Maxie is a woman of many appetites.
She thinks herself a masochist, but has a palpable appetite for the control and suffering of others.
She thinks herself submissive—or rather, she knows she likes to be told what to do. She’s no more a fan of labels than am I. She doesn’t like the label of submissive. She doesn’t like the label of bottom. Or the complaint or critique that she might top from the bottom. But, like many a submissive, she has very specific preferences: she likes to be scared. She loves what she calls “stranger danger.”
She and I have been engaged in a little bit of an experiment, some play. It’s been over ten years since the last time we played. Maxie and I are about the same age, with much in common. Including at least one friend. Actually, two. Sort of.
The experiment in which we’re engaged is one I won’t characterize in too much detail, because reasons. But suffice it to say, it’s making me quite intimate with some of her fantasies, with some of her history, with some of her present.
Fantasies and inner worlds
One fantasy of Maxie’s: that a man will desire her so powerfully that he’ll never leave her. Another: that she will occupy the center of attention of innumerable men simultaneously.
She recently had a threesome with two guys, one of whom is a gay OnlyFans content creator. She’s thought of asking him to organize something of a gangbang involving her. To be filmed, posted on his OnlyFans. Omitting her face.
“I’m a little bit of an attention whore,” she says.
I have the sense that in this fantasy, the posting of the video might be hotter than the recording of it. The document of the event is hotter than the event itself. I observe that this is something I offer as well—the possibility I might write about her. I wrote about her years ago. Not a lot, but a little.
She admitted that she had thought about this, but denied having thought much. She protested that she didn’t expect anything. And, accurately, anticipated some of the obstacles there might be to my writing honestly about our encounters.
Writing and distance
At the same time, while she professed not to want me to write about her too much, my gut tells me this is a little bit of a charade. Is it for my benefit? For hers? For both? I’m not sure.
But she would have us believe that she’s indifferent to any writing I might or might not do.
Time will tell.
Here I am, doing at least some writing. And I suspect she’ll have some feelings.
