Real Fantasies

I was proud to be an open minded provider who applied the intimate lessons to personal life. I had learned that men constantly thought of sex and wanted to have sex with just about anyone. I wanted to match my mindset to what I had learned about the sexual appetite of men. “Think expansively,” I told myself when I wanted to introduce a new sexual song scenario with a “regular,” or someone I saw frequently. I decided the best way to successfully introduce an element of surprise would be to turn fantasies into reality. In addition to appearing creative I would have a chance to show how cool I was about involving other people. In truth, the idea of other people in the bedroom made me uncomfortable But I was we elmong feelings for this client and I very much wanted him to see me as a cut above others. I mentally reviewed the fantasies he had shared with me and chose one that I felt most comfortable with.Yes, I had just the thing! My client/friend, the person I was “hanging out” with, always had a lot of suggestions for me about how I. Pumehana improve my technique when I gave him very personal attention. He had wondered aloud if I was more skilled than a gay man who had much more practice than ne and who had the added advantage of knowing from personal experience what felt good. I had responded that we should do a blind taste test, as shown on soft drink commercials I saw as a child. People on the street were given small cups of I identified soda and asked to choose the better drink–Pepsi versus Coke. Wouldn’t it be fun to blindfold New York friend and hav him experience my attention and the guy’s attention and choose whom he preferred. If it was done well it would be obvious which of us was more skilled.
I felt quite self-congratulatory as I made the arrangements. I could hardly wait for the appointed time but finally I revealed that a person was on his way over and the taste test plan was in motion.
“He’s coming here? Now?” My friend looked appalled.
“I thought that was what you wanted! You said that would be the best?” My feelings were hurt in spite of telling myself everything was all in good casual fun.
“Those are just fantasies. Fantasies are only good if you make like you are going to do them.”
“That’s why I invited the guy! So we could do it. I thought you pretty much gave me permission.”
“Common sense should’ve told you I didn’t mean for real for real.”
I had been foiled again by the elusive thing called common sense that told everyone but me how to proceed. As I called the guy you cancel I reflected upon the irony of failed communication when both conversationalists are open, honest and interested. The moral of the story–for some, fantasizing is like window shopping. For others fantasizing is an actual roadmap with a real destination. Always best to know which camp you and your partner(s) fall into.


Published by X-Streetwalker Turned Sex Talker

Caroleena used to be a drug addicted hooker on streets of downtown Honolulu in the early years of the 21st century. She was not the only learned streetwalker among the sex worker addicts. This group would have been a liberal college admissions officer's dream of diversity seeing as how they represented such a wide range of ages, races, family types, locations of origin, education levels, and gender identities. The two constants were trauma and dependency. Everyone out there had experienced life altering trauma which spurred them to seek refuge in drugs. Addiction was the unexpected phenomenon that kept them stuck in the dope. This downtown area was different from other drug saturated areas of America in one important way. The U.S. is the most violent country in the world, but in this corner of the nation there were no street gangs, no gun violence. You wouldn't get shot but you were probably going to be beaten up and robbed at some point. Interpersonal violence between intimate partners, friends, and family members was viewed as a natural part of being close to people. "Domestics" was something an individual brought upon herself or himself by causing problems in an interpersonal relationship. Caroleena, the perennial pariah even among society's rejects, had no intimate associates who might harm her. Prostitution was not as risky on Oahu as it was most everywhere else because the island was just too small. Everyone was somehow connected to everyone else with only something like two degrees of separation. You commit a crime, someone will know who you are and someone else will know how to find you. Hookers rarely got killed. Honolulu's relative safety allowed Caroleena over 10 years of street longevity until the scene ended when authorities started arresting men for allegedly soliciting undercover police for sex and posting their pictures on the evening news. tells Caroleena's adventures during her decade of addiction and its consequences--homelessness, prostitution, drug dealing, incarceration, family destruction, the list goes on. Every story relates events Caroleena experienced, witnessed, or imagined. The tale of this outcast is skillfully and paradoxically told in the language of the elite. The wording of the posts is itself a testimony to the wide grip that addiction has on all levels of society, even impacting the privileged who were previously thought to be immune to the troubles of the lower class. During these days of opiate addiction maybe she can answer some questions and present applicable solutions. If not, you are still in for a hell of a good read.

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