My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (23 page)

come out of prison after giving his daughter a baby. The law would not allow them to live in the same house, though they had recommenced sexual relations. The probation officer was happy so long as the girl remained on the pill. I talked to him at night and most of our conversation was on my favorite subject. One night, when we were both excited, he asked for a bottle. I put screens round his bed and put the bottle under the bedclothes. I took hold of his penis, which was exceptionally large, and held it for a few moments. It became such an erection that it would not enter the bottle. I began to masturbate him gently, and when I felt him go rigid, I kissed him as I felt his semen spurt along his shaft. I caught most of his semen in the bottle and our lips parted.

He said, "Thank you, Sister." I replied, "Oh, Brother," and a sexual link was established. As he got better, I had intercourse with him many times and we always called each other sister and brother.

But my principal fantasies have always been about my father. I was an only child and had a good home, receiving lots of affection from my parents, especially my father. He has, since I was about eight years old, been my fantasy lover during masturbation.

Dad went to work very early, six days a week, and as a child, when I went to my parents’ bed in the mornings, it was only on Sundays that both parents were in bed. This particular Sunday morning, I know I must have been eight, because the Sunday papers carried news of a hotel being bombed in Jerusalem, and this was in the summer of 1946. I was in bed only a short while with my parents when my mother decided to get up and go to a nearby farmhouse for some fresh milk. Alone in bed with Dad, I had a wrestling match with him. I remember enjoying the cuddles and embraces as Dad tried to subdue me and then he decided, I suppose, to let me win. He lay on his back, his pajamas were undone, my own nightie was up around my waist, and when I straddled and sat on my father, my naked pubic area 170

came down on my Dad’s very large and, I now know, erect penis.

It was like sitting astride a broom handle. At first it lay flat against my Dad’s tummy. I rocked my bottom back and forward while Dad lay very still. It was at this precise moment I learned to masturbate. Eventually Dad reached for a hankie and rolled me off him. He got out of bed and dressed in the bathroom. I continued to lie in bed and touch myself lovingly with my fingers.

I then began to do this all the time in bed or when I was alone in the house, always thinking of that hard thing Daddy had, and how nice it would be to feel it between my legs again. But this was not to happen. Every other Sunday morning I went to my parents’ bed, but Dad was already up and about. As I began to learn more about sex from other kids at school, I became more adventurous in my fantasies, until they settled into a set pattern when I was almost thirteen.

It was at this age that I was playing around with a slightly older girl. She talked a lot about sex and one day told me her big secret, that was having sex with a much older married brother.

She told me what the word "incest" meant; part of the sex she explained was fellatio. She said how she loved to do this to her brother, and how he sometimes went down on her privates as well.

With this new information buzzing in my brain, I was out for a walk with my Dad one Sunday afternoon. Deep in the woods he decided he wanted to urinate and did so against a tree. But he turned toward me before he put his penis back in his trousers, and I gazed for a few loving seconds at my Dad’s beautiful monster. It has remained the main erotic feature of my masturbatory fantasies ever since.

All I have to do is imagine myself walling in a silent woods, and I can almost
feel
that my Dad is somewhere else in that woods, and that if I can almost hold my breath long enough, we’ll meet. The way I meet him is always the same. I turn a corner or come around a tree, and there he is, with his back to 171

me, peeing against a tree. Then he turns around toward me, his penis still out and being held in his hand to guide the stream of pee. I find this too exciting to write about even now, and find myself thinking about my Dad even in real life.

Please open up the subject of incest. Is there any cure? Is there the same risk of prosecution in this permissive age? I know I can’t hold out much longer. I’m certain that if I tried this experiment, the shame would kill me, but other times what frightens me even more is the idea that I would become even more deeply involved with him. [Letter]

Dominique

I’m in my apartment. I’m not really a call girl, but I am certainly someone who is experienced in the sexual arts. The doorbell rings and it is this father and his son. The father has been a lover of mine and I have given hire what no other woman has: I have given him the ultimate in sexual pleasure. (I am a giver, I mean, I think of myself as a giver in both real life and fantasy; that’s what I mean when I say I’m not a call girl in this fantasy: I don’t get paid for it.) So the father comes in and says,

"This is my fourteen-year-old son, and I want him to be as adept as I am, as I think I am, and I want you to teach him everything you know."

So the son and I begin, the father sitting there watching as I undress the boy, caress him, totally initiate him. But it’s not the boy that excites me in this fantasy, it isn’t the idea of having a young boy, it’s the idea of being watched by the father. I don’t know if it’s voyeurism, or if having the father there, having him bring his son to me, is some kind of sexual approval. Or if it’s having him watch the son, watch me with the son. Part of the excitement is that he’s brought the son to me. That of all the women in the world, he has picked me to initiate the boy. Or 172

maybe the
real
turn-on is incest. Because I also like to fantasizefamily orgies. Not my family, but whole families, mothers, fathers, daughters, and sons, all come to this flat of mine. Yes, my husband is here, too, but a faceless husband.

Everybody performs on everybody: The mothers show me what they’ve been doing to their daughters, and to their sons; and the fathers to the daughters…everybody! And it’s a
very
happy scene, very happy, very sensual. The family that fucks together stays together…I guess that’s the message. [Taped interview]

Lola

I was pregnant when I got married at seventeen. But as I’d begn fucking when I was fourteen, I’d had a good’, three years of fun playing around on my own…all of which I owe to my two brothers. One was a year older than me and the other a year younger. What happened was one day they found me messing about quite innocently with some boys at school. They blackmailed me, threatening all sorts of things; they said that if I didn’t go all the way with those boys – and let them watch –they’d, tell our parents what I’d been up to. Since what I’d been up to was far more innocent than what they wanted me to do, I don’t know why I gave in to their threats. I suppose because I quite simply wanted to be fucked. I remember; my brothers standing on the sidelines, instructing the other boys how to "do"

me (we were all virgins at that point), and I remember to this day the combination of fear and: excitement that their presence added to what was happening. Although neither of my brothers ever entered me themselves, they do in my fantasies, they always have.

After that blackmail episode I used to lie awake at nights, alone in my bed at home, and imagine that my brothers were creeping through the house toward my room. Every sound in the quiet house was like their footsteps. Often I would imagine the 173

two of them coming fore me together. They would get into the bed on either side of me. I remember one night in particular, when I was just past fourteen, when I was lying there, thinking of my oldest brother’s prick – I had, of course, seen it – and imagining it going into me and growing in me. Suddenly I could not seem to control myself, and I was certain that the noise I was making – I was actually whimpering out loudwas bound to wake my parents up. But I put my hand over my mouth – imagining it was my youngest brother, while I masturbated with the other hand – imagining that was my older brother. I seemed to be flogging myself almost into a state of unconsciousness. The more I thought about how wrong the whole act was that I was imagining, the more exciting it became.

Even to this day when I’m being fucked – and I’m fifty-one – I imagine one of my brothers standing over mejust as it really happened that time they forced me – while I pretend it is the other one fucking me. The one standing has his prick exposed, and I play with it (while the other is inside me) until he comes all over my face. Then they switch positions and we continue until we are all satisfied.

Sometimes I include my brothers’ wives in my fantasies, making it a larger family scene, and I imagine the pleasure my husband could give those women while I’m having it off with their husbands, my darling brothers. But usually it’s just me and the boys. Are you shocked? You shouldn’t be; more of this sort of thing goes on in reality than you imagine. I know. And not just in poor families, as mine was. Brothers and sisters…well, it happens in the best of families. [Conversation]

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ROOM NUMBER ELEVEN: THE ZOO

Nice friendly doggies are everywhere. Even if you don’t have one, the neighbors do. And Rover is a more perfect gentleman than most: he’ll never look surprised at something you may ask him to do, never make you feel ashamed, and will never, never talk. Is it surprising then that of all animals, dogs star most frequently in female sexual fantasies, and that with good old Rover around the house all the time, dog fantasies are the ones most often acted out in reality?

Dogs bring a very important, blameless quality to fantasy: it’s never your fault, or the dog’s either, really; doggies have such big, naturally inquisitive noses, and before you can do anything about it, doggies’ big wet tongues automatically dart out and lick anything that smells "that way." That’s putting it in simple primer language, which is just where it all begins – with little girls with private parts that no one, possibly not even the little girl herself, has ever touched. The nice family bowwow comes along, sniffsniff, and presses the buzzer. Zing! The first sexual thrill of a lifetime has been touched off by Rover. It doesn’t matter whether the little girl lets him continue (and more do than you’d think, I bet); the memory of that first lick of pleasure can stay with a woman for life. Later, hopefully, when she has discovered with a loving man or through masturbation the full potential of her clitoris, the dog with his remembered, natural expertise (if she had let him continue), or with her imaginative fantasizing of it (if she had not), can remain an exciting sexual variation, laced with all the taboo quality that only the silent complicity of an animal can bring.

As for the other popular family pet, cats, well, my research indicates that they just don’t make it as sexual fantasy pets.

Perhaps because they aren’t sniffers, or their tongues are too small, or they don’t have that very male member hanging down (oh, so visibly) between their legs – an image, especially with its 175

aroused "red tip" that is evocative and exciting to women in reality and fantasy. As Libby put it: "My lover has suggested that we rub cod liver oil on my clitoris and let our cat lick it off. This idea does not appeal to me. A dog, maybe, but not a cat." But obvious studs like donkeys and bulls, with their not-to-be missed pricks, are another story.

With the farmyard animals there is no licking, no clitoral stimulation either in fantasy or fact. I don’t think there are many women who have actually been fucked by a bull or a donkey, either – though it is supposed to be not entirely unknown at

"stag" (ah!) dinners. With barnyard studs, imagined or not, it’s all about the visible turn-on of the prick, the incredible size of it more than anything. Imagine something that big – which you reacted to with such fascination, at least the first time you saw it, even if you almost immediately glanced away with embarrassment – imagine that penetrating you! How can a woman look at a prick that big and not imagine it going into her?

It’s like looking at a racing car and ignoring the thrill of speed. I don’t think it’s literally a desire to be fucked by these animals, simply an attempt to imagine what it would be like to have so much prick "filling" you up. In fantasy and reality, women repeatedly refer to "being filled"; perhaps it’s a woman’s way of expressing her sexual desire for more. But since everyone knows that unless the man is abnormally small, it isn’t penis size that really matters, I think this female cry only uses size as a kind of visible metaphor to express a desire for greater sex, completer sex, the essence of sex. Advertisers have found that the public responds when they call their product "the coffee-ier coffee" and

"the chocolate-ier chocolate." Should it be any surprise then that women desire sexier sex?

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Jo

I often have this fantasy when I’m alone, or with time on my hands, or even when I’m making love with my husband.

I am alone in the house. My husband has left for work. I begin my housework downstairs, clearing the dishes from the dining room into the kitchen. I take off my nightgown and housecoat and work in the nude. While I work, the neighbor’s dog follows me. He always comes over to visit. I take no notice of him, but his wet nose and warm breath move between my legs whenever I pause. Briefly I will let my legs part, and his tongue will dart out and lick me while I continue my chores as though he weren’t even there. I keep moving about, not giving him or me too much.

Slowly, as if not noticing, I let him have more: now two licks, increasing to three, four, his nose burrowing into my privates as I allow him to get at me for longer and longer periods. Suddenly he tires of the game and stops following, just as I have finished cleaning all the downstairs rooms. Except the kitchen. I always save the kitchen for last.

Quickly I call him as I go into the kitchen, and when he’s in I close the door so he can’t get out. Now I speed up. I don’t want him to lose interest. I get down a bowl and a box of Betty Crocker chocolate cake, my husband’s favorite. I mix up the batter quickly, and put half the mixture into a cake tin so we’ll have at least a one-layer cake for dessert that night. The other half I smear across my breasts, and as I bend down to put the cake in the oven I let the dog lick the batter from my breasts. With my finger I scrape up batter and keep spreading it on my nipples so that he lingers on them, lapping at them until they ache, until I ache. Now I go to the refrigerator, take out the butter for the icing, and from the cupboard I take down the sugar and a small bottle of Bovril. I sit on the kitchen chair to blend the sugar and butter, right beside the kitchen table with the bowl in my lap. I smear my cunt inside and out with the Bovril, and as I stir the 177