Scratching an Itch – Sexual Fantasy

Content warning: This is a a telling of a sexual fantasy created by a woman who writes erotica. It contains dark and depraved themes. There are mentions of questionable consent and I can’t guarantee it won’t make you squirm.

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I don’t often masturbate (Mister K’s orders), so most of my fantasies become erotic stories. Once they are written, I don’t think of them again, at least not in a sexual way. As soon as they are committed to paper, they change to something else. Sort of like a secret that’s been shared, the significance lost in the telling. For that reason, I don’t have a go-to sexual fantasy. You know what I mean. A specific scene that you can play in your mind and it will get you off every-single-time. I’ve spoken to many people who say that they have one, but for myself it all depends on what I need at that moment. And also, what I haven’t thought of before. So when I do masturbate, I usually rely on stories I haven’t told yet. Some of my best work has started there.

Gentle Mornings in Bed

Perhaps when I have the desire to be touched, stroked, and caressed, I may think of fingers lazily brushing through my folds. Gently nudging my entrance. Just a hint, a tease of the tip of a finger. They’ll gently twist to gather moisture before running back up to the small bundle of nerves and circling there. I’ll think of those fingers repeating the action, back and forth until eventually my body responds to the mental stimulation and I fall over the peak of orgasmic bliss, relaxed and carefree. My fingers eagerly rubbing my clit with timed precision, riding the waves of ecstasy.

Taken yet seduced

On other days when I need more than gentle. When I need to be owned. To be taken, claimed, and dominated, I’ll envision being pressed against a wall, my panties ripped away. The cacophonous sound of fabric ripping from my body will match the conjured burn as they abrade my skin. I think of my hips being pulled back sharply, a hand circling my throat, squeezing gently. The other roughly probing my entrance, forcing my body to open to the intrusion. I’ll moan as I visualize being filled in a single thrust, hot breath against my ear. Being fucked at a relentless pace, held in place by powerful arms and the desire to submit. The animalistic need to be exploited and used solely for pleasure.

I’ll dream of filthy, dirty words being spoken coarsely in my ear. “I love this tight cunt, being buried here. Hearing your pussy suck my cock as I pound it deep inside you. You like that don’t you?” As I imagine the tinge of pain at being forced to accommodate the relentless thrusts, my body will shudder, and a deep groan will release, no matter how hard I try to stay silent.

Black Gloved Hands

And when nothing else works and I can’t seem reach the top of the plateau. The horizon seemingly farther out of reach with each quick flick of my fingers, I’ll find my favourite vibrator. The setting on low, I’ll enjoy the hum, the faster ascent. I’ll dream of the dark desires that have never left my lips. I’ll imagine being tied down by a stranger dressed in black, the thin blanket that covers me lost in my struggle to escape. A gloved hand caressing and pinching the thin skin on my thighs, slapping them roughly. A single sheathed finger running through my slick lips.

My hips will push firmly into the vibrator as I think of my white cotton panty’s being cut away by the quick flick of a silver blade. The light reflecting off the polished steel, guiding my eyes like a laser. Racing toward the climactic finale, I’ll turn the vibrator to a higher setting. I’ll want to prolong, but not decrease the steady climb to oblivion. Succumbing to the sensations, I’ll think if those same whites panty’s being balled in a gloved hand. Pressed forcibly into my mouth, even as I turn my head frantically trying to avoid it.

I’ll taste my arousal, the blatant traitorous nature of my body. My musky essence will fill my senses and against my will, I will moan as I imagine the stranger chuckling at my body’s betrayal. Hissing around the imagined discomfort, I’ll think of my nipples being pulled violently, twisted until they burn. A gloved hand probing my entrance. The coolness of the gloved fingers contrasting the warm wetness of my core. My hips will thrust forcefully into the vibrator as I imagine one, then a second digit entering me, stretching me, forcing me to become pliant and malleable.

In a final attempt to prolong the tumble into space, I’ll pull the vibrator away. I’ll think of the shadowed stranger pulling the panties from my mouth, only to replace them with freshly coated fingers. His other hand holding my jaw so all I can do is endure as my musk is spread over my lips and tongue.

And if I still can’t find the threshold to nirvana, I’ll think of the stranger removing his cock from his pants, and stroking until he paints me with his seed, rubbing it into my skin. Grinding roughly against the vibrations, I’ll cry out as my climax overtakes me, wave after wave of euphoria washing over me. Leaving me panting, a thin sheen of sweat glazing my skin.

To find more to make you say Mmm, lick the lips.

For more sexual fantasies, hit the bullseye.

For more erotic writing, see fiction.

All images found at canva.com