Her Kink

Nicolas Ladino Silva

“What’s your kink?” Steve asked. He was breathing heavily, lying on his back. His right hand was resting on his bare chest. She was lying on her side with her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t really have any,” she said. She hated this conversation. They all asked. Every man she was ever with asked her this. Every single one of them wanted to know what she fantasized about, wanted to know what secret kinky thing she desired. They wanted to listen to her describe said kink in detail, like a phone sex operator. They wanted to imagine themselves fulfilling it. Or at least, imagine her fulfilling it.
“Come on,” he said, giving her a squeeze. She could feel the faint thumping of his heart through his skin, even in his shoulder. His whole body was still softly pounding to recover from the orgasm she’d just given him. They had fulfilled one of his fantasies, moments ago.

She’d tied him to the bed, called him a terrible boyfriend, a selfish boyfriend without any self control. She was stern and believable. She insulted him and he tried to be offended but he was delighted. “Tell me more,” he insisted. “I am a bad man.” He assured her. “You are a very bad man,” she repeated. She was doing her best. This was hard for her. She didn’t want to see him this way. She didn’t want to disappoint him either.
Then she teased him, from head to toe, getting him aroused then refusing to let him cum. She brought him close then backed up. Edging is what he called it. She was an eager student. Finally, she got out the vibrator and teased him with it, running it around his asshole, lubing it up then gently sliding it in.

He was sweating, breathing heavy. His legs were trembling. He was so close.

“Don’t you dare cum, you asshole.” She’d said to him firmly, the way he liked it. When his thighs started to tremble, she pulled it out and scolded him. Then she left him there, tied up while she waited for his release to retreat. She remained fully clothed. He loved it. He loved the torture of knowing he would have his desire fulfilled. When he was calm again, breathing slower, she started again and gave him exactly what he wanted.
He was still naked. She was still dressed. The air was still thick with heat and sex. She was even wearing her socks and bra. How strange to be lying in bed with her bra on. The things we do for each other.

She had no interest in this. It didn’t appeal to her — the games, the insults, acting like she was someone she wasn’t. She didn’t want to dominate him, or insult him. She didn’t want to tie him up. But she did want to please him, so she did it. All the men she’d met, broken men, exhausted men, lonely men, were filled with unfulfilled sexual fantasies they couldn’t wait to explore with her. It was finally their time, they said. As if there were a line and eventually we would each get a turn. They couldn’t get enough of her willingness to please. They couldn’t get enough of their own fantasies. They couldn’t get enough of themselves. She was a prop.
“Two men at once?” he asked, with noticeable glee in his voice. “Two women? Come on. Tell me what your fantasy is. Let’s do it!”

“Love is my kink,” she said.

He laughed. “You’re a riot!” he said. “That’s not very kinky,” he said. “That’s basically the opposite of kink.” He paused, then lit up again, giving her another squeeze against him. “Sex in a public place? We could fuck near the river. Wait! Oh! We could fuck ON the river! In a boat!”

His imagination was spinning with ideas. He started rubbing his hand against her, absentmindedly, the way someone would drum fingers. The excitement was reverberating through him and making him move.

What’s the point in fantasizing about something you can easily obtain? She thought to herself, again. Sex was easy. Whatever she wanted, sexually, she could have. It was nothing. Two girls and a guy? No problem. Two guys and a girl? No problem. Tie her up? Tie him up? Outfits, bondage, props, charades, public, private, charades, parades, bells, whistles, BINGO! Just a swipe or two, a text or two and it was all available within a day.
She wanted what she could not have.

A cup of hot coffee delivered to her bedside in the morning. An arm around her watching a movie. Two arms around her, holding her from behind, swaying to the music at a concert. “I’ll take care of it,” texted to her when she forgot something. A kiss on her forehead when she leaves. A kiss on the lips when she comes home. “I’ve got this,” said with confidence when she’s overwhelmed. A pat on the behind when she’s walking past. A glass of her preferred wine waiting at the table while she was in the restroom. The oil changed on time. “Are you hungry? Would you like some water? Are you okay? Do you need anything? How can I help you?” Those words spoken with meaning would turn her on, wind her up, set her loose. In her dreams.

A hug out of nowhere. Someone to tell the random things she thinks during a day. Someone to tell her random things. “You look beautiful,” when she’s made an attempt to look beautiful. “I remember that,” because they shared a memory. Because he wasn’t new. Because he didn’t disappear. Because he stayed. Because he stuck it out. Someone to fucking stick it out. “I understand,” because he does. He knows. A present she dropped a hint about. A present out of the blue. Someone to hold on to when the sirens scream by in the middle of the night. Someone to hold her if she gets a midnight call from family. Someone to meet her family.

Her lost keys that were just on the counter, under her nose that she couldn’t see because her head is filled with ideas and distractions. “Here they are,” dangling the keys. Relief. Just one moment of relief. That had to be a kink. What app can she download to swipe and get just a fucking minute’s relief from everything weighing down on her? She wanted that app.

Coins for the meter. Cash for the parking garage. Someone who knows where she parked. Someone to stand with in the check out line and joke about the magazine covers. Someone just to stand with. Even that. My God just someone to stand with her! Impossible to find.

She could find someone to cover her in chocolate and lick it off while three people watched and an orchestra played Johannes Brahms with a disco light but for the life of her she could not find someone who would stand with her in the checkout lane, look her in the eye, how are you, you look nice. Couldn’t that be a kink? she wants to know. Is there a section on fetlife for chores? Let’s rake the leaves together. I’ll fill the tank, you wash the windshield together. Let’s each hold one side of the queen sized fitted sheet so it could be folded neatly. Let’s make a list of what needs to get done and tackle it together. If I forget anything you tell me, that was her fucking kink.

She understood, now, why men would hire a prostitute just to talk. She never used to believe it but she believes it now. It’s the things that should be easy that are hardest to obtain. It’s the feeling we want but we can not have. It’s the simplest expressions that cost the most. She’d been prepaying in hopes her turn would come. Her love was on layaway, cost to be determined. She was over drafted, nearly bankrupt. She’d spent and over spent. Borrowed and spent more. She couldn’t even see the front of the line. Her turn for love would not come. It was getting farther and farther away. Wrong line, she thought. I’m in the wrong line.

“We could to to one of those sex parties,” Steve said. “I could watch you have sex with another couple. You could watch me go down on another woman. What do you think? Does that sound hot? That is so hot.”

“Sure,” she said. “If that’s what you want.”

His phone buzzed and he checked it. He groaned. “I better get going.” He rolled to his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Come on now. Don’t leave me hanging. What is your wildest fantasy? Your craziest. Even your tamest. I don’t care. Just tell me what turns you on. If you could have one thing, anything, what would it be.”

He was grinning and alert. He was looking right at her.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Probably some kind of dirty talk.”

“Oh yeah?”

She had his attention. “You sure you want to know?”

“Of course! You’re torturing me! Tell me!”

“Okay,” she said. “But you can’t laugh.”

“I won’t. Oh my God, I won’t. How could I? After everything I’ve told you? I am in no position. I would not laugh. Now tell me you little minx! What do you want to hear? How dirty?”

“If I could have anything, I’d love to hear a guy say,” she paused for impact. “Everything is going to be okay.”

He shook his head. “Wait what? I think I missed something. What was the thing? I didn’t hear you.”

“Everything is going to be okay,” that’s it. That’s my kink.

He shook his head and chuckled. “You kill me! That’s funny. You got me. I should have known you weren’t going to tell me. He sat up on the edge of the bed and reached to the floor to put his pants on.

“It’s really not fair,” he said. “I’ve told you all my kinks. My darkest secrets. One of these days, you’ll have to tell me yours.”

“Okay,” she said. “Someday.”

“You keep me on my toes anyway. I never know what to expect from you. One of the things I like about you.”

“Thanks,” she said. “So, I was thinking about that concert, on the twenty third?”

“Oh, yeah that. I almost forgot. Yeah, I have a thing. Maybe one of your friends can go?”

He kissed her on the top of the head. “Call you tomorrow.” Then he left. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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