My Core Fantasy
Since April, my imagination has been fairly consistently occupied by permutations of my core fantasy. My friend Anastasia is poised to help me bring it to fruition.
Polina
In recent days, as I contemplated an upcoming rendezvous with Polina, she intruded on my fantasy in an entirely welcome way. Polina and I have known one another for 18 months or so. When we met, via Seeking, she was in Eastern Europe, and we stretched together online. In the time since then, she came to the U.S., she got married, we continued stretching very intermittently, but her schedule didn’t permit too much of that. It no longer aligned so well with mine. We discovered other ways of spending time together, though. We like each other. We enjoy one another’s company and conversation. I’m powerfully attracted to her – not just because she’s pretty (she is), but because she’s interesting. She’s thoughtful. She’s vulnerable, thoughtful, curious, and open – even as she very slowly emerges from a very shame-filled, traditional upbringing. She’s as fun to talk with about politics as she is to talk with about sex. Her insights, borne of her own native country’s history with totalitarianism, and, more recently, authoritarianism with just a hint/promise/threat of fascism, make her a compelling conversationalist in these (awful, awful) times.
While Polina professes to find me very attractive, she’s been very clear that sex is not on the table. First, because of her relationship with her husband, but more recently, even as that relationship has faltered, just, I think, because. I believe her when she says she finds me attractive, and I believe her when she says she doesn’t want to have sex with me.
She continually struggles with the sense that she owes me something. One of my favorite ways to spend time with her is to dress her up, or really undress her up, buying fancy, revealing outfits for her to model for me. She generously allows me to photograph her, and I have well over a thousand images of her pretty body in my double-secret vault. Polina feels powerful when she sees my cock stiffen at her body. She feels powerful dressed in sexy lingerie. She knows the power she exerts over me, but she’s conflicted. She feels she owes me something, and doesn’t like that feeling. I’ve always been clear, and very gentlemanly. She owes me nothing.
While I want a lot, I never, ever ask. Too much of a gentleman, maybe, but I’m sensitive to the power dynamic. I’m older, more stable, wealthier, and while I wouldn’t characterize our relationship as commercial, there certainly is a commercial aspect to it. She leaves our interactions with clothes, and sometimes with a few bucks. Never much. Never enough to pay for sex, by any means. But still, if there ever is sex between us, it will be because she initiates it, not because I do.
She doesn’t have an intuitive appreciation for the power of submission. To her mind, submission means “powerlessness,” means walking away from power. She hasn’t experimented with it, hasn’t explored it. Doesn’t understand intuitively the power a woman bound, with a cock in her mouth, or a wand on her cunt, exerts over her “dom.” One day, maybe, she’ll learn. One day, maybe, I’ll teach her. But. I’m not holding my breath.
Polina’s Intrusion
Still… as I was saying, in recent days, she intruded on my fantasy, in a way consistent with the ways in which we’ve interacted. She would join my soiree, but not as a participant.
She would be decoration.
Her job would be to be beautiful. Maybe to masturbate, if she felt comfortable. No more. And I suppose, if she wanted to engage sexually with one or more of the women, that too would be welcome.
Don’t get me wrong. I’d love the feel of her mouth on my cock. I know that. And I would love to deliver her pleasure in the way that I envision delivering it to the other participants in this fantasy. But the intrusion was gentle, and respectful of her articulated boundaries.
When recently we met for a little modeling show, as she was feeling her power, I laid out this fantasy for her. Imagine my surprise, imagine my delight, when her (very pretty blue) eyes lit up.
