I generally have a hard time articulating what my fantasy entails when people ask me because it’s usually in the context of them wanting to fulfil that fantasy with me. But try as I might, I can’t ever think of a scenario that we could act out together because for me the fantasy doesn’t really revolve around the sexual acts; rather, my fantasy centers on the culmination of those sexual acts.
My fantasy involves many, many people and starts long after the sexual acts begin, when everyone is reaching the apex of their sexual excitement, that moment when bodies are covered in sweat, chests are heaving, and all parties involved are about to cum.
At that point I want everyone standing around me and over me so that when they cum I am covered in it. That’s right, covered in it. Like a chocolate cake decked out in white frosting.
I am completely indifferent to the specifics of the sexual acts that precede ejaculation. Exactly how many of us are there? What is the male to female ratio? Are we all playing together, or are we concentrated into smaller groups that shift? In truth, I really don’t care. So long as whatever we’re all doing gets us all to a point where we want – nay, need – to blow our wad, so long as I am completely and utterly spent and begging for release, I really don’t give a flying fuck how we get there. I just want to be soused in everyone’s hot, sticky cum when it’s all over.
Lately there is one new element that occasionally pops up in this fantasy: me tied up, altogether helpless and unable to dodge the cum even if I wanted to. It’s a very recent addition and I think it’s a sign I should experiment with a little bondage, but at this point it is in no way essential to the fantasy.
There are a few reasons this turns me on so much. First, feeling cum land on me in hot squirts and then dry on my skin is something I find incredibly erotic. Lying their catching my breath and sensing the cum constrict my skin is a way of allowing the entire experience to linger in my mind, a physical reminder of how hot everything that preceded ejaculation was.
Second, cumming is a physical manifestation of the sexual desire and joy felt by the person reaching climax. In my fantasy, being blanketed in a layer of that physical manifestation transforms me into the embodiment of sexual climax. Rather than being the specific object of everyone’s desire, in my fantasy I become a testament to sexual desire in general. In that moment I am the altar at which supplicants make their offerings to the god of sex, or perhaps even the god himself, triumphantly bathing in the sexual energy that has been expelled after whatever acts we’ve performed.
I am of the opinion that in the moment of climax you are free, that you are one with yourself or God or nature or whatever you call it. Cumming is always accompanied by a sense of euphoria, instilling you with a sense of peace. When other people cum on me, it connects me with them, makes me feel and be part of their connection to that peace. The massive amounts of cum that cover me in my fantasy connect me to a greater number of people, and somehow that physical reminder of their sexual desire, the knowledge that in that moment we are all one in what we’re feeling, would be like seeing God, much like Seven of Nine when she catches a glimpse of the Omega molecule on Star Trek: Voyager.
This need to feel one with the universe stems from my days in the Mormon church. Having long left that institution behind, I don’t share their beliefs but I still feel a strong bond to the belief that we are all interconnected by something. Like I said, it may be nothing more than nature that connects us, but I still acknowledge the connection, however each individual personally defines it.
So my fantasy entails transcending my own body and merging with—for lack of a better word—the souls of those cumming on me and the world and universe at large. The merger would be brief, but through sex, or more specifically through sexual climax I would come to know the spirit that flows through each of us in a much more all encompassing way than when I cum alone or with another person. In essence, my fantasy is the exact opposite of the fantasy of those who enjoy bukkake because they find it debasing or degrading; in my fantasy, it is divine.
Centering the fantasy on the end of the journey rather than on the journey itself also divests me of any need to decide what sexual acts will get us there. If all roads lead to Rome, knowing in advance which road to take is of little importance. Which is perfect because in real life I hate being pressured into deciding what sexual acts will be involved in any given rendezvous. Asking me beforehand what I feel like doing in terms of positions, where, etc., exasperates me because I prefer to just go with the flow. Not for a lack of imagination but simply because I like to be inspired in the moment.
However, just because everyone is free to decide how to spend their time fucking around with each other and me prior to the grand finale does not mean that I entirely cede control in the fantasy. Everyone may be free to do what they want, but everyone needs to cum at the same time if the desired effect is to be achieved. Thus rather than giving up control, I am more like a conductor who has trained his orchestra so well that they can honor him by playing a piece as he would conduct it without him actually conducting while they perform. Rare are the occasions where a host doesn’t have to attend to something during a party; in my fantasy, I, the host, am free to thrive in one of those rare moments when everything goes exactly according to plan.
Ultimately, my fantasy is about knowing the divine through sex, and bukkake is the key to unlocking the right door. It is no coincidence that knowing someone in the biblical sense means to have sex; we are vulnerable, our bodies and our souls laid bare, non-verbally revealing a lot about who we are. In real life I yearn to feel a sense of connection to my fellow humans and to that sense of a higher entity we all call by different names, and in my fantasy I comprehend the oneness that binds us all.
I look at my fantasy and realize there’s no escaping it—in some ways I’ll always be a priest. The real question is, who wants to pray at the altar with me?