Everyone has fantasies, things that turn them on and maybe situations they want to act out. I think I was a “late bloomer” in all things sexual, so I didn’t have my first sexual fantasy until I was 18. I guess it can be considered pretty vanilla, no ropes or ball gags. Just a chair…
I was very shy with my first boyfriend. He was three years older than me, and I met him at our local comic shop. He was very boyish, always making jokes and we generally had a very fun time together. A high school romance, except the part where he was at college. Our friends at the time often made references to Scott Pilgrim and Knives Chou (I was nicknamed Knives for a while)
Unlike Scott and Knives in the comic however, my boyfriend and I did have sex. In fact, he “popped my cherry.” But that’s a story for another time. Our sex life was pretty consistent, I would stay over at his place nearly every Saturday. We probably did it about 3 or 4 times when I was over there, I remember I used to like waking him up at 3am. I know he was proud of one time we managed to do it 6 times in one night.
The fantasy starts from here. He was always the one to initiate sex. I decided that I would do it one day. But every time I tried I would get really nervous and then think of something else to do. He must have thought it odd I wanted to play Guitar Hero so often. So I started playing out the scene in my head. I thought if I practiced in my head, it would work in real life.
He’s sitting at his desk, drawing. I love watching him draw, it’s the only time he’s ever serious. I come up from behind him. “Hey” he’ll say when I reach out and start to massage his shoulders. I don’t reply though, because I didn’t know what I would say, and because I hoped it would make me seem sexy and mysterious. Then, whilst massaging his shoulders, I would start to kiss his neck. Maybe even nibble his ear. “Mm.. I like that.” He’ll murmur, closing his and putting down his pen.
I walk around him, by this point I expect him to push away from the desk. I want to straddle him. His chair is the kind without arms so I would be able to do that. When we have sex, I hate being on top. So I know he wouldn’t be expecting this. I imagine sitting on top of him, and leaning in to kiss him.
I imagine running my hands through his hair as I take a more firm role. I want to kiss him hard, coax his tongue and kiss him deep. Even though I wasn’t very experienced, by then I already knew what I liked in a kiss. I wanted to show him what I liked. What turned me on. I want to rock my hips, take control of the pace and rhythm.
Not femdom. I didn’t want to tell him what to do. In fact, I imagined him picking me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me to his bed. Then he’ll undress me. My favourite position is missionary and I imagine him staring deeply into my eyes as he enters me. This is important because he’ll know this time I was the one to want it first. That I wanted him, seduced him. I want our eyes locked, not looking away until we climax together. The beautiful connection that I romanticise as a side effect to “first love”.
To this day, the thought of straddling a man in a chair, to distract him away from his work, to kiss him hard and have him lift me up, carry me away and fuck me… well it turns me on every time. It’s probably the fantasy I pleasure myself to the most.