The second hottest sexual moment of my life was during a one-night stand with an uncomfortably older man while I was working on a film in Idaho. He had me facedown on the bed with him on top, grinding his cock hard between my buttocks, grinding my clit into the bedsheets as almost a side effect to his pleasure. He was much bigger than me and his body covered mine, pinning me, almost smothering. His face was right at my ear and he was whispering his fantasies.
"If you were my girlfriend I'd get a buttplug and make you wear it all day, to work and everything, and as soon as you could take it I'd get a bigger one, and bigger, and make you stretch that little ass out and I wouldn't care if everyone knew and I wouldn't care if it hurt. You'd LIKE it if it hurt."
The content was almost beside the point. The point was his frantic whisper, and the absolute purity of his fantasy. It wasn't something he'd made up to please me or watered down to spare himself embarassment. He was speaking straight from the dirt in his head, this ridiculous, impractical, cruel, disgusting place where a girl crying from anal tearing is so hot it makes you quiver.
Every guy I've been with since, I've asked "what are your fantasies?" and they've lied. They've paused too long and then said "just really enthusiastic sex, I guess" or something lame like that. Maybe it's true, maybe not everyone has a dark place to speak from.
But if a man does, I want to hear it. You think I'll be disgusted? You think I'll judge you? You should hear what I'd whisper in your ear, if I had the courage.