been switched. I had a strong feeling that Singing Raven wished so too. Only once that summer was I in contact with her: she rode me shoulders in some kind of a horseplay tournament at the lake side. At the camp reunion we danced close, but there was no place in the church for necking. I walked her to the subway afterward, she living in Manhattan: hugged her and kissed her, but that was all.
But: all these decades latter, I fantasize. Singing Raven and I are in the woods, just the two of us. I tell her I want to play a trick on her: a joke: one I think she won’t mind: one I think she might like actually. She gets on my shoulders. I walk her under a tree branch, ask her to take hold of it, to take the weight off my shoulders just for a moment. She does. I spin round between her legs, and now, instead of her quim kissing the back of my neck my full face is kissing her quim.
But of course that’s an adult fantasy. I had no such thoughts, no such urges at age fourteen. Would have made me barf. Might have made her barf too.