CALL OF THE DAY: making a fantasy feel more real

I don’t know why this guy keeps coming back to me, because I push back against his fantasy ALL THE TIME. Something about him just brings it out in me. I don’t want to give it to him the way he wants it. He only gets part of it; fortunately, that seems to be enough.

"I'm not going to fuck my boyfriend in the kitchen in front of my husband! We don't have enough counter space in there, jeez!"

“I’m not going to fuck my boyfriend in the kitchen in front of my husband! We don’t have enough counter space in there, jeez!”

We talk about his wife and his best friend, sometimes the neighbor boy down the street, none of whom may actually exist, but it certainly sounds like his wife and his best friend do, at least. He goes on about how well-hung his best friend is and how his wife seems to be putting out semi-conscious flirt signals all over the place, and asks me very leading questions about what I think about his wife’s intentions, and what I do in my own (obviously cuckolding) relationship, and he is very very clear about what he wants to hear.

That’s exactly the thing that makes me push back. Like, I get that customer is king, and no more so than in phone sex. But this guy is SO very micro-managing, and his questions are so ridiculously leading, that they get in the way of my creativity gears. This is the way a typical line of questioning might go:

“Do you kiss your boyfriend in front of your husband?”


“Have you ever had him over when your husband is in the house?”

Yeah, a few times.

“When you come downstairs to make coffee in the morning, are your panties soaked with his cum?”

SCREEEEECH. I hope you can see why that throws me off. He dwells on the emotional and/or logistical details of a secondary relationship, and talks about how his friend is “more of a man” than he is. He might even ask what it feels like to fall in love with someone because of how good the sex is (translation: how big the guy’s cock is). His part of the conversation loaded with sex, but there’s still some delicate psychology that he’s digging through. And then he just drops some soaking panties on the conversation. A wet blanket is a wet blanket, no matter how it got wet. I mean, can we keep the tone consistent here?

All writerly instincts aside, though, I think my resistance to the fantasy narrative that he keeps pushing—on me, on his wife—is what makes the fantasy more convincing, that is, the fantasy that I end up spinning for him. I’m not taking him word for word, I’m not reflecting his stuff right back, but mediating it through at least the semblance of some sort of semi-normal existence, like, no, I don’t drop to my knees and start sucking him off in front of my husband; that tile floor in the kitchen is really hard on my knees!

It’s that dash of mundane, the whiff of pedestrian truth. If I insist, every now and then, that “no, that’s not the way it is”, then he believes that I’m speaking from reality, otherwise, why would I speak with such authority?

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