A Sexual Fantasy
I’m not a sexually liberal person; I’m a sexual shrinking violet, if anything. I have this fixation on sound that I can’t seem to shake. Just once, I want to be able to go to a bar after a bad day at work and pick out a man. I want to nip and kiss his neck, and he’ll be flustered, but into it, grunting as quietly as he can, trying not to draw attention to himself. When I’ve teased him thoroughly, almost to the point of causing a scene, I’ll get him away from the bar, back to my place, and we’ll have passionate sex with the lights on so I can see his expressions. I want him to be loud, so I encourage him, doing everything I can to make him feel so good he can’t help himself, pinching and licking and sucking and biting. Whatever he loves, I want to do it. I want to experience the full extent of sounds he can make: whimpering, sighing, moaning, grunting, groaning, huffing, choked little half-noises he couldn’t quite silence. I’ll watch him come, shaking apart with wonderful sounds akin to some forbidden music.