Ultimate Man’s Fantasy

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Author’s Note: This is a true story about an experience that some may call “a man’s ultimate fantasy.” It involved my lover and yours truly. Everyone romantically involved should have a night like the one I am about to describe. It happened because of his desire to watch a woman sexually arouse me. Of course, we know this male wish is nothing new; almost every erotic magazine, website, and blog addresses this dream of theirs. Nor is it news that their women resist living it out for them. So, being typical in that respect, it took some doing on my part to change my mind. But change I did. Delightfully, when the evening arrived, many nice things took place apart from the expected.

By way of brief introduction, we are in our early fifties, but do not let that keep you from reading on; neither of us are drooping middle-agers or “dead-bed.” Because we eat wisely, exercise, and have good genes, people often mistake us for being ten or fifteen years younger. Frankly, if you want my opinion, even stark naked we look good; I have the feminine curves and he has the masculine equipment — each of us proportioned well enough to be likely considered a very good looking couple in a nudist colony. I am a brunette all over, though currently the hair my public sees is tinted lighter. He is a graying blonde. Probably, our natural hair colors are what they are because my ancestors are from Eastern Europe and his are from Scandinavia.

We love each other and are committed for life. But our career obligations keep us from living together. In fact, we live a great distance apart. Another background fact is that he is still married, though he left his wife a year before we began to date. Divorce isn’t a consideration right now and so I accept the life we lead. As for me, I was once a lesbian. For years, an older bi-sexual divorced woman was my lover — and I stayed with her until the day she died.

Should you be interested, some of the details of my alternate life style and portions of my growing experiences in the straight world, besides the one being shared here, will come later in stories I expect to write.


Part I — Background and the Request

The long-distance relationship between my man and me has been a beautiful, evolving, and enduring one. Even with the shortcomings of a coast to coast romance, restrictions caused by his entangling family situation, and our business demands, we have the greatest times as a couple. Besides craving each other physically, we think alike about all sorts of things — from the significant to the mundane. Although we both are outgoing, we love having conversations and drinks by ourselves, enjoy dining out alone, and rest in the knowledge that we want to be at each other’s side as often as we can. We laugh often and entertain ourselves without even trying. When we do meet others, they invariably tell us that we radiate so much mutual enjoyment that they like being around us.

I am deeply in love with this man, not only for the reasons I just gave you and because he absolutely adores me, but for several other qualities of his. Not the least of which is that he possesses a strong feminine side. That is, he is very sensitive to the feelings of others. I think he understands women more than most men I have met; I know he understands me. He is also a stickler for personal cleanliness; I call him “my pristine man.” I like that quality in any person. Admittedly, I am no expert about the male population, given my sexual proclivities of the past, but I know enough to realize that these attributes of his are rare among men.

Furthermore, he is special because he was non-judgmental about my background when I finally revealed my way of life. Nor did he tease me when he also learned my hymen was still intact. Yes, though unaware of it at the time, he had come upon a virgin in her 30s as it relates to men. Actually, he was thrilled and told me that every man is when discovering his lady lover is brand new. I suppose I knew this, nonetheless, I loved his “live and let live” thinking.

Staying away from men sexually began when I was in my late teens. I played with the boys physically when in high school, but it never really went beyond serious “petting.” In the heat of the moment, I remember a time when one boy’s penis got an inch or so into me before I pushed him away, but that was the exception. My mother had put the fear of God in me when she said I could easily get pregnant playing around with boys — and then added that those things they have can be unclean. But, my mother’s cautions weren’t the only reasons I decided to stay away from boys for sex. I was, at the same time, beginning to realize that girls were sexually attractive. So when I was approached by a senior in my first year of college, I decided to let it happen. I loved her caresses — immensely. And so boys were out. Neither was masturbation in the picture very often either. Not when my new lover and the lovers that ataköy masöz escort followed were so available.

Despite my gay orientation, however, I enjoyed being with the opposite sex. A few of them became friends. But always they remained platonic relationships. Until this man of mine entered my life some fifteen years later, never did I desire a male to “take my cherry,” as the saying goes.

Today, I have more men friends than women friends. Several who make me feel good as a woman are dinner and brunch dates. I go out with other men because my man does not want me to be a social hermit between our get-togethers. He trusts me, as I trust him. But, quite candidly, there are times when they try to entice me into taking off my panties. As complimentary as this is, I will not. These men know I am in a serious relationship with someone from out of town. However, I do permit them to kiss me in more than just a friendly way when saying hello or goodbye. And, I don’t always brush aside their hands when, in our embrace, they fondle the sides of my breasts a few times. There is no harm done if these things give them some sensual enjoyment. It is the least I can do in return for the pleasure of their company.

Some men I met back as a gay woman were played with as sex toys. For instance, my lovers and I often had fun holding and pulling and squeezing penises and testicles when at a party or a place where other gays congregated. They were guys we hardly knew or had just met. In our 20s, we thought life was made to explore and experiment. Equally pleasurable was watching gay and straight men — casual acquaintances at best – drop their pants and stand in front of us masturbating in a secluded part of a club or in a living room. It aroused us (which benefited our love making later on) to watch their penis grow stiff and their sperm shoot out into the tissues that one of us would be holding.

Of course, now I would not touch anyone’s genitals or watch a man climax unless my own man was with me. Enamored by the male sex package, I have envisioned a fantasy when I could visit an upscale private sex club. With him next to me, and both of us unclothed, I want to watch a trio of naked young studs masturbating in front of us until each cum. If some of their sperm hits my naked body because of the force of their unusually strong spurts, I wouldn’t be disappointed. It would enhance the realization that I am the object of their arousal — always good for the female ego, providing it goes no farther than I want. Sex to the maximum with a male other than my lover doesn’t interest me; I am a one-man woman.

At the same time these guys are doing their thing, I want to stroke the penis of another off to the side. I would love to feel his shaft grow in my hand and have him shoot out onto my breasts. And then, if my man would indulge me, I would like to help these four men dry off their softened manhood with a washcloth as an extra treat. All this happening with no strings attached. Exciting! Afterwards, I would like to shower and then go to bed with my man in one of the club’s private bedrooms, where all sorts of “toys” were available for us to try out on each other. Another tantalizing fantasy for me is to have a set of male genitals hanging between my legs for a week or so. What a workout they would get!

There are many more sexual fantasies swirling around in my head. I hope we can act upon some of them in the next few years. If at all possible, I know he wants to fulfill mine and I want to fulfill his.

My man says no one could ever guess that I have such wild amorous thoughts, claiming my public persona is as a well-educated female, a prosperous business woman, and a proper and well-dressed lady. I am each of those, but not when aroused. Such images and civilities go out the window when I am in heat. He knows me as a very lusty lady when opportunities for exciting sex present themselves.

Sometimes, I manufacture sexual situations — harmless things. For instance, most every day I engage in crotch-watching. I discreetly look to see if there is a bulge in a man’s pants. If there is one, I wonder what his “stuff” looks and feels like. I am on the prowl when shopping, walking down the street, at parties, restaurants — everywhere. It is a pastime that helps a little to feed my exceptionally strong libido. But, never do I attempt to take it another step, even though a man’s penis and testicles are more important to me now than a vagina.

Back in my lesbian days, as I have said, vaginas were my thing. Though, “eating” them was hardly ever done with much enthusiasm. You see, I was in the gay community more to receive orgasms than to give them to others, which is uncommon among such women. I did, of course, have to sexually please my partners. Though, rarely did I do so with the same degree of enjoyment I felt when a woman was focused on my erogenous zones. Most of the time, ataköy otele gelen escort I caressed their bodies and sex sensitive spots with my mouth and tongue and fingers only because of the extreme pleasure these women afforded me.

However, that was then and this is the present. Now, my man’s genitals are in my mouth whenever possible during our lovemaking — and at other times, as well. Impulsively, I occasionally interrupt what we are doing — reading, walking in a deserted area, or some such ordinary thing. I will unzip his fly, reach under his swim trunks, or pull down his elastic-waist jogging pants, to lovingly “abuse’ those things that make my heart beat faster.

This marvelous relationship of ours started at a time when I was beginning to have serious second thoughts about my gay life. I can say that I truly loved the woman I last lived with; my partner was so talented in business and strong and exciting in her approach to life. We went all over the world at vacation times and made love passionately wherever we went. Her breasts were small and her vagina was not all that special, but god, could she make me cum! Her hands and mouth were all over me.

Incidentally, when I say we lived together I do not mean that in the usual sense. I had a co-op in the city of Philadelphia and she had a home about an hour and a half away in New Jersey, where she operated her design company. I spent every weekend there; she would come into the city for business during the week and stay with me a couple of nights. This arrangement suited us fine; we liked our private times. Anyway, a few years before she died, I began to question my life style. I thought, “My lover is much older than me; could I continue this way with other women after she is gone?” Then along comes this co-worker, who gratefully helped me make the decision to move into the straight world.

Executives in an international stock brokerage firm, we worked at the home office in Philadelphia on common projects. In the course of our work, we began to enjoy the company of each other. That chemistry blossomed into a friendship and lunch and dinner dates. The almost inevitable affair followed and, in our case, it led to a terrific romance and everlasting bond. In the early days I was still involved in an active love life with my paramour. I guess you could say I was secretly bi-sexual while this romance with him was developing.

The first time we were really intimate was the first time I wanted a man to cum inside of me. The prospect of his stiffened appendage going in and out of the apex of my womanhood was now enormously exciting. My understanding of menstrual cycles eased away pregnancy concerns, especially since this day was a “safe day.” We had been “making out” on the couch in my living room and taken off each other’s clothes. I was new at this male-female game, but since I am a quick learner, he was stiff from what I was instinctively doing. As for me, I was practically climbing the walls with anticipation. He stood up and we moved to my bed, where I fell on it splayed out naked waiting for this special moment to begin. I was both apprehensive and eager. But instead of mounting me, he went “down” on me. I was startled, but the experience of the first man’s lips and tongue kissing and licking my clitoris and labia folds was, nevertheless, divine. “My god,” I thought, “this man is as good as anyone I have ever had!” Later, I decided that he was much better. His luscious hard penis and his art of lovemaking put him at the head of the class. He has said to me more than once, “I please you only because your aggressiveness and willingness encourage me to try things that my past lovers would not allow.”

He “deflowered” me at my next “safe period.” The feeling of his shaft rubbing the tight insides of my unused-by-men vagina was fabulous. This was new and glorious for me! The joyous experience of sperm shooting into me for the very first time made me want this to go on forever. I climaxed, and then climaxed again. I wanted more.

Next morning, the tear of my hymen wouldn’t stop bleeding, so I had to go to the hospital emergency room. Despite my embarrassment of being cauterized for this reason at my age, I felt the previous evening was worth it.

My appetite for this very self-assured man to spawn my orgasms grew with a roar during the next few weeks. With his hands and mouth, and a condom on his shaft when needed, he began to do and teach things to me that my lesbian lovers never did. Months later, we decided that we were meeting each other’s deepest sexual needs. He found me an adventurer and a willing woman. I found him a man of unlimited imagination and sensuality.

It surprised me greatly to hear that despite not having serious experiences sexually loving men, I excited him more than any woman he has ever enjoyed. He told me so, and then added: “You know exactly what turns me ataköy rus escort on. You have a man’s mind in a woman’s body.” His talent regarding me was and is identical. Since then, we have come to know each other’s “hot-buttons.” Touching and penetrating everywhere on our bodies, then and now, is okay as we give and take our pleasures. There is nothing out of bounds between us. Incidentally, we have never had a “quickie” as a consequence; our lovemaking extends to hours, not minutes.

You will likely remember that I did not masturbate all that much as a lesbian. As I said, the women I knew usually satisfied me so that I seldom needed to play with myself. Although I must admit that I liked — and still like – touching my vagina when showering or going to sleep. Those times I “did” myself were really not all that important to me. But when my man was transferred about five years ago to San Francisco to head up the western operation, frequent masturbation became an important part of our sex life.

I have always needed to cum often. Typically, my last girl partner and I had three love sessions a day every weekend — wake-up time, mid-afternoon, and at night before going to sleep! In between, on those weekends, I could hardly wait for the next one. So orgasms were, and are, very important to me. Since he was now away from me more often than not, we resorted to telephone sex. It continues to help both of us keep connected. Sometimes we masturbate by phone two or more times a week. In between, I masturbate by myself, with the occasional help of photos I took showing his erect and thick penis bending upward in such an appealing way. I measured it once and it is about 7 inches long and almost 3 inches in circumference. Not humongous by some standards, but very satisfactory for me — oh yes, indeed!

At times, his pictures prepare me for our telephone appointments. We dub them “tele-orgasms” or “tele-treats.” In case you are interested, I have no problem being aroused this way; I cum easily because of his sexy talk. Helping me, if necessary, is a vibrator (we call it a “missile”). If that is not available because I am away on a business trip, then I improvise. My wide toothbrush handle (cleaned off of course) or a recently purchased and thoroughly washed carrot is substituted. Because the homemade sex tools are seldom used, when they are, each puts a little extra spice into my moments of phone lovemaking and solo efforts, too.

As you can imagine, it is not easy for my man and me to meet as often as we want. We’ve been challenged by the fact that I live near the Atlantic Ocean and he by the Pacific Ocean. You may ask, “Why do you bother with a long distance romance? When you do get together it probably goes no further that the proverbial ‘roll in the hay.'” In response, I say that our relationship has grown way beyond the bed; we are “soul mates.” Although, I must admit getting “laid” by this man is a highpoint in my life.

For the record, we do many intimate things besides copulating. They may seem silly to you, but, they bring us closer and only incidentally act as aphrodisiacs. One example is that when we are together, we often shower at the same time. Our privates are never as clean as when we tend to each other. Another is holding his penis and testicles (my sister likes to call them “the unit.”) as he “whizzles” – sometimes I then tissue off any vestiges. This happens almost anywhere; in parks, back alleys and, of course, in the bathroom. He loves to help me as I do the same. I have to squat when I am outside, so at times it’s a little awkward, but regardless of where I whizzle, he never misses a chance to gently wipe dry the lips of my vagina. Talk about closeness – delicious!

We share so many things. Apart or together, I let him know when I have female issues. He tells me about his male concerns. He knows, for instance, when I am upset about a discomfort in my vagina or a suspected lump in a breast. Or when he says something that makes my vagina contract or moisten. He knew about the hot flashes and periods before I had my hysterectomy. To this day, he knows the details of my gynecologist visits, wanting me to be very explicit – and so I am. I tell him whenever I insert the special cream in my vagina that my doctor gave me, which prevents dryness and keeps it soft for him. I know as much about my man as he does about his woman.

I know, for example, when his testicles ache from prolonged sexual arousal because our foreplay has been especially extensive, or he has taken me several times, or he masturbates too frequently in a short time frame when I am unavailable. But this condition, known as “blue balls” in street vernacular, can also be caused by sexual stimulation that does not result in orgasm and ejaculation. Nature is demanding the sperm in his testicles be released, but they are not, for whatever reason. I also know when he has to “free” his manliness from a cramped position in his pants as we enter a public room. I usually shield him as he fixes himself. By the way, I know that his penis hangs down to his right normally and that his scrotum shrinks when he is cold or about to cum. There are so many areas that we feel free to act upon or talk about! Some of them are so extremely personal that I will not share them with anyone.

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