Daring Mona is unlike daring my wife. It is unlike daring other women on this site, who take their cues from my wife’s e-mails, perhaps, and invariably respond with paragraph after paragraph of elegant prose. I hoped that that this blog would give me hope for human sexuality in the year 2011. Surprisingly, it has also given me hope for English grammar.
Compared to the literate ladies on this site, Mona is more like a series of tweets. With her a dare is an extended process. She requires clarifications (I know she’s just flirting). She wants to know if she could just strip for me again and skip the sex fantasy part (flirting). She wants to know my real name, wants to know if I went to the glitzy party on Friday, needs to know if I play golf, and if so, at what club (flirting). What Mona wants more than anything is to communicate, and to feel herself at the center of a discussion, preferably one held by strapping men. She is unstructured and anti-grammatical. Her tits destroy all rational thought. She is tapped into a force more powerful than mere intellect, and she knows it. Cocks stand at attention. She could start revolutions, and nobody would know exactly what they were fighting for, and nobody would care.
Long story short: daring Mona to leave a written sex fantasy in a public place took some time and a long series of e-mails about everything from the weather to my opinion on winter tanning. We’re friends now, and we don’t even know each other. Sometimes I regret having started this experiment with her (although I’ll never regret her naked body in the moonlight), but then she is also capable of astonishing me, which is exactly what she eventually did here. I’ve cobbled together several e-mails to give you the full story. First, her fantasy:
Here’s what I wrote on my paper: A rich man calls me up and invites me over to his villa. I don’t know him, but on the phone he is charming and he says he must speak with me. He tells me I should wear just a coat and nothing underneath and his driver will pick me up that afternoon. The driver comes and I obey.
I am wearing a fur coat. A male secretary sees me into a beautiful sitting room. He asks me to take my coat and if I want something to drink. I say I will keep the coat but have champagne. He smiles at me and goes off. I sit down on the couch and cross my legs. My pussy is already dripping, and other than me naked beneath my coat, nothing has happened….
The man who has invited me comes in. He is wearing a suit and is very suave. He walks over and kisses me on the lips, and he says that he is pleased I have not disappointed him. He invites me to follow him so he can show me the house. There is a room he wants me to see. We walk down long hallways decorated with mirrors, and I look at myself in the mirrors. I just follow the man, watching his tight ass and his muscular shoulders. He comes to a door and stops. Now I am trembling, but with lust not fear! He opens the door and stands there with his hand still on the knob. He orders me to enter, and I do. As I walk past him, he puts his hand through the slit of the coat and feels my thigh. I do not stop to let him feel more, because I feel he does not want me to.
The room is completely dark, and I can see nothing at all. I hear the door shut behind me and I can feel the man close to me. He asks if I have followed orders and have worn nothing beneath the coat. I whisper I have. He tells me to take off the coat, and I do. I am waiting for him to touch my body, and I wait for a long time, but he doesn’t. I feel his breath at my neck, but then I begin to sense other bodies in the room. Then the man takes me by the arm, not touching my naked body at all, and leads me over to a narrow bed. He tells me to lie down and I do. For a while I feel and hear nothing. My heart is beating fast and my pussy is wet. Then I start to feel hands on me, first just two, then four and six and then I can’t count. They move all over me, stroking my thighs and my breasts and my belly. Then there are fingers inside of me, stroking me slowly, and a man is kissing me as another man’s penis appears in the palm of my hand. I stroke it and kiss the man at my mouth with a deep tongue. I feel a cock at my thigh and then another one at my other hand. A man, or what I think is a man, begins to lick my pussy. I groan but the noise is stopped by a cock in my mouth. There are cocks everywhere. One begins fucking me as I keep the one in my mouth and this goes on. They get me on my knees. I am crying out. I am on top of a man, fucking him as I slip my mouth from one cock to the next. Then I feel more hands spreading the cheeks of my ass and a finger pressing at me there. The finger starts to fuck me, and then he puts a penis there and pushes it slowly inside. Wow! I have three men inside me, and I rock back and forth until I’m coming like I never came before!
Wow indeed. And there the fantasy stopped. I pined for more detail, but lusty Mona is like your average man, I sense. When she comes, she’s done. Of course the fantasy still had to be deposited, and here’s how that went. First some background gleaned from my knowledge of her and some back and forth: Mona plays golf 4-5 times a week, and often lunches or drinks before or after rounds at the local club.
She was sitting out on the terrace in the sun one day, drinking a beer while waiting for friends to appear for an afternoon round. She was early, so she took the occasion to get a piece of paper from the clubhouse office in order to write down her fantasy (she’d already sent the fantasy to me, but I’d been insisting on the last phase of the dare). Once she wrote it down (in some form), she folded the paper several times. Her friends appeared, and they went back into the clubhouse office to get their scorecards and check in. I’ll let her take us out:
At the golf club they have been doing this tombola [prize drawing] for the past month. You put your business card in a box with a slit on the top, and if they pull out your name you get a free lunch for four people. I had never noticed the box, but as my friends paid their green fee, I had a brilliant idea, Mr. X. Can you guess? I put the fantasy in the box! Free lunch? Bah! Maybe now somebody will win free Mona!
But my fantasy, Mister! Please tell me you are going to make that happen!
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7 thoughts on “Fore/play: Mona’s response to her Sex Fantasy Experiment”
*chuckles* Go Mona! Putting it in the tombola was a great idea – I wonder what lucky person will draw that envelope out?
Yes, with that tombola she has breathed new life into a tired word. Whoever pulls that out will truly be “winning”.
Oh Mona. Truly a woman after my own heart. I only wish I could be as bold as she is.
I imagine she was about as bold as most of us, then slightly bolder, then bolder, and then full-on Mona. Start with the small dares, and soon enough you may well be a maneater.
X, my sincere apologies for bogarting your title this week. But clearly it made an impression. I fear for you, that you’ll not easily be able to avoid the clutches of Mona. And what of my Twitter photo has you so intrigued?
Yes, she’s chaos with curves. And aren’t you coy. Probably fluttering eyelashes as you write that last sentence.
I have always been an artful eyelash batter.