Forbidden Flowers (16 page)

Then I take off my shoes. I then open the slit to reveal the end of a garter and the top of my hose. (The garter belt is red also.) I open the slit just wide enough for the men to see that I have on NO panties. Then I close the slit, do a few more seductive moves; then I undo one strap, which really gets the men going.

I undo the other strap, and then I begin to unzip the dress (it zips on the side of the slit). I very slowly unzip it. But even then I'm not nude. I have on the garter, stockings, and red stra-pless bra! I slowly continue to undress, teasing the men a lot!

Finally, when I am nude, a man from the audience (front row) can no longer control himself. He runs up and throws me down on the stage and begins fucking me! All the other men in the audience masturbate themselves or each other. There are variations to this and all my other fantasies.

Another one that I have is one in which I'm raped! I've never fantasized about strangers or dogs though. Most of the time, 106

the men in my fantasies are men I happen to be attracted to at that time! I find myself many times looking at the crotches of men's pants, just as I find men gazing at my breasts!

I feel that I have certain lesbian tendencies, because my first fantasies were of other girls, and sometimes I'll still have a fantasy of a girl or woman. I also find that I get excited when I see pictures of nude women! If I ever had the opportunity for a lesbian experience, I doubt that I would pass it up. But I could never be totally lesbian.

Right now, I'm looking for a nice, somewhat older man who will teach me all I need to know about sex, for I am very inexperienced and dumb. If you know anyone like this, send him my way!

I've always had sexual fantasies, and for a long time, I thought they were abnormal and weird, and I tried to suppress them. But I don't anymore.

I hope I have helped your research just a little bit. I am looking forward to your next book. Thanks again for
My Secret
Garden.

Molly

I
love
you! Having just read
My Secret Garden
,
I feel compelled to write to you.

I just this moment finished the book, and I have so many jumbled thoughts that I'll try to relate my feelings to you in some orderly fashion.

First, I'm still turned on. Your book had an enormous erotic effect on me. Need I say that I had to stop numerous times to masturbate? But, oddly enough, my OWN erotic fantasies are still much more exciting to me than simply reading others.

I have never felt guilty about fantasizing during masturbation – I always considered that quite natural and have been doing so ever since I started masturbating regularly at age five.

But I got the
greatest
relief in reading that other women regularly fantasize while fucking. I always felt terribly
guilty
about fucking one man and thinking about another. Now I realize it's not abnormal or unfair or a put-down of the guy I'm with – it 107

just makes everything more enjoyable. What a great discovery and a great release. Thank you!

The other delightful result is that I feel closer to other women. Wouldn't it be great if we could all discuss these things with each other, rather than reading it in a book? Maybe now I will. It really allows me to feel more open to other women.

Two other minor points. I've always been an inveterate crotch-watcher, and I love it when I see some guy with a partial erection. I am delighted to find that I'm not alone. Also, sometimes I fantasize fondling and sucking another woman's breasts, and I always look at breasts. I'm glad this is also common, as I always feared I was harboring some deeply hidden lesbian tendencies. Now I know this isn't so and that my fantasy is quite common and natural.

I have only one objection. On the back of the paperback edition there is a quote from Dr. Leonard Cammer saying that fantasy “allows a needed escape from unfulfilled reality.” Bullshit! He completely missed the whole point of your book – it ENHANCES reality and is NOT an escape. Typical sexist comment from a male who really does not understand women.

Thank you, Nancy, for allowing me to feel better about myself.
Everyone
should read your book.

P.S. I am college-educated, thirty, single.

Jackie

I've just finished
My Secret Garden.
Thank you very much for collecting these fantasies. Reading the book has made me feel much more at ease about the normalcy of my own fantasies.

(Incidentally, I am twenty-six years old, white, middle-class background, with three and a half years of college, and in training as a medical assistant at the moment.) Although I am an imaginative person, I often take my fantasies whole from other sources, such as movies (not dirty movies, curiously enough, because I find them unimaginative and 108

tasteless), novels
(The Story of O,
etc.), and other popular media.

But much more commonly, I make them up from experiences that I have had, embellished and elaborated to fantasy proportions. One of my favorites, incidentally, is about prostitution, an empty room in
My Secret Garden.

Some years ago, I met a man who, I discovered shortly, was a bounding cad, but he was so egotistical, with
very
little reason for being so, incidentally, that I was fascinated by his con-ceit and was intimate with him for some months before my fascination turned to boredom at his boorish predictability, and I subsequently dropped him.

My prostitution fantasy about this man, whom I'll call Roger, goes more or less like this: I'm in the city on some important errand when I see Roger and, worse, he sees me. From his smile as he approaches, I know he means no good. Rather then create a scene, I allow him to take me into a sleazy-looking cafe. There he tells me he has discovered some awful thing about me, something that could ruin my personal and professional life, as well as those of my family. I think, in my fantasy, that he wants to blackmail me for money, but discover instead he intends to prostitute me for his own profit. I am helpless and must obey.

He has apparently had all this planned out, because when I follow him to his apartment, he gives me a see-through blouse, micro-miniskirt, black net stockings, and a black garter belt to exchange for my street clothes. But before I do this, he makes me shave my entire body, including pubic hair.

When I'm ready and dressed, we walk through downtown on our way to a party, where he has sold my services. We stop before a store with a facade that reads Novelties, but I can see by the equipment in the window that it's really a sex shop, one that sells pornographic books, and has the trappings of fetish-oriented sex. We go inside. Behind the counter is a handsome young Oriental (in real life several of my lovers have been Orientals, and I admit a preference for them over Caucasian men).

He smiles at us and can tell at once by my costume and makeup what I am.

109

Roger ignores me and begins talking to the storekeeper about various of his goods, while I wander about and look at all the stuff hanging on the walls, such as leather harnesses, dildos, chains, whips, vibrators, etc., which makes me very hot and excited, as well as a big selection of dirty books. (This excitement, incidentally, is very odd, because I've tried some of the equipment mentioned above and was totally turned off by it, but in my fantasy, I'm so excited I bite my lips to keep from caressing myself while both men watch me.) Roger sees this and calls me over. There's a bunch of equipment on the counter that Roger wants to buy, but he doesn't have enough money.

He suggests to the storekeeper that he can use me as he likes in exchange for the equipment. The storekeeper smiles again and pulls the shades to the store windows.

Roger lifts my skirt and opens my blouse, playing with me and showing me off to the storekeeper, who suggests we go upstairs. In a room upstairs, we find an enormous Newfound-land dog, and both men lay me back on the table and let the dog lick my naked mound, burrowing his big nose in as deep as he can. While the dog is doing this, Roger begins to dildo me anally. The mixture of pleasure and pain is so great I cry out noisily, which excites Roger even more and makes him go at it even more fiercely.

Quite suddenly, the Oriental pushes both the dog and Roger away from me and, taking his clothes off quickly, begins to make love to me. Roger becomes very angry and would inter-fere, but the storekeeper speaks in Chinese to the dog, who turns to Roger and keeps him at bay. Roger becomes furious as he helplessly watches me responding to the shopkeeper with my whole being, and not grudgingly as I did to him. I take great joy in fellating this gentle man and let him have anal intercourse, which in this case doesn't hurt as it usually does. I am aching with desire by the time he switches to plain, straight intercourse. During all this, my lover turns to Roger and says that if he (Roger) bothers or threatens me anymore, he'll suffer for it. Roger, coward that he is, believes it and slinks from the room with the growling dog at his heels. And it is this man's lovemaking and not Roger's cold-hearted fucking that swiftly 110

brings me to one intolerably delicious orgasm on the heels of another.

And there's the basic form of one of my favorite fantasies, with true lust triumphant and the villain foiled again.

Again, with gratitude and wishes of success.

I believe sex is all pervasive in the human mind and body.

While we are buying groceries, we notice how handsome the clerk in the supermarket may be; women write to me of sexual fantasies they have had about their dentist while he was drilling their teeth. But we need a focus, a concrete symbol, picture, or book to make us aware and comfortable about our free-flowing sexuality. “Since I read your book, and also while reading it,” writes Sally, “I began to think about my own fantasies. I always had these thoughts, since I was around twelve, but never told anyone…. “

Marylou tells us that she herself denied ever having sexual fantasies until she read
Garden.
“No,”
she told her friends when the subject came up; she never had fantasies. “I just think about my lover.” But little flashbacks were registering in her head, she says, even while she denied that erotic images danced in her imagination. “When I read [
My
Secret Garden
],

it dawned on me just like it did on Paula in the book – oh, à fantasy is something that makes you feel good.' In fact, most every scene in the book has run through my fantasies but with a different script.”

Marylou is an illustration of the fact that we all know more than we consciously want to know. A great deal of sexual imagery, daydreaming, reveries, and fantasy are suspended somewhere in the back of our mind. It is all like some data bank, where specific bits of information can be quickly brought forward into consciousness when the right lever is pushed, and then so quickly wheeled back after use that it is difficult to remember the thought was ever there to begin with. In this way, we live with our mental fires banked, our sexuality turned down low. Perhaps this is necessary to get through the ordinary business of the ordinary day, a necessary sacrifice of our erotic 111

selves on the altar of an industrial society. Still – aren't these days half-unlived? I believe any stimulation is a positive good; anything that makes us feel more alive is an absolute benefit. If an occasional glance at a photo in a magazine, an image on the television screen or a page in a book makes us feel more intensely, isn't that life itself?

Sally

At a suggestion from my sister, I have just finished reading your book. I truly thought it was fantastic. I just couldn't put it down.

First, let me tell you about myself. I am nineteen, just married last December, and I love sex. My husband is twenty-four and very healthy.

Since I read your book, and also while I was reading it, I began to think about my own fantasies. I always had these thoughts, since I was around twelve, but never told anyone or acted them out. I guess I never really thought about them until I read that other women had the same sort of thoughts.

My husband says the kind of sex we have now is fine for him, and he won't discuss his fantasies. I would like to discuss mine and several of the others I read about in your book – just talk about them, that's all – but he doesn't seem to get into it.

I don't masturbate, but often think about it. Perhaps if I read a really good book on masturbation, or someone discussed it openly with me, I would try it. When I think of another woman fingering me and eating me, it excites me intensely. It has never happened, but it sure sounds good. I also think about big masculine men, like the kind you see in
Playgirl
and
Viva
; I like to think of them stepping right out of the pages, forcefully tearing my clothes off and tying me, spread-eagle, arms apart, to the bedposts. As I look at those photos, I imagine him teasing me, fingering me to get me going, and then teasing me with just the head of his cock. I don't know where I get these ideas, as these are not things my husband does to me – I mean, teasing me with his cock. I am sure I have read about it somewhere. In my fantasy, this man from the pages of
Playgirl
then 112

licks my tits and belly button until I plead with him to fuck me, and at last he does. I don't think of these things when my husband and I are making love, or doing sixty-nine, but when I am alone reading porno books. Then it really turns me on. I can really throw myself into the pages of a good book. It sets my imagination going and allows me to imagine myself involved in a sexual world I am sure I will never know. All the men and women in my fantasies are faceless. They are always strangers.

And even I am not recognizable; the things I allow myself to do are so unlike me. But how I would love to enjoy the thrills of the things I have read and seen on the printed page!

It's great to read how other women think, and it's stupid of me to think we aren't entitled to all the sexual excitement we can feel in our imaginations.' The men that think we aren't capable of this kind of excitement must know some pretty dumb chicks.