Your Fantasies (vol. 3) – an International Women's Day special

Of all the things I’ve done on this site over the last year, I’m not sure any have proved quite as enjoyable as the two collections of reader fantasies I published in June and September. They showcased such a rich, honest, intimate – and occasionally surprising – array of desires and sexual scenarios that I wanted to jump for joy with each one I read.

The feedback on that whole mini project was really good, so I’ve been meaning to revive it for a while – for a variety of reasons, International Women’s Day felt like the perfect opportunity. Women make up the bulk of my readership, for one thing, and while the sex blogging community is fantastic at representing and championing female desire, the wider world is rather less receptive; in fact, it’s still often openly hostile to anything that even suggests women might enjoy fucking for the sake of fucking, especially when it turns out that what they want is unapologetically – proudly – explicit or filthy.

Here, then, are a whole bunch of fantasies – straightforward and complex, kinky and vanilla – that women have sent me over the last 12 hours. I loved reading through each and every one of them, and I hope you do too. In fact, I’ll go one step further: I hope more women feel empowered to voice, write about, and act on their own sexual fantasies as a result of the work published here today – because that would be kind of awesome.

~

#1 (The Other Livvy)

Your cock is so beautiful. I could watch you touch yourself for hours; to see the well-practiced movements of your hands and the slick, jerking of your fingers against your skin. I love the squelch of the lube as it mixes with your gasps and moans, and my God, I love to watch you come! The glistening, spurting, groaning deliciousness is almost too much. I can’t tear my eyes away!

But this time I want something else. I want to watch you come, but I don’t want to see your cock when you do. I don’t want the distraction, the temptation. I want your whole orgasm instead. Like the women in Hysterical Literature, still among the hottest videos I have ever seen, I want to watch your orgasm in your face and in your body. I want to watch the tension and pleasure fight in your face, see the strain in your muscles and watch you twitch with need as you edge closer. I want to see your body arch and flex, see the sweat break out on your shoulders and back, wait for the orgasm to crash over you and watch it play out everywhere except your cock.

I want to watch you come and really see you.

~

#2 (Joyride, Hannah)

Even in the dark we were both close enough to be seen, but far enough away to be missed. He had planned this immaculately.

My thighs started tremble with the crunch of the gravel underneath the tyres. My dress was still hitched around my waist, with my bare cunt on show. Driving in such a state was difficult, and I was glad he didn’t touch me.

His cock was hard as he silently took it in his hand. He didn’t need to ask what I wanted, or more accurately what he wanted to do to me. I could feel the pool underneath me, and he would see the stain left on the seat as I exited to make my way around the vehicle.

The mess between my legs made it easy to bury his cock inside me. His hands were working the buttons of my dress, one by one, until I was exposed- facing the dark windscreen wondering who was looking back.

I did wonder if I’d let my thoughts slip out, as he reached to the right of my head and turned on the interior light.

‘Now anyone can see you’

~

#3 (Four Minutes, Coffee & Kink)

A lot can happen in four minutes.

It’s long enough for him to sidle up behind me as I’m towelling off after my shower, him already dressed and ready for the day. Long enough for him to slide a hand along my hip, over my still-damp stomach, and up to grab a nipple between his fingers. To squeeze, hard enough that I bite my lip but not hard enough to elicit that squeak I know he loves.

‘You’re going to be late…’

‘Shut up. I have four minutes. And I intend to enjoy you thoroughly for all of them.’ He moves in front of me, tosses my towel aside and grips my hair in one fluid movement, dragging my mouth to his in a breath-stealing kiss. Lips inches from mine, he hisses, ‘get on the bed. Spread your legs.’ He is already unbuttoning his jeans.

Flat on my back, I expose my cunt. My clit throbs. He grabs the lube and smears some onto my cunt, and then grins wickedly as he notes I am already dripping. There is none of the usual warm-up with his fingers. He thrusts his cock deep into me.

‘Don’t come,’ he warns, rolling his hips so his cock rubs my G-spot in just the way I love. ‘This is for my pleasure, not yours.’

Paradoxically, these words make my cunt tighten around him. I fight back my climax and whimper as I stare up at him with pleading eyes, my body rocking with the force of his thrusts.

‘Don’t come. Be a good slut for me.’

He’s getting close now. I can hear it in his breathing and feel it as he fucks me harder and faster. He moans and crushes his mouth to mine, drinking me in, as he comes hard inside me.

‘Good girl.’

My cunt aches, longing for the satisfaction that was denied to me, long after he has buttoned his jeans and gone to work.

~

#4 (@19syllables)

Fingers casually

Exploring my inner thigh’s

Knicker elastic.

~

#5 (S, 40)

I dream of a threesome with you and my husband. I’d suck his cock while you fuck me from behind.

I also envision being held down while the two of you use me however you’d like.

(In a consensual, trusting, loving, respectful way, of course.)

~

#6 (K, 30)

(The restaurant has your order and will be delivering at 17:55…)

I opened my mouth and sighed with pleasure as the weight of his cock hit my tongue. This time I was going to do it. I was going to take as much of him in my throat as possible. From just the first seconds of contact, working my lips over the shaft, when I looked down I saw it covered in red pigment smears. It made me happy.

I took a deeper breath and moved my face closer and closer to his abdomen; and when I felt the head touch the back of my throat, I persevered, pressing a little further and even when I began to gag, I let my throat contort for seconds longer than usual before I pulled back, saliva dripping from my mouth.

I looked from the lipstick pattern adorning his cock, to his face. He was smiling.

“Good girl. You took so much more than last time.” He indicated the imprint of my kiss several inches down the shaft.

I nodded, smiling, my mouth full of choking-induced saliva.

“Spit.” He instructed, and I aimed the mess over his erection, coating it, splashing down onto the floor. And that noise. The noise he makes every single time I spit on his cock before I glide my hand over it. The noise that makes me wet.

I worked both my hands around him, this time. Heard him moaning, calling me filthy names. Reminding me how depraved I am for him, making me beg for the load even though we both know it’s mine by rights.

I yanked my thin camisole down quickly so he could aim it over my breasts. I always grin when I feel it hit.

~

#7 (S, 32)

I am kept hostage in a beautiful flat. I know that I am being watched at all times. I have a few small outfits, I have toys to entertain me and then one day I am sent a man to keep me company. He is also sent into this beautiful flat with nothing and at first he is nervous and afraid but then, then he relaxes and I help relax him further by letting my hand drop between his legs. When I feel the twitch and stir I drop to my knees in front of him and start sucking his cock – at first it is almost experimental, figuring out how it feels, how it reacts, what works and what doesn’t, but as it goes on I get more and more into it and I can feel him bucking, trying to fuck my mouth while I keep in control, keep my experiment, keep setting the pace. I know that people are watching through the two-way mirrors, know they are loving this display, know they have paid good money to see this and to get off on it.  When he comes it is explosive. Messy. I swallow it down and then smile a smug, self-satisfied smile. I raise an eyebrow at him and say “your turn”.

~

#8 (K, 30)

(I had two missed calls from the delivery driver, saying he was outside…)

I like words

I like words. I like long words that catch around your tongue. I like beautiful words like music. I like bad words, too. I like words that are bad but feel good, especially. Words spoken and words written. Writing is a reminder.

“Who do you belong to and what are you? Are you good or are you bad or are you both?”

My body is a blank canvas. A pudgy, pasty piece of paper. It cries out for fonts and serifs, and misspellings.

I especially like a good word and a bad word together. Last month I was ‘clumsy’ ‘cutey[sic]’ ‘stupid’ ‘fat’ and ‘beautiful’. In red lip pencil curving artfully over my chubbiness. Purple eyeliner messages to my beloved.

“I belong to you.” “His little disgrace”.

These words fade, but are still legible after a long day at work. Sometimes the tail of a letter peeks out from the neck of my dress. I wonder if my office-mates notice, wonder why I have things written on my body.

From him, bad words are magical. They are nourishment and safety.

Tomorrow, a welcome message after days apart. A promise of things to come.

~

#9 (C, 27)

We’re watching a film on the sofa. I say watching but he’s grabbing my tits and playing with my nipples whilst I’m grinding my ass onto the semi hard cock I can feel through his boxers. It’d be so easy for me to slip it out of them, and take him in my mouth or in my hands; but I resist and carry on until I feel him peel my knickers down, grab my ass and put a finger between my lips and inside me.

He feels my wetness, which in turn makes us both groan. He does that for what seems at least a couple of minutes until I can’t take it any longer, so I turn round and just straddle his face. His tongue exploring me hungrily, swirling warm and wet around my clit and lips, as my thighs grip tighter around his head pushing me closer to going over the edge. It doesn’t take me long to come with his tongue going into overdrive and because he knows I’m so horny and strung out, he carries on lapping at me as I shudder all over his face.

I take him by the hand and say “C’mon now we aren’t finished here” and lead him into the bedroom (not that he needs much persuasion), as credits roll on the distant TV…

~

#10 (Anna)

In my fantasy, I’m addicted to your cock…but it feels like there is so much more. I want praise, for letting you push my limits, for being so eager, for sucking your cock so deeply. I want to hear that I’m beautiful. I want you to make me full and deliciously stretched, with more fingers and your cock and toys, please. I want you in my ass, while pushing a fat vibe slowly inside my pussy. I want to wince and whine a little, feeling like it may be too much, until you just work it in and make me relax – make me come so hard that my head is spinning. I want more of that, a small, salty edge of pain and your reassurance that you want me to, that you get off of my pleasure (and your power over me) too.

I adore lying in your lap after you’ve spanked me, the sharp pain alternating with anticipation and your caressing fingers on my skin. You are so fucking good at it that I’ll walk round for days with your handprints on my ass.

I think about having with another man, where you challenge me to take and handle two dicks at the same time. I’d love to be in control of two guys, but in this scenario it’s you calling the shots. To be perfectly honest I’d even want to try two cocks in my pussy and your fingers in my ass, soothing kisses on my neck and ears…But fantasies don’t have to play by the rules of physical realities.

Then of course, there’s the other side of power. I can’t wait to get a strap on with the right harness so I can have better control and slowly push the shaft up in your well-lubed ass. I want you on your knees, forehead to the mattress, hips in the air. Holding your cheeks apart from me, so I know how much you want to be fucked and how hard are you going to come for me. Sometimes it’s the thought of your mouth around my cock, but on other occasions it’s another man’s and you learn to love its tip sliding in gently to the back of your throat, while I work your ass, hard and deep and slow.

~

 

#11 (S, 32)

It is Thursday night and I meet you and another man at a busy London bar. It is lively but not as full as a Friday: perfect. We get a table and get in drinks. I am buzzing as I know the plan – we start with small talk and then he takes me to the bathroom, where he fucks me hard against the wall, lifting my skirt and pushing me up hard against the cold tile. I have to keep quiet as he strongly and silently fucks me into near senseless sobs, biting my nipples through my bra, holding firm as I take each thrust of his thick hard cock. Meanwhile you wait and keep the table free for us.

When we come back you know what we have done. Knowing you know is a turn on, as is knowing you want to know all the details. He goes to the bar to get us drinks and I sit next to you and whisper all the details of how he fucked me, how his cock was thick and hard and long, how he took me places you could only dream of. I see you getting flustered and I go on to tell you how much I know you want his cock. How I know you get hungry for it, how I know you don’t know which of us you’d have rather been in that bathroom. I feel the thrill of power I have over you and smile about what I can do next. We finish our drinks quickly. The time for talking is over.