My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (13 page)

Knowing that we will not be discovered, my cousin calls Anjou into the barn after he has finished with a bitch he has been mating with. Anjou’s animal maleness has not receded into the sheath beneath his warm belly, and as Renee puts her arms around him she whispers to me, "Help get him on my back; I want to try, too." I am out of my mind with passion and emotion, and after closing the door, I quickly return to the rear of the barn where Renee is already pulling hay down and making another

"nest." I’m fascinated with Anjou’s animal maleness; the enormous length of the glistening red, arrow-pointed organ is still exposed, and as Renee kneels on her hands and knees, saying,

"Help me, put him up on my back," she lifts her dress up over her beautiful young hips and back, exposing her white rounded buttocks, spreading her legs apart, the moist flesh of her outer lips now totally exposed. I try several times to lift Anjou, but he growls, and then Renee reaches around and puts her hand around his organ, saying, "Jeanne, put your hand on my puss and then put it on his muzzle." All the while she is sliding her hand back and forth on the now vanishing organ of Anjou’s maleness. As soon as Anjou licks my hand, his head moves at once to Renee’s exposed bottom, and I become more excited as I see his long tongue flash out and he begins lapping Renee’s exposed vagina.

Renee begins to moan softly, her voice comes to me from somewhere. Anjou is already mounted on her back, shifting from one leg to another as he tries unsuccessfully to introduce his bevel-tipped glistening organ into her youthful virgin vagina.

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"Help him, put it in for him, hurry, Jeanne," and I put my hand around the vibrating, hot, glistening red maleness, and holding it gently I move it back and forth between the wet, fleshy, parted lips of her vaginal canal, until I direct it into the exposed mouth of her vagina.

I sit fascinated, rooted to the spot, as Anjou’s red, arrow-like organ slips from its short hairy sheath and disappears into my cousin’s exposed cunnie. She gasps and soon moans as Anjou begins to pump, my cousin backing her exposed bottom to meet his animal thrusts. Renee cries and moans with pleasure, and finally she begins to rotate her hips as I watch Anjou’s long animal maleness move in and out of her exposed cunnie. The fleshy lips cling to his animal organ as he withdraws it and then with his forward thrusts it disappears into my cousin’s belly. I can’t stand it any more, and I get on my knees and crawl around my cousin, finally squatting in front of her so that she can apply her mouth to my fiery vagina even While Anjou’s maleness is still pumping inside her.

Even today, I close my eyes and wish for all the world that Paula had an enormous, bevel-pointed organ stirring within me.

As yet, I haven’t confided to Paula that I fantasize that her elongated clitoris is Anjou’s animal maleness, since I feel she might be disturbed, thinking I would prefer an animal to herself, which is quite absurd. And yet the association persists, – and I like it. [Letter]

Lisa

Although I am married, most of my fantasies are about lesbians, and I continue to have occasional lesbian experiences.

When my lesbian friend is making love to me, masturbating me, I climax to the thought of her having intercourse with me using a dildo.

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I suppose I began having fantasies about the age of sixteen.

Then, my fantasies were of going to bed with a man, having intercourse, but not having a climax. Now, when I am with my husband, my fantasies are often of animals. I imagine that he and I are lying on the bed, when a dog comes into the room and begins to lick me. I then masturbate the dog, get onto my knees, and the dog mounts me. I like to imagine that the dog ejaculates into me. I imagine that my husband mounts the dog as it mounts me.

My other fantasy is of a donkey. I imagine that my husband has sold me to an Arab, and that I am in the desert. My slave master brings his friend to watch me, their new entertainment. I am told I must entertain the animal, the donkey. I follow this through from beginning to end: the animal is led in and I masturbate and suck it. When the donkey is excited, it mounts me from behind. I like to take all of its tool and it ejaculates into me.

But my fantasies with my lesbian friend are the most exciting; it is then that the man’s tool, her dildo, becomes real and totally satisfies me. [Letter]

Zizi

My name is Zizi. I am French and militant in the
"Mouvement
de Liberation de la Femme"
[Women’s Lib]. As far as my establishment in time is concerned, I’m twenty-three years old.

I think that female sexuality is too hidden by taboos and inhibitions, that is why I don’t hesitate to express some of my so-called fantasies. (In spite of my poor English, your curiosity of searching in that area excites me, I must admit.) My first sexual experiences were the reflection of my submission to the patriarchal ideology, so I will not speak about that. My last relations with guys were more in connection with my subjectivity. What was significant for me was the overcoming 93

of the stereotype "occidental basic position." I find my pleasure by climbing on top of the guy. I stick his penis in my cunt and I
ride
him like a horse. Then I squeeze my thighs (his penis is still inside me). His legs are spread – I have the feeling that I am a boy making a passive girl, the feeling that I have literally a phallus that is penetrating a cunt. That is a kind of revenge that I take after years of docileness. When I reach the orgasm, I feel my penis which ejaculates.

Through my love affairs with guys, I become to be conscious of my strong desires for other girls. Before I had re= ally had sex with a girl (in Paris) I used to play some underneath

"perversions." I’ll summarize one: I lived in a fiat in town; on the other side of the courtyard I noticed a middle-aged woman (housewife type) who was often leaning out of her window. One day, for
some reason (!),
I had the idea to walk nude in my room with the blind half down. She could not see my face. So she had the feeling’ that. I could not see hers (no guilt). In fact, I was looking’. at her thanks to a subterfuge of mirror. I pretended to wash myself. She was extremely into her peeping trip. I began, to masturbate my clitoris with my finger while I was half cleaning myself. The more her attention seems to increase, the more I was caressing myself till I came.

Some months after that I had a love affair with a girl. We like the sixty-nine position, but we sometimes did unusual things (sort of in connection with my former fantasies). We decided to look at one another masturbating. We both sat in an armchair (we were half-dressed in order to make it more obscene). We looked at the movements of our fingers rubbing our clitorises – terribly exciting. We did not touch one another at all. The pleasure of one worked on the other and vice versa.

I could write more, but the fact that I don’t know you really limits my pleasure in writing. Although it is a kind of trip to send some intimate sensations to an unknown girl (that I could eventually seduce? Who knows.).

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Je m’aventure a te donner un baiser, ma douce inconnue.

[Letter]

Kate

I have a permanent girl friend with whom I still sleep on occasion. I got married with her agreement and on the understanding that I give her detailed accounts of all that transpired when my husband did anything. Which I do in very complete detail.

Both Mary and I were virgins, as we only used our fingers vaginally with a homemade dildo which had a tube through it and a bulb on one end so that we could squeeze hand cream or something similar when used up our bums…which we both found
very
exciting. Apart from watching men masturbate and teasing them, neither of us was really interested in men, and I was still a virgin on my honeymoon, which Mary proved with her finger on the wedding eve. I was wondering what would happen on the first night, as I had agreed with Mary that I would stay a virgin but didn’t think it would be possible. In our bedroom on that first night I waited until Fred went to the bathroom, then I quickly got into my nightie and into bed.

(We had twin beds and still always have.) He came back and undressed and walked to my bedside naked (I hadn’t seen him naked before nor felt his prick outside his trousers), and I judged his prick to be about 5 inches long and it was slightly bent. He pulled the bedclothes off of me and held his prick and started rubbing it as he pulled my nightie off my shoulders, exposing my tits, which are well developed and firm with prominent teats when roused. By now he was stiff – about 6 inches long and he just looked at me.

Then he said, "I’m going to christen you," and he knelt over my shoulders.

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He kept on rubbing, with his balls swinging and touching my nipples, and suddenly he started rubbing faster and breathing ard and his spunk went all over my face and mouth. He’ got off, put the light out, and got in his bed.

After that night he always tossed off like that, either on my face or my tits or cunt, and left me to satisfy myself. Often at night when he thought I was asleep I watched him rub off, hearing those little squeezing noises as he rubbed his wet prick dry on my nightie. It was then I acted my fantasy as I lay in bed. I pulled my nipples and fingered my cunt with my legs wide open, imagining a big dog was coming at me and watching him lick his prick and then my cunt until I was somehow compelled to open my legs wide, raised up, as he fucked me hard, stimulated by suitable action with my finger.

I was able to produce a wonderful thrill as I imagined the dog, who was always with a man who carried a whip in case I refused.

I actually bought a long, low stool, such as I imagined lying on in my dreams, and in the days when I was alone would strip naked and lie on this with a dog whip by me, legs wide apart, dreaming my fantasy as often as I wanted. I was able to place the stool in such a position that the man in the house opposite would

– and often did – watch me from his bedroom window while I would watch him in a carefully placed mirror.

One day Mary came in and caught me and made me confess everything, and later on helped me make my fantasy a fact. We had several times watched dogs and found it very exciting when they couldn’t pull out of the bitch for a few minutes afterward. A new neighbor moved in and his wife had a lovely Alsatian dog, and one day when I was with Mary he came into our garden.

Mary called him in and right away he put his nose to my cunt.

She made me fondle him and get his prick out, and I was quite surprised how big and hard it was. She made me wash it and then lie down and actually suck it, giving me a flick with the 96

whip to help. Finally, she made me lie on the stool with my legs open, and rubbed my now very wet cunt with her fingers and rubbed her hand over my nipples. She coaxed the dog astride me and got him to lick my nipples and she rubbed his cock and got it into my cunt. He knew what was required and obviously was experienced. It went right up me and he thrust hard and fast until I felt my cunt go wet as he squirted inside me.

This was the culmination of my fantasy, though I still dream it very often. It’s lovely to be able to tell you – with Mary’s consent, as you can see.

I confirm this. (Signed) Mary. [Letter]

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THE HOUSE OF FANTASY

You already know, or can easily imagine, many of the most popular themes and devices of sexual fantasy,
leitmotifs
as familiar and beloved to the medium as the toad prince and the moustached villain are to fairy tales and vaudeville (nor is the comparison accidentally chosen). And although a woman will cast and style her sexual imagery as individually as she would a dinner party, she will probably – as I have found after collecting over four hundred fantasies – select as her own one of the archetypal dozen or so constantly recurring "stock" situations to build upon; she then embellishes her chosen situation with the subjective detail which makes it most alive to her, just as a woman will use accessories to dress a basic dress up, or down, to suit her desires of the moment.

Many artists have painted the female nude, but each picture speaks to different audiences and different emotions, and in different ways. The theme is classic, or, if you like, "stock"; the details are subjective, personal, and makèthe difference.

Therefore, if I say there are sixteen principal themes (more or less) which run through all sexual fantasy, I don’t mean this as simplistic reduction. Knowing this does not mean one knows

"all" there is about fantasy, nor are these sixteen themes what 98

fantasy is "only" about. This is how I have structured the material, letting the recognizable, the familiar, act as a frame for the unique, startling, and exotic; it gives understandable content, and hence meaning, to the most fascinating stuff of fantasy: the emotion-packed detail.

Take, for instance, a standard fantasy situation: the masked rape scene. What could be more predictable? What is new, though, and what is different each time is the way each woman will "dress" that scene – the setting, the lighting, the nuances of action and dialogue. It’s almost as though she chose the obvious cardboard fixtures as a kind of diversion or cover-up for the incredible amount of sexual detail she is giving away about herself in the actual fantasy. For instance, who do those masks cover? Her stepfather? A priest? Her sister? Nine black men?

Perhaps this is why so many women don’t remember more than the vague bones of their fantasies, why they keep their descriptions one level of abstraction removed from the all-revealing detail. To recollect more, not just to me but even to herself, would be too highly charged, too naked, too close to acknowledging the extent and complexities of her sexual appetite

– an appetite women aren’t supposed to have (or there would be a less pejorative name for it than nymphomania). Nine times out of ten, therefore, when a woman tells her fantasy, it begins and ends with something like, "I have these strange thoughts of being humiliated"; that’s all, or that’s all she chooses to remember. (As with recalling dreams in psychoanalysis, however, having acknowledged this much, she will probably remember more the next time if encouraged.)