In conversation, I have been asked many times what my ultimate fantasy is. This is an impossible question to answer, since I don't really have a singular fantasy. My fantasies are ever-evolving; a series of desires and passions which vary with my mood and recent topics of intrigue... My fantasies are comprised of momentary glimpses of scenes and sensory experiences.

So, for this month's blog, I thought I would write about some of the random thoughts which come to me in moments of sexual or sensual fantasy... mostly because I've not thought of anything else to write about, and partially because I . So, below are a handfulof bullet points with various glimpses into fantasies which have come across my mind. Some are momentary and brief, some in depth and complex...

• I image a lithe guy on his back before me, with andrognyous features, but a decidedly masculine chest. His mussed hair is dark, and long, and falls over his shoulders, fanning across his chest. Rumpled on the bed is a leather jacket, and a thin black t-shirt, damp with sweat with his band logo on it. His leather pants lie tangled underneath him, saturdated with sweat, rustling as he moves. He has just come off stage, his body gistening with perspiration. His eyes are filled with the lust of the driving, savage music he has just played. His scent permeates the air, a dark, musky sweat, with hints of patchouli, cedar, whiskey, and bar-room smoke, mingled with scent of the leather which encased him.
  He is still wearing his boots, which are resting on my shoulders as I penetrate him. His breath is ragged, punctuated with gutteral moans as his hand glides along the length of his shaft...
• The rustling of latex fills the room, his body engulfed in a tight, alien skin. As if fluid, the latex countours each shape of his body, from the hood encasing his head, to his feet. Even his erection, encased in a black sheath which rustles as his gloved hand moves along it's length; the bulge of the butt-plug apparent in the otherwise sleek curve. His mouth, a rich pink contrast to the almost digital black humanoid, engulfs my cock...
• He whimpers, his manhood rigid, pressed against me. He begs around the ball-gag, his body arched with the desire to feel the overwhelming waves of pain and pleasure. His pale flesh pink with marks from my fingernails, red welts from the whip, and my teeth. His body shudders as I press the button, sending an electrical charge through his thighs into his swollen erection. He gasps, his muffled pleas to be fucked ignored for the time being as the black wax drips across his nipple, adding contrast to his pale skin and pink welts... he moans "yes" as his aching need for depravity and torment grows deeper...
• His lips press against mine, his tounge slipping into my mouth; acrid with the taste of smoke. He exhales, the thick, sticky smoke flowing from his lungs into mine. My head reels with the hazy comfort of apathy as our tounges entangle. He pushes the bowl to me as he stands up... I open my eyes a few moments later as I exhale to find him standing before me, his hard cock inches from my face. I take him into my mouth, the tangy saltiness of his manhood mingling with the acrid smoke which permeates the air... I feel him breathing deeply, the rippling of water echoing in the room as he shudders, erupting in my mouth with his orgasm....
• As I slide between the sheets of the bed, trying not ot wake him, I find my fingertips pressed against cold, rigid plastic instead of his warm skin. He turns, and pulls the sheets away. Encased in his black motocross armor and padding, his pale exposed skin in sharp contrast to the impenetrable armor which encases much of his body; he seems invincible and vulnerable at the same time. The leather of his gloves creaks as he pulls me toward him...
• He is above me, grinding me deeper into him. His glove-clad fingertips caress my chest, and move up, closing around my throat I as I approach orgasm...

These are just a few... but, they give an insight into the disturbing sexual psyche that is me...