My Secret Garden (Women Sexual Fantasies) (29 page)

I developed sexually at about twelve, and as I was very wild and disobedient growing up, my parents decided to send me to a strict convent school. Corporal punishment was allowed in this school. A strap was always used. The head nun, Sister Rosario, would take an offender – which was very often me – up to the front of the class, tell her to bend down and touch her toes, and then, having lifted up her tunic, she would hit her across the buttocks.

During a holiday break I met a lovely boy whom I fell in love with. I made him promise not to write to me while I was in the 218

convent because I could get expelled for it. One evening after P.T.

class, Sister Rosario said she wanted to see me in her room. She told me that she had intercepted a letter from a boy written to me and that she had no alternative but to expel me. I pleaded on my knees to her not to expel me, and eventually she said she would not but that she would have to deal severely with me and that I was to tell nobody. I gladly agreed to this, but I can tell you that if I had my choice again I would not. She told me to take off all my clothes, which I very embarrassingly did. I was nearly thirteen at this stage and I was fairly well developed. I had to kneel down in front of her while she asked numerous questions which shocked and embarrassed me, for instance:

"What is your bust measurement?"

"Do you masturbate?"

"What color is the hair between your legs?"

"What do you call it?"

She wanted to know exactly what I did with the boy and what he did. She then made me lie across a chair and gave me about twenty lashes with the leather across the buttocks. I then had to lie on my back and open my legs. She gave me six in between the legs.

After this I had to come to her room regularly and she would make me strip and would beat me with the leather each time. She would always ask me about masturbating. I tell you all this because after two weeks I definitely got a certain pleasurable sensation from the beating. It was during this time that I first started to masturbate. I still do it regularly.

Now I am a teacher and I get my pleasure from administering the punishment. The boys I teach are between ten and fourteen. I regularly take one to my room where I administer the whip and cane, having ordered him to strip naked. I enjoy punishing him but I enjoy it most when I see him getting an erection. I wear provocative clothes and I enjoy embarrassing him when he gets the erection.

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I have never punished a girl, mainly because I never had the opportunity to do so. But I often daydream about it. I imagine her being strapped to a bed with only panties and a bra on. I then order one of my boy pupils to strip her and to torture her. The tortures I normally dream about are pulling the hairs from her pubic region one at a time, inserting needles into her breasts, burning her with hot candle grease, whipping her, caning her, while at the same time making her admit filthy thoughts, masturbation, etc.

I also dream about having intercourse with one of my pupils.

Some of my thoughts and indeed my actions are very diverse and queer, and I find it hard to put on paper. I have never before told anyone about these things. Sometimes I feel frustrated and I would like to know if my practices are very unusual. I would be elated if you could give me some information on what other girls think. It would make me feel easier to know that others like me exist.

P.S. I find it difficult to get the type of whips that I would like here in Ireland, so I would be grateful if you could help me.

[Letter]

Stella

My sexual fantasy goes back to an actual event that happened to me when I was about eleven. On the way home from school a group of girls and boys began picking on me. At one point the leader, who was very good looking, grabbed me by the arm and told me I would have to do whatever he ordered me to do. He told me that from that day on whenever he ordered me to follow him I would do so, and that he would then tell me what his wishes were. Then he let me go. Afterward, whenever I saw him my heart would leap into my mouth, but he never seemed to notice me again, never ordered me to follow him or to do any of the things I thought I would dread, doing.

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During my early teen-age years I used to dream about what he might have asked me to do to him. I imagined all sorts of things, and still do. This is what all my fantasies go back to, that I am forced by this good looking man to perform all sorts of sexual acts, incredible things that no man has ever asked me to do, but which would give me a great deal of pleasure – if I were forced.

This is my fantasy, even when I am with my lover.

I only began to masturbate eight months ago, although I am twentyfour. My fantasies are different during masturbation, either imagining that I am using a dildo, which I don’t have the nerve to buy, or that one or two women and I are making love with a dildo.

Oddly enough, the only other thing that turns me on is if I see a very nice male posterior. I can’t help imagining how it would be uncovered. [Letter]

SOUNDS

This is as good a place as any to make a parenthetic comment on noise during sex, on what it does for women. I’m not talking about Frank Sinatra in the background; I refer specifically to those words and noises and phrases that come straight from the groin and have to do with fucking. Words and noises that – if you are indeed fucking – are a more natural part of it than a gentlemanly "I love you, Helen," or no noise at all.

Being fucked in silence, with the lights out, inhibits an act that’s supposed to be the most liberating one in our lives. Some women, like June (below), can’t even make it in silence; Nina (also below) says what dozens of other contributors have mentioned in passing…and would have dwelled on longer, I’m sure now, if I’d asked them directly how they felt about it: "Our lovemaking is always heightened by the use of words like ‘fuck,’ ‘cunt,’ etc., which we normally
don’t
use…only in bed." Both these women 221

trace the source of their fantasies back to their childhood, which is where most adults think these "dirty," "low," "vulgar" noises should be relegated, instead of including them naturally in the most adult act of all. Who said "ladies" don’t use words like

"fuck" and "cunt," or that one doesn’t use them around "ladies"?

Maybe not when you’re having lunch with a lady, but when a lady’s fucking, she’s not having lunch.

June

What I can’t stand is quiet sex. It seems unnatural to me for two people to be fucking away and all you can hear, if you’re lucky, is some heavy breathing. Give me a good moaner, a groaner, a real yeller any time. If I’m with a guy and he won’t say anything, just breathes, and I’m too timid to start up all the heavy moaning that really turns me on, I fantasize. I remember the first time I ever heard people fucking, and remembering it, well, it releases me.

I was only about eleven when this happened. We were living in San Francisco, in a big apartment house with a center courtyard. All the bedroom windows in the building opened onto this court, and sometimes in the middle of the night in that building it sounded like a mass orgy. I may have been only eleven, but no one had to tell me what all that moaning and yelling was about. I’d lie there mesmerized – that’s when I began masturbating, I think – listening to the first couple. Invariably, they’d wake up other couples, and like some kind of chain reaction within minutes the whole building was fucking. I mean, have you ever heard other people fucking, really enjoying it? It’s a marvelous sound…not like in the movies…but when it’s real.

It’s such a happy, exciting sound.

So if I’m with some silent type, just lying there noiseless with him thrusting away, I remember those noisy nights as a kid in San Francisco, and within seconds I’m. moaning and groaning 222

like crazy myself, and sure enough, the old silent type picks up on it, too…and we’re off on a great loud fuck! [Conversation]

Nina

I am thirty-three years old, a lesbian, and have been happily,

"married" for the past five years. My fantasies during sex are very much a reflection of what is actually happening. Very often we will "act out" our roles as Mum and Baby, as she sucks my nipples and I sing her nursery songs. At other times she acts the male role and I describe out loud what her "cock" is like and how it is affecting me while we masturbate each other. Our lovemaking pleasure is always heightened by the use of words like "cunt ," "fuck," etc., which we normally
don’t
use…only in bed. I should add that my fantasies are always about my lover, never about some other lesbian. If I did have ideas about another woman, I would never tell her, as she is terribly jealous natured.

When I discovered the delights of masturbation, at the age of seven, even then I used to imagine it was my girl friend who was rubbing between my legs. I suppose I’ve always been a lesbian and it was just a matter of time before I made these early fantasies come true. Sometimes, while masturbating as a child, I would imagine her dog was licking my cunt (which it sometimes did and which excited me greatly).

However, I never fantasize about animals now. My thoughts are totally given, over to my love for other women. Often, I will imagine a kind of religious orgy – lesbian, but watched by men robed as priests. There are always lots of lighted candles, vestal virgins, and a certain amount of sex on the altar with my partner.

There is invariably glorious music and brilliant colors as in church. (I am a vicar’s offspring and attend church regularly, but have no guilt about being homosexual.)

Every (frequent) session with my beloved partner is exciting and satisfying, all the more so because of my thoughts and our 223

words. However, I would
never talk
about my fantasies to anyone. [Letter]

Meg

When I am with my husband, I often think of my former lover and of the time we were on a secluded, bushy beach together and he pinned me to the ground with his: legs after I’d already had one climax; he just steam-rollered me and moaned and groaned when he came. That’s something else I miss – my former lover’s lovemaking’ noises and talk – my husband doesn’t "talk dirty"

during; the act to the extent my lover used to, and he’s pretty well noiseless at climax. [Taped interview]

Holly

My husband knows how much certain talk excites me, like his telling me how much he enjoys oral sex, how much he loves my big breasts; I like him to describe quite literally what we are doing when we are making love. Except then, I like him to call it

"fucking." [Letter]

Evie

Evie is in her late twenties, divorced, and now lives in Los Angeles with her two daughters. Her frank comments about talk during sex could be an inspiration to a lot of silent fuckers who want to be remembered. It’s difficult to remember movements, to reconstruct all by yourself what happened last night or last month in bed, but a few heated groin-words can have total, orgasmic recall. Remembering just those words, a woman can keep a man erect in her mind for life. Women are the great collectors…love letters, roses, souvenirs, words; in a sense, women hang on to 224

everything, almost live in the past, because we’re never quite sure if "it" will ever happen again.

About talking…that’s another whole realm and I don’t know if it interests you, but I think it might to know that men who talk to me can really make me cream in my jeans (just an expression) over them…things like "You can do it"; "You can make it";

"Come on"; etc. I won’t bore you, but they really seem to make a difference in my orgasm quotient. Sometimes when I am in bed with a man and he talks to me…even if he just asks me what time it is while he’s making love to me…I freak. And when I am alone with myself I often reiterate what certain men have said, or very often I allow myself the luxury of embroidering on it and inventing things that men might say to me.

You wanted some of my girl friends’ fantasies, and I asked a few of them but they don’t seem very imaginative. They apparently speak little in bed and they are not interested in imagining, or else they won’t come clean with me, which is probable. One girl did tell me that a fellow used to send her polaroid pictures of his erected cock and she would masturbate to them while he was on business trips. [Letter]

WOMEN DO LOOK

But it’s too easy to say that all sexual fantasy, like dreams, was born of some inchoate spark in childhood. Pop psychiatry, determined to reduce the most complete aspects of life to fast,
fast
, FAST understanding, begins and ends with that premise.

All the foregoing reinforces the idea that much of our most potent sexual imagery does go back to that time in our lives when we didn’t even know what it – the stimulus – was all about. Born of the innocence and ignorance of our childhood, fantasies retain their mysterious powers into our adult years of sexual exploration (even satiety). They never lose their glamour. Bluebeard’s wives 225

had all the beautiful rooms of his house to roam in, but they never could resist the one locked door.

But don’t despair if you’re over twelve and think you haven’t had a fantasy. The most erotic fantasies I know of are ones that first came to grown women on hearing just the right word, seeing the wrong face. Sexual fantasy material is everywhere and anything, but the spark that makes it a fantasy is inside, not outside the fantasist. It’s not a matter of deciding "Okay, now I’m going to make up, a great sexual fantasy," and then concentrating on the two young men delivering the new TV set, on the neighbor’s Great Dane, or even on your husband’s best friend.

There are no universal fantasy symbols; what works for one woman may do nothing for another. Just as one woman may go for the classic tall, dark, and handsome type, so may another like cute blond cheerleaders. Flash a black man on the screen of one woman’s mind and it will begin clicking its own rear projection, while another woman’s inner voice may say "So what?" You don’t will a sexual fantasy to take form and turn you on.

Nevertheless, I do think a lot of women are likely to begin fantasizing after reading this book. Or rather, become aware that they have, been fantasizing all along, and that those sudden odd ideas or notions they have up to now forgotten, or repressed, are indeed fantasies.