Forbidden Flowers (32 page)

I stayed home for three days after that and masturbated when I recalled my favorite parts of the incident, reliving them.

I had a date with Larry the Saturday night after that. We were supposed to go to dinner and to the theater, but when he arrived, I told him that I wanted to stay there, and I wanted him to make me fuck him. I told him the whole story of the abduction, about how I enjoyed it. He sat in a chair and told me to stand in front of him. Then he told me to take my dress off.

And that began our relationship, really. We were married a year later. When we are alone, we still play out the master-slave relationship. He'll call me from the office before he comes home and order me to undress and wait to be fucked. It is extremely pleasurable to greet my husband at the door when I'm either naked or wearing a sheer chiton and wait upon him and do loving things to him. And for him. He has a friend who stays with us over weekends several times a year while in town on business trips, and Larry always has me wear a rather seductive, low-cut cocktail dress when Frank visits. He has me light Frank's cigarettes, and I enjoy watching Frank's face as he looks down the front of my dress (Larry has forbidden me to 219

wear bras). It turns me on also when Larry tells Frank how great I am in bed or how well I suck his prick. It embarrasses me, but it is fun. Larry also has threatened to order me to sleep with Frank during one of his visits, but so far, he has not. I will if he tells me to.

I know this may sound as though I'm pretty kinky. But for the first time in my life, I'm feeling free sexually and thoroughly satisfied. I don't have many of the hang-ups my girl friends seem to have. I'm involved in the Junior Women's Club and work as a volunteer once a week at the children's ward of the local hospital. I do all the things my girl friends do. So, can it be all so bad to find so much pleasure sexually in the way that my husband and I find satisfying? Certainly, your book would indicate that other women would love to live out their fantasies the way I do mine. They should. It feels so good. Can it honestly be so wrong? I don't think so.

Love and sincere thanks again.

Carole

I've just finished reading
My Secret Garden
and
was thoroughly fascinated. I consider it the best turn-on of my vast collection of literature.

Just to acquaint you with myself, I am a single, twenty-three-year-old stewardess. And layovers are a great time for masturbating and fantasizing or fucking if you're lucky enough to know a man in that town.

I consider myself completely uninhibited and like my men that way. I sew, crochet, cook, write poetry, and read a lot. Of course, all this is between flying and fucking. One of my favorite things to do is to get a group of people talking about sex –

you find out so much about them, without their knowing it.

There were a lot of women in your first book who had some of my qualities in sex (crotch-watching, good music, voyeurism, male nudes, etc.), but I didn't really find any fantasies like mine.

I don't know if it's unique or not, but all my fantasies are done in twelves. They are never involved with faceless lovers; 220

instead, they are always past or present lovers. The twelves are sometimes mirrors in a fun house, scenes in other countries, or twelve positions. One time, it was my four best lovers in my favorite of their positions as stick people, cartoon characters, and then real-life figures (three times four is twelve).

My favorite fantasy of all has to do with the twelve signs of the zodiac. I usually have this fantasy after I've been smoking grass and during oral, manual, or vibrator sex. I always like to hear Barry White's albums in the background – I can have an orgasm just from his voice, without ever being touched.

Anyway, the fantasy starts out in Aquarius. My cunt is on fire, and the water-bearer puts it out by sticking his hose into me. As Pisces, I'm the Star-Kist tuna mermaid, and my lover is a scuba diver. Being that a mermaid has no pussy, I eagerly go down on him. As Aries, my man is a Los Angeles Ram, and I'm the head cheerleader (as what Dr. Chartham calls a practi-tioner of
erelalia
[noisy lovemaking] the part fits me). And we never fail to score a touchdown. Taurus brings us to Spain, where the toreador kills the bull and fucks me with its horn. In Gemini (my sign), I am being fucked by one twin while I devour the other twin with my mouth. Cancer takes us to the circus freak show, where my lover has six arms and thirty fingers.

He literally pinches me to an outstanding climax. Leo, the lion, sits on his throne, and, lifting all my petticoats, I sit down on his prick. As I laugh at the jester, my vagina laughs too, and the king gets a royal orgasm. Virgo's scene is in Egypt, where I am the virgin bride in the sultan's harem. I belly dance for him, feed him grapes, fan him, and then he gently deflowers me.

Libra is the scales, and two people fucking on one are never going to get the correct weight. Scorpio can be very sadistic.

So, here my lover ties me to the bed, whips me, and has me gang-banged by his motorcycle club. Sagittarius, the archer, is an Indian chief who fucks me with his arrow as we ride double on his palamino. Capricorn is a shepherd in his pasture, and I become the black sheep he fucks anally.

That seems like it's long, but it takes longer to read than to think.

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Well, off to Detroit and my super Gemini lover. Mmmmm…

. Love and piece.

Gabbie

I just finished your book,
My Secret Garden.
Really fantastic. I thought it might be exciting to put my fantasy down on paper. Maybe you won't use it, but I'll do it anyway. By the way, I have had only one lover and have been going with him for four years. I am eighteen years old.

Well, I wake up in this large rather dimly lit room, and there is incense burning somewhere off. I'm sitting on some sort of apparatus attached to the walls, with my arms and legs suspended. I'm wearing a kind of harem outfit, except the bra is nothing but thin chains holding up my breasts (36C). The pants are very thin filmy material (see-through), but my bush is covered by thick bands of lace that go around the crotch.

A door opens, and this very handsome dark-haired boy comes into the room, wearing only some sort of decorative gold shield over his genitals suspended by gold chains. I ask him what I'm doing here, and he replies that his father kidnapped me so that his only son could have an American wife and child.

I was married to him earlier while hypnotized, he tells me, and had been given a drug that would make me conceive the first time the marriage was consummated. He also told me that I couldn't resist, because the incense had an aphrodisiac drug in it.

He comes toward me, and I find that I can't resist this sexily bodied man of about twenty. He kisses me on the neck and moves his hands down my body so softly. He kisses me down to my breasts and parts the chains to get at my nipples.

Sometimes I come at this point while masturbating, but if not, I continue on this line.

I am getting wet, and he pulls away from me and pushes a button on a hand unit, and my legs systematically part. He moves back to me and unhooks the shield on his sexual organ.

It is beautiful and not too large. He starts to enter me without removing my pants; then I realize they are crotchless.

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I always come by then.

THE MAN is always fantastically built and hung like my lover, who is about seven and a half inches when hard.

Thank you so much, Nancy, for what you are bringing out about our gentler sex. I always thought there was something wrong with me for having these thoughts and masturbating.

Love ya and keep up the good work.

Isolde

First off, let me say I have read
My
Secret Garden,
and I found it extremely stimulating and full of what the world needs more of – letting men know that we women are really very erotic critters. I've known since I was ten when my fantasy life began – wake up, world!

Before I get into my fantasy life, let me outline my personal reality. I'm twenty-one years old, married, pregnant, a high school graduate, middle class, and, if it's important, white. My husband is twenty-five, one year of college, white, and sexy as hell.

I have been a topless dancer since I was seventeen, and I can't remember a time when I wasn't bisexual curiously enough, only in reality, never in fantasy. Only sometimes I'll see a sexy girl in
Penthouse
or
Playboy,
and wonder what she'd be like in bed.

I engaged in sexual intercourse for the first time at thirteen, and have always “played” with myself. I first remember getting caught at five, being told, “Tch, tch, nasty!” I first achieved orgasm at ten. I never came with intercourse until I was fifteen, when a twenty-one-year-old lover taught me the “joy” (God bless him) of oral foreplay.

I have fucked, one way or another, over a hundred men and about thirty women, the first being my cousin, when we were eleven. I guess since I thoroughly enjoy being a topless dancer, you could call me an exhibitionist. And my husband loves to watch me dance. I met him when I was eighteen, and there has never been any hassle about my dancing. He realizes I'm very 223

professional about it, and your typical barroom Joe doesn't turn me on. (We have only been married for eight months.) My husband has been to bed with over two hundred women, and only one man, a gay mutual friend. Even then, it was at my insistence. Our sexuality, and belief that marriage and personal freedom go hand-in-hand have made us perfect for each other.

When we have intercourse, I always come. If I can't make it during intercourse, which I do ninety percent of the time, we masturbate me after. Sometimes I fuck him in a way he comes quickly, when I know he's horny, and then lay back and enjoy, enjoy!!

Since he's hung pretty heavy, almost nine inches when erect, painful intercourse has always been a problem, and now it's terrible. Being pregnant has made my poor vagina shorter, so careful is the key word. And it's turned me off somewhat.

I have tried to suck him off to make up for my lack of interest. I only succeed in making myself sick. I can't understand it, either, 'cause I love doing it.

There have only been two bad experiences in my sexual life.

One was being raped at knife point by a black guy, and being raped anally by a fiancé. I took both in stride, and said fuck it!

It doesn't bother me now, except when my husband wants to try anal intercourse. The remembered pain makes me tighten up, and it's impossible.

Our marriage is very open. I have had sexual intercourse, an affair, with one man since becoming pregnant. I guess I was trying to show myself I was still desirable.

We had two threesomes, one where I got all the attention from hubby and hetero friend. In the other, he got the attention from me and a gay friend. I loved it!

I have an active fantasy life. I used to fantasize about raping a guy, sadistically. When we were reading
My
Secret Garden,
I
asked him about his fantasies. Well, it seems he dug black garter belts and stockings. And being dominated. We went out and bought the necessary articles, and then I dominate him to our hearts' content. I even made him put on the black panties I had on, and then I teased him. I got rough, and made him beg.

We loved it! Then I made him eat me, all the time being physi-224

cally and verbally abusive. The orgasm, when we finally got around to intercourse, was superb.

One of my favorite fantasies is my husband sucking cock.

He looked really far out when he had one in his mouth. Sometimes. when I masturbate, I picture him making it with a guy, and I come in no time flat!

I also fantasize about being tied spread-eagle on the bed, and my husband playing the domination role to the hilt. I picture him with a huge hard-on, fucking me, and then forcing me to lick him clean of my juices. Then he takes his cock in his hand and slowly starts jacking off, inches from my eyes, telling me what a cunt I am. I try to shut my eyes, but he slaps me and pulls my hair forcing my head back and my mouth open. Suddenly, he stops and tells me he's going to fuck my tits. He pushes my tits together, sucking and biting them. His cock is huge now, and he pushes it up and down, hitting my neck with its head at every thrust. Suddenly, he's sitting with his ass on my tits, and he's jerking his come all over my face, in my eyes, ears, everywhere. I strain to get his cock in my mouth, but he just laughs, keeping it slightly out of reach. (Wow, you don't know what it's doing to me to write this down!) 225

CHAPTER SEVEN

DURING SEX

Perhaps one sentence I hear more than any other when I am introduced as the author of the book on women's sexual fantasies is, “Oh, I never need fantasies during sex with my husband [lover]. He's all I need. I just think about him, how he feels, etc., etc.” I get this response even from women who have read
My
Secret Garden
and who must, therefore, know that for every single fantasy sent in by a woman who says she fantasizes during sex, at least two or three were published from women who imagined erotic scenes while walking down the street, masturbating, watching television, and so forth. If I am bored with the stereotyped response that can only see a fantasy taking place during sex, I am nevertheless curious as to why so many women choose to sidestep the question of sexual fantasies by saying their sex is so great they don't “need” them. (Let me hasten to add here that this determination to limit all fantasy as occurring only during sex is very frequent among men too.)

The explanation, I believe, is that none of us want to appear lacking or inadequate in the one area where none of us has absolute, rocklike confidence: our sexuality. We know so little about ourselves that we rush to the defense before anyone has raised a questioning brow. We protest too much; we are afraid to admit we do not have fantasies, because that bight be admitting being left out of something. We boast instead that our sex is “great” without it. The entire matter of sexual fantasy is dismissed as being too trivial to discuss. This almost compulsive denial that they “need” fantasy during sex serves two protective functions. First, it denies that you are not woman enough “to do it naturally” (whatever that is). Second, it is a defense against any possible implication that your lover/husband is not enough man.