FOREWORD (31 page)

She was about thirty and a beautiful brunette. Her husband traveled a lot, and she was home alone a lot. She never closed the curtains in her bedroom and I used to watch her undress from my bedroom window. However it was only from the waist up that I could see without getting closer, so finally one night, I sneaked over and looked in the window. Finally she came into the bedroom, and started to undress. My heart was beating wildly as she pulled off her bra and panties and lay down on the bed. She started to caress her breasts and then her fingers found her cunt. As she started to masturbate, I felt my dick strain to get free. I quickly unzipped my pants and tried to pull it out, but as I did, she climaxed, raising her hips off the bed, and I came in my pants.

They lived there for two years, and I saw her on many occasions after that, and even though she went out of her way to let me see her naked or partially dressed, nothing ever happened between us. Probably because of my shyness. (I think she was willing.)

She was my fantasy girl and I dreamed of her until I met Brenda. We only dated for five months before getting married. Brenda was a virgin and I really had a time trying to teach her about sex. Our sex life is really good and it was several months after we got married before I masturbated again. Fantasized about this little doll who lived next door in the trailer park where we lived. I admit to peeking through the windows at her undressing two or three times.

After Brenda became pregnant, we had a lot of time to talk about sex, and not so much time to do it. We used to lay in bed at night and talk about screwing while we masturbated each other. As she got bigger and more out of shape, she also got sicker and we couldn’t screw at all after the sixth month.

That’s when my present fantasies started. I would get out the Men In Love

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nude pictures of Brenda that we had taken after we got married, and we would lay there and I would look at her picture, while she beat me off or ate me, and then I would stroke her clit and tell her how beautiful she was, and how exciting it would be if someone saw one of her pictures. She used to go wild when I would talk to her about undressing in front of someone or getting caught naked or wearing a short dress and showing off her lace panties or some other sexy kind.

After the baby was born, she exercised and worked hard until she had her figure back in perfect shape. Then she went out and bought all kinds of sexy panties and bras. As soon as she was back to normal, I started to talk to her about it more and more. But she is very shy, and I could not get her to go through with it. I was anxious and rushed her a little, but she never got upset. She just told me I would have to wait until she could get her nerve up. In the next two years I fantasized constantly of her undressing in a motel with the curtains partially open, so that someone could walk by and see her. Then last summer, while on vacation in Florida, I waited one night until she went to sleep and then I opened the curtains and uncovered her. She was only wearing a pair of yellow bikini panties, and they were sheer. She was lying on her back with her legs spread and her breasts sticking straight up. I hid in the bathroom and watched as five different men and one boy about fifteen stopped and stared at her. (I left the lights on.) The next night I told her what I had done, and she made me tell her every detail, as she masturbated herself to three climaxes before we screwed each other. She loved it, but still could not do it when she knew what was happening. However, I did do it one more time before we left, and she knew I was going to, but again she would not knowingly participate.

Since then she has slowly worked up to wearing short dresses and sitting carelessly and getting out of the car with her dress up to her hips in front of men. We do all of this in nearby towns or places where we are not known.

Nancy Friday

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SANDY

I am a twenty-six-year-old grad student currently finishing my Ph.D. dissertation. I spend my days writing and typing at home while my wife works, so I have ample time for sexual fantasies.

I have far more kinky impulses than does my wife. She greatly enjoys “normal sex,” but has little interest in the exotic. She encourages my fantasizing since it gives me satisfaction without requiring that she herself engage in weird sexual practices.

I often find myself fantasizing that something (hypnosis, a birth control pill with erotic side effects) has made my wife as horny and desirous of sexual adventure as myself. A typical fantasy follows.

It’s our anniversary and Patsy (my wife) has agreed to do anything I want her to do. I suggest that we go to a nearby restaurant which caters to the “swinging singles” crowd. I wear very tight-fitting pants, through which my bikini-style underwear shows (the pants are white and the briefs black). I also wear a ruffled shirt with a deep V neck (I never wear anything like this in reality). After dressing I lay out Patsy’s clothes. She emerges from the shower and is shocked, for I have chosen many of the items which in real life she lets me buy her only on the condition that she never has to wear them in public. (I at first thought this was simply a highly developed sense of modesty, but Patsy has explained how deeply she resented being whistled at or approached by strange men when she is walking to work and doesn’t want to give them any encouragement. This makes sense to me and I have come to understand that women often have good reason for not acting out fantasies). The apparel included an orange acetate nylon mini, by far the shortest she owns, brown stockings which look like ordinary seamed stockings but mysteriously stay up without garters or panty girdles (as Patsy says, one of the virtues of fantasies is that such problems take care of themselves). Her shoes are very high-heeled sandals with a Men In Love

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strap around the ankle, like women wore in the 1940’s. Her only undergarment is a pair of crotchless panties – bright orange with brown lace trim. She actually does have a pair of these which turn me on in the strongest way, but only wears them in bed. When Patsy sees the panties she protests, but I remind her of her promise and being very horny herself she agrees.

After she has dressed I put my finger in her vagina already covered with a viscous (even the word sounds dirty!) liquid. I then use my fingers to rub the secretions behind her ears and between her breasts, treating it as perfume. I love the smell of her juices when I go down on her and this lets me get a whiff just by leaning close to her.

We walk to the restaurant, both of us aware that every man on the street is staring at her. The sky is dark – it’s just before one of those big Midwestern thunderstorms – and the wind is fierce. Patsy’s dress keeps blowing up, exposing her thighs and offering a glimpse of the panties. The contrast between the orange panty and the white cleft of my [sic] bottom reminds me of a giant multicolored Oreo cookie (besides sex I like food a lot). She whispers to me that the wind is ruffling her pubic hair.

The restaurant is packed. It doesn’t take reservations so we get in line. People are pressed in all around us, waiting for a table. Patsy gives a little gasp of alarm and a sharp “Oh.” I’m too busy keeping people from trampling me so I fail to notice that she is squirming and giggling a bit.

We finally get a table and as we sit down Patsy says,

“You’re incorrigible! What were you thinking of, putting your finger right up my you-know-where and rubbing me like that!” I looked at her and swear that I didn’t touch her, but I now understood her squirming. She realizes that a complete stranger has given her an orgasm and that somebody’s hands are impregnated with her goo. I suggest she kiss every man’s hand to find out who her admirer was, but she doesn’t think that is a good idea.

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At my insistence she agrees to give him a better chance to see her. She walks across the room toward the bar and then drops her purse. A zillion things fall out and Patsy bends slowly, from the waist and keeping her knees straight. She must stay bent over for a count of one hundred as her entire rump is bared for any who wish to look. Finally she straightens up, and, blushing, walks back to her table.

Patsy and I enjoy a delicious meal and when I ask for the check the waitress tells us that Patsy’s exhibition was so exciting that the manager has given us a meal on the house.

I am now so horny I can’t wait. We go over to the men’s john and I make sure it’s empty. We go in one of the stalls and make love standing up. Patsy comes quickly, but I’m still going strong when we hear the door open. Patsy gives me a look of panic, but I lift her onto the toilet seat, so only my legs appear beneath the stall. Two men enter and begin discussing what Patsy had done by the bar. They express in gutter language their admiration for her body and speculate on whether she was a “pro” putting on a show to drum up business or just brazen. As Patsy listens she grasps my penis and sticks it in her mouth (she doesn’t do this “in real life”). She sucks and licks, acutely aware, as I am, that the slurping sound might be heard. I have a tremendous orgasm, letting out an involuntary groan of relief. One of the men asks,

“Hey, you okay in there?” I recover and have the sense to tell them that I just had a hair stuck in my zipper. They chuckle and exit, still talking about Patsy’s performance. We then sneak out and go home – to bed and less dangerous but perhaps more affectionate sex.

When I have fantasies I sometimes imagine that I am Patsy (or a Victorian spinster kidnapped, bound and forced into ecstasy by diabolically skillful lovemaking). I rarely identify directly with the male aggressor in the fantasy, being half the victim and half the avid but invisible voyeur. Costuming is very important. There is no single item of clothing – but I find incongruous attire exciting (e.g., a prim hat, umbrella, buttoned shoes and nothing else). Most women in my fanta-Men In Love

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sies are either my own age or sometimes older (I sometimes imagine a fifty-five-year-old grandmother who has been given a miracle drug so that her body is that of a Vargas pinup girl – from the neck down). I also worry a little about their sadistic (or masochistic – since I identify with the girl being humiliated?) content.

I have no idea why the humiliation theme is so prominent.

My parents never punished me for masturbation or other sexual activities (they never even discussed such things).

In the animal kingdom, it is usually the male who is the flashier of the two sexes. Among humans, there is only one time in life when males feel free to exhibit themselves. Boys like Kenneth (above) want to see each other. They admire someone with a penis larger than theirs. This is the age of athletic heroes, when boys go for pinup pictures of big muscular men, football players, etc.

There are homoerotic components here, of course, but what is really at issue is the youngster’s need for a model he can identify with. He already has unfavorably compared himself with his father, and is anxious that he may never match the old man. If a friend has a large penis, the boy may take it as a competitive threat, but it gives him hope he will soon have one himself. The attention Kenneth’s big size got him

“went to (his) head.”

This happy state of affairs stopped for Kenneth – as it does for most men – when young girls entered the scene. Girls not only don’t applaud the male genital, they don’t want to see or touch it. How unfair! The young girl is allowed to show her burgeoning breasts by wearing tight sweaters – the tighter the better. But if his erection shows beneath his trousers, the boy becomes the joke of the dance floor. From here, it is only a step to Kenneth, who angrily transfers all his exhibitionistic desires onto his wife.

First he talks her into exhibiting herself, then persuades her to watch while he makes love to a younger woman. The Nancy Friday

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result is divorce. Is there some evidence here of a feeling that men are punished for making their sex a public matter? Kenneth says his second wife is so anti-sexual that he can’t even fantasize about her. But since he is the one who chose to marry her, is it too big a stretch of the imagination to say he may be using her to curb what he feels are his sexual excesses?

Kenneth’s fantasy is characteristic of a complex process: Men who fear disapproval or punishment for giving their own exhibitionistic desires free rein often transfer these desires onto the sex to whom it
is
allowed women. A lot of hostility often accompanies this switch, since it means giving up a primary satisfaction for one taken secondhand. The woman may have all the fun, but the fantasist sees to it that she is also degraded by the process. Mel insists that his wife exhibit herself to strange men. When she says she doesn’t have the nerve, he waits for her to fall asleep and then raises the curtain and turns on the lights.

Ideas like these are further developed in Sandy’s letter (above). He wants to wear to exhibitionistic clothes – he wants to be seen. As a man, he cannot. Therefore he dresses his wife in the daring outfit he would like to wear himself.

(Note the mistake in identification Sandy makes midway through his fantasy. “The contrast between the orange panty and the white cleft of my bottom ...” says Sandy. But it is not
his
bottom that is wearing these revealing clothes; it is his wife’s.)

Wealthy men wear their money in the form of diamonds and minks carried by their women. Sandy has Mrs. Sandy wear the kind of clothes that will express his forbidden exhibitionism. By identifying with the attention his wife is getting, Sandy assuages and feeds his own need for attention.

The next step in Sandy’s fantasy is important: He imagines he in fact
is
the woman. This gets him the attention he has always wanted, but at the price of being humiliated. I do not feel Sandy’s fantasy reveals evidence of homosexuality so much as it shows strong needs to be punished for the kind of Men In Love

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show-off sex mother forbade so long ago. Sandy may say that his parents were not punitive about sex, but in his next sentence he tells us “they never even discussed these things.” They may not have been overtly punitive. They certainly were repressive. And breaking repressive rules carries punishment.