One of the fun parts of having a regular sex life (still a novelty to me! I had one at about 15-16, then a massive drought until a few months ago) is the planning.
"Hey Holly, want to hang out? Are you free Saturday afternoon?"
"Yep, totally. See you then!"
Hearing that on a Tuesday night (does that violate The Rules? I hope so, The Rules are an immature sexist game-playing manipulation manual.) gives me three days to think about it. That we willl fuck is a given. I'm always in the mood and so are the guys. It's only a question of how.
Maybe I'll catch him right at the door. Pleasantries and drinks can wait; I'll step right in and close the door by slamming him up against it, kissing him roughly, giving him only scant seconds to catch his breath before dropping to my knees and opening his fly, just the fly so we can still be fully clothed as I take his cock into my mouth. I'd try to do it right then and there, keep going until he was writhing back against the door and see if I can't make him have his first orgasm of the night (there are always more) right then and there on the threshold.
Or maybe I won't end it there, maybe he wouldn't finish fast enough for heat and surprise alone to carry us and then I'd still be in charge, I wouldn't say a thing but I'd take hold of his cock and lead him by his pecker to the bed, where I'd rip both our pants off--shirts can stay, there's something brutal and urgent about fucking in t-shirts--and crouch over his face only as long as necessary, only until I started craving something harder and more forceful. And then I'd move down his body and take it for myself, penetrate myself on his cock and lean forward so I can move my whole body in long lithe strokes over his.
And then, after we'd both come and we were soaked in sweat and stinking of sex, we could say hello, get a snack, listen to some music, you know, start the night.
You'll notice that except for getting aroused on cue, the man is totally passive in my scenarios. That's why I never get to actually carry out my detailed plans. The tricky little buggers always turn it around on me and take it their own way. Then again, I've never let a man have a night exactly the way he planned it. It always goes our way, a way that's always a delightful surprise to both of us even though we create it together.
What's better than living out your fantasy? Living something you couldn't even fantasize.