I am, generally speaking, not much given to fantasising. I don’t really go in for the “celebrity crush” thing. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t some celebrities that I find attractive, but finding someone attractive and “fancying” someone in a sexual way are too entirely different things.
In as much as I do fantasise about people, I focus on “real” people. I don’t mean that celebrities aren’t real people, but just that I only know them by their celebrity personae, and the characters they portray. They aren’t real to me in any tangible way.
The people I fancy are in my everyday life. I’ve had the occasional unrequited “thing” for a co-worker, there was one of my son’s teachers in primary school, there have been the women who have served me in shops and pubs, people I’ve sat across from on trains, or in cafes. Some of those women have been known to me, and know me; others were strangers to me. They all had at least two things in common:
- They existed in my everyday life; and
- I never told them that I thought about them in “impure” ways.
As I said, I’m not one that is much given to fantasy, so any imaginings were more of the simple “I wouldn’t mind doing…” or the “I’d love her to…” kind of thing than visualising elaborate scenes where we got down to such things.
Have I ever had sex with someone famous? No, but the brother of the girlfriend I had in my final year at school did go on to play football professionally.
Have I ever had sex with someone whose name I didn’t know? Only once, and it was more that she had sex with me. During my student days. It was a party, we were drunk. She had dark hair, a wicked grin and more than a flash of mischief in her eye. She asked me if I’d like my cock sucked. I said yes, so she did just that. No foreplay or anything else. She simply unzipped and released me, sucked me until I came, swallowed, said “Thank you” and that was it. I never saw her again, and I never did find out her name.