My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (41 page)

and I found my fullest satisfaction in having some difficulty in taking him, and in being stretched after years of being told I was too large. When I got into bed afterward with my husband, it was obvious to him what I had taken, and of course this gave him even more pleasure to insert his own tool only a minute or two after in the same place where I had just taken this larger tool.

I realize that this letter may not be exactly what you asked for, as in the main, it is an account of actions that followed
after
fantasies and not what occurred during them, but I would hope that you may be able to obtain some information from it. The point I would try to make is that it has benefited both my husband and myself. Him, because he is so much more a superior lover now than before, and quite frankly, I feel no regret or feeling of shame. [Letter]

Doris

My fiancé is writing this letter as I speak. This should give you some idea of how open we are with one another. I am nineteen years old and we are soon to be married.

My fantasies during intercourse and masturbation are always of him; he is always present in them. It is only during foreplay that I sometimes think of another man, in particular a man I work with. I imagine various situations that I have been in with him, but these thoughts end when I have intercourse, probably because I have never had intercourse with him.

Even when I think of another woman, my fiancé is present in my fantasies. He is usually watching as the woman goes down on me, or me on her. In reality, this would give us both a great deal of pleasure. In fact, anything I think sexually seems to turn him on. We don’t talk too much during sex, but I do like him to tell me at the outset that he is going to "fuck me." Words like this can add a lot.

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When I was about eleven years old, there was a rather good-looking young man, about twenty, who lived next door.

Some weekends he used to have his girl friend come stay with him. In the evenings I could hear him in his bedroom with her –clearly the wall between our houses was not that thick. It did not take much imagination to know what they were doing, even for an eleven-year-old. My fantasy was very straightforward. I would simply imagine that he was doing, whatever it was, to me instead of her. I would lie there for hours listening through the wall and wishing I were in her place. I would never go to sleep till all was quiet next door. To this day I remember their lovemaking noises.

The only fantasy I’ve been able to put into practice has been one that indulges my exhibitionist tendencies. With my fiancé’s encouragement, I will sometimes leave off my panties when I am wearing black stockings and a garter belt. With my mini-length skirts, it is not difficult to subtly reveal myself in public places.

Later, I repeat all of this in great detail to my fiancé. I wouldn’t think of leaving him out of my fantasies; having him involved or telling him about them heightens everything for me. Even when indulging in my favorite lesbian fantasies, I like to have him there watching, or in reality talking to me. [Letter]

Bonnie

I just recently became aware of my fantasies. I fantasize far more about black men than white; they appeal to me more sexually. But this is not just fantasy; my husband is black. The only other man I balled more than once was white, and I rarely felt satisfied with him. Since I am very satisfied with my husband, I would imagine that this has much to do with my preference for black men in my fantasies. I should add that up until last night, the men in my fantasies were always anonymous.

In my fantasy last night – I’ve never had one like it before –the person I found myself fantasizing about was one of the three 317

pastors at the church my husband and I attend. My husband is a student pastor at this church, and this man is his advisor.

Physically, the man is not my ideal at all. My ideal is tall and slender (my best friend would call it "skinny"), whereas this pastor is no taller than myself, perhaps shorter, and stocky. He is middle-aged, which also hasn’t before appealed to me. But last night was the first time the anonymous lover in my fantasy has ever been given an identity.

I do have another strange fantasy in which I walk into a store which deals exclusively in sexual aids and accessories – dildos, false breasts, sucking apparatus, etc. My desire is to buy a

"mouth," though I never really picture what it would be like, just what it would feel like. [Letter]

Jessie

My husband and I do talk during sex, especially when he is feeling me. But the best sessions we have are when we both imagine that we are giving an exhibition on anything to do with sex. I usually strip while my husband lies on the bed describing every detail of me. I stand in front of our large mirror and have to do what he says. The language we use on these occasions really excites me. I end up caressing my titties and masturbating. When he strips, I part his legs and take the penis in my mouth. We have a session of oral sex, then we rub oil over each of us and go through a pattern of different positions. Rear entry in front of the mirror is best. Then we can see how we look to our imaginary audience and I can see it in me and also play with my clitoris, which by this time is really on end. [Letter]

Esther

I am fifty years old, and my husband is fifty-four. We have two children, both married. We are both college graduates, and my 318

husband has an above-average income, which permits us to travel quite extensively. Since I was about twenty-eight, we have enjoyed a very active and. varied sex life. My husband (I will use the name Bill) approves of all my sex activities, whether participating, assisting, or merely looking on. He would never be jealous or angry at anything I might tell him, if it enhanced my sex feeling. He insists that I mention the fact that my body is firm and trim, with about the same weight and measurements I had at thirty. We both believe that lots of sex is the best figure control a woman can practice.

I do not often fantasize during coitus with Bill, but it does happen on occasion. We vocalize a lot, giving directions, telling each other how it feels, etc.

I fantasize continuously while I masturbate. I conjure up many images at different times, depending how I am doing it. My most frequent image is of my boxer screwing me (this actually happens about every other day). Sometimes I fantasize sex with two men.

I do it by alternating dildos between my vagina and my mouth, pretending that I am being screwed by one and Frenching the other. At times I have carried this further to include three men, by inserting a small dildo in my anus. Less elaborate fantasies have included my brother, my sister’s husband, an uncle, and numerous attractive men we know.

When Bill or the boxer perform cunnilingus on me, I often just lie back with eyes closed and imagine all sorts of oral situations.

They are often lesbian in nature, and mostly are concerned with a beautiful girl friend with whom I made love many times between the ages of fifteen and seventeen. Unfortunately, our family was transferred, breaking up our relationship. I had sex with other girls, but none were as lovely or skillful as my first friend. I have told Bill that if our paths should ever cross, I would go to bed with her, if she were willing, and I am sure she would be.

I began fantasizing at a very early age; at eight, I believe. At that time, my uncle, then about fourteen, showed me his erect 319

penis, and showed me where it was supposed to go. He gave me a demonstration with his finger, which I enjoyed very much, and rubbed the head of his penis against my small hole. We engaged in similar sex play many times, and I began to masturbate regularly. Always, it was accompanied by thoughts of his finger screwing me, or his penis caressing my inner lips and clitoris.

When I was thirteen, I began having sex with my brother, and this continued irregularly until about my sixteenth year.

I enjoy imagining that I am on exhibition. I have performed for Bill so often that I am accustomed to an audience, albeit of one.

In our travels we have had several opportunities to view sex exhibitions, and strangely, perhaps, I always identify with the girls, and how, and to what extent, I felt that I could improve upon their performance. I am sure that I have a decided streak of exhibitionism in me. I love to pose for pictures; the sexier the better. In mild ways (with Bill’s approval), I have indulged in exhibitionism. For instance, I have not worn panties in many years, except (honest injun) when I am expected to take them off; at the doctor’s or the dressmaker’s. I have given lots of strange men an unexpected peek at my pussy, while Bill and I observed their surprised and pleased reactions. Usually, this occurs on a motor trip, and I will have applied lipstick to my labia, to be sure they are unmistakably visible against the background of dark brown hair. Being rather moist and swollen, their visibility is enhanced. On trips, we always have a dildo handy and, of course, the boxer. I have let him screw me many times as we traveled, much, I am sure, to the surprise of passing truck drivers, who must have wondered what a large dog was doing with his paws on the back of the front seat.

Speaking our fantasies out naturally decreases the novelty of the particular situation to some extent. But we have discarded few, if any, of our fantasies. Actually, we have experienced many of our best fantasies, but even so, they remain effective sex stimulators. The most effective, the favorite, and the one which 320

has withstood the test, is the one concerned with bestiality. It began about twenty years ago, and became a reality about three years ago. Our present dog is the third one, and he should be good for five or six years. The first two were German Shepherds, and we have trained all of them. Until the kids went away to college, dog-screwing was mostly reserved for special occasions, although I had cunnilingus often. I kept the dogs satisfied with masturbation and, when Bill was there to help guard against being surprised, I would fellatiate them. I know this may sound terrible, but it is really very pleasant, especially as I always thoroughly bathe that area with a nonirritating alcohol antiseptic which can be had in any drugstore. Precautions are unnecessary now, but I still enjoy giving him a suck sometimes.

I hope that none of what I have written has been offensive.

Please use it in any way you wish, if it has any value. [Letter]

Posie

I am forty-seven years old and have only been married to my present husband for two and a half years. I was previously married for twenty-four years; he was a violent man and sex with him was something hateful. But my new husband is a very good and kind lover who has taught me that sex is a wonderful thing to be enjoyed. I find with him that talking about our fantasies makes them even more exciting when they happen again.

What I always like to imagine during sex with my husband is that I’m doing it with someone who doesn’t belong to me. This

"someone else" is no one in particular, and not always a man. Far from being jealous or angry, my lover tells me to talk to him and explain in detail things that go on in my mind, and it makes our lovemaking fantastic.

One of the favorite devices in my fantasy is to think that someone is watching me, and it becomes so real that it is this that heightens my climax. I do have lesbian fantasies, which really 321

aren’t great, as I’m a man’s woman, but sometimes I do wonder how I would react to seeing another woman feeling her breasts and cunt, actually manipulating herself. I don’t want to be doing it, I just want to watch her.

We often indulge in fantasies together, acting out little plays as though we had just met and he has never had a woman before. I seduce him, teach him what to do. Or we switch the roles around and he becomes the instructor. Either way it’s enjoyable. [Letter]

Marx

I have actually acted out one of my fantasies, that of having sex with a colored man. When I describe this to my husband it really gets him going. If I add on top of this image the idea of being on exhibition, it gets me so keyed up I can even see the expressions on the faces of the people watching.

When my husband and I talk about these things it is easier to explain what we really, think and feel, but of course most people, especially women, don’t want to talk about taboo subjects. If you brought up the subject they would think you were sex-mad, when really it’s the most interesting thing there is, and you are able by talking, and only by talking, to find out what makes people different. [Letter]

Joan

I think my fantasies began when I was quite young, but q I have always remembered the first thing that really started me off.

I still find it exciting to think about. I was about twelve and knew as much about sex as the next girl, I suppose. One day, two other girls and myself were in the park with several boys fifteen or sixteen years old. They bullied a younger boy to expose himself to us. This obviously fascinated all three of us girls, and as you might have guessed, the next thing that happened was an 322

intensive petting session between us and the older boys. It may sound strange, but I can’t really remember if one of those boys really got all the way inside me or not. But throughout it all, and still to this day, I can remember seeing that small red knob coming out through the foreskin, and I remember wondering whatever that little red thing was that was coming out toward me.

Seeing that first exposure got me started on fantasies as well as sex. I am fifty-five years old, and until quite recently kept secret my fantasies of exposing myself. In my fantasies it is I who expose my cleanly-shaven cunt to younger men, even youths, so that they can see what a real woman’s cunt looks like. I have always wondered about the size of other men, because after our third child my husband felt like a finger inside me. It was then that I began to really look at men and to urge my husband to tell me what other men were like. I couldn’t believe that some men were as large as he described, and in my fantasies I would imagine them, egged on by seeing my shaven cunt, mounting me.