Fantasy of love

Some time when I was in school, I had begun to play a secret game: at night I would transport myself into a world of make belief where I became the only object of affection. Sometimes I would be a coy Indian bride, sometimes a slut. It didn't matter; at the end I made myself feel so sexy, the game became addictive.

I don't remeber how long I played that game alone. But I never tired of it. That was till I met RG. The nameless other of my fantasies was replaced by the man I was falling in love with. And I continued to play my fantastical games till I could physically be with RG. My world of make belief disappeared into a lovely reality. And my games died a natural death. I could now live out my fantasies in flesh and blood.

So many years later, I felt the need to revive my secret game - it had been more satisfying than real life. But going back to that nameless, faceless person was not easy. I kept harking back to RG even in my imaginary world and kept getting disappointed.

Last night, I finally managed it. I let myself believe I was desirable once again, sexy too. Or that there was someone who found me so. When RG got into bed next to me, I decided to live out my fantasy, hoping it would come true, that he would want me like the man in my dreams.

It didn't happen. I was so stupid to think that my world of imagination could be anything else.

It crushed me. The man I loved could not reciprocate my passion the way he had only a few years ago. I wasn't looking for sex, just a little love that would make me glow all over again. Was that to be only my secret game?