Every Damn Day in June 2019 Wicked Wednesday

The Object of Another’s Desire

naked Kayla Lords lounging on a bed with a towel draped over her body

Since I was very young, I’ve had a vivid imagination. I can create entire scenarios and even worlds in my head. (Translating them onto paper or screen is the hard part.) I also imagine entire conversations — often ones that will never, ever happen. I have lived in a fantasy world of my own making from a very early age.

Once I discovered sex, some of those fantasies became sexual. Not very often in the beginning. Over the years, they intensified, and becoming near daily occurrences in my twenties — especially while I was unhappily married.

I wasn’t having the sex I wanted to have, but I could envision it in my head. Or, more to the point, I could envision the person fucking me in my head. Sadly they often looked like the covers of the romance novels I hid from my mom when I was young. But sometimes they were every day people I saw on my commute or at work.

I began sex blogging as a way, in part, to get these fantasies out of my head and put them into words. The sharing was a one-way street, or so I thought. I put thoughts out into the world and others enjoyed them (or not) as it suited them. I mostly wanted to quiet my own mind. It never occurred to me that I might inspire a few fantasies for other people.

Me? Kind of plain, kind of boring, kind of dumpy, me? (Before I get any glares from the people who love me, I spent 30+ years thinking of myself this way — I might not think it now, but I certainly thought it then.)

My ego never swelled enough to believe lots of people considered me attractive or included me in their fantasies. But it’s easier (for me) to take a sexy picture or share an intimate moment when I know someone else gets something from it. That’s not the only reason for doing it. (If I relied on that kind of feedback on a consistent basis, I’d be miserable — and I’d have stopped sex blogging years ago.)

But I enjoy it when it happens. Sort of.

I enjoy it when it’s remote, at a distance. When the desire and fantasies are implied. When the other person is faceless, nameless, and across an internet connection.

Until they tell me. Until I get the message that says, “I saw this picture, and I think you’re amazing. I wanked to your naked body.”

Then it becomes too real and visceral. It’s also thrilling and a little scary — maybe that’s why I shy away from it. Because I don’t know what it means (if anything) or what’s expected (if anything), I don’t know what to do. What do I say? How do I react? Is there anything to do?

And I say this as an exhibitionist who gets naked at the BDSM club and loves being spanked in front of a crowd. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to be wanted by strangers. Desired from across the room. Fantasized about. When I dress up for John Brownstone, I play a little fantasy in my head that other random people will like what they see, too.

I love the fantasy of being wanted. The belief that someone, a stranger, will see me and want me. But the idea of fantasy made real is strange and foreign. I feel off balance and out of place. All my natural awkwardness reappears at the thought of it happening.

It’s a strange conundrum.

I don’t spend a lot of time fantasizing these days. And I promise this little musing isn’t because I think anyone in particular fantasizes about me. But I do find it odd that with such a vivid imagination and a willingness to display myself so fully (and hopefully erotically) from time to time, I don’t know how to handle being the object of someone else’s fantasies or desire.

For Wicked Wednesday, the prompt is fantasies, so I’m sure that’s where the real smut will be this week, ’cause it certainly isn’t here.

rainbow circle that says Wicked Wednesday

And I’m still writing every damn day in June, which is why you’re getting these kinds of random musings.

badge for every damn day in june blogging challenge

About the author

Kayla Lords

I am a sex blogger, podcaster, freelance writer, international speaker, kink educator, and all-around kinky woman. You can find me online sharing my innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, teaching other bloggers how to make money writing about sex, and helping kinksters have happy healthy BDSM relationships. I'm also a masochistic babygirl submissive with an amazing and sadistic Daddy Dom and business partner, John Brownstone. Welcome to my kinky corner of the internet!


  • Well, it’s a bit squicky, I think — or can be — to have someone be like, “I looked at a picture of your body and masturbated.” Because… Who is this person, exactly? And when did I consent to them involving me in their masturbatory sex life?

    Oh, right. I DIDN’T CONSENT.

    I get it that people may look at a blogger’s photos or read their stories and choose to fantasize in their direction (for lack of a better term). But there’s a line that gets crossed – again, *for me* – when they then think it’s cool to tell me all about it. (Unless ‘they’ are a lover or a friend or other-someone with whom I have already had some sort of permission/acceptance-giving conversation.)

    I recognize that people fantasize.

    But just as I wouldn’t walk up to the UPS driver currently delivering a package at the house across the street and say, “OhmyGOD, I had the most a.ma.zing orgasm last night thinking about how great those tan calves would look tied up in hemp…”

    Neither would (or should) I approach an internet stranger to discuss their photo’s effect on my cum mechanism.



    So that fantasy-made-real bit? In that way?

    Yeah, no.


    • I completely agree…and would never do that either, unless I knew I had the express consent of the other person — or asked for their consent. But I also wonder if people feel like they’re sharing something on a deeper level than the squicky-ness of it. As if they feel there’s a connection or a bond of some sort or that they think they’re showing appreciation and it’ll be flattering. I am glad to know I’m not the only one who feels weirded/yucked out by it, though. That certainly helps.

  • I read your piece, and found myself nodding, because when someone tells me they have masturbated to my image, it makes me feel very uncomfortable and I have no idea how to handle it. Then I read Feve’s comment and found myself nodding again. Indeed, I haven’t consented, and maybe that is why it makes me feel uncomfortable. But then again, by posting photos of ourselves, haven’t we consented that they can use it as masturbation fodder, but just not tell us about it? Hmmm, questions to ponder there, I think…

    Rebel xox

    • I think that’s where it gets tricky. I have no problem with what people do with my images (meaning if they get off to it, cool). But the sharing of that information definitely feels wrong to me. It doesn’t fit. Maybe because it’s not a thing I asked for, but I also understand that by putting it out there publicly, some people will feel that they’re making a connection or “returning the favor” of letting me know I’ve turned them on, or…something. But I don’t know how to handle it, even if the intentions are pure.

  • I agree, Marie. By putting them out there, we are offering them up to an audience. What are we expecting? That people ask first? That is silly. They will do what they want with our images. I just think the “telling” is what makes us uncomfortable, because how the fuck are we supposed to respond? How are they expecting us to respond?

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