A writing challenge - Daydreams

She had never felt able to admit to a lover that the mainstay of her sexual daydreams, the thing that always made her wet, was exactly what he was suggesting now.

But it was a daydream. A fantasy. An intellectual speculation. Not something she had considered ever making real. She had simply played the idea around her mind, imagined how it might be, how she would feel, what he would feel. What it would do to the balance in their sensuality together.

She knew when he was suggesting a challenge to her. She had learned to recognise the way he raised an idea on passing, a dare almost, testing her reaction. This time he had really taken her by surprise. A conversation about his dominance that took an unexpected turn.

He was dominant. Not in a 24/7 collared and bound way. There was no paraphernalia in their relationship. There was simply a balance, a preference in their way of being together, not always apparent, but at any time he could take control.  He knew exactly how to use his words, his presence, his voice, his touch to trigger arousal in her and then he would take control of that arousal; he would dictate time, place, pace and depth. Feeding her passion, paying attention to every nuance of her mind and body and then withdrawing that attention if she began to lose herself in her pleasure. He would take her to the edge and hold her there, breathing words in her ear, asking her what she was feeling, what she wanted, denying all until he was ready to let her loose. And in this they both found pleasure. His strength, her submission.

So for her fantasies, even more, for this man to turn to the subject of pegging was indeed something of a surprise.

She was petite. Her body and strength relative to his was purely feminine. Whilst she was self-possessed and assertive in her day times, when they were alone, when life turn to making love, she was always the more passive. Always receiving his power. Even when her passion over took them and he allowed her to just ride the wave of taking what she wanted from him still there was the balance; he allowed her.

And now he was asking if she could take him. This man who was always leading her, always master of their pleasure, who was so intensely masculine, was carefully expressing an interest in a new dynamic. Or was he? He was watching her steadily. She knew he would be noticing everything about her reaction. He would see if she were reluctant, if it was a hard boundary, if she were curious.

She had thought about how it would be to buckle into one of those belts. How it would feel; would it feel silly or empowering. Would it fit properly or would it chafe? Or worse still might it fall off or shift position at an inopportune moment. And why did the dildo always have to look so obviously like another man's cock? Surely that alone was a huge psychological leap. And what size cock would a man choose?! Like the first time she had to purchase condoms she was over-awed by the choices and all of them seeming suggestive of a value judgement about her partner's prowess. And this was before she even considered the matter of colour and materials. And even assuming that the equipment issues could be resolved, would she be strong enough to thrust and how would she do that? She knew how she loved him to take her, in his way, watching her reactions and staying one step ahead so that she never knew how far or how fast he would enter her, when he would withdraw and play her whole body to carry her in and out of herself until she was almost lost, bringing her back with a slap, a well timed pinch of a nipple until he had her screaming for him to take her.

But she was a woman. How would a man want to be taken? Would a man want to be taken? Would this man and why? She knew he loved her to finger his arse. She knew there was exquisite pleasure in that, but from her hands to her body fucking him was incomparable it seemed. And what position would he prefer. Would she take him from behind with no eye contact, gripping his hips as she pressed against him or would she face him and spread his legs high so that they could watch each others' reactions, that moment in love making when all guards were down and nothing could be hidden. For a long time she had hidden her eyes from him. Would he want her to see his eyes in this. Would he want her to know how he felt her enter him and control his pleasure? Would she want to see? It would be such a risk, perhaps to alter and shift everything in the dynamic between them.

And what of depth and pace. Surely it took a man time and experience to learn how to control his thrusts to bring a woman pleasure. Surely these things were not innate and in a woman there was no instinct for this anyway. She would be so fearful of hurting him, of causing pain not pleasure, of the whole experience becoming a farcical disaster that left them both turned off or worse, embarrassed. And all these thoughts went around as he watched her. She met his gentle gaze as he smiled quietly, allowing her the time she needed to form her reply as he always did, knowing she would not say anything until she knew what she wanted to say. Seeing his open enquiry, this man she trusted and who knew her so well, her mind travelled past the fear and into her fantasies.

She longed to give to him what he had shown her. To be able to allow him to be the receiver, to take control and pay attention only to his needs, to his mind and his map of pleasure. To learn how to take him to the edge and hold him there, be strong for him and make herself wait, bring him into himself and out of himself until he cried out for release. And yes, she had always thought of these things when giving him a blow job, but somehow, thrusting his cock into her mouth, somehow he was still in control. He was still taking her. It was not the same. The possibilities were not the same. She wanted to take him, she wanted to see if their relationship was only about one dynamic or if they could be truly free enough and trusting enough in each other to explore hidden depths, to take each other to new and unknown places and grow closer through their sharing.

Looking at him openly, she nodded and smiled. She didn't find any need for words.