The queen of my harem

I’ve christened Charlotte the queen of orgasms.

In our recent discussions, in which I’ve been trying to figure out how to make Charlotte feel safe, one concept we stumbled upon was making her the queen of my harem. I don’t want to be just another guy in her harem, and she doesn’t want to be just another woman in mine.

Lucky for both of us, this isn’t how either of us sees the other.

I don’t, currently, have a harem. (Though I would very much like to.)

At the moment, I have Charlotte.

I suppose I have Sarah, too, after a fashion. But only – for the moment – after a fashion.

But that’s it for my harem.

Here’s a few visions of where things might go with Charlotte, as it relates to the harem:

  1. I want Charlotte to start dating having sex with women. (She wants to start dating having sex with women.) I want to know all about this.
  2. I want Charlotte to start having sex with women who might, conceivably, want to have sex with her and me. I want to know all about this.
  3. I want Charlotte to bring me one or more of those women.
  4. Separately: I want Charlotte to recruit women for my our harem. I don’t, actually, care how she finds them. And while I don’t particularly go in for paying women for sex, I wouldn’t have anything against, in this particular fantasy, giving Charlotte a bit of a budget, for her to go on Seeking Arrangement for me/us. That would work just fine for me. As in the next item, I would very much enjoy Charlotte planning for a woman to join us for a date. I would plan everything beyond the moment we met; Charlotte would take care of “casting.”
  5. Another possibility: in a world in which I were seeing, say, three women. Charlotte would be responsible for ensuring that in every window in which I had any availability, one or another of them would suck my cock. She would be my scheduler. And, my go-to, my first choice. So I might say, “Charlotte? I have a 40-minute window Thursday, from 2:10-2:50. Who will suck my cock then?” And Charlotte might respond either, a) That’s me! or, b) Don’t you worry, N. Just show up, and you’ll find a delightful, hot woman, dressed as you will (I’m confident) appreciate, with at least one specific instruction from me. Each would be hotter than the other, in its own way.

I’m sure there are other possibilities. I will certainly think of them. I promise.

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