F. was aware of my fantasies very early on in our relationship. She accepted that I had them and did not judge me adversly (at least not overtly) for them, but she was quite clear about how they disturbed her. Naturally I didn't press the point (ouch) but it came up upon occasion as an 'academic' conversation.
She herself maintained that she had no fantasies at all. She liked good old fashioned sex, frequent and long sessions of uninhibited, wild and passionate sex. She never gave a clue as to being interested in anything even slightly out of the norm.
One day well into our relationship (a good year and a half) I came home to find her even more amourous than usual. (A difficult feat.) She was in the middle of preparing supper and so I didn't tear her clothes off and use up the night, at least not right away. We exchanged a good number of hugs and kisses and some heavy petting while she worked at the stove. Finally things had to simmer a bit and we sat down.
She looked at me shyly and very hesitantly said, "You know Peter, I do have one fantasy."
I lept at this, never dreaming for a second what was about to come. I had long insisted that she must have some sort of fantasy, some little daydream or situation that she might like to try enough to wonder about it. I figured that this was what she ment. Even so, this was great as far as I was concerned as her happiness was even more important to me than my own.
Excitedly I asked, "That's great, tell me. What is it?"
She changed her mind about saying more and shook her head. I excitedly begged her and kept at it till finally she said, "My fantasy is that one day, you really will shoot me in my belly." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I stared in dumbfounded amazement! That was the last thing I ever expected to hear her say.
She adamantly refused to talk about it after saying that much and I didn't want to ruin a good thing by being too pushy, so after trying a bit to get her to open up, I stopped trying. But I remembered and over time, she started very occasionally to volunteer (herself, without my initiation) to play out a few bits of my fantasy with me. I never pressed for more, remembering how it used to bother her and figuring that she had told me what she did because she knew how much it would excite me. (She knew me well.)
I will however always remember how curious a look I got from her one day. I told her one morning after she had dressed that while we had made love, I had had a knife under the pillow. She looked at me with a smile.
"Doesn't that bother you?" I asked, "Doesn't it make you afraid?"
It was a most curious look she gave me when she shook her head and said with a questioning lilt, "No... ?"
I've always wondered about that.