The rabbit hole of realising fantasies...

So;

Fantasy, by strict definition, ceases to be such once realised, however fantasising is perpetual in consciousness. Metaphorically, realising a fantasy is a textbook rabbit hole. How deep do you go? Can you stop? Are there stops? Is there an end? Where is it?

Once I fantasised about fucking a girl.
One day I fucked a girl. End of fantasy.
Then I fantasised about fucking another girl.
One day I fucked another girl. End of fantasy.
Then I fantasised about fucking a girl on a bus.
One day I fucked a girl on a bus. End of fantasy.
Then I fantasised about fucking a girl up the arse.
One day I fucked a girl up the arse. End of fantasy.
Then I fantasised about being in love with a girl.
One day I fell in love with a girl. End of fantasy.
Then I fantasised about fucking other girls while watching her being fucked by other guys.
One day, etc, end, next, one day, etc, end, next, one day, etc.
I find it a massive turn on to watch a girl I like get fucked, heaps, in turns.

Well, I used to.
Once she fucked the dog, that was it and one must define 'being civilised' and it was a little before that. Perhaps.

So. I couldn't really be fucked anymore. Couldn't be fucked fucking anything, it'll only ruin the fantasy. And fantasising turns me on...

Where does it end for you? Do you do what you do, that's it?