My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (4 page)

He rubs it some more, praises it to the men. By this point, my orgasm is beginning to build and when I am ready, I imagine him very slowly peeling my panties down my thighs. If I have not experienced my climax by now, I either repeat the fantasy from the point of the champagne glasses, or else I add to the ending a light spanking. During the spanking, he explains to the men that he enjoys seeing my white cheeks turn pink.

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This fantasy originated while I masturbated in the bathtub.

Now it gets used almost daily, if not in bed with my husband, in the tub with a well-aimed stream of water. I’m curious to know how long this one fantasy will suffice before it becomes boring.

I’m beginning to think that just the concept of this fantasy is what turns me on-sort of a reflex action. But as long as it works, it’s keeping our marriage – including our sex life – joyful.

[Letter]

INSUFFICIENCY

Before we go on to more provocative reasons for fantasy, positive reasons with which I personally identify but about which I still feel – even after putting together this book – an odd mix of excitement and anxiety, let me give you four more variations on this theme of frustration; it is one of the great and universal themes of sexual loneliness, one whose reality we can all understand. The first interview below is with forty-five-year-old Louella, a totally sexually deprived woman; the second with Irene, twenty-five, who might as well be. Next comes a letter from Anisette, who was young enough – nineteen – and frantic enough to have probably done something about her frustration by now. I think the violence and alienation of some of the themes these women explore is a measure of how much the human being will rage against sexual famine. The well-fed diner will idly choose between this dessert and that; the starving person will dream of "eating a horse."

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Louella

Perhaps the basis for my fantasy about my stepson is the humiliation I feel because my husband only married me to be a housekeeper and in order to look after his son. My husband is sexually impotent, but the boy is blatantly sexual. Sometimes I feel I cannot tear my eyes away from the bulge in the boy’s trousers. I know what’s there, it seems to run the full length of his belly.

In my fantasy I call for him to get up out of bed, I know he isn’t sleeping. I listen outside the bedroom door and know be is lying there playing with himself. I am about to call him again but another boy, a school friend, comes to call and I let them go off by themselves because I know what they are up to.

They go into the woodshed, and after a little time I creep down and peek through the planks. They are standing facing each other, their cocks out, stroking each other. I feel so bloody cross, but yet I still feel myself getting wet. I go back to the house and shriek for him to come in. I still feel like hitting him over the head. He comes in half ashamed and sneering; I myself sit down with my legs trembling. I see he has a big bulge there, he seems to be sticking it out more, then, I don’t know, I open his buttons and pull his shirt up. I didn’t think it was so big. I stroke him, it is hot and throbbing and he comes as quick as that, covering my hand. Later I take him to my bedroom, he sits on the edge of the bed, I play with him, pulling his skin right back. I am shaking with sex, I pull my dress off and he sucks my tits, then I back up to him and guide it in, with my thighs closed. But he comes too soon, and I send him away. I watch him go down the lane and get out my dildo, it is thicker and goes all in. [Letter and interview]

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Irene

My husband is studying for his master’s degree, but I have only about one year’s worth of college credits which I have earned by attending college part time. I am twenty-five and my husband is one year younger. We do not have any children and I believe I would prefer not to have any.

My husband talks a lot about sex, but he is not very active sexually. As you can probably guess, I am sexually unsatisfied, and have never had an orgasm. Only lately have I thought of someone other than my husband during sex. I imagine what it would be like to have sex with a man who could continue long enough for me to be satisfied. I know several men who I think could do this. Unfortunately, sex with my husband lasts for such a short time I don’t get much of a chance to even fantasize for very long.

He often asks me about my thoughts during sex, but I wouldn’t dare tell him about the other men. I’m sure it would just make things worse if he knew I was pretending that he was another man. Anyway, when I do make up innocent little sexual thoughts to tell him, he just gets more excited and comes even more quickly.

I often search for "fantasy partners" when I’m in public. If I see a man who interests me, I imagine that my large breasts are bare. Seeing them, he is unable to resist me and he takes me then and there, and finally and fully satisfies me. I even look at attractive couples, wondering whether or not the man can satisfy the woman, and what it must be like for her to have an orgasm.

That usually just leaves me feeling jealous though.

I have also tried thinking of other women, not frequently but sometimes. I imagine having sex with a girl like myself. We know each other’s desires better than any man could, and we are far better able to satisfy them. The fantasies include cunnilingus 23

because I have heard that is a good way to help a woman have an orgasm. My husband will not do it to me though.

I’ve tried masturbation, but even with fantasy I’ve not been able to reach a climax. During masturbation, I’ve tried imagining that it is a young, good-looking man doing it to me. I close my eyes and imagine his head pressed against my breasts and that my fingers are his lips. Or I imagine that an entire fraternity house has kidnapped me for an orgy. I am the only girl there. I imagine them one by one taking their turn with me, in the dining room, in various beds, on the floor, everywhere and with everyone watching. They come at me one right after the other and this way I imagine I can finally have an orgasm…but I never really do reach one.

My latest and most unusual fantasy is that I am both a woman and a man and that I am having sexual relations with myself. I imagine that I am able to give myself all the sexual satisfaction I have ever desired. It is a complicated fantasy to work out, but I think eventually it will work. [Letter]

Annette

I have never confided my sexual fantasies to a living soul, but I feel I must tell someone about them, and so I welcome the opportunity to unburden myself. I have always been ashamed of them, because I feel that other people would think them unnatural, and consider me a nymphomaniac, or something similar.

I am nineteen years old, and have been married for a year now; my husband is twenty-three. We have a satisfying sex life when he is at home, and indulge in every kind of sexual activity, including long sessions of oral lovemaking. The trouble starts when my husband is away from home, which is sometimes as 24

much as two weeks at a time, as he travels abroad on business quite a lot and cannot always take me with him.

By the end of the second week, or sometimes sooner, I am getting desperate for intercourse, and I have to resort to masturbation, as for various reasons I do not wish to get involved with other men. At first, I used to fantasize that my husband was with me, and he was fondling my breasts and my vulva, licking and sucking my clitoris, and – as I thrust a banana or the smaller end of a cucumber into my vagina – I closed my eyes and pretended it was my husband’s penis that was penetrating me.

This was sufficient to give me a satisfying orgasm at first, but after a while I found it more difficult to reach one. So, I started to imagine that two men were making love to me – my husband and a man I strongly fancy at the tennis club. I imagined that one was kissing my breasts and sucking my nipples while the other was loving me with his mouth between my legs. Then, as I pushed the banana into my vagina, I imagined that the other man was fucking me while my husband put his penis in my mouth.

Now it has gone a step further, and to get my orgasm, I lie down on my back across our double bed, with my legs apart and a two-inch-thick cucumber thrust into my vagina, and close my eyes while I imagine that four men are making love to me all at once. As I thrust the cucumber in and out with a screwing motion, I imagine that one man kneels between my legs, kissing my slit, which is hairless, by the way; another kneels beside the bed above my head kissing my mouth; and two others kneel on the bed each side of me, sitting on their heels, and leaning forward to suck my nipples, while I stretch out my hand and take hold of their penises to masturbate them.

From there the fantasy progresses. I tip my head back over the side of the bed, and the man there inserts his penis in my mouth.

The man between my legs gets onto the bed and inserts his penis in my vagina, and with my mouth, my hands, and my vagina, I make all four of them come at once. After a while, when I start to 25

want another orgasm, I imagine that I am taking them on one at a time for a session of
soixante-neuf.
One by one, I suck them to erection, and proceed to drain them dry; swallowing each offering of semen from four men, leaving them limp and impotent (for the time being), thrills me immensely, and I enjoy a whole series of wonderful orgasms in this way.

I know that if ever I had the chance to make my fantasy come true with four virile men, without the possibility of my husband getting to know about it, I would grab the chance. I feel that once I had experienced the sensation, which I am sure would be out of this world, I would no longer be tormented with the need to fantasize about it.

I shall be interested to hear of other women’s fantasies, and to know if I am alone in having such wicked thoughts. And if you know of
four
strong, sexy men who want to take part in an orgy with an attractive, passionate woman (37" 24" 37"),send them along to me! [Letter]

Maria

I have been married three years. I think my husband would mostly react with surprise if he found out that I think about other men sometimes when we are having intercourse. I have led him to believe that I do not often think about sexual things. If anything, he might have his feelings hurt by such a revelation because he often expresses doubts about his sexual attractiveness to women.

I sometimes try to imagine my husband being so sexually excited about me that he would tear my clothes off and "rape" me.

His actions when we have intercourse are so much the opposite of that, though, that it is almost impossible for me to imagine.

Often, lately, I have resisted having sexual intercourse with my husband when he wants it (which is only about once a month 26

anyway) so that he will have to force me to have it with him, in the hope that he might sort of rape me. So far, though, he has not done so. [Letter]

SEX ENHANCEMENT

If you like, you can read almost any female sexual fantasy as a cry of frustration. We are all prepared to think of women, any woman, as potentially frustrated simply because it is our historic sexual role. Traditionally, we are the frustrated sexless experienced, less mobile, and less accepted sexually. We have spent less time at it, and been less informed by art, literature, and commerce (to say nothing of our parents and husbands) as to just what our sexual role is – except usually that of desireless virgin or prisoner. Even the most daring sexual adventuress I’ve talked to admits that her role in her fantasies may still lag behind her real sexual activity: somewhere, even in her wildest, most sexual fantasy, she still plays the inhibited role her mother taught her. In her life she may feel perfectly free to initiate sex, to play the active seducer’s role, to take on a man for a guiltless, one-night stand just for the fun of it, but her fantasy will often still be of the

"it is not my fault, he made me do it" type: She was doped, or raped, or subjected to cruel and overwhelming domination. Ideas like these, so deeply rooted in the mind no matter what the relatively free body does, will take another generation to outgrow.

But it would be too simple to say that anyone whose sexual imagery conflicts with her sexual reality isn’t getting what she wants, that all sexual fantasy is dominated by real frustration.

Some of the happiest, most sexually satisfied women I’ve talked to fantasize, and are all the more sexually satisfying partners because of it. What I am saying is simple: that we women are traditionally prone to and expert at fantasy; that even when we 27

are being fully fucked our minds can imagine the sexual exploration and variables that our bodies are accustomed to do without; that sex itself – and not only lack of it – can inspire fantasy; and that for some women there is almost a chain reaction between sexual fact and fantasy, that the one feeds and stimulates the other.

Patricia

Patricia is a tal l, blond American beauty who lives in Rome.

For the past year she has been separated from her husband and living with Antonio, an Italian. Patricia and her wealthy English husband have an agreement that when they’re tired of their individual adventuring they will leave Rome, that nothing either of them has done there will have counted, and that they will return to New York or London together. Because, as Patricia says, "We really love one another. We simply want to explore now, without guilt."

When he is going down on me I close my eyes and imagine myself at some incredibly proper place, some very elegant restaurant, for instance. On the surface, it’s like a hundred different "smart" dull evenings we’ve spent at as many smart, dull restaurants: the men are in dinner jackets, the women divinely coiffed, the headwaiter aching with savoir faire. (I think this fantasy is my own rerun of the old Paulette Goddard story.) We are all sitting around this table with its glittering crystal and silver on a very deeply hemmed, heavy linen tablecloth – the tablecloth is important because it hides the man underneath who is between my legs. I chat away amiably with the people on either side. How has this man got under the table? Interesting you should ask. Because in my fantasy I’ve taken care of that detail.