The term making love never really stirred me. Making love was for tragically unhip older out of shape people like your parents, or if you couldn't stand the thought of your parents doing it then some of your better looking friends parents. It was for those who had dulled their edge to butter knife status with stability and slowness. It was not for young lovers; frenzied sharks in the pool of availability, who raked hair and yanked necks back, bit neck muscles until tender, bruised, ready to pop. Who spread your lips with spidery fingers and soaked in your mouth. Who left your inner thighs bruised from the insatiable desire to teeth on you and you wore a short skirt to barely cover these purple heart awards long enough to walk over to your girlfriends house and show her and shriek breathless on her couch, reliving the lurid details from the night before. But then came the summer of Jaysun. The beautiful, mysterious, wandering lone wolf I tracked for weeks through thick underbrush, just inches away from the faint etchings of his scent. I knew where to find him. For all the stink of royalty he had about him, he worked at a beer and wine carryout. But I didn't want to go that route. I wanted to hide behind trees and tip toe around corners and watch him from a distance, lay surprises like the bricks laid by slaves in the streets of old German Village; slowly with painstaking delicacy, laying each one carefully at the right moment in time, paving the way for the time we would walk together. Coaxing him to me by secretly weaving some sticky spun sugar strand that would catch him in my web of love. Okay, so it didn't exactly work that way.

With Jaysun, cigarettes were tobacco, marijuana was smoke and sex was making love. Cooking was sacred and taste tests were not allowed. A tall curious creature and one of the most beautiful and elusive I had ever seen. Getting to know him was akin to meeting an alien. There was no one before him and who could say if I'd still be alive after him. Much like a wild animal, I knew I'd have to temper my intensity and dish it out only in small increments, slowly feeding him a little at a time and letting him spook and run when I got too close. I would remain solid and constant and he would grow hungry again and come feed from my hand. Slowly, slowly, slowly I orchestrated this delicate plan until finally he agreed to come to dinner. He came early and I wasn't prepared to see him. I wanted to hide my preparation of the salmon from him and just look beautiful and calm presenting this gorgeous dinner of seasoned pink flesh. I didn't want him to see me at the counter with my hair piled on top of my head, covered with mayonnaise and wrestling with tinfoil. But there he was, clean-shaven, radiating beauty in magnificent glory, smiling sheepishly in my doorway and I just about hyperventilated right there over the sink. I was shaken and stirred like I had never felt in my life. I couldn’t look him in the eye, my heart was racing, we spoke in fractured stumpy phrases like 5th grade cave people. It was like the light, innocence and beauty that emanated from him was blinding to me. It took my breath away like mountain air but gradually I kept breathing him in a little at a time, gathering inoculation until two glasses of vino later I was hovering over him on the couch of my porch, my tempering of intensity swallowed with the wine, his jaw crocked in the web out my hand, my mouth in total control moving over his and all he could do was lean back into that couch, eyes frozen open in amazement that such a ravenous creature had been hiding behind that gentle front. Those were the long, deliciously unfolding days of Jayson.

And Jaysun never came. He was Zen master rama and couldn’t afford to lose his chi. His cock would swell from the sheer unstoppable velocic dam force he’d built into it and he’d take himself to the brink but never go over, instead snapping back out of my body like a rubber band and flinging his frame across the room with trapped wild animal eyes as if my pulsating vagina itself was the satanic temptation of Hades. But our sex, or rather lovemaking, was phenomenally incredible, especially when we weren’t having sex. There was this unspoken surreal incestual nature that took over and we silently fell into roles originally designed for sex offenders and their targets. The process made me tighten and gush in megahertz unfathomed before as he controlled every inch of my being, talking me thru it. He’d stretch me out and say, “You want to come for daddy?” his eyes big and soft like so many adults talk to children. He’d stretch my arms above me and clamp my wrists. Tight. A little too tight. If I resisted, he’d jerk them upwards to eleviate the slack, silence the struggle and whisper like a piston, “SHHH”—his face firm, almost angry at me for making a peep. The length of his long, lovely firm frame would turn sideways, bracing mine. His feet would pull my legs down by my ankles so I was stretched taunt on the length of my bed. A warm foot would abruptly poke its way up between my legs, forcing them open, bit by bit. Up thru the clamping of my knees and then thru the soft channel of my thighs. “Yes, I think you do, daddy wants you to come”. My breathing would immediately take me to whimpering girl, startled but subconsciously addicted to the power and attention her lover gave her. Between stretched hands and feet, Jaysun would lean his outstretched tongue down to my beautiful clitoris, barely visible popping out from a silky tuft of hair. Wet and stiff he’d graze over me, using his mouth as detached tool, not giving me his full, luscious lips until much later. By isolating this one sensitive part of my body, I’d stretch upward and arch to make myself move available to his mouth. “Oh you like that? You’re such a good little girl, taking my tongue like that. You’re getting so wet, so ready. Don’t you like that?” More statement than question. I slowly nod. “I’m going to give you more, so much more, we’re going to make you have a nice orgasm for me.” He takes my gigantic, hydraulic, fuel injected power vibrator out from under my bed and flicks it on high. The vibrational wake alone is enough to numb your hand if left unattended for too long. One false move and you could probably lose it up to your elbow. Entire earthquake monitors have been set off by this thing. He grazes it over my arching clitoris. I buck up to him. He sinks the bulb a little further into me. I recoil from the intensity. He passes slow, fast circles teasingly around my clitoris. I rise and fall to their rhythm. He takes one hand and spreads my lips apart and moves his tongue back down to my swelling body. He flicks over and over me, like a sexual snake to devour my middle cream filling. Then he sucks, gently like a baby, then more forcefully between his teeth, I twist away but am held fast by his thick fist and athletes long muscle smooth legs. All I can do is rise up into his mouth further, reaching, trying for the soft safety of pushing myself wholly in his wet mouth. 

Each fantasy is crafted from an orgasm-rich personal experience, seared in my head and poured onto page. These are my fantasies, my dreams, my ultimate orgasms. If you provide the necessary components, sparse but clear, I’ll craft a personal fantasy for your own collection but I’ll have to feel it first. If it’s fake or wimpy, I won’t deliver. Make it original, deep, penetrating and you’ll have a first class flight to coming, twined in my style.