At a recent girl’s night, it was not surprising that the topic of conversation between my friends and myself turned to sex. Despite the fact that we are all married and in our late thirties, sex always comes up at our Wednesday Hump Day Get-togethers. It seems like one of us is always whining about having too much sex or none at all.
Then we all begin debating what great sex is, and what it is not. After drinking a little too much Pinot Noir, I, the longest married of our lot and mother of eight year-old twins, threw in my thoughts. Without thinking, I admitted that fantasizing about other men during sex with Tony, my husband, made my pleasure more intense. Surprisingly, my friends were shocked by my revelation. Their reactions startled me. I thought most women enjoyed fantasizing about men other than their husbands.
One of my friends actually insisted that my fantasies meant that I really wasn’t into my husband. That is so untrue. I love every inch of my husband, from his wavy brown hair and penetrating black eyes to his muscular calves all the way down to his long, skinny toes.
What my friends did not understand (even though I felt most of them were afraid to admit the truth about their own fantasies) is that my fantasies are not a replacement for Tony. Instead, they are an enhancement, which not only gives me extra pleasure, but also give me the motivation to perform when my mind and body are often too tired to respond.
When I’m exhausted and my husband wants to do the mattress mambo, all I have to do is think of Brad Pitt walking through my bedroom door (before the goatee, and without Angelina and the kids) and soothing my tired body with his very special brand of sexual healing. A few minutes of thoughts like those, and I’m the replacedment for the Energizer bunny.
It seems that we women ourselves are hypocrites. When men use porn movies or magazines, we all accept it as a part of their manhood. Still, isn’t that the same thing as fantasizing? Oddly, men aren’t condemned for this behavior. If a man walks into a convenience store and requests a magazine from behind the counter, the sales clerk doesn’t blink twice, but if a women were to ask if would be as though Chicken Little is parading through the town square screaming about the sky falling.
Tony has a stash of magazines under his side of the bed. I’ve even looked at them a few times myself. But I don’t feel threatened by his magazines, and I don’t consider his browsing to be a sign of unfaithfulness. Yet – my sexual fantasies are wrong? I don’t think so.
After my girl’s night, I discussed my fantasies with Tony, and he was very interested. In his opinion, anything that makes me want to give him steady supply of loving can’t be wrong. Our conversation opened the door to a chat about our wildest fantasies together, and that made for a very exciting and delicious night of chocolate syrup body painting.
And just so you know, when you’re with the right person, your sexual fantasies can never be wrong.