The New Black Lace Book of Women's Sexual Fantasies (10 page)

Where I grew up, it was one hundred per cent white middle
class. The boys weren't interested in me for some reason. But
I didn't really like them. I kept thinking, well, sex just isn't
something that I really like. I thought it was boring. The white
well-spoken boys bored me. Then I met a Brazilian guy who
flipped my world upside down and I've never looked back! Now
I adore sex, I'm such a sexual person. But I only like darkskinned
men, usually foreign.

I have so many fantasies, but my favourite is being
approached by a sixteen-year-old teenage boy, black, usually
Caribbean. He hits on me, and I laugh in his face because he
doesn't realise how old I am (I look young). When I tell him
that I'm 27, he looks shocked, then smiles. He's tall, over six
feet, with beautiful cheekbones, skin, teeth and gorgeous eyes,
which have a slightly cruel/bad boy look to them. We flirt and
I tell him he has no chance with me. He tells me that I'll never
have it as good as I would with him. I keep laughing at him,
because he's so cocky and arrogant (as most teenage boys are!).
But I can see something in him, the way he walks, talks, holds
himself, the way he looks at me. He's not a virgin and he's been
with women who have told him that, yes, he's as fine as he
thinks he is. My curiosity gets the better of me and I give him
my number. His testosterone is like a heat shimmer around
him. He's too hot, too young, too fine . . .

He calls me later that week and tells me (not asks me) he's
coming over. He turns up just after I've got back from work.
I'm in a work skirt suit and heels and I know I look good. The
skirt makes my butt look curvy and big, and my waist look
tiny. He's wearing a T-shirt and I can see his ripped muscular
arms and pecs. His baggy jeans hang off his hips, showing
just a taster of flesh on his stomach. As he stands behind me
while I make him a drink, I can feel his body heat and he
smells so good. He puts his hands around my waist and I arch
my back and push my ass towards him. He slides his hands
down to my ass and whispers in my ear that I'm the finest
white woman he's seen. I turn around and we kiss. He bites
my lip, teasing me. I pull his T-shirt over his head. His body
is
amazing.
I can't tell you what muscles covered in black skin
do to me. He even has some tattoos covering his biceps. I just
want to bite him, eat him all up. I spend minutes just
smoothing my hands over his body, as he bites my neck and
shoulders . . . You know what? It's not even about the sex. It's
about his body and how good it looks and feels to touch and
how salty and warm his skin is. I'm obsessed by bodies like
this. It's his dark skin against my lightness. It's his youth, how
perfect he is. I know boys like this, and all I do is stare at them.
Stare so much. I can't have them, so I get what I need from
staring.

S, age 22
Heterosexual
Steady relationship/not live-in
Bachelor's degree
Writer
Dublin, Ireland

I like the idea of forbidden sex . . . and I get really turned on
by guys with plump sexy lips. I used to have a boyfriend with
these amazing bedroom eyes and full lips! He was so beautiful
in a sort of feminine-model way, but he was also really masculine;
he really did it for me! I like spontaneous sex. I love to
be able to chat to a guy for hours on end and really connect
on a mental level first; it makes the sex so much better. I like
cheeky boys who know how to tease endlessly without being
too mean. Big willies also, it goes without saying. The thought
of being dominated (like thrown over the edge of a couch or
tied up) is quite sexy. I also like the idea of being the innocent
schoolgirl type in a short skirt being corrupted by the bad
man! I think this was my sexually repressed Catholic
upbringing.

Imagine this . . . you have been carved into this perfect young
lady. All-girls' convent, university education . . . sex was never
really discussed in your household. You learned all you know
from poring through magazines and books, and reading about
blow jobs and sex in aeroplanes. Now imagine coming to
maturity and wanting to rebel against it, yet have it in every
way possible – in your mind, body and soul. To completely
surrender to it.

In my fantasy I am wearing a very short skirt. It's a school
skirt pleated and high on my thighs, which in the fantasy are
long, slim and tanned. Underneath I am wearing white lacy
pants, which make me feel sexy and naughty, stockings up to
my knees, and a school shirt. I am the ultimate juxtapose:
naughty, hungry and dirty on the inside; sweet, happy and
innocent on the outside.

I am in school that day, aged about seventeen, and wearing
what I described above. The young training teacher tells me
he needs to keep me behind. 'I want to see you after class,
young lady,' he says good-naturedly, winking. In his mid-20s
and fresh out of college, he's tall and good-looking with lovely
masculine hands, piercing eyes that look right into you, and a
cheeky grin. Every girl in the class has a crush on him. After
everyone leaves, I'm sitting at my desk waiting for him to come
and talk to me. He shuffles his papers and, when he's sure
everyone has gone, approaches me to ask why I haven't done
my homework. Looking up at him from my chair, I reply that
I just didn't want to. He is wearing a white shirt and a tie, and
he loosens it a bit and sits down beside me quietly and puts
his hand on my leg, which is now tensing at his touch, sending
lightning blots through my whole body. Our eyes meet – he
looks me up and down lustily and I know what's going through
his mind. He then gets up and closes the blinds and locks the
classroom door. He sits back down and tells me I have been a
bad girl and I need to learn my lesson. He then runs his hands
right up my thigh to my lacy pants; he pulls them aside with
his fingers and pushes his hands roughly into me. I suck my
breath in, biting my lip, and he pushes them in deeper. He
then kisses me gently and grabs my hand, putting it on his
crotch where I can feel his hard cock through his trousers. He
then tells me to get up on the desk. I do that and he tells me,
'No, I want you to kneel on the desk.' So I do what he says,
getting on the desk on my hands and knees like a cat, my bum
in the air. I am tense for a moment, wondering what he will
do next. He rubs me again, sending volts of electricity up my
spine. He takes my pants and he pulls them down to my knees.
Then he pulls up my skirt, spreading my legs wider apart. He
puts his head under my skirt and licks me with his strong
tongue, gasping as he does. My head is arched back and I'm
shivering. He then undoes his button and takes out his cock
in his hand, rubbing it openly. I turn around and sit on the
desk, opening my legs and undoing my shirt. He has a look of
ecstasy in his eyes as he massages his dick. He puts his free
hand up my skirt once more and I throw my shirt on the floor.
Then I undo my bra, and sit back on the desk. He gives me a
dirty look and comes over to me, kissing my breasts for a
minute, then kissing my face frantically. He pushes my head
down, forcing me to suck him until he is rock hard and
moaning. He pulls up my head and gets me to turn around
once more. He probes his cock against me and we both let out
a gasp. Then quickly he enters me, forcefully. He grabs my hair
and pulls on it, my neck back, my spine arched as he pumps
harder and faster . . .

And it pretty much ends there I'm afraid. Hopefully teachers
like this will never be employed in real life!

Kele, age 21
Heterosexual
Celibate
University degree
Student
Western Cape, South Africa

I'm turned on by fantasies about ex-boyfriends, where the
relationship has ended dismally, and they're fingering me to
orgasm. In my fantasy he stands above me and torments me
until I give in. He doesn't tease, he doesn't listen to my pleas.
He just forces his hands and makes me come so hard I think
I'll fall apart. Just when it's subsiding, he starts again and I'm
rocking with the sensation. I hate him. I hate the way he hurt
me. I hate that no one has made me feel like he has in three
years. I hate this on-off thing we keep having. I hate that when
I see him my whole body goes into shock again. I hate the
small town we live in where I bump into him almost daily, at
the library, in the supermarket. I hate that he rejected me
before. I hate that I'm loving his smell, his feel, his taste so
much. I can't stand him but I can't say no.

We met in the club tonight, and I knew it was time to leave.
I had to walk past him to get out and, as I did so, he greeted
me casually. I barely looked at him because his eyes burned
into me. But I had to look back; is this really him? He smiled
in that knowing way, his latest girlfriend on his arm, grinning
prettily (bitch!). I swore I would never be alone with him. When
I came out of the toilet, he pushed me into the cubicle hastily.
And before I knew it I had sunk again. His lips, oh God, that
man makes my head spin every time he kisses me. My legs
open of their own accord. And he whispers, 'I knew you couldn't
resist me. Since that first day, I know you've wanted this.' I
can't even deny it, I've been craving him for so long. I know
he doesn't love me. I know it will never be anything more, but,
God, I need this. It's been three years since he touched me and
nobody can even come close. I've been celibate for two years
now, can't even make myself come without thinking about
him. And now he's here, and it feels so good, but I have to stop.
'This isn't right. You can't just show up and fuck me up all over
again, Nkuli.'

'I'm not asking,' he answers as his hands pull up my skirt
roughly. I'm bending over the toilet, and he's behind me and
he's so rough it almost hurts; it's so good. I feel his jarring
inside me from behind with one hand over my clitoris. Oh,
God, I need this, but I must stop this. 'Come on, just let go.' I
wish he wasn't right. What choice do I have, I can feel it coming.
And I'm a screamer, but he puts his free hand against my
mouth to contain the sound. Oh shit, this is so good . . .

Shanna, age 18
Heterosexual
Virgin
College Student
Singapore

In my favourite fantasy, a guy is sitting in the back of his
chau-eured car (the windows are tinted) waiting for his
seventeen-year-old niece. She gets in the car unsuspectingly.
They get into foreplay and her uncle suckles her virgin twat.
He laps up her juices and plays around her labia with his
tongue. (Keep in mind the girl is wearing her school uniform.)
She moans. They rock the limousine, and shouts of pleasure
and their lascivious moans can be heard outside the car.
The chau-eur gets off on their muffled sex cries, and passersby
are intrigued.

Unearthly Pleasures

Sheila, age 34
Heterosexual
Steady relationship, not live-in
High School diploma
Occupation unknown
Ohio, USA

I liked being in control of sexual situations when I first
learned about sex. Experience has led me to become a female
dominant. In the relationship I have now it is vanilla D/s. In
the past I have been a switch (someone who can be either
the dominant or submissive with their partner). My experience
with women has mainly been through BDSM, kissing,
touching and use of toys and props with them, but I have yet
to have a full-on female experience. If the right woman came
along I very well could give it try, I think. The lesbian curiosity
is one that I would like to explore because I believe it would
be so di-erent being with someone who knows in her own
way what I would like, could understand my thoughts and
feelings better. What keeps it from happening, not really
searching for it, is that I know that relationships are relationships;
no matter your sexual orientation, each group has its
own problems. So I think, why trade the problems that I am
used to for a di-erent set? Besides, I do love men a hell of a
lot and I damned sure enjoy being dominant over the man
in my life.

Though I am dominant, the best sex came when I was in a
submissive role. I was with a man and we were doing age-play
role-playing, dad/daughter scene. He had a way of making me
feel very young even though he was not much older than me.
I was pleasing 'daddy' orally, trying to make up for being a
very bad girl, when the man's real-life brother walked in on
us. OMG! Embarrassment and shock at getting caught in the
exposed position I was in were only a few of the feelings going
through me, not to mention I was extremely horny, too! A look,
a few words between the dominant 'daddy' and me, and we
invited the brother to join us. This night became my first, and
so far only, experience with a threesome. Still makes me drip
thinking about it. And yes, the brother stepped in to the role
of 'uncle' to the dad/daughter scene.

Erotica and romantic erotica are my first reading choices
when possible, followed by paranormal romances and so on.

When it comes to fantasy, the themes I go to often are
paranormal, like vampires (as victim or as the vamp) and werewolves,
BDSM, inanimate objects (for example, statues), and
some taboo subjects such as rape and incest. Some fantasies
have force to mild violence. What holds me back from living
out my fantasies? Vampire fantasy is hard to complete, don't
you think? Role-playing is as close as I get to that one, and it's
freaking hot when I play that role, too. Finding a statue that
can fill the role of my latest fantasy isn't easy. And rape is not
anything I want to have happen to me or anyone else.

Recently the fantasy that gets me going is sex with a statue.
It plays out this way: I'm a woman who is at an art auction.
I'm exploring the items up for bid and come across a wonderfully
aroused sculpted male statue, one that to my mind puts
the statue of David to shame. Though I'm there with my mind
set on a certain painting, something about the statue calls to
me and I set out to win it, and do. The statue is delivered. Alone
with it at last, I can't stop touching it. The more I touch it the
more aroused I become and I figure out a way to impale myself
on its sculpted cock and come.