Subconscious Dream Or Fantasy?

Dec. 20th 2004

Dear Y.

how are you? I hope well, but from your last email it sound as if your cold has gotten worse, so please look after yourself.

I cannot help but continue from my last letter, because there are things inside of me that I must get out, otherwise I think I am going to explode. I have to tell you that this is all a dream, not a fantasy, for it is some part of my sub-conscious, rather than something I am thinking or feeling voluntarily - but then where are the boundaries of desire, exactly? I don't know.

We have been apart now for months, and it is driving me crazy. I am starting to think things, or rather I am starting to admit to things that have been there, like an undercurrent of feeling, yet have not been allowed to come to the surface. Although we are involved in a relationship, and I am convinced that I have feelings more than just lust for you, feeling that I can only call love, this matter is something purely sexual.

I have been looking over the photographs that I took of you, that morning, in our bed. They are mostly of you, and your body; images quite objective, for it is a potrayal of flesh more than of sex. These photographs seem to capture something perfect for me, as my perspective at the time mirrors now the perspective I take looking over the photographs. To have laid between your open legs and look up, between your thighs, at your vagina - at first dormant, but in later poses much stimulated through intermittent oral sex and masturbation, possibly for visual effect, but ultimately for pleasure; then up over your stomach and chest; and your face, looking away to one side, not out of embarrasment - out of respect for the mood. I know that you are not embarrased with your flesh. You have told me how you worked as a stripper, dancing on tables in short skirt, thong, short top: various moves and rhythms, spreading open your legs and lifting your arms above your head to reveal your breasts; undulating your body to simulate a wave of sex, the space underneath you defining that statement: form is emptiness and emptiness is form, for it gave form to those men's desires, who wished they could have been under you at those moments. You told me how you loved looking in their eyes, seeing how much satisfaction it gave. I cannot be jealous at this, I admit it turns me on: I wanted to see you dance like this. Most of all, I wanted to see you then when you gave lapdances. I dream about you on some man's lap, giving flesh to his fantasy.

But now, what is this letter really about??? Where have my thoughts turned? Let me tell you Y. I have a penchant for photographs, it appears, for I cannot withold from indulging in pornography. This has turned me into the voyeur, I fear, or at least I fear to tell you, as it has repurcussions for our selves and our relationship - or maybe not.

I look at pictures of women; of men; of couples; of groups; of orgies; of sex; masturbation; domination; stimulation; and provocation. At first I would see only one layer in these images: that which was presented to me - the actual image itself. A face was a face belonging to a girl alone. A body was form unto itself only: it was nobody's but to whom it was possessed. As with every indulgence, however; as with every dream and fantasy, it does not remain stagnant in time, intransigent. No. Time changes.

When I look at images now, I not only see this first layer, but I see deeper: through the pictures I see there is a mirror that reflects not myself, but my the vast playground that is my mind and it's activities in sexual fantasy. When I look at a girl now, I transpose your face onto her's, perhaps not actually, but mentally. When I see a girl offering her mouth to the hardened penis of the male, in my mind I see you, actually moving, time rolling, your tongue gently licking and flitting around the head and shaft, giving butterfly kisses and controlling his person in this one, delicate movement. When I see a girl with her legs spread wide, inviting a man to enter her; a man then penetrating inside; one, two men, three men, a whole group with you as their toy; maybe with a girl performing the sixty-nine and dual cunnilingus: it is you that is born in my imagination in these positions and movements.

But of course, we have been apart. Like time changes and rolls on, my sexual urges and needs do not diminish or stand still either. I find my self at night, at day, in morning wake, reaching for my penis - my hands attracted and magnetised towards this region. And I see you: this is my stimulation. I see us back together, next month, as we will. I see us in shared accomodation, living with others; I see us socialising, making new friends; I see us in clubs and bars and restaurants. Sometimes you wear a short skirt and short top; sometimes trousers and a shirt; sometimes you are just in your underwear. I imagine us with people and you leaning over, whispering in my ear "can we do it?", or "can I take my clothes off?". These questions are not because you need me to agree or allow proceedings, but more just a formality in the process of releasing your desires. And they are your desires!!! You told me that night too, that you would like to swing.

It always starts with our intimacy, however. We kiss, we touch, others watch and engage in themselves, with each other. At one point, however, I do not notice (I do not know if you do), you are taken over by someone else, it matters not who. Perhaps with oral sex, maybe with masturbation, maybe with penetration. Anyhow, soon I lose you into the night, with only the parting words of "I love you", and then we are both in our own worlds of fantasy to indulge.

This is just a dream, maybe it is fantasy, sub conscious bordering on conscious: some sexual realm that we all pass in and out and in and out of. Make of this how you please, but please write to me with your thoughts, if you are not displeased, and maybe I can divulge more of my fantasies???

my love

JC.