My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (31 page)

Of course, there’s less to make up nowadays: men’s trousers _

have never been tighter, their shirts more bodyhugging, their own awareness of their visual sexuality keener. Are we all playing

"The Emperor’s New Clothes"? I’m not surprised that so many women say they’re sometimes (secretly) tempted to "just reach out and touch it." Who’s it meant for anyway? The new visual turn-ons have done worlds for fantasy, and now that we’re all having a good look at it, fantasy can get on with the story development.

With all this happening, I find it baffling that sexually informed writers and psychologists as generous and liberating as Robert Chartham – whose book
The Sensuous Couple
begins by saying that no couple is sensuous unless both parties are equal, equal to initiate, lead or follow that even such a man as this argues that women are not as readily aroused sexually as men.

Given a pornographic book, Chartham told me, a man would be 235

more fully and quickly aroused than a woman. "A man would have an erection in seconds," he said, as if it is only man’s outward barometer that is to be considered, the cock’s signal readiness for use the only measure of a person’s depth and quality of sexuality. When I staunchly replied that I, too, could be aroused very quickly by just the right printed page, he looked at me kindly, paused and said, "Then you are unusual. Women take much longer."

What makes this entire argument difficult to discuss sensibly is that buried within it – and usually given as proof of the male’s more immediate sexuality – is the undeniable fact that he comes more quickly. But what has that to do with how quickly and to what depth either sex is aroused? While a man can come quicker than a woman, she can continue to have one orgasm after another in immediate, rapid-fire succession. Really, it’s all a silly argument. We’re not in a race, and even if we were, supposedly we’re in it together, men and women, running after the same thing.

The closest I can come – especially after this book – to agreeing with Dr. Chartham and others who say that women do not respond quickly, or even respond at all, to reading or seeing sexual stimuli is to say that if they respond more slowly than men do, this is not nature’s decree; it is the way they’ve been trained to respond. Women do respond immediately at times, but the response is not the male’s socially accepted smile, come-on, and erection. With the woman, it will more often mean the retreat into a secret fantasy, with or without deliberately chosen stimuli. Here are a few examples.

Mary Jane

I am a little hesitant to respond because I do not think I have as many sexual fantasies as many other women. I will try to tell you about those I do have, anyway.

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I feel ashamed to admit it, but my mind sometimes does wander when I am having intercourse with my husband. Usually I think about other men I find sexually exciting. Sometimes I think about Paul Newman, the actor, because I think he is the most attractive man I have ever seen. I close my eyes and imagine that he is making love to me rather than my husband.

Also, I feel guilty about it.

I once dreamed I was making love to my father-in-law while I was having sexual intercourse with my husband. My husband’s father is one of the most handsome and attractive men that I know personally, and I have often wished that my husband were more like his father.

Several times, a really strange idea has come into my head for no reason at all. In my mind, I will see myself kneeling in front of Paul Newman, and I am sucking on his penis. I put those kind of thoughts out of my head very quickly, though, because I have never done that to any man, not even my husband.

A little while before I was married, I started to have fantasies about statues of nude men that I had seen. Some had such beautiful bodies that I could not resist thinking about making love to them. My favorite was a statue of Hermes, the Greek god.

In particular, I was fascinated by its small, delicate-looking penis. I have an aversion to large or gross looking penises, although I have only seen my husband’s and those on nudes in paintings or on statues. Even now, I sometimes fantasize about making love to ‘that statue of Hermes, since it has become something of an ideal of male beauty to me (especially after I discovered on my wedding night that my husband’s penis is as small as the one on that statue). [Letter]

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Miranda

During sex I occasionally think of a man other than the man I am with. He is never someone known to me. Physically he is an image of the "ideal" man. If I am in reality with someone young, who has a beautiful and exciting body, I may change him in my imagination into someone unknown that I have just met on the street.

If I told my lover, he would be jealous and would think it was something lacking in his sexual performance that caused fantasies such as this. (Not true; I think of things like the above just as the mood takes me.)

The thought of two men having sex together really excites me and I would love to see this. (Recently, the man I have been living with for three years was "felt up" by a homosexual when we were at a party where everyone had had a lot to drink. He was horrified and felt "disgusted," to quote him, but I found it made me immensely excited.)

Sometimes I imagine an audience watching me have sex with my boss; sometimes young boys being given an intimate anatomy lesson with me as the model. (Ridiculous, really, because I have done art school modeling in the nude and merely felt bored.) I also get pleasure imagining I am an empress who has unlimited supplies of men and who lines them up to choose. I imagine giving banquets where the servants are naked men, and afterward accommodating the women guests with any male they desire, all having been tested as to performance by myself previously. This and variations of this theme I particularly like, as the men can be erotically clothed or decorated if necessary.

I have many erotic dreams, often of transparently clothed men, or Greek gad types, usually nude. Sometimes at night I dream I am having sex, but in my dreams it is always with someone familiar, never a stranger. My fantasy men are always beautiful and blond and unknown.

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One of my favorite fantasies is being invisible among crowds of naked men and being fascinated by the way they move. In reality and fantasy I simply love to look at men, their bodies, and have had such imaginings, of which these are an example, since I was about twelve. [Letter]

Margaret

I am twenty-six, unmarried, and living in the country by myself. I have never written to a magazine before. I was determined, however, to reply to this letter.

Some years ago I was about to become a nun. I was at a convent for a year and began to hate the environment, for I was convinced that a vast number of the novices were indeed sex-repressed. I certainly was from the outset and just had to give it up. I had slight lesbian tendencies prior to going to the convent, but they then enlarged. I masturbated frequently before I went there, but this increased enormously. I just had to get relief somehow. Fortunately, I grew fond of a novice older than myself and secretly we masturbated together quite often. Then it was that I started having fantasies. I would grow fond of a nun, and while playing with myself I would think of her. I would imagine that it was her fingers that titillated my clitoris. I would try hard to imagine her standing by the bedside stark naked with hairs on her pubic region. I also tried to think of her being played with by another nun. This brought me to a climax speedily.

When I left the convent, I went in for teaching at a girls’

school. I would enjoy being present when the girls went for showers each morning en masse. My thoughts would always veer toward a particular girl whose body was fairly well developed.

Then, in the seclusion of my own room, I would strip, lie on the bed, and think of the girl as I had seen her in the showers.

Then I met a man who seemed exciting. I have met three of his male friends, and I might add that we are broad-minded and at 239

times have a small sex party at which we are all nude. Here again I have fantasies. I am not in love with any of them, but enjoy being fucked by them while the others watch. While I am actually being penetrated, I think of one of the other men present.

One is dark-skinned, as he is Italian, and has a large penis. When another man is inside me I pretend it is the Italian. I seldom come when I am fucked. I come when I play with myself or use a vibrator alone in my apartment. Yet I simulate a climax just to make the man feel happy and often use obscene language. I buy many sex books, and I even have an album of girlie pictures.

When I want to feel naughty I place this on a bedside table and with my vibrator and tape recorder I actually speak out loud and think of some man or maybe some girl whose body I long to play with. I am not crackers. I am very normal but sex interests me enormously. I will never marry. I would be faithless, I know. I like my own body far too much and like other people playing with it! [Letter]

Alexandra

I am seventeen and have had one intimate affair with a man.

Once, when we were making love in the car, we had stopped in front of the public school that I attended as a child. I remember now that I secretly laughed at the thought of how ironic it was. I tried to imagine myself as a child looking upon this situation.

Perhaps because I was now doing something forbidden as a child, it excited me.

My first masturbating experience was after I had read
Candy
. I still remember because I pretended that I was the girl in that book and for the first time I had an orgasm. I didn’t know what it was then, but I soon found out. For a while there I was reaching an orgasm at least once a day. I would read a "dirty" book and then reread the lines in my head as I masturbated. After reading an 240

uncounted number of books, I began putting together my own stories, or fantasies.

Off the cuff, I’ll describe some situations that used to turn me on: being picked up on the corner while hitchhiking at night and being raped by three guys; same situation, only intercourse willingly with all three; call girl with a good reputation; being seduced while under the influence of drugs; subject of sexual experiments such as in the Nazi war camps; intercourse with a dog with a friend looking on; intercourse with my brothers; sex play with my father, sisters (in the fantasies involving a mother or father, they were not my own parents; likewise the faces of siblings were changed – a point which I find interesting because I do it unconsciously); intercourse with my favorite teacher…the list goes on.

Many of my early fantasies involved some sort of sadism or masochism, but after I experienced the emotional side of lovemaking these fantasies very quickly wore off. I found them really distasteful. Now I have just as many "favorite" fantasies to choose from, but they all involve emotion, whether it be love or hate. Usually gentleness surrounds the feelings of my fantasies now: being accepted in a coven of witches through their love ritual (I read that somewhere); making love with someone I’ve just met, with whom I’ve instantly gotten along really well; having an affair with my high-school teacher, which I’m sure would not be a fantasy if I gave him a little encouragement. All these fantasies are very close to reality.

I’ve also had occasional lesbian fantasies. In them I am never a part of the action, but an onlooker. In the past I also had fantasies of orgies, and again I was always the passive partner.

But I don’t use those anymore. Now I’m into emotion. [Letter]

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Stephanie

When first thinking about your request for sexual fantasies, I said to myself, "But this doesn’t apply to me, as far as I can remember I have never fantasized." But upon reflection, I realized that I had disciplined myself to forget them. Upon wracking my brains, I realize I have fantasized but never realized I was getting a sensual thrill from it until now.

After reading a book about Roman orgies, I imagined. I was having intercourse with a donkey, having read an account of just such a happening. But it quickly grew distasteful. Another fantasy I’ve had several times, and usually when I’m afraid of having sexual intercourse, say after having a baby or during times of stress (am I rationalizing?), is this: I imagine myself in the jungle with a primitive tribe. I am forced to watch punishments being inflicted upon same of their tribe members far various sexual misdemeanors. I go into great detail over the tortures. The men have their penises or scrotum cut off, or red-hot liquid forced up their urethra. The women hake red-hot pokers thrust up them slowly. As the only civilized person there I am duly horrified by these events.

Just now in recounting this fantasy to you, another upon similar lines has entered my consciousness. In this one we are in a Nazi camp. There is a fiendish woman torturing the men. She makes them hold their urine until they burst. She has a machine into which she inserts their penises. This machine keeps on stimulating them so that they have constant orgasms. I remember trying to conclude that particular torture, and couldn’t think of anything except that their organs became flaccid and so another torture had to be devised to follow that one – which I can’t remember. The women in the camp were all very young girls and were being raped by a mad professor.

Their sexual apparatus was very immature and he always managed to kill them. He adopted all sorts of techniques, but I 242

only remember this ward full of girls, each tied into a position whereby he could examine their sexual apparatus and choose which one was going to be his that day. By the way, most of these fantasies are things I have read about and very little is invented. Other events take place in theses fantasies, but all along those same sadistic lines.

I told my husband of the jungle one and I think he was a little taken aback, but it made me laugh when bringing it out into the open. I certainly didn’t feel guilty about it, for although I might be a perverted sadist somewhere down deep, it doesn’t seem to show in my daily life; in fact, I am a gentle person, so I could afford to laugh, feeling secure in the fact that I have disciplined this part of myself.