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Poets are often called the conscience of a nation; I believe our sexual fantasies are mirrors of the women we would like to become. I don't think anyone can read the letters in the pages that fol- low and not be as touched as I was, not only by the feelings expressed but by the outpouring of honesty and the unglossy portrait they give of their lives. What impresses me most is that, although I guaranteed that all contributions would be anonymous, over half the women who wrote signed their full names and gave their addresses - as contrasted to one woman in ten who signed her real name to the letters I collected for Garden five years ago.
While I have kept my half of the agreement - all names, professions, geographical, and other too revealing biographical data have been changed - I am moved by the courage of my readers in wanting to speak to me without disguise. So that I can be- lieve in myself, I want you to believe in me and what I wrote. And so I am signing my full name. From the time they were little girls, women have been told "not to think about such things.
No great pioneering idea on my part. Freud's work on infantile sexuality dates from the turn of the century. More recently, the eminent authority on childhood psychology. Arnold Gesell, conducted a study on infant behavior. He placed a fifty-six-week-old boy in front of a mirror, naked. What the child saw of his own body excited him so much that Dr.
Sometimes he has to have a boy for sexual re- lease, so 1 give him money to go to the bus station to get what he wants. There's one about the little girl who has a male guardian - father or uncle, I never really figured it out. She wrapped her arms around him, feeling the strong muscles of his back, still warm from the sun. I also thought of a scene in which he was fucking me from behind. The Gift That Keeps On Thompson was ogling her up and down, not bothering to conceal the lechery in his heart.
Gesell was able to photograph him with an erect penis. If a boy barely one year old can have an erotic experience, is it surprising that little girls - usually more precocious than boys can also be said to be sexual beings almost from birth? And yet the idea is still unacceptable to most people. Child- hood is pictured as a time of ribbons, fairy tales, and lemonade. Adults notoriously forget that they were once children too; they close off their minds to early sexual memories - those embar- rassing or shameful events connected perhaps with anxieties about masturbation. I am not suggesting that the sugar and spice of little girls' childhoods are only a false facade.
That aspect is real. But so is our sexuality. So far, I have received over two thousand letters from women who sent me ' their sexual fantasies in response to the 13 invitation on the last page of My Secret Garden. Many were from highly educated women; an equally great number were from people who probably never read Freud. The cumulative truth of their personal experience confirmed my view that sexual fantasies are often bom out of remembered childhood events. These letters cheered me in a very significant way: I loved the self-acceptance they showed, the refusal to continue to cany the age-old feminine burden of shame and guilt.
The writers want me to see them as they are; they want some recognition for the courage with which so many of them lead their lives, even if they ask me not to print their names.
The little boy who lived next door came over and he. There is an intuitive understanding that ladylike language would be counterproduc- tive to the puipose we are both striving for While names, geo- graphical locations, and occupations in these letters have been changed. I have preserved all other biographical details.
I feel only out of the richness and density of facts about someone's life can we come to see that she is a woman just like ourselves. I believe this is important work that women must do to- gether, and I am glad that there are so many willing to lay their lives on the line to help tear down the curtain of silence behind which we have had to hide our erotic selves. Behind this barrier, which was marked Innocence, but should more rightly have been named Ignorance, the sexual exploita- tion of women went on during practically all of recorded his- tory - a time that, thanks to women's new openness and hon- esty with one another, is coming to an end.
Another significant difference between the letters of and these new ones is that in Garden the average age of the women who contributed was about thirty; they were of the gen- eration bom around the time of World War II. The world they 14 grew up in was very different than today's. The average age of women who sent in their fantasies for in- clusion in this book is about twenty-two. They grew up in the age in which Elvis Presley was bringing a new kind of blatant sexuality to pop music, they entered their own sexual years to the songs of the Beatles.
I am not saying that the music of their time directly influenced their approach to life although often it did , as much as it reflected a whole new era of freedom of sexual expression. The fantasies in this book fill me with admi- ration for these young women. I am struck by their pride in their sexuality and their pleasure in its exercise - if not in their lives, at least in their fantasies. They are not at all frightened by the sexuality of their earliest years. They aren't into guilt at all. In memory, there is security. One of the first signs that in- fants are maturing is the ability to allow mother out of their sight without tears of fear or rage.
In time, the baby is freed by this inner certainty and reliance upon memory; she comes to enjoy her periods of solitude. Se- cure in a base of remembered happiness, the little child can turn her attention forward to learning new things: So it is in our sexual years. Whenever periods of sexual boredom, anxiety, or frustration come along, we tend to return to childhood scenes of remembered erotic happiness. These 15 will be images or events that happen to the baby that are of an erotic nature. Something is imagined or felt by the little girl, something comes into view that stimulates her.
The child does not yet know, nor does she need to know, that these are specifi- cally sexual feelings. She only knows that they make her feel good. She goes over the stimulating incident again and again in memory, almost as a form of sympathetic magic to make the experience recur; it is the same form of primitive logic that made the cavemen draw pictures of deer when they wanted to meet them on the hunt. This is truly our Age of Innocence. The knowledge of good and evil conventionally viewed had not yet been forced upon us.
Is it any wonder that we withdraw to these happy memo- ries, these simple joys, during our grown-up times of stress, frustration, or boredom? We were safe and felt alive then; memory allows us again to draw upon these emotions in fan- tasy. Unfortunately, it is a period of childhood that does not last long. Very soon the little girl begins to notice that when she says this or does that her parents frown or quickly change the subject. She becomes aware that vari- ous aspects of her thought or behavior are not to be mentioned.
She learns concealment and evasion - but in her mind, at least. They are too exciting to give up. Guilt and silence turn her memories into fantasies. In our outlawed memo- ries, our first fantasies begin. What heightened her pleasure in these erotic scenarios was to imagine them while she could hear her mother moving around in another part of the house. Right under her mother's nose, so to speak, she could play with these forbidden thoughts.
In the secrecy of her mind, she could be sexually defiant. Carla's letter is not so much the work of an imagination like Dorothy's as it is a collection of resummoned actualities. This loving evocation of the past can be defined as sexual fantasy too: When memories carry too heavy a charge of psychic pain, the fanta- sizer usually drops or disguises them, putting an emotional distance between herself and the ideas that excite her. She makes up imaginary events, uses imaginary people to express her eroticism; she can almost be said to see herself in the third person in heal fantasy scenes - all this incredible sex is not happening me it is happening to her.
I hasten to add here that this does not mean that imaginary fantasies are the work of puritanical or guilt ridden minds. I would say instead that they are the work of creative minds that 17 need strategies other than memory over a distance of time to overcome inhibitions. Dorothy's fantasies may be more the works of imagination than Carla's, but nobody reading Doro- thy's six scenarios could feel they were invented by an inhibited woman. What is most interesting about Carla's letter to me is that while her memories of past and present sexual experiences would shock or horrify most, people, Carla herself speaks of them all very fondly, with total acceptance of every man, every sexual encounter - with less guilt about breaking even the in- cest barrier than most women would feel about kissing a stranger at a party.
She speaks of her memories with no bra- vado, no shouts of defiance that might make us feel she was protesting too much. Dorothy I have just finished reading your book. My Secret Garden, and I can truly state that it has changed my life for the better. It took my husband and I four evenings to read it, and those four nights produced the most fantastic sex of our entire married life. I had no idea that knowing about other women's sexual fantasies would turn him on so, and now I think I have the courage to describe some of my own to him, which I've never done before.
You see, I had a very strict upbringing. Actually, I suppose it was no more strict than most women's, certainly no worse than that of the other girls I grew up with. But looking back now, I can see it's a miracle that I grew up with any feel- ings of sexuality whatsoever, given the fact that the atmosphere around our home was that sex just wasn't nice. Let me say that I'm twenty-six, have been married for a year to a wonderful man I lived with for a year before we married, have no children, and I have a good job as an executive secre- 18 tary.
My husband and I are middle class, both with college educations. I know now that I have always engaged in sexual fantasy, but up until this point, I felt very guilty and ashamed of my fantasies, and even tried very hard to keep from having them. I can remember how guilty I felt as a little girl when I went to church with my parents, and knew what a terrible little sinner I was for having had those wicked thoughts during the week. I used to pray for salvation although no one in my family was terribly religious. However, I was never able to banish these deliciously nasty thoughts from my mind; lying in bed as a child and thinking about them, even as I heard my mother moving about the house, made them all the more thrilling.
Many of my fanta- sies stem from these early childhood daydreams, and have never lost their impact. Now, your delightful book has finally enabled me to relax with a guilt-free conscience and enjoy them. As I have jotted down the basic themes before starting this letter, I see that I have at least six basic fantasies - each one involves a different position, and 1 adapt the appropriate fantasy to coincide with the particular position I'm actually in bed.
Below are a couple of my favorites: I use this one while being manipulated by hand before intercourse. It's in the s, and I am a beautiful, homeless, penniless young maiden on a voyage by ship to America. The ship's captain handsome, rugged, much older has agreed to take me, even though I have no money for my passage.
After we are underway, though, I soon realize that there will be a payment demanded of me, and I am helpless to resist. Do I want to be thrown overboard in the middle of the Atlantic? I am the only woman aboard a ship of rugged, lusty, men, and they all stare at me with desire and longing for my exquisite body. The captain, however, saves me for himself. Since he knows I am a virgin and doesn't want to actually deflower me I justify this dubious morality of his by making the setting in a very non permissive time in history , my requirement is to al- ways be by his side, where he can lift my long skirt with on hand and enter me slowly and passionately with his fingers 19 while he is otherwise engaged in commanding his ship.
I've usually had an excellent orgasm, and do indeed speak those words, to which my hubby happily accommodates, as that is what he has been waiting for. He has no idea what has been going on in my head to bring me to such a frenzy - he only knows his fingers drive me wild! This is for the male-superior position. I am a school- teacher in a rural school, and several young, lusty farm boys have cornered me in the one-room schoolhouse after school. Their purpose is a bet: They throw me down across my own desk on my back, pull up my dress, pull off my panties, and while the other boys are holding my arms and legs, this big stud goes to work, ramming it in, accompanied by the taunts and encouragements of his friends.
The boys holding my legs spread them wider apart so that he can get deeper into my struggling, writhing body, and he keeps on thrusting away, all the time using his filthiest words, imploring me in a strong but gentle voice to come all over him. I prolong this part as long as it takes me to reach my climax, and it's always a blockbuster. In fact, writing this down seems to bring the whole image flowing back to mind so strongly. I'm really getting turned on. These images had never entered my mind before except during sex. As I said before, I have a different fantasy, for everything in- cluding cunnilingus and fellatio, but I'm not going to write them all down or I'd end up writing a book myself.
I will say they include such participants as a horse, a dog, Indians, a 20 doctor, and a headmaster in a girl's school. I change roles in each one, and sometimes I'm beautiful and sophisticated, while in others I am childish or simpleminded. Each one is elaborate; but so familiar and dear to me that the right one just pops into my mind without my even consciously willing it.
They make sex more vivid and meaningful for me, and I don't think I could bear to be without them. As I said before, thanks to your wonderful book. I'm no longer going to try. I absolutely promise that these fantasies are legitimate, and I'd be glad to write them all down for you if you should want me to, so the name and address are legit also. I look eagerly forward to your next book, and I do hope I may have been of some small help - you've helped me more than 1 can tell you.
Carla and Tom Since my brother and I read your book. My Secret Garden, we have felt great relief to know we were not the only brother and sister who fuck. May we add our bit to your next book? I hope it will help others like us. Being in bed with him seems like the most natural thing of all.
I like to go over my memories when I have nothing else to do. It gives me a warm feeling to remember all the people in my life, because I liked so many of them. I remember when I was six that my mother used to scold me when she caught me playing with my cunt, but I always had the desire to expose myself to the little boys who came over to play in our yard.
I would take off my panties, and I remember several times the older boys would take me into a comer and play with my cunt. Some boys took all their clothes off one day and laid me down on their shirts and pants and worked their fingers up me. I liked it, but it made me sore. I didn't say anything to my mother, because she would stop the boys from coming over to play at our house. The first time a bigger boy took me into the 21 back seat of a car in a garage, he removed all my clothes and spread my legs so far apart I thought he would split me apart.
He kept getting closer and closer, and I thought he was exam- ining me. He promised to come over often and do this to me. We found places like our attic, garage, or sheds in the woods. I was very sad the day his family moved to another part of the state, but before he left, he taught me a nice game. He used a weiner to jack me off with and then told me to eat the weiner so that nobody would ever discover I had a weiner in my bedroom. When he moved away, 1 used to do this and think of him. When I was old enough to go to school, the boys soon found out that they could get to play with my cunt any time at all.
My uncle found the same to be true one summer we spent July and August on his ranch in New Mexico. Un- cle was very kind to me, and when he suckers my cunt, he did it very gently. I remember one time we were a long way from home, and he found a spot where it was really quiet. He had me undress completely, and he spread out a large quilt, laid me down, and put his tongue in my cunt. At this time, I was nine years old.
We had fun, and then he undressed and showed me his cock. I had never seen a grown man's cock before, and I did not understand how it could be so big. He got on top of me and told me to be easy in my mind; he was just going to put the head of his cock up to my cunt. I asked him what would hap- pen then, and he said that he would just do with his cock the way he had always done with his finger, so I wasn't frightened.
Instead, did that ever start my desire to have that cock in my cunt. He spread my cunt lips open and gently shoved his cock part way in. His actions just drove me to want that big cock all the way in, just as I had gotten used to shoving a big, rubber, imitation weiner all the way in when I wanted to jack off. The rubber one was bigger and better than the real ones I had 22 started with.
When my uncle shoved his whole cock in, he found it was easier to do than he had thought. He asked me if I had ever fucked before. I told him about the big rubber weiner. He asked if I had brought it along. I had, and told him how I used it when I was by myself. That made him so excited that after our first fuck he spent two more hours just sucking my cunt. Then he asked me to take his cock in my mouth. I was so afraid that if I said no he would never fuck me anymore that I took his cock and sucked him. He kept telling me to suck harder, and after I had sucked awhile my tongue got sore, so we stopped.
When we returned to the house everyone had gone to see a movie, so that left us alone. I was so tired that I just fell asleep. When I woke up, my uncle was sucking my cunt. The next day my uncle and aunty had to go into town for a meeting, leaving my brother and I alone. We spent the time looking around because being on a ranch was so new to us. We came across two dogs who were trying to fuck. We watched and it got me so passionate that I stepped backward, up against the front of my brother's pants.
He was feeling the same way, because without a word, he put his hands up under my halter, exposing my little breasts and cupping my tits in his hands. We soon were kissing, and he had me walk around to the back of the milk house. When we were there, he pulled my bikinis off and the halter of my sunsuit. We played a bit there that way, and then we made a dash for the house - me running naked all the way - and went to his bedroom.
It started that way, just as easy as that, and from then on we have been fuck- ing each other all along very happily and that was twelve years ago. Do you know any other marriages that have continued happily for twelve years? I wish people who read this letter and feel bad about us would remember that before they criticize. We now live together, and every one of our friends think we are husband and wife. He is very considerate. Unlike most husbands, he shaves every day so that he will not irritate my skin, etc. One of the letters in My Secret Garden spoke about dogs.
When Tom and I read this, we decided to see what it was like. My brother and I started to fuck to get the dog excited. It sure 23 did - he got in between our legs and licked both Tom and me while we were fucking. When we finished, Tom let his cock go off in me.
I'm on the pill Tanzy licked my cunt, and Tom just lay back and watched. We let Tanzy lick as long as he wanted, and then he began to get up on his hind legs and hug my leg. That told us he wanted to fuck. Tom had me get up on my knees and he helped Tanzy get his cock in my cunt.
We did not know how much cock a dog has, but I soon found out. When he got that knob in my cunt, he had over eight inches of cock shoved, up me. Fuck, you never know what it can do to a girl until she gets fucked by her dog. That pink fleshy cock is in my cunt whenever Tanzy has a desire to fuck me.
Tom likes to watch his cock plunge in and out of my cunt. One day Tom asked me how it made me feel, and when I told him, we tried to get Tanzy to shove it up Tom's asshole so he could feel what 1 was feeling. But the hole was too small for Tanzy to get in. Sometimes I get up on top of Tom, and we both lay that way, both our legs apart, bellies up, and Tom lets Tanzy fuck me when we are in this position. Tom's cock rides in the crack of my ass below, and Tanzy is giving it to me from straight above.
If I am alone and Tanzy wants to fuck, I place the davenport cushions on the floor and lay on my back. Tanzy is very smart and knows how to fuck me both from the real' and front. I love to fuck him from the front, because I can look down and see his cock entering my cunt, that pink shaft just going in and out. He always licks my cunt clean after we get through fucking. It was Tom's idea that I write this letter to you, but when I got started typing, I got so excited that he had to help me finish it.
My last thought is that anything you fuck that makes you feel good is okay. Jennie is only seventeen, and her childhood isn't that dis- tant. She remembers it very clearly: When she says she has no guilt about her sexuality or her fantasies, I believe her. Jennie's mother clearly grew up in a totally different sexual atmosphere, and although her daughter was aware of this dif- ference between' herself and her mother, even as a child of nine, she did not blindly accept her mother's sexual authority; she felt and believed in her own sexuality even more.
Jennie may not be typical of her generation, but there are countless young women like her; the very fact that she wrote me - and with such eagerness - indicated her interest in sex. What I find more significant is the ease, acceptance, and utter naturalness with which she treats that interest. Jennie I have just finished reading your book.
Throughout the book, I kept thinking what it would be like to actually write to you. When I saw your address in the back, I knew I had to write. First, I'll give you some background information about my- self. We are both seniors in high school, and plan to get married in three years. I always considered myself a girl of high morals and always thought I would be a virgin until I was married.
Where I was brought up, sex was pretty much taboo. No one ever spoke about it, so I never knew anything about sex. I know that when I was about nine years old I used to get sen- sual feelings, although at the time I didn't know what they were. I used to take my clothes off and rub my small breasts and my cunt against the cold washing machine, and this made me feel very good.
At other times, I would take all my clothes 25 off and run around in the woods across the street. Sometimes my girl friend would come with me, and we would sit and masturbate ourselves or each other. Just thinking about doing these things when I was a kid would get me excited, and the next thing I knew I was doing them or thinking up something new that would make me feel good.
Given the puritanical background where I grew up, it's amazing I didn't feel really guilty as a kid, but I didn't. I just knew it couldn't be bad if it felt that good. Nowadays, I fantasize whenever I have time on my hands. I don't think I masturbate any more than the average girl, but I don't know much about the average girl. It's a sexy world, so I have sexy thoughts quite a bit.
I don't usually fantasize when I have sex with my boyfriend. All I need to hear is his heavy breathing and I get homy. My boy- friend loves to experiment with sex. Sometimes we fuck with him coming in from the back, sometimes sitting up; we even tried it in the shower once. He likes it when I use my mouth on him. Often, in public, I can't refrain from touching him up.
Up until recently, I would never allow him to perform cunnilingus on me, but now I love to feel him sucking my clitoris and slipping his tongue in and out of me. When I'm by myself masturbating or daydreaming, my fan- tasies change all the time. My favorite fantasies include being fucked by a lion, a black man, or a cousin of mine.
I've always dreamed about trying incest, but I have no brothers. The closest I can get is my cousin. He is ten years older than me. Recently, my grandfather died, and my cousin came up from Georgia for the funeral. We have always been attracted to one another, and during the middle of the night, he came down to where I was sleeping on the sofa.
We smoked a jay, and he kissed me. Then we got into some petting. After a while, I told him to go away. Since then, how many times I've wished I hadn't! My chance will come again, but I know I won't let anything happen, be- cause I am very faithful to my boyfriend, and I know he would never have an affair with another girl. But I love to use this story of what happened that night with my cousin as my fan- 26 tasy; I try all sorts of different endings to it, thinking about all the things that could have gone on between us.
I have no guilt feelings about fantasizing. It really turns me on. Some of my fantasies I share with him. There is one we plan to carry out soon. He wants me to fight him off while he tells me he's going to fuck me. My boyfriend says he doesn't fantasize. Maybe someday he will. I have found that when I do fantasize during sex, it adds to both of our excitement.
Thank you for letting me get this off my chest. I hope it is of some value to you in your studies. One of the pleasures in reading novels or going to the movies is the feeling they give us of how other people live. They seem to enlarge the possibilities of our own lives.
Sexual fantasy, too, will often serve the same function, but instead of reading about other people, by an act of emotional imagination, we put ourselves in their shoes and bodies, feel what they feel, experience their sexual joys as if they were our own. In Sarah's fantasies, which follow, I find the one about the male guardian the most interesting. It is evidently born out of childhood ex- periences - the emotions seem to be of such an early stage of development that even the sexual lines are blurred: Sarah tells us that she plays all roles, both male and female. This is not uncommon in fantasy.
We all wonder how other people are sexually; in our erotic reveries, we can rehearse their emotions within ourselves. One of them is recalling some good times with my ex-husband. Then you'll have to come and get it! Bring it up to me, baby, climb my pole! And I had really great or- gasms that way. I could get on top, but it never worked with me that way - only when I was underneath, and really working at it. I know some men don't like that at all.
One other fantasy 1 have is about a lover I had who used to have me sit on top of his refrigerator and sort of slide down one rounded comer of it till his tongue was even with my cunt, and he'd stand there with his hands sort of cupping my buttocks to keep me from falling quite helplessly onto the floor, and lap it up like an ice cream cone.
Then he'd have me slide down off the refrigerator right onto his big cock - nothing I could do about that either - and waltz me into the bedroom with my toes just off the floor. There's one about the little girl who has a male guardian - father or uncle, I never really figured it out. One day, the girl has a little boyfriend come over to play after school and invites him to stay for dinner.
The guardian agrees, and the boy telephones home for permission, but is told his parents are going out for dinner, and he has to stay where he is till nine-thirty, if that's not too late. I play all three roles in this, alternating. The guardian again says okay. But after din- ner, he tells the girl she must go and take her bath, which she 28 does, Then he calls to her and says just to come out in her bath- robe. Then he opens the girl's legs and exam- ines her minutely, opening the labia around the vagina and the clitoris.
Then he scolds the girl, who has stopped crying by now. We'll have to do better than that. Toby is afraid not to do as he is told and gets more and more interested in the process and asks the girl if his finger hurts her, and she says no, it feels good, but will he move his other hand a little, which he does. The guardian comes back with a washrag that he has surreptitiously wet with the raspberry-tasting mouthwash, and telling Toby to keep his finger where it is, he sponges the clitoris and labia - which turn pink from the mouthwash color and the heat its slight an- tiseptic content generate.
Oh, Toby, kiss it and make it stop hurting. By now in this fantasy, I would have come about twice. Sometimes the guardian spanks Toby after this. By now, I haven't got enough energy left to tell you many details about my daughter's slumber party she had when she was in junior high. The buzzing would kind of quiet down, and I'd think finally I could get to sleep. Since then I've imagined planting a tape recorder at one of those parties. Wouldn't it be fun to 29 hear what games they really play and who gets whapped and why? In the letters that follow, very early experiences are brought to mind.
While Claudia is clearly a very healthy and erotic young woman, I like the way she gives herself permis- sion not to hurry into sexual experience before she is emotion- ally ready for it. She will probably be the one who decides exactly when, where, and with whom it will take place. The progress of Claudia's life toward full womanly eroticism seems clear; the four next letters help us chart some of the pit- falls that seem to have lain in the way for other women. The difficult terrain is very clearly mapped in Janice's letter. To me, now that I dare think about it after reading your book, it seems only natural that women should be aroused by incidents involving urination, given the fact that our sexual parts are so close to our urinary parts.
All interest is focused on this one part of the body dur- ing this period, the mysteries of sex and urination become in- tertwined - because both seem to be forbidden. Eroticism and 30 excretion become emotionally combined - the vagina is experi- enced as the seat of a double kind of excitement. Frank's lover chooses to live out with him those fantasies that are the outgrowth and expres- sion of early toilet-training experiences Robyn daydreams happily about the guiltless pleasure of her fiance giving her an enema.
In these letters, I am struck by the marvels of human nature, its recuperative power and above all, its overriding drive for health and self-acceptance. Janice, Denise, Frank's lover, Lana, and Robyn have all taken what might seem at first glance to be behavioral hang-ups, but I have found in them sources of erotic pleasure instead. I applaud them all. Claudia I have just finished reading your book. Thank you, for it really opened my eyes to the way many women think. Some parts shocked me, other parts disgusted me, but most of it ex- cited me.
And I truly believe there are women who feel excited even by the things that turn me off. I find it exciting that we women are all so different. I'm only fourteen years old, so I haven't screwed yet, but I do enjoy some sex with my boy- friends. I have had fantasies ever since I can remember. As a little kid, I imagined I was a harem girl, or a slave girl on sale at a public marketplace. I was always well-developed in the fantasy, although I was actually flat as a board then and didn't have a single pubic hair.
In my fantasy, men would walk by me and examine me, but only with their eyes. I was eleven years old that I even began to think and fantasize of guys putting their fingers up me. When I was ten, I stopped being the submissive one in my thoughts, and became the se- 31 ducer. At night, I would and still do think of a foxy guy 1 know or a handsome teacher and imagine me telling him to suck my tits, while I softly play with his cock. I can't help it. To me, it's just like guys looking at boobs. I sometimes wear sexy clothes, and it excites me to know that I have caused a guy to get a boner.
I then imagine what his cock looks like, how large his balls are, how erect it the dick is. You know, all the things girls who like guys enjoy thinking about. I hope you can use this in your next book. It has excited me just to write about it, because I have never told anyone about these things, except when I was a kid. Thank you again for your book I think I got my first orgasm while reading it and masturbating myself, but I'm not sure.
Thanks anyhow, be- cause it felt good! Janice I am so pleased your book opened up an area of dis- cussion which so directly affects my sexual life. I have thought about this incident so often, and embroidered on it, that I am no longer quite sure what actually did happen and just what I have added to increase the pleasure thinking about it gives me.
I sometimes think that if I dared think about many of the things that frighten me, the fear would be replaced so easily by self-acceptance; all that keeps me, and others, from thinking of these fearsome things is the thought that it is sinful to consider them; and yet what can be sinful in just thinking about something? I am visiting at the home of an older friend, someone I call Aunt Bessie, although we are not related. One rainy day, dur- ing the visit, as luncheon time approaches. Aunt Bessie and I have two large martinis. Afterward, we sit down at the dining table to eat.
Lunch starts with a delicious thin soup, of which I have two servings. Soup is followed by cold cuts, accompanied by steins of cold, foaming beer. For dessert, there are crackers and cheese, with refills of the steins to wash it down. About half an hour after lunch, I get up from my chair and start to leave the room.
Aunt Bessie asks where I am going, and I re- ply: Come back here and sit down, and we will split a bottle of champagne. We sit for a while, drinking the champagne and smoking two or three cigarettes, me feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute. As I finish the last drop in my glass, I say to Aunt Bessie: Aunt Bessie asks me to remove my dress and panties and then sit on the toilet seat, but without dropping even a tear for a few moments.
Aunt Bessie then kneels down on a cushion placed conveniently to one side of the toilet seat, reaches across my nearest thigh, and proceeds to manipulate my clitoris. As soon as I feel my friend's fingers playing with my clitoris, the desire to void my urine recedes. Aunt Bessie tells me: I guarantee you will have the most ecstatic or- gasm any woman can have in this world - or the next, for that matter. It is like coming in two places at once, and the hot piss flowing 33 down my slit and over the pulsating mouth of my vagina nearly drives me out of my mind.
Denise Thanks for doing My Secret Garden - one of the fantasies electrified me, naturally: I saw myself in it. What I want to know is where I can find out more about us - also, I'd surely like to trade fantasies with another like-minded gal - if at all possible, I'd like you to forward my letter to Faith; if you can't do that, it's okay, and I understand.
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Now maybe you'd like a fantasy along these lines for your next book. I'm gay, by the by, and ecstatically happy about it. Before I understood my fasci- nation with urination, I used to try to turn my fantasies toward intercourse and ejaculation - I thought I had urination mixed up with ejaculation, but I realize it's just not true. It's the acci- dents people have, especially men or boys, that fascinate me. My favorite fantasy takes place in a grammar school class- room. Billy, a cute fifteen-year-old, raises his hand to be ex- cused to the bathroom.
Soon, the other kids notice, pointing and whispering at the growing puddle under his desk. Billy always wears tight Levi's and has a very cute behind. Sometimes he is made to stand in the comer at the front of the room, where he wets himself in front of everybody. I'm not even interested in them to any extent; a I ran across your My Secret Garden by accident and only thumbed through it idly.
However, I see you are collecting material, and I have a sort of case history to give to you for what it's worth. This is a lived- out fantasy in which I participated, and frankly, I'm a bit trou- bled about it in retrospect. It's rather extreme, or so it seems to me, and I wonder if 1 have encouraged the woman in what may become a harmful sexual aberration. First, let me set the stage and describe the characters briefly. I'm a middle-aged business executive and quite an ordinary fellow, nothing special about me at all.
The woman is nearing forty, a rather intense emotional type but distinctly attractive, married to a man she likes but who is totally impotent due to illness. She is torn between resolve to remain at least techni- cally faithful to her husband and an urgent need for sexual re- lease. I like her, and am sympathetic to her in her problem. The two of us compromised in a pretend affair limited to cunnilin- gus and fellatio. But this wasn't wholly satisfactory to either of us.
For my part, I enjoy this with an attractive woman, but mostly as only a part of loveplay rather than as an end in itself. She felt guilt- ridden and had difficulty achieving orgasm that way. It just wasn't very good. Until we discovered something else, by a quite accidental move on my part. I was caressing her vulva with my hand preparatory to cunnilingus, when I inadvertently let a finger stray into the crevice of her buttocks, and its tip pressed into her anus. She stiffened and cried out, and almost instantly went into orgasm.
Here at last we come to the fantasy itself. She was, in fan- tasy, an anal erotic. Later, she confessed this to me. She dreamed of having a man thrust his finger through the sphinc- ter of her anus and on up into her rectum. Going further, she imagined his mouth on her there. And, in return, of putting her mouth on him. I was personally a bit doubtful, to tell the truth. There have been other women in my experi- ence who liked anal loveplay, and I am not particularly averse to it. When I'm in the proper mood, an attractive woman's anus can be exciting as a part of the whole of her.
I like everything about women, and although I have never done actual anal in- tercourse, I often do caress a woman there during loveplay or cunnilingus if she seems to want it. But it turned out that, once released from inhibition, this woman was really avid about this.
It was not only the best but almost the only way she could achieve complete orgasm. And for the ultimate experience, she wanted it to be shared. So it became our regular custom to do it to one another. Lying head to toe, I would fasten my mouth over her anus while stroking her vulva and clitoris with the fingers of a hand.
She would tuck my penis down between her breasts, hold my testicles aside with one hand, and suck with lips and tongue at my anus. The actual living out of this fantasy of hers seems to give her a supreme experience. She goes quite mad in her ecstasy. Her anus works in and out against my lips, her vulva positively gushes fluid, she bites and sucks at my anus and crushes my penis between her breasts, her climax when it comes is violent and interminable. All this is most enjoyable for me too. I'm some- thing of a voyeur, I like to look at an attractive woman in all her intimate places, to see her vulva open pink and wet, her clitoris swell, her little peeplace gape open at the touch of my tongue, her vagina reveal its inner flesh to me, her anus stretch and pulsate as I touch her there.
I like to feel her, and smell her, and taste her. And God knows it's a fantastic titillating sensation to have a woman's lips and tongue sucking and prob- ing at me, to have her breasts caress my penis until it spurts over them and her belly. But all this, good though it is, somehow pales in comparison to the real thing for me. I like giving her pleasure in this way; I enjoy it myself. But it's all only play to me; I remain unaffected in the ultimate sense. But for her, it seems to be rapidly assum- ing the proportions of an obsession. She doesn't want it any other way now. I'm worried - she's really a very nice person, 36 and I do like her - lest I may be encouraging her in a sexual aberration that may eventually do her harm.
Oh, well, you've listened long enough. I don't expect you to reply, and perhaps this report may be of no use to you at all. But if you're interested in the sexual fantasies of women, here's one that came to life. You're welcome to use all or any part of this account as you like, no obligation. In any case, good luck to you in writing more about this interesting subject of women and their fantasies. Lana Congratulations on a sensitive piece which rightfully credits women with a high degree of creativity.
After reading your book, it sounded like fun to write down a fantasy I have been having - it seems a little more difficult to share it. It begins as I am sitting in a waiting room which is painfully antiseptic and severe. I feel very uncomfortable being there, for it seems it is somewhat against my will. Other girls are seated around me also nervously shifting in their chairs. Finally, my name is called by a woman who resembles an old grade-school librarian. Very unchic and clinical. She shows me into a huge office painted white, with a cold metal exami- nation table in the middle.
She asks that I remove my clothes and carry them to the comer of the room. When I bend down to put them there, she tells me to stay in that position while she prepares an injection to tranquilize me. She finally returns and feels all over me for the correct site - usually on my rear.
As she is giving me the shot, three men enter the room. One is deadly serious, and the others are his students. They are all surprised at the position I am in. The teacher appeal's cross with the woman for not doing a better job of relaxing me. I am told to mount the examination table. I do and lie on my back. But one of the students laughs and asks me to turn over, saying he needs the relaxed end up.
It is at that point, out of the 37 comer of my eye, with my head resting on my hands, that I see a large machine being wheeled in with a tubular device at- tached to a long rubber hose. One of the students asks me to relax and spread my legs as far as they will go, while the other student, amid sideways winks and donning rubber gloves, lu- bricates my rectum with his fingers.
The teacher then slowly and with some difficulty because I keep tightening my mus- cles inserts the tube into my rear and announces that this is an enema designed with both an outflow and inflow suction. Water swishes, legs are held apart, and I am constantly told to relax. After a while, it is all over, and the tube is removed. By then I am usually asleep. Should I need to fantasize further, I am prepared. The teacher tells me I am to be the model for a mold or cast- ing of a dildo to better fit all women. Another injection, and then I am turned over.
My legs are spread on a trapeze affair suspended from the ceiling. The students busy themselves with a thorough douching of my vagina, while the teacher feels my breasts and asks me if it hurts. Then another machine is wheeled in with a larger tube in- serted into that clean vagina. The plaster oozes out of the tube and seems to fill my whole body. It's warm and keeps expand- ing. One of the students pushes his hand on my stomach, while the other closes the slit with his fingers. Meanwhile, the doctor inserts a lubricated thermometer in my rectum. Others are called to help remove the casting - usually men that I have never had affairs with, but have thought about it.
They enter the room slightly surprised to see me, but don rub- ber gloves and aid in taking out the form. The final bliss comes when it is tried out on the librarian- type. I am amazed that I wrote this, but really did have fun doing it. It is a genuine fantasy. Robyn I just finished reading your book. My Secret Garden , and I must admit I enjoyed it very much. I've had enough objections from my parents and relatives already!
John and I are very much in love, although we've known each other only eight short months! I've had sex with two other guys before John, but I never really enjoyed it. With John, every minute we are making love is heaven. I am the first girl John has ever fucked, and John is the only guy who's made me reach a climax. We fuck about three or four times a week I'm on the pill , usually in his car, occasionally we rent a motel room, although I have to be home by 1: I guess I should tell you our favorite ways of fucking before I tell you my fantasies.
First of all, we both get greatest satisfaction with me on top. He can touch my clitoris when I'm this way, and I can fondle his balls. When in the car, I kneel over him while he's sitting, and this way he can use one finger on my clitoris, and another finger up my anus. I adore the feeling I get when his finger is in my asshole. I come the best this way. We use every possible word, while fucking.
However, we never use these words any other time. I also enjoy a good sound spanking on my bare bottom before making love. He can't stand me spanking him, though. It feels great when he puts a lotion on my fiery bottom after- ward. We both enjoy the sixty-nine position, with me on top. This way he can also use his hand. I can't come when he's not using a finger on my clitoris. Often, he'll go down on me before we make love; I usually come while he's doing this.
I guess mine are basic, not too unusual. I often daydream of having sex with another woman, but I never think of this while we're fucking. I'd really like to try it with a girl, but truthfully, I don't know anyone I could do it with. By the way, none of my girl friends, except one, know that John and I fuck.
If the opportunity ever arose. I'd definitely try it. And I'd never tell John. I can see him wearing the kind of white gauze mask that doctors wear and leaning over me. I am on a special gynecological table, with my feet in the stirrups, but because he is going to carefully examine my anus before giving rime an enema, I am lying facedown, so I am all spread open for him, my cunt and my anus. First, he pokes his finger in my asshole and tries to look in. But he can't see enough.
So he takes out a kind of surgical pliers and warms the cold metal in a bowl of warm water.
Then he inserts the pliers in my anus, and when they are in good and deep, he slowly opens them so he can have a good look in. For some reason of anatomy I don't understand, he has to put his fingers in my vagina while he is examining my asshole. Perhaps this helps open it up more. That will fix you up. John brings in an enormous enema bottle and hangs it up high over my head. He is down below the canvas swing, so I can't really see him, but he's shoving in inches and feet of rnbber piping, really shoving it in.
And then as he turns on the warm water, he leans over to kiss me. As he does so, he puts his fingers on my clitoris and lovingly plays with it. I can feel the water gently running up through me; John is holding my cunt lips tenderly in his hands and telling me I'll be all right soon. The feeling is very peaceful, but even as I write this, I can feel myself almost beginning to come. That fantasy may seem a bit gross, but I'd really like it to happen. Wherever could I get stirrups and the canvas swing and such? I don't know if I'll ever get enough nerve to ask John to do this, but maybe if I get drunk enough.
I'm sure he would agree - he never refused to try anything.
Main menu straight categories authors top stories new stories search settings ESmail author tools pics video links. When Dreams Come True words. Two young men finally get to fufill their fantasies when they encounter a group of women they know at a hotel. The Stag Party words. My boyfriend plans to go to a stag and I want to surprise him with a quickie before he goes. I'm lying naked on the couch waiting for him to come home to shower before going out, I hear his car come into the driveway and a moment later the back door opens. A night out with a high school friend was the perfect ending to the best three days of my life.
A Hot Tub , a really hot tub Alma - Chapter 10 words. The continuing story of Latina Alma and he escapades in sex. Learning to Fuck, Part I words. Brandi was upset when the coach refused to make her a cheerleader. But some lessons from him and a couple of other students help her acquire other interests. Two couples out for an evening find themselves wrapped up in a game that no one knows how or wants to stop.
My wife tells the story of the night she was picked up and had sex with four bad guys, and loved every minute! The Photo Shoot words. From a night out at a bar to a photo shoot Poke Her Party words. I had to give up my apartment to the guys for their poker game, little did I realize that I would be the one to be fully poked Alma - Chapter 8 words. Continuing story about a Latina girl.
This chapter is about events at her boyfriend's house during a party.