masturbation montage

A snapshot of a moment.
The women of my dreams, the fodder of my fantasies.
I'm not talking about wistful longings for some ideal woman. These are the women i think of when i touch myself, in this crystallized moment in time. The women i dream of loving, when dreams are all there is.
In one way, these women, and the thousands who have had their place, are more substantial than women i've loved in reality. I am one of those humans who has been alone in sexuality more often than not. There are people who have always had some kind of significant other in their lives, such that they've never even known who they are when they're not with someone.
I've lived closer to the other end of that spectrum.
So just in terms of accumulated psychic memory, the women of my fantasies have weighed more prominently than the real ones. There is overlap, of course... (or perhaps not of course, as one person's fantasy life can be radically different from another's) ...the women of my fantasies have always been women i've known, and some of these women have been more than fantasy.
In a snapshot of this variety, the picture is far from complete. In a moment of ecstasy, unexpected women can pop into your head. I almost entitled this article "my women", but it's more accurate to say that i am theirs (whether or not they want me).
If you're expecting rhyme or rationality in the choice of women who creep into my head, you'll soon be disappointed.
There's Thach-Giao, a client i did a moving job for months back. She's a cancer researcher, and not my usual physical type. But there was something so gentle and touching about her, that for weeks afterward i was filled with strange daydreams...of making love in her empty apartment, standing behind her as she leaned on a table...of giving her children, and raising them as she spent her days curing melanomas...of always being there when she got home, to rub her and love her. I sent her an e-mail last week, thanking her for her generosity on moving day, and offering my friendship if she's ever in New York. She didn't respond.
There's A, my last lover. We broke up months ago, for sound reasons. I imagine going to her, and holding her. I imagine the ways i'd kiss her, and pour my body into hers for another healing slice of eternity. Her presence is there when i try to be with someone new. Part of the reason i've held back from any new consummation has been because of some sad fidelity not of my choosing (though i don't fool myself into thinking that i might not meet someone tomorrow who could make me forget all that). I miss A, she's pushed me 99.9% out of her life...
There's M, a woman i've known a few months. She's very sexual and impulsive, and wants me as her lover, with no expectations. We watch West Wing together. She's never had intercourse which didn't hurt, and i think of how wonderful it could be to be the man with a slow hand she's not had. But my spirit becomes fractured when i'm with her, and i know i don't have the kind of strength and patience she needs. She has a submissive side, which isn't me, and she would hate that i was sexually attracted to her sister-in-law. In my raw state, being around her might be sufficient to melt my resolve, but the thought of being careless or destructive pushes me into solitude, even though a part of me longs to live up to the free love ideals i've often championed. If it seems like i'm lionizing myself, it's also possible that if she were more my physical type, i wouldn't have been holding back. Or maybe even if she didn't live all the way up in the forsaken Bronx.
And finally Mindy, whom i met at the natural foods show last week in Boston. She worked for another vendor. She was young, and not at all my type at first glance...she seemed pretty far from Mensa, perhaps shallow, and she wore eye makeup. But she also seemed genuinely happy to talk with me (if you've ever been to a food show, you know sincerity is as rare as a two-tongued Turk). We shared a moment every time i passed her booth. By the end of the show, i was dreaming of taking her to some corner of the convention center, and making beautiful fucking. In my fantasies, she'll have a short shelf life.
The women of my dreams, on this day...