Fantasy-free minds are barren. When a woman told me that she never fantasizes, my first inclination was not to believe her. How is it possible not to fantasize? But as I am the equivalent of a psychological rat terrier, when I sniff out something interesting, I must rip my prey from its hiding place. I have insisted that the fantasy-free woman, as her open pussy spread before my mouth and tongue, reveal to me everything that floated through her mind as I was licking her to an orgasm. I wanted to know what images, what sensations, what feelings, what backdrops unfolded in her mind. What I found was that for such a woman, sex was, as it was for 99% non-human female mammals, just sensation. Most female mammals go into heat, which produces an itch-like irritation in their reproductive organs, which the male effectively scratches, and just as scratching an itch feels good, the sex feels good to the female animal. But there is only physical sensation.
So what I discovered, after much questioning and probing of many women, was that each woman falls on somewhere on a broad spectrum, where at one end no fantasy whatsoever plays out in the mind; and at the other end, reality contributes less than 1% to the sexual experience, the remaining 99% existing in a dream world. For example, some women have told me that they do fantasizes, it's just that the fantasy is identical with reality, her mind fills with the image of me eating her or me fucking her.
Moving a little further to the right, some women have described the vaguest fantasies; for example, she imagines a masked man raping her. I ask what does the man look like and she replies, "just a masked man." I persist, "Is he black or white or Asian? Is he even human or a vampire or a alien or a monster or a spirit? Is he short or tall, strong or frail, young or old, clean or dirty, bald or thick haired, are his hands smooth or rough, is his cock long or short, is fat or skinny, how hard is his cock, how hot is it against your skin, what color is its cock head, what does his breath smell like, how is he breathing, what is he saying, what does his voice sound like, deep or high, threatening or seductive, does he know you, why is he wearing a mask, is he someone you would recognize, is he hiding a handsome or ugly face under the mask, has he followed you, what is he wearing, where does he grab you, how does he overwhelm you, what prevents you from escaping, what are your surroundings, are you at home, in bed, elsewhere, outside or inside, who else is nearby, who is watching, who can help, do you want to be saved, what is he doing right now to your body, how are you positioned, what do you feel right now, is it shame, anger, fear, lust, embarrassment, anguish, pain, humiliation, degradation, ecstasy, bliss, delight, or do you feel soiled, dirtied, abused, violated, or do you feel sexually alluring, enthralling, is he raping you because he must, because your body compels him to, why is he raping you, what will he do when he is spent, what will you do?
And after the long interrogation, I was told that just some vague, anonymous masked man is raping her, nothing more. And I believe her. Imagination is like muscles, some are strong, others weak. Her imagination was feeble and pathetic, alas. The sad fact is that many take pride in their stodgy, turgid, tedious, and colorless imaginations. They see themselves as being solid, practical, constant, open-eyed, grounded in reality individuals. As far as I am concerned, however, the greatest poverty is that of imagination. And I don't just mean sex-related imagination.
I had girlfriend who fantasized exclusively about robots and aliens raping her. (I assumed that all the robots were male, but who knows). One women I knew had nothing but forced-public-nudity fantasies, where she was forced to strip naked and stand in front of a large window in a business building on a crowded street or that her house caught on fire and she escapes, standing naked with the crowd watching the fire be put out...
The fascinating thing is that what we find sexually stimulating is often something we cannot do; for example, all the men who think of nothing but lesbians licking the night away can never be a lesbian and the women lusting for robots that do not exist. I am sure that following the success of Harry Potter books, there are those who exclusively fantasize of having sex with centaurs.