I’m as straight as an arrow, and if you know your physics, you know an arrow wobbles around a bit, even as it stays on course. But I have this recurring sexual fantasy where I wake up as a woman, not just a woman, but a married woman, and her, well, now my, husband is sleeping curled up behind me with his morning woody poking me.
He’s half asleep, I’m half asleep, our bodies go with it, and next thing you know he’s pounding me from behind, grabbing my big, mature tits, and I’m loving it. We do all the positions, I crave his cock in my mouth and eventually I take a shower with him fucking me one more time before I rinse his cum out of me. Then I dress in a lacey bra and clothes that show the world I’m a woman, and head off into the day to live her life.
Now, why would a straight guy fantasize about that?
First off, I love sex. I mean, everyone loves sex, right? But if you take my idea that humans make God by creating things together, sex is that ultimate spiritual connection of bodies and souls. And I love the idea of getting lost in someone else’s body and soul.
I’m a nice guy, I respect women, and I never (okay, rarely) push a woman past her comfort zone. But if I was the woman then I could do whatever I, as a guy, would want her to do. As a guy, I’d never suck another guy’s dick (okay, once), but as a woman, I could kneel down in front of him and submit to my weakness and his strength. I could surrender to him completely and be free of the baggage I carry as a guy.
I think the part of my fantasy where I’m a married woman is because I want to be taken care of, I want to be cherished and protected. But as a guy, I can only go so far down that path. I’m over six feet tall, pretty athletic, and white. I own my own company and negotiate deals with corporations and the government.
I can’t take care of the house, make myself pretty and greet my lover at the door with sex — it’s not the path I chose, and even if I had, it’s not a role fully available to a man. I hate effeminate stay-at-home dads — if you’re a man, you can’t push down your masculine needs all the time. I like being the aggressor, the decider, the strong one. I hate it when people don’t listen to me, and expect my words to carry more weight than others. Tall white guy syndrome, I know, but I can’t help it.
But sometimes, I’d just like to know how it feels to be so entirely dependant on someone else, and give myself so completely as only a wife can do for her husband.
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