Ultimate Man's Fantasy

He loves to fantasize sexually about me or us when we are apart. What I like about that is he always relates them to me afterwards -- ether by phone or when we are together. Candidly, many of his fantasy stories turn me on. I am easily aroused by his very descriptive sexual scenarios. He even thinks them up when we are together. He has an amazingly fertile and creative mind for such things, and, frequently, as the mood strikes, will compose a fascinating story in our bed, telling it to me as it comes to his sensual mind. It's been a titillating part of our foreplay at times.

As I mentioned at the start of this story, a recurring fantasy of his has been to watch a woman make love to me. Actually, as you probably know, sex therapists say that he is not alone; many men have this fantasy. An article in a recent Cosmopolitan Magazine said that it could be because they want to be a sight-seer once in a while, not always a co-star. They want to concentrate on looking at their woman being stirred up by a person who poses no threat to their male sexuality. On the contrary, they hope this other woman's nudity and actions would help stimulate them to masturbate and cum, thereby doubling their pleasure, if you will.

The magazine article went on to say that as they stroke themselves, these men want to watch their woman's face take on the unique to sex look that shows raw hunger, expectancy, and gratification, all at the same time. A look that would say if it could talk: "Give me a little more of you and then I am going to burst forth with the mother of all ecstasies that I so crave." They want to see their woman's naked body flush with arousal, when breasts are swelling, nipples are erect, hips are squirming, and legs are apart exposing the puffed wet folds of their vagina. They want to hear their moans for more penetrations and caresses. When the explosions finally occur, there is no question in my mind that they are exhilarating sights and sounds for such men. Especially, if at about the same time, they have climaxed by their own hand or within a few moments anticipate climbing onto their satiated, but still keyed up woman.

Before I knew about this longing of his, he would ask me occasionally to explain what went on with my lovers, especially the one woman who bedded me during the final years of my lesbian life. I kept telling him that I am not very good at remembering such details. Not because I am reluctant; as I said, we have no secrets. What hinders my recollections, you may recall, is that my primary goal as a gay woman was to have an orgasm, not provide one. The foreplay was essential and certainly pleasurable, but secondary for me. Orgasms were the overriding aim.

Don't get me wrong, I haven't blocked these former lovers out of my mind. I can still name each one, but I cannot provide a description of their nakedness or our sex activities to any great degree. I can still remember that their breasts were soft, their arms and legs so smooth, and their behind nice and shapely. But I cannot describe their vagina or anus to that extent. Particularly since going down on them wasn't normally what I liked doing. I enjoyed fingering and holding their bodies. Bringing my mouth down to caress their vagina and anus was another matter. They were not aware of how I felt because I never failed to reciprocate for what they did to me. I felt an obligation to do so - although not always. On occasion, I looked forward to mouthing their "privates" in gratitude for something they did or said. I suppose they sensed the difference, because their screams were usually louder. My last lover was the exception; I always pleased her in the fullest sense. Many times she said to me: "You are my dream affair!"

I said to him that most often each of my lovers began "doing" me first, and then we would end up by me "doing" her. But, every intimate advance we took toward our climaxes had been forgotten. I remembered that we usually made love on a bed, with her and me on our back alternately, though regularly we 6-9d each other. Providing step by step descriptions of tongue and finger doings or the details to the use of a strap-on and large or small missiles -- one of them flexible and double-headed - well, that was out of reach. The specifics of what my lovers did to me and what I did to them were too vague in my memory bank.

My man reacted like most males when he heard my excuses. He tried to convince me he would love me just as much, and maybe a little more, if I would let a female make love to me in front of him, so he could, at last, learn a little more about the art of making love to a woman.

As you can imagine, I saw through that charade of male thought. But since I have some compassion about this part of the masculine psyche, and I have a strong desire to please him, I eventually opened up to the possibility. I decided under the right circumstances a woman could take me in front of him, even though such lovemaking no longer interested me. He had seen to that with an artistry that has pleasured me in ways I never experienced with gay women - it makes my vagina quiver with delight at the memories of our sex times. So I began to mull over ways for his fantasy to be fulfilled and for my resistance to go away. I needed to think seriously about this.

Part II -- Arrangements

Three or four months later after arriving home from a particularly lovely time in San Francisco with my man, I decided to bite the bullet. I called Patricia from my Philadelphia apartment. We had lived together in New York City for a couple of years after college. Lovers from school, we wanted to continue the relationship as long as possible. Though she was cute, and very willing to bring me to an orgasm any time I wanted one, our day-to-day interests were changing and so my attraction to her waned. When I met another more exciting woman, we amicably parted ways.

I thought of calling Pat because she visited me not long before that trip to the west coast. We had not seen each other for many years, until she called me out of the blue from her place in Boston to invite me to lunch. She expected to be in Philadelphia in the near future and for old times sake wanted to get together. When we met, I saw she bordered on being overweight. But, our luncheon was pleasant and interesting. I told her some of my history and she told me some of hers, including the fact that she was still a lesbian. Since we had such a nice time, I decided to pick up the phone to find out if she knew a gay woman to help me act out my lover's fantasy. Maybe, I thought, she knew someone who was pretty, trustworthy, and willing.

Pat was happy I called, and very responsive to my request. I asked, "Since I want to please my lover, do you know an attractive gay woman younger than us who would be willing to come to my hotel room the next time we are in Boston to make love to me in front of him?" She thought she did.

After I hung up the phone I had more reservations. I wondered if I could still respond sexually to a woman. I had never faked an orgasm in my life and I was not about to start now. Could I get past that hurdle? I also found the whole idea of a naked woman on top of my naked body or between my opened legs a little unsettling. I had left that world, and my fear was that acting out this fantasy for my man could reawaken my desire for women. I doubted this would happen, but... I also knew I was not an exhibitionist -- not by any measure.

How best to arrange for my man's fantasy to take place and concern over these personal fears occupied my mind for a few days, but when I got busy they went away. They came back a month or so later at my country home in New Jersey where I spend weekends. I received a telephone call from a very pleasant sounding woman. She told me her name was Joan and explained that a mutual friend of ours had told her about my wishes. She said, "Pat described your past relationship with her and your current situation. I understand and, if you would like, I am willing to meet with you and your lover for a night. In fact, I must admit that it sounds exciting." I took her telephone number and promised to call when I knew we would be in Boston.

Now I was really nervous! But the wheels were in motion -- she did sound very nice - and so I decided to go ahead. But these arrangements would stay secret until the last minute. Besides the fears already mentioned, I still was not sure that I could allow a perfect stranger -- especially a woman - to touch me so intimately. Never in my adult life -- straight or as a lesbian - have I considered being a man's or a woman's "one night stand" treat. That might be okay for some women, but not for me.

About two weeks later, I learned that Marilyn Maye, one of our favorite saloon singers, was appearing at a club in Boston. I called him and we decided to go to her show. My next call was to Pat's friend. She thought she would be available, but asked me to call her when we arrived. He flew into Newark airport from San Francisco and I met him in my car and we drove up to Boston.

The plan was to stay there for three nights. Shortly after we registered at the hotel, I surreptitiously called the woman. She told me that she could be with us the following night. With trepidation, I gave her the hotel address and room number.

That first evening in Boston we went to the early show. It was a great performance with great ambiance and great food. Later that night the sex was perfect and unusually long-lasting. There were oodles of precious moments as we fondled and explored each other. I could eat up that man; that is, if he did not devour me beforehand. At the risk of sounding egotistical, we are hot in bed.

The second night in Boston we went to a romantic place for dinner at a northern-style Italian place (light sauces) - our favorite food. When the dinner ended, I feigned tiredness and said I needed an early night. So we went back to the hotel. As we were returning, new misgivings arose. "What am I doing?" I thought to myself. But there was no stopping, unless I ended it when she knocked on the hotel room door.

The knock came before we had a chance to undress. I stood transfixed and did nothing, even though my brain was telling me, "You need more time before this happens!" He opened the door and standing in front of him was a beautiful and elegantly dressed woman. Next to her was another attractive woman -- almost a girl. My man looked puzzled. I went into action and invited them in. Crazy!

As they entered, I turned to him and said, "Tonight, my darling, you are going to have your sexual fantasy about me fulfilled." His jaw dropped. I showed a calm that belied my anxiety. Again I thought, "What have I let myself in for -- and why have two women showed up?"

We sat down in the parlor of our suite and I asked him to make us all a drink from the bar. As he was doing this, I learned the older woman was Joan and her friend's name was Sandra. Joan insisted that she bring my drink to me. I learned later that as she did she dropped a mood enhancement pill in it. That is why, when I finished my Ketel One brand vodka and soda, I began to feel more relaxed. Maybe Pat suggested the pill to Joan to alleviate the anxiousness she probably heard in my voice when I asked her to arrange this rendezvous. Anyway, it did placate my fears enough to allow me to more objectively wonder how these two women were going to work me over.

To say that I was uncomfortable is an understatement. However, I shook my head clear and then explained to my man that Joan was a friend of one of my former lovers. I turned and asked Joan why she brought Sandra. She replied, "She is my lover and is here to add to the night's pleasure." When we finished our drinks, the two women stood up and Joan beckoned me to do the same. When I did, she told me she was going to undress me. I closed my eyes and, after a brief intake of air, I nodded agreement. She proceeded to remove from my 5'3" and 125 pound frame the short-sleeved black cotton sweater I wore, jiggling my bare breasts as she did. I try not to wear a bra when I go out to dinner with him. He loves knowing they are free; and sometimes when I am not wearing panties either -- just stockings that stay up by themselves - his penis oozes pre-cum. If this happens, I will open his fly under the table and wipe him dry with my napkin so no stain will appear on his pants at the crotch. I am so thoughtful! But I am wandering.

Joan then unzipped my pleated black skirt and told me to step out of it. I did, and now I am standing in my high heels with pantyhose still in place - but not for long. She carefully slid them down and off. Now naked, except for my pearl necklace and earrings and other jewelry, she and Sandra were gazing at my body. I was aware that my breasts and dark brown pubic hair, along with my behind, seemed to be their center of attention. After I had been turned around several times, Joan reached down and slid her hand over my vagina. Before I could react, she reached around and squeezed the cheeks of my behind. I felt a little like a piece of meat and almost ended the evening's event at that moment. Sensing this, Joan stopped and began folding my clothes as if to apologize. Glancing over at him, I saw him sitting there seemingly unmoved by my obvious peevishness. He seemed spellbound by this woman's process of getting me naked and ready. I simmered down because, after all, this was his night, not mine

Suddenly, my attention shifted to Sandra. She had taken off her clothes. Her lithe body appeared not to have a wrinkle anywhere. Her skin was unblemished. I saw she was a natural blonde by her pubic hair, which had been shaped into a narrow vertical strip above her vagina. I suppose young women like being arty when they change the shape of their hair triangle down there. I am aware that many younger women shave off all of it, but this is not my thing. I think a woman's triangle is usually a pretty sight and, in my situation, my man would be unhappy if I shaved. He likes to glide his tongue all through it.

My lover was now looking at two naked women. One, girlish in figure -- that was her -- and another, womanly shaped - that was me. My bra size is a 38C so my breasts are not small -- my man says they are firm and perfect. Incidentally, not so long ago one of my dinner dates took me to an "in" night spot for an after dinner drink with some friends he knew. I was introduced to a gay doctor who told me that I had a great "rack." He was using slang to describe his assessment of the outline of my breasts and cleavage tastefully displayed in the partially opened sweater I wore. Said so sweetly, I wasn't offended.

This night of the fantasy, however, these two women not only saw the outline of my "rack," but also the small nipples and light areolas on the front of my rounded breasts. They saw that my body was firm all over and my pubic hair fairly full and nicely shaped. If I must say so myself I looked very good for a woman of any age. They saw au natural my small waist and hips, nicely shaped legs and tight "buns." The jewelry, I think, added to my look. Sandra, on the other hand, had small breasts -- probably between a 32A and a 32B cup - with relatively normal size nipples. Because of the shaving, her vagina was prominently displayed. Overall, it was nice looking, but the clitoris was a little too large, if you ask me. Still, I thought her body and face were quite pretty.

It had been some time since I looked closely at a naked woman, let alone caress one. I see women at the gym where I work out strip down in the locker room, but never do I give them more than a passing glance. But with Sandra, I appraised her looks. I suppose some straight man or gay woman would find her appetizing. However, if I was still doing the gay thing, she would not be my type; too dainty looking. In retrospect, I realized that Sandra was mainly company for Joan. It was Joan and me who were to be the main players in my man's fantasy. Though I must tell you now that Sandra added a little zing to what happened later -- and I did taste her on impulse.

Sandra asked me to follow her into the bathroom to freshen me with a shower. She turned on the water and I took off my jewelry. After checking the temperature, we entered and got wet. Sandra lathered me from the neck, over and around my breasts, up and down the back and front of my torso - apparently careful to avoid soap entering my vagina -- then finishing at my feet. Pushing my legs apart, she took the extension shower head off the hook and placed it at my vagina, forcing water to enter. The pressure of the water felt pleasant on my clitoris. Right there and then, I decided to buy and have installed such a showerhead. Holding on to her shoulders to keep from slipping, her skin felt baby soft. She then soaped herself and finished by rinsing out her own opening with the showerhead. She turned me around and bent my body forward. As I placed my hands on the shower wall, Sandra washed my behind with her soapy hands. Her finger went in and out of my anus more than a few times. I watched her do the same thing to herself. Now we were both thoroughly clean. With the water off, Sandra dried both of us, paying particular attention to fluffing up my pubic hair. She spread my cheeks and carefully dried the crack of my behind. A light powdering of some of my body parts followed. I was feeling more comfortable about things.

Sandra led me back into the bedroom carrying another soapy washcloth and dry towel. There was my man and Joan standing next to each other at the foot of our bed without wearing a stitch of clothing. I stiffened - in surprise - until Joan said, "Relax, nothing happened between us. I just wanted us to be ready for you. Besides, his uncircumcised cock is so small that if it were an inch less it would be a hole." I bristled at her remark and protested, "Small as it is at times, when I arouse him it gets as big and thick as I want it to be; perfect to fit into what I have."

I thought of the many mornings of the past when I awoke and reached over to touch the genitals of my sleeping man. Sometimes I had to pull them out from between his legs. Wherever they lay, I knew his penis would be the size of a small child's. No matter, my initial movements always awaken him and his penis will begin to swell. Within minutes his maleness is stiff and big and ready. For a woman, this has to be one of the great joys of sex. It certainly is for me, especially because of what usually comes next. Those yummy moments of stroking his shaft to hardness are followed by sucking it to taste his pre-cum, and then having his mouth on my nipples before I open my legs and accept his throbbing manhood - all incomparable foreplays of pleasure to bring us to our orgasms. Though Joan was wrong to impugn his ability to satisfy a woman, her comments actually mollified me. I forgot about being upset by what they had done without me overseeing them get naked.

My man and I sat down on the bedside chairs as Sandra told Joan to spread her legs. "Open up so I can wash the insides of your cunt," she said. When done, Sandra turned her around and bent her forward. She asked my man, "Please spread Joan's cheeks apart so I can wash her back hole." He looked at me for permission. There were no rules in place, so I nodded that it was okay. My acquiescence surprised me as I quietly watched him open her behind and hold it so until Sandra finished. I could not help notice the roundness of Joan's behind and the fullness of her nicely nippled breasts as they hung from her bent body. "She is one attractive woman," I said to myself.

Joan looked almost as good as my lover says I look. I am sure her loveliness did not escape him. My guess is that her breasts would fit comfortably into a 36B bra, her stomach had that small rise which enhanced her femininity; and her waist and hips were as narrow as mine. Her legs were not bad either. I noticed her pubic hair was a light brown and because she was probably in her late 30s, her "triangle" was fuller than mine. So much so that when I peered more closely at it, I could not see the vertical entrance to her vagina. All I saw was her "bush," as some men describe our pubic hair.