When Vicki thought about their relationship, she had to admit that at times she just wasn't sure. She would beat herself up at the thought because it as certainly the most caring and close relationship she'd ever had with a man. He was funny, and tender in their moments together. It made her hate herself for not being satisfied.
She blamed all of her potential dissatisfaction on her own inner conflicts. She thought of them in various ways but most often just as her 'dirty thoughts'. This was her dilemma:
"How do you let some one with whom you are falling in love know that you'd like to be somehow, somewhere, sometime the sexual victim of a group of guys?"
The question just sat there and seemed to mock her, whenever she turned to it. In those times that they were together, she and Blaine, there was no conflict. But let her get alone, and she was always tempted to pull her panties down and let her fingers go roaming, as she pulled up from her thoughts those dark scenes of lust that pleased a part of her so much.
She spent time, her own alone time, with places like assm or asstr.org, or SOL or Literotica.com always looking for the right scenario, one that would meld with her fantasies, in essence 'her scenario'. It was hard to find but various of the erotica that she perused came dangerously close.
Her constant question was: "What does Blaine do, when he discovers that I'm a 'sicko'?"
It was perpetually the question for which she was afraid to receive the answer. It was also frequently, if not actually perpetually, the question in her mind.
"Admit it," she'd say to herself, "This relationship feels like home and family and working at building a best friend kind of relationship; so how do you tell your potential best friend, the father of your kids, your life companion that you have a desire to some how be pursued and forced like so many of the teacher at the hands of their students in the erotic stories?"
Her answer to herself was always the same: "Good question." She never seemed to go further, and was frequently morose at the thought that her own inner erotic drive was going to sabotage what she and Blaine were working at.
At such times she would cry out in her head: "Why isn't soft intimacy enough for me?"
She never got an answer.
Blaine was certainly at sea to discover what kind of appropriate birthday gift he might get her. He stumbled on the perfect gift quite by accident. He was waiting for her one night. She was frequently late. She kept telling him that she'd be there soon. He had asked if he might check his e-mail on her computer. She said to go ahead.
When he got onto her computer he found, really by accident, a log that turned out to be her personal 'Thoughts and Fantasies' log. He quickly looked around, could hear the shower still going in the bathroom, and sent a copy of the log to himself. He then erased the transaction.
Later that same night he got a chance to read through her fantasy log. He was initially shocked and then flat turned on by her admitting, in the log, that she constantly fantasized about being forced into sex with a group of guys. She spoke of fantasies about being sought out, put into situations where she would certainly be overpowered. Her language was graphic. She mentioned the web sites where she went seeking the kind of erotic stories that would feed her fantasy. She also spent some time writing of her regrets that she couldn't, hadn't maybe wouldn't share these fantasies with Blaine.
He ended jerking off to the scenarios that she sketched in her log, as she gave herself some room to let her mind wander about.
He thought about that and made a decision based on her own words about the birthday gift.
She yelled at herself then to 'get a move on', they were going to have a kind of breakfast or brunch date today, not usual for them, but it was a glorious Saturday and being outside was going to be a treat. She hastened to get ready, and was pleased to greet him at the door, when he arrived.
"Hey, Blaine," she cooed, moving into his arms.
"Hey, birthday girl," he said softly back to her.
"And how do you know?" she wanted to know then.
"Oh, Blaine knows lots of things," he grinned, "It's part of my charm."
She made a playful movement to knee his groin, causing him to flinch and protect himself; it ended with her grinning her most evil grin, and the two of them kissing. These playful moments were among the best, she always thought.
He leaned back from the kiss then and gave her a serious look.
"What? What is it, Blaine?" she asked, suddenly anxious.
"Well," he began, "I have a couple of birthday gifts, and I'm really not sure if you're going to like the one but I hope you will."
"Oh, Blaine," she said, her head against his chest, "If you're giving it, of course I'll like it."
"Well," he said, stroking her hair, "I'm just not sure; Vicky, if I'm wrong about what you and I can be, if I'm really wrong about what you want, then I apologize in advance, and this gift is probably going to be a mistake."
She looked at him then with a combination of anxiety and love on her face. "Please don't worry so, Blaine; this is you and me that we're talking about."
He brightened and said: "Okay, let's go; we're off to the country; I'll give you the gift there."
They drove into the country and it was a beautiful day to be out and about. He took her, after a bit, on a small side road that didn't look like it ever had much traffic. He stopped at a small road pull off, and parked the car.
She looked at him expectantly. He said to her with some nervousness:
"The gift will start here but I have to ask you to do a few things for me."
"Yes?" she said, smiling at him; she loved the mystery of it.
"First," he said, "I need you to get out of the car with me for a moment."
When they were out of the car, he put his arms around her and looked at her, again with earnestness and love; he said:
"Vicky, this is something that I really think you'll love; if I'm wrong, I tell you that I can't apologize enough. It's a real possibility that I'm about to make the biggest fool of myself imaginable."
""I wish you'd stop worrying so," she said to him softly.
"Fine, love," he concluded, "Now here it is, for the duration of this 'birthday gift' I need you to promise to do everything that I tell you to do. Do you understand?"
She grinned and said: "Yes, mister mysterious!"
There was a part of her thoughts that surged right then and there into her favorite sex fantasy, the one like the medieval tapestry of mounted men hunting a fleeing naked woman with dogs in the chase. Victoria shoved the thought down and promised herself to consult it later. This right here and now was serious business.
"Okay, Vicky," he went on, "Just to tell you that when these kinds of situations in our lives come up, I'm going to call you Tori, it'll be a kind of sign to both of us."
"What kind of situations?" she wanted to know.
"You'll understand shortly; the gift starts now but remember to do what I tell you."
"I promise, Blaine," she said solemnly.
His smile came back to his face but the anxiety was there. He certainly hoped that she was as intent about her fantasies, as she seemed to be in that log. He apparently was about to reveal this big birthday surprise, and was still nervous about it.
"Tori," he began then.
The use of the name kind of gave Victoria a surge; she couldn't explain it but it turned her on somehow, it was like her name for a game to be played, and maybe that's what he had in mind.
He broke in on her reverie and what he said shocked her, to her toes, stabbed her with a hot intensity that she hardly thought possible, thrilled her in a part of herself that she thought would always lie dormant until she was alone in the dark, and threatened to make her cry simply from the possibilities that it hinted at.
"Tori," he said, "I want you to strip now; I want you naked, totally naked."
And then she was panting; she was spontaneously out of breath, with hardly an explanation, but she knew well enough. He had, in one stroke, reached down inside of her and grasped the secret dreams and desires, the ones that she spent so much time both hiding from him, and making her nights alone wet with, and he had taken possession of them. Suddenly her fantasies, her wet dreams, were their common property.
"It should be a shock," an inner voice said to her, but she knew better; she knew that it was not a shock but a wonder.
"What's wrong?" he wanted to know, when he saw her so suddenly out of breath and panting.
"Oh, Blaine," she said softly but earnestly, "It's just that, when you said what you just said, I almost had an orgasm! I just almost did!"
Blaine was smiling from ear to ear; for the first time in this perilous 'gift idea' he was sure that he was right. The log had not, indeed, led him astray.
"Please," she said to him, --but in the middle of the statement that she was about to make, she realized that she was going to ask him, no, beg him to continue with what he had planned, and she loved the idea.
"Please, Blaine, I'm begging you; say that to me again, make the statement again, the demand again. Please, please, darling."
Blaine gave her his wicked smile, the one that never failed to make her wet, although she didn't see how she could get wetter, he said to her:
"Strip, Tori, take all your clothes off, do it now!"
.... There is more of this story ...