The Weekly Mindfuck: Throat Fucking

On a typical day, I fall somewhere in the middle of the dominant/submissive spectrum. Some days I want to revel in a confident man's strong will, and some days I feel like a badass and I want things done on my terms, under my control. It's generally a push and pull, a power exchange executed with so much rhythm it's almost a dance. 

But there are some days—and I can't explain why or when it started—that I have a particular fantasy. I've only imagined it with certain partners, guys I've usually been seeing for awhile and feel inexplicably comfortable with. It is, after all, a pretty degrading fantasy on its surface. 

There are ways I don't like to imagine my throat being fucked, of course. I don't like the idea of getting it upright with my head pressed against the couch or the wall, and I don't like thinking about mascara running down my face or an expression of supreme pain (though, of course, it doesn't feel good no matter how you slice it.) I don't like the idea of violent sputtering or hard, fast thumps into the back of my throat. In my mind, it's always exactly like this: My head tipped off the edge of my bed, long and languid thrusts filling my mouth, a gentle hand on my neck helping hold my head in place. I won't be able to see it, but I know exactly what his expression will look like: a penetrating gaze, his mouth slightly agape and groaning, with a willful—almost wicked—gleam in his eyes. During this fantasy, I only hear him say a few words: "Yeah, you like that, don't you baby?"

For me, it's never been about being dominated. I've just always been attracted to men who know what they want. And this, I know, is something we both crave.