The fantasy dinner party

Image by the amazing Stuart F Taylor

It’s pretty rare that someone shares an exact fantasy of mine, right down to every sticky detail. I think the same is true for most of us, which is why those ‘top fantasies’ surveys are usually far too broad to be useful on an individual basis. X per cent of men fantasise about having a threesome – big deal. Who is the threesome with? What happens during it? What’s the atmosphere like? Is the main participant a passive receptacle for the sexual whims of the other two, or are they an active and eager consumer, sampling whatever deviant delights they are offered? Is this threesome in a specific place, or are specific words said? When you get down to the granular detail of a fantasy, it’s incredibly rare to find someone who shares something identical, in every possible respect.

So, when I tell you that I once explained this fantasy to someone, and watched their eyes light up with gleeful enthusiasm, as they told me they had exactly the same desire, I hope you can understand just how rare that was. And how utterly soaked I was by the time they’d finished explaining exactly why they liked it too.

The fantasy dinner party

A group of guys sit down for a meal. They’re a bit drunk, quite boisterous but not in a gleeful way: in an obnoxious, city-boy way. The kind that click their fingers for another drink rather than addressing me directly, and make lewd comments about me when I bend over to pick up the forks they’ve deliberately let slip to the floor.

My job is to serve them. Dinner and… well… whatever else they want.

Some time between the main course and dessert, the guy at the head orders me onto my knees under the table. I comply immediately. The other guys around the table accept it like it’s par for the course. As they continue their conversation, guy at the head reaches down to unzip his flies, pulling out a semi-hard dick and casually squeezing it. I’m pretty crowded under there – legs and feet spread out, nonchalant and brazen. I can hear, muffled slightly by the table and the cloth and my own pounding arousal, that the people above are talking casually. Despite his cock growing hard in his hand, the guy at the head is chipping in to the discussion.

I watch him as he removes his hand from his cock, angles himself better to display it to me, then reaches down and snaps his fingers.

I go to work. It’s somehow understood, yet entirely unspoken, that part of my role in the evening is to suck him under the table. My wet lips should be as willing and unquestioning as my steady hands were when I poured him a glass of wine.

Importantly – crucially for this fantasy – my mouth around his prick should be acknowledged with the same degree of careless nonchalance as any other service I’ve provided: i.e. barely. The odd sigh of satisfaction, perhaps, as I push my head down right to the base of his dick. Maybe a murmured ‘good girl’ or a quick hand on the back of my head, shoving me further down, but no more.

When he gives a final stifled grunt, and shoots ropes of spunk into the back of my throat, he expects me to wipe him clean with my tongue and hands, before zipping up his trousers and moving round the table.

So the evening goes on.

Hands, mouth, tongue… round and round the group of men who sit at the table. Each of them with his own quirks and preferences which I, as a good host, should be expected to remember. This one likes it softer. This one wants to thrust up and back into me as he gets nearer the end. One of them drags me with rough efficiency by the hair, out from under the table, so he can look into my eyes as he empties himself onto my face.

All the while, they talk. Business, pleasure, the traffic on the A34: mundane and casual, barely acknowledging what I’m doing except for the odd comment or bark of laughter. They turned up to fill themselves with food, and empty whatever they have into whatever receptacle I’ll be good enough to provide, but none of them would stoop to something as crass as talking to me.

I choose the wines they drink, and the food they eat, and I anticipate each and every preference as I would with a group of fussy diners in a Michelin-starred restaurant. In the same vein, I give them whatever else they want too – whether it’s a quick squeeze of my lace-clad bottom as I stand by them to serve dessert, a swift and efficient hand job under the table, or whatever else happens to take their fancy.

Remember I said someone else shared this fantasy? The thing that made me so excited was that they shared the same desire for exactly that atmosphere: one of pleasuring strangers you borderline hate, for rewards that are vague and undesirable. They shared not just the fantasy of the physical – getting a faceful of spunk under the table at a dinner party – but the air of indifferent use too.

At the end of the fantasy dinner party, as I clear away the plates and straighten out my clothes, I hear them taking their leave. The wine has opened the discussion a bit, and they make lewd comments and comparisons, that type of kiss-and-tell banter that implies none of the participants want to admit how much they enjoyed it. The guys around the table had a hell of a lot of fun, but they’re taking it all for granted because it’s so much cooler to pretend that it meant nothing. I served them, and they accept my service as if it’s their due.

I, on the other hand, standing with a dirty dishcloth in my hand and the memories already dripping through my knickers, feel less like the used and more like the user. I may have done what they asked, but I was the one who got exactly what I wanted.

If you liked this you’ll probably also like this sofa-gang-bang fantasy, which comes from a similar place. 


  • Katrina says:

    Based on a lot of legitimate sociological research I have looked at, a majority of people–both male and female–have fantasies of being with absolute strangers. For as long as I can remember, I have always had a fantasy of meeting a stranger and being told what to do, just like you describe above. Nonetheless, I have never talked to anyone in person who had expressed a fantasy like this. I look around everyday and see the masses, and I always realize that each of them has fantasies that they would probably never, ever admit to anyone.

  • beny says:

    Where’s the sexual pleasure for you in this…?

    • Girl on the net says:

      Do you mean physically? I don’t think all sexual stuff needs to be specifically focused on my clit in order to be enjoyable. A lot of the hotness of this fantasy comes from the atmosphere, the scenario, and having dudes come in my mouth. Hmm. I’m struggling to answer this question, tbh, because I feel like the hotness is explained in the post. It’s not for everyone, but it’s one of my favourites.

  • SpaceCaptainSmith says:

    Is it so uncommon? Maybe it’s the kind of websites I visit, but I get the impression that the ‘service fantasy’ is pretty widespread. Perhaps not exactly like this one, but plenty of people, male and female, apparently like the idea of being a maid/servant/sex toy/etc to a group of strangers. (And yeah, I’ll include myself there.)

    And while I realise the point of fantasies isn’t to live them out, this actually seems like one of the easier ones to bring to life. (Certainly easier than that giantess one from the other week!) All you’d need is the dinner party stuff, and a few blokes willing to play their part…

    • Girl on the net says:

      The service fantasy isn’t uncommon, it’s the detail- it’s rare (in my experience) to find someone whose fantasy shares the same atmosphere, actions, details, etc.

  • AHZ says:

    I’ve read variations on this one is at a dom’s house where it’s the hosts wife under the table and another is it a restaurant and the guy who makes any indication that he’s coming has to pay for everyone’s meals.

  • TheHorseLord says:

    So basically you want to be in that scene in The Riot Club where they hire Natalie Dormer to suck them all off under the table but actually do it?

    • Girl on the net says:

      I haven’t seen that film, but maybe. It wouldn’t be much of a blog if my posts just consisted of me going “I want to bang like they do in this film” though.

    • SpaceCaptainSmith says:

      If you’ll excuse me, I need to go watch The Riot Club now. :)

  • Rachel says:

    Well… Should have known by now not to read this whilst on the train!

    I love the idea of being just another dinner party accessory – worthy of less notice than what was paid to the food. I was expecting this to end with a gang bang over the table, but am almost more glad it didn’t. That complete denial of what you want, and providing pleasure only to others… It’s SO hot!!

  • Pent says:

    So who was the person who shared this exact fantasy? Your partner, a friend, someone you met in a pub? Is that not important?

    • Girl on the net says:

      I’m not sure it’s *massively* important, but it was an acquaintance. I didn’t know him really well, but clearly we shared some stuff in common =)

  • Rachel says:

    This is incredible as always, and absolutely one of my ultimate fantasies. That feeling of being totally used, in much the same way as someone would use a masturbatory aid, simply to fulfil their pleasure, is such an all consuming thought for me. Yes, I probably need help

  • Steve says:

    Lovely story!. Walking around in my timber shop with a hot erection jammed down my overalls, lovely!.

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