My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (32 page)

As I say, I had difficulty remembering these fantasies, mainly because I felt them to be a threat, and so I only indulged in them two or three times and quickly suppressed. them. Never because I felt guilty about them, but because I feel it a lack of self-discipline to overindulge oneself in anything. [Letter]

RANDOM ASSOCIATIONS

Things women see turn them on. It’s a simple proposition, but I’ve spent a lot of time on it because it is so often denied.

Even a magazine as comparatively uninhibited as Cosmopolitan, when it recently published its female reply to Playboy’s naked

"Playmate of the Month," went along with the myth that women think the sight of the male body ugly or frightening; the male model was nude all right but his oh-so-casually-placed hand and wrist masked what one would have assumed was the very point of the proceedings. This simple denial of the sources of women’s fantasies is almost as endless as the fantasies themselves, even though these sources are so obvious that just to name them is to recognize how easily they can serve as the start
of a fantasy.

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Women fantasize about their former lovers, their first orgasm, their first "different" sexual scene, say, with another woman or several people. There are the fantasies that are continuations of a real or remembered sexual moment – a stolen kiss, the pressed hand, last night’s first dinner in an as-yet-unconsummated but sure-fire affair – sexual sparks that haven’t yet, or never will get off the ground, but do in fantasy. There’s the totally fictional fantasy sprung from the fantasizer’s imagination inspired by an attractive face at a dinner party, or the hero of a TV play, or a pop music or film star. If this last possibility for fantasy hasn’t struck you as endless, just think of the millions of women – perhaps one sitting next to you right now – whose eyes glaze, palms moisten, and lips part in half-smiles of anticipation at the sight of Tom Jones or Paul Newman. Do you really think their minds are blank or that they turn off when the TV does?

Less obvious are those fantasies that spring from a woman’s effort to deal with emotions and desires too frightening or destructive to be played out in reality. In much the same way that dreams act as a healthy outlet for the violent emotions we would not want to experience in reality, so sexual fantasy can give a woman a chance to explore and thus lessen the anxiety of jealousy and the conflict she feels when she has desires for other men. That’s why I’ve included Gelda’s fantasy here; if her fantasy, touched off by her jealousy of her lover’s former girl friend, takes the form of a lesbian relationship with that other woman, at least she doesn’t take her destructive feelings of jealousy out on her lover during the day.

Susie

I have been married for over three years and last year finished a yearlong affair with a fellow executive civil servant (G.), who is twice my age. Frequently, when my husband makes love to me, I imagine it is G. on top of me again (difficult, as G. is heavier, 244

taller, and much hairierchested than my husband) and find my own climax is intensified if I am thinking of my lover. Sometimes when I come I even call his name out, but stifle it a bit.

(Fortunately in this respect, my husband is deaf in one ear!) I had a much more passionate relationship with my lover, than with my husband, even while we were engaged. G. and I only had to look at one another and he would have an erection and I would become wet. It even helps me to think that the bedclothes my husband and I sleep under are the same ones G. and I lay under while my husband was away in another city on business.

Since my affair, I have tried to rebuild my husband’s shattered ego by telling him what a good lover he is. (It helps now that I have regular orgasms with my husband, whereas before my affair I only came in the "superior" position.) Sometimes I have to keep my husband convinced with a few white lies. I think he’d walk out of the house if he knew what I was really thinking about.

When my husband fucks me I dream about G.’s favorite game: for me to be dressed all in black with garter belt and stockings under a long black skirt that buttons up the side. After stripping down to his trousers, he would kiss me, then bend down and stroke my leg where the skirt was split and bring his hand up under my skirt until he felt my stocking tops and garters, which would make him catch his breath. Then he would undo the skirt buttons from the bottom. By this time we would both be pretty worked up and I would "climb" him, swishing my nylons against his trousers. Sometimes at this stage of my fantasy, having taken my top off and unzipped his fly, we would start intercourse standing up, with my legs around his waist and G. holding me under my back. but more usually he insisted on sucking my left breast and then we would undress each other completely. Then we would admire each other in the dressing table mirror and tease each other, and I would admire his erect organ and very frequently go down on him, which he loved. (No other woman had ever done that…at first he thought it was perverted!) 245

My fantasies, as you can see are all mixed up with what actually happened. In the morning G. would pick me up in his car and fantasize on what positions he was going to take me in that night, often petting and kissing me to such an extent that once or twice I ended up impaled on his prick at 8:15 A.M. in the front seat, while his bosses wondered what had happened to old reliable G! His particular ritual was to tease me so that I would plead with him to enter and "quench my fire." This was okay so long as he could control himself but very often he couldn’t, especially in front of the mirror, and we would fuck ourselves silly all over the floor. One night in particular he waltzed me around the front room carpet on my back while I was having multiple orgasms, and it wasn’t until half an hour later that we saw that the skin had come off my back in about five places. I told my husband I’d been doing floor gymnastics. All this, the real and the imagined, gets confused in my mind during fantasy.

Also G. and I used to share a fantasy of what it would be like when we were making love in his car in a secluded spot on a promontory with bushes all around if the two hundred men on his staff would suddenly appear from behind the bushes and see us at it. In fact I think I would have really enjoyed it, and have since wondered about seeing all that lot masturbating when they saw that their boss was pretty good at things apart from work. I would have liked to watch their reactions when I toyed with my lover’s penis in my mouth – that would shock a good many of them, old women that a lot of them are, especially when they saw me bring him to climax that way and swallow his seed, or when I made G.

come simply by flexing my vaginal muscles (tricks my mother taught me – ha! – I can’t do that with my husband though: he’s not sensitive enough).

My husband never seems to really take the initiative in bed, and a climax for him seems to be more of a relief than a release.

(Incidentally. we’ve been married three years and he’s 246

twenty-four.) What I miss most is my lover’s manipulation of me during intercourse, and his more or less mastery of the situation.

Most of all I remember when I’m with my husband how G., when his climax came, used to grunt and groan with the pleasure and kiss me fiercely, making me feel a complete woman, completely possessed. I haven’t really felt like that for months now.

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to get something off my chest which has been weighing me down for almost two years. Very often I’ve longed to tell my husband the details of my adultery – it would heighten my opinion of my husband if he could take joy in what my lover has experienced. But I know it’s just not possible. After all, my fantasies are based on the real thing. [Letter]

Adrienne

Adrienne is one of those lively, gregarious types who are easy to get to know. I met her on the QE2 trip from New York to Southampton. Although the voyage is only, five days, a ship has a way of bringing people together in terms of intimacy so quickly that it seems incredible when remembered back on shore.

This was the case with Adrienne and me. We were introduced at the Captain’s cocktail party. (The two of us being practically the only unattached women under sixty on board, we were naturally asked.) Nicknames, very quickly invented and bestowed, are another part of shipboard life; and there was a man on board whom Adrienne almost immediately named "The Gambler." She had already met him by the time I got to know her, and the three of us would often have a drink together before dinner. The Gambler was one of those men who like to talk about sex a great deal, and with, astonishing perseverance would want to know more about the slightest detail ever mentioned. It was 247

after the Gambler had gone off on his own one night that Adrienne and I had our talk.

Adrienne is a plump, almost professionally social thirtytwo or thirtythree; as I said, I doubt if we’d ever have exchanged more than first names on land, we had so little in common. But she loved to talk and I listened.

When you asked me the other day if I ever had sexual fantasies, my first reaction was that I really didn’t think I ever had. What had I been missing? Maybe the Gambler has something to do with my "secondthinking." What I mean is, he reminds me of this guy I used to know. Now, on reflection, I realize that on more than one occasion my thoughts have run wild and that I do have a vivid imagination. It’s just that I wasn’t used to calling these ideas and images "fantasies."

Several years ago, I was going out with a man called Ted. He was tall (like the Gambler), handsome, and I found him very attractive but elusive. When I first met him we were at a dinner party, which was held outdoors on a lovely terrace overgrown with pink and white petunias. It was a warm night and we were sipping buck fizzes – a drink which always makes me feel very romantic and rather sexy. We had really only just been introduced, but there we were, off alone on that terrace, and I found myself telling him that I had a giant teddy bear back home at my apartment, and he immediately replied that now I could have another "Teddy, bare" that night. He said it so easily, and with such a spirit of fun, that I thought to myself, "Well, why not?"

He was a wonderful lover. You know how some people always have to have a record player going when they make love? With me, all I have to do to get into a sexy mood is remember the conversation that first night. Time and time again I would imagine him as a large teddy bear and me as a honey pot. He was a very hungry bear and would suck and scrape as much as he could out of that pot and I kept wishing and wishing that my pot 248

could always be full. Just thinking of it right now…I can feel myself getting all excited…Hey! Where did the Gambler go?

[Conversation]

Doris

"Here was this experience that was supposed to be the climax of a girl’s life, and it was like a form of calisthenics," says Doris, talking about her sexual initiation with Jim, then her fiance. "My reactions were always the same. I’d find myself heated up by the preliminaries, but then just waiting for what’s called ‘the real thing’ to be over."

Doris felt obscurely cheated, and resentful of Jim. In the end, it ended their engagement. But before it did, Dons told Jim of her feelings. His response was to buy "something special." "It was like a little fat rubber band," says Doris, "maybe an inch wide, but on one side it had this funny little upward thing. I remember thinking it looked like some kind of shark’s-fin, sticking up from the middle of the rubber band." Jim slipped the rubber band around the shaft of his erect penis. and with every thrust "the little fin rubbed my clitoris both going in and coming out in a way that Jim’s shaft never could. I never had felt anything like it.

I never had an orgasm like it in my life."

A year after the engagement was over, Doris married someone else. Her husband refuses to buy "one of those little upward things" like Jim used to have, but has learned to bring her to orgasm with his finger.

It’s dark – maybe that’s because I have my eyes closed so I can see the picture better. I just think of that big shaft of Jim’s, going in and out of me, like a great pink shark. I rarely imagine that the man is my husband. Usually, it’s my old boy friend, or sometimes some other man I’ve recently met. I picture it very clearly. the man’s big shaft parting the hair, parting the lips, sinking into me, with that little tip riding toward the clitoris as if 249

it’s hungry to touch it. I concentrate on that little rubber shark’s fin, just touching me in the right place with each stroke. Rubbing as it goes in, rubbing as it goes out. I’ve never mentioned it to my husband again ever since he refused to buy one. But it’s one of the nicest wedding presents my old boy friend could have given us…this picture of it I have in my mind.

I like to imagine that we’re making love in some tropical sea or a warm swimming pool. And I can just see this pink shark swimming toward me, and I open my legs wider and wider. The shark knows me, and he likes the warm feeling inside. He likes to wriggle around just at the lips. Sometimes even when my husband’s not inside me, I only have to think about that shark’s fin and I start climbing the walls. I can see the picture in my mind’s eye. That’s all I ever have to think about. Just the pink fin rubbing me. [Taped interview]

Lulu

Any lesbian fantasies I have go back to the time my husband and I experimented in bed with another girl. It was the only time this had ever happened – not for my husband, but for me. I must admit I enjoyed it. It was my husband’s idea, and although he asked me to make the advances toward the girl, I didn’t really mind. Since that time I have sometimes wondered what it would be like to pick up a girl all on my own somewhere and seduce her, or to be completely seduced by a dominant woman, especially as my own experience so far has been as the initiator.

When I am in bed with my husband I’ll go over this scene again and again, imagining how that first girl really was with me, the things I might have tried had I only known. If I like I can even imagine that my finger is her tongue, as I remember it. That’s a lot of memory from just one experience, don’t you think?