Content Warning: This post deals with some dark and inappropriate themes, if you are a minor or at all sensitive about descriptions of sex, violence, or sexual-violence you really should not be here…

I’m not really that old, but it seems as though my life-time has straddled two entirely different eras, punctuated by the actual fact that equal shares of my years fall on either side of the millennial divide. In the world of my youth, a simpler world of the previous century, before the internet and cell-phones, and most significantly on-demand porn, one had to rely on ones imagination to set the scene for masturbation. Creating an arousing fantasy from scratch, while time-consuming, was probably worth the effort as it builds certain core creativity skills which are certainly useful later in life…

So I got to thinking about some of the most pervasive fantasies I’ve had throughout my sexual life. I have to admit that my wank-fodder is exotic to say the least, disturbing may be a more fair appraisal. As much as I fear to reveal some of my darkest fantasies for the purposes of this post, this here blog has seen more disturbing confessions than your average catholic priest so what’s a few more reasons to think I’m deranged added on to the already considerable pile…

I didn’t really begin to fantasize until I was a teenager, but that probably is because I didn’t begin to masturbate until then. I fantasized about two older women in particular, one was a neighbor, the other my wicked step-mother; neither situation was particularly wholesome either…

The neighbor seemed to be just another random bored housewife I had met through a friend who used to do ‘odd-jobs’ around her house. We would sit and smoke cigarettes and chat with her on occasion. As time went on though, certain red-flags popped up here and there that even teen-aged me was astute enough to pick up on. She kept gushing on about how handsome I was, how I was so mature for my age. She found whatever reason she could to brush up against me in passing or put a hand on my arm in conversation. My friend casually remarked about how he would sometimes give her massages, as she handed me a beer…It was creep-city, and even though the ‘stranger-danger’ alarm-bells were blaring in my head, the sexual tension was overwhelming for an adolescent just coming into his sexual awakening…

In real life, I never let this probable predator maneuver me into anything more than some uncomfortable situations but alone, and in private I masturbated something fierce to the thought of letting this bad woman have her way with me. You can maybe see the root of my desire for a mommy-domme beginning to form here, but this next bit will probably have every armchair Freud screaming Oedipal complex in the comments…

My step mother and I had a contentious relationship to put it mildly. To put it bluntly, I hated her intensely. Perhaps I was a bit unfair in my treatment of her, she was in-fact the woman whom my father had abandoned his family for, but what I came to learn later, was that it was my father who was the home-wrecker. I tried to extend a hand of friendship to her out of respect for my father, but it seemed to be her mission to use whatever means necessary to remove me from their home…

As time went on I started to view her as a mortal enemy, and rather than the fantasies of brutal murder that I usually reserve for my enemies, for some reason I instead turned my rage and hatred into dark fantasies of bondage and rape. I’d committed any number of infamous sex-crimes against my step mother in this fantasy, each more depraved than the last and it also caused me quite a bit of distress that the thought of such horrible things should get me off. But as with the first example, those things that I tend to fantasize about are things that should never be done in reality. Impure thoughts by themselves are a victimless-crime, and even through all these years I’ve never let the lines between those criminal fantasies and reality ever blur…

As I grew into adulthood in my twenties my fantasies took on a more submissive nature. My time spent climbing the corporate ladder was most often as a direct-report to a woman in a high-powered role. I was content to play the pretty-young assistant in a gender-reversed way, though I secretly yearned to be objectified and propositioned by my boss. Of course I didn’t realize the truth, that on the whole, women aren’t very likely to abuse a position of authority for sex in the real world. There haven’t even been any allegations that have come to light in the #metoo movement. That didn’t stop me from plotting out reams of office femdom erotica as I daydreamed during coffee-breaks…

In my thirties, my fantasies turned to domination, of the sort of which occupy the web-pages of this site. These are the fantasies that have since become my everyday reality. The entire purpose of BDSM is to provide a framework for fantasies to be safely made real, and honestly we’ve done a pretty thorough job of that. I have not much further use for fantasy in my journey, because I have a partner who not only isn’t repulsed by my twisted thoughts, but is also actively interested in bringing those scenes to life. I deal in memories these days more than fantasies, and it’s so much better than even my actively depraved imagination could have thought up…