Forbidden Flowers (30 page)

Another fantasy while I'm masturbating is simply that while I'm doing it to myself my girl friend has walked in on me and joins me; then we make love to one another. This fantasy gets me very excited, but it will soon no longer be a fantasy, because I really want this girl friend. She has big beautiful tits that I would love to suck and the same with her cunt and ass.

Anyway, I'd love to have this girl, and I know that she's starting to want me. We almost did it yesterday, but we didn't, because we're both on the rag. I've had sexual relations with five other women. One of them was a prostitute.

One thing I want to say before I close. My husband knows of my fantasies and approves and gets very excited over them.

Sometimes we lay in bed, and while I play with myself and he plays with himself, we tell each other some fantasy and come together. He also approves of me going to bed with a broad and sometimes watches us, and I watch him play with his big prick, then afterward we fuck; if the girl has her boyfriend there, they fuck too; if not, we wait till she leaves or we leave, depending on the circumstances.

I hope that I have been helpful toward your second book.

Thank you for letting me contribute.

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Liz

For years, I was resentful that man thought he could write about women's sex life as if what he wrote was fact. You're right up top … for the first time, an honest woman putting the real facts on paper. When I read your book, I said, “Now that's the truth.” Only a woman knows the sexual fantasies of other women.

Here's my favorite. My lovers in this fantasy are faceless, and I have dreams where I am sitting with black mesh hose on, the kind that have black heels. I'm on a tall chair, no bra, and I caress my round firm breasts and pull and pinch my erect nipples. I feel extreme pleasure in my womb to do this, and then I spread my legs, and the slit in my stockings shows love juices oozing out of my pussy's lips. They are large and hanging down like a pink tongue panting to be fucked. A naked man is there watching me play with myself, but I do not see him; he is silently watching me until I am dying to be screwed. He gets a fantastic erection watching me. I just want to be yanked off my perch and screwed so hard on the floor that I'm dying with pain and pleasure. I can feel it so clearly, his beautiful hairy mound bumping against my love venus. He is moaning and blowing his hot breath in my ears, and the heat is so intense when he comes, and I feel the hot juice shoot up around my cervix. It leaps with joy, and I come, and my womb pulls and sucks his juices up in me like a thirsty throat on fire. I feel my cunt, and it's running down my legs – I rub it and it's tender. I'm always hot and masturbate often with this fantasy, even though my husband is fantastic, with a beautiful peter.

He drew me out of my shell and nurtured my sexual freedom

– I can say I've had other men in real life, but my husband excites me by far the most. I love him and he loves me. The fact that he has other women runs my cunt pressure to the boiling point, and I desire his hot big beautiful peter even more, as I fantasize he is screwing her, and when he says, “Fuck me, baby,” or “Suck that hard hot cock, baby,” I know he's talking to her. But I know I'm better in bed than she is, and my excitement transmits to him, so it's an electric charge shooting 206

back and forth. It's a current that I drink – my life's blood. I love all of him.

I discovered my sex drive while very young, because I lived on a farm and watched the animals mate. I never desired any of these myself, and yet the reptile played a most delightful wicked part of my fantasies. This one takes place when I was twelve or fourteen years old. I'm lying in bed on fire with an itch that drives me crazy. In my fantasy, I think, What can I fuck and my parents not know, even though it is right under their nose (my mother was a very light sleeper)? I have it – a snake.

It slithers quietly and surely on its way. I'm lying on the bed, naked, hot and wet, all swollen with yearning. It slides under the door, long, big, and hard and wicked – (the devil!) – creeps on the bed without effort and drives its ugly head right into my throbbing hot pussy. The thrill knows no end as I masturbate faster to keep in time with the shivering snake.

I had this fantasy for years till I got married. Then it switched to men and real penis dreams.

P.S. These are only a few. I could go on. As some of the other women in your book said it gives me great pleasure to read and write some of my most secret thoughts. Your title is most appropriate, as I used to fantasize I was floating through a lovely flower garden while my husband screwed away. Such a lovely flower garden.

P.P.S. As for facts, I married at seventeen. I was a virgin, have two sons now, and am thirty-eight years old. If I had to have a removal of my female parts, it would surely make me die. I believe the womb plays the most important part in having a climax. As the Greeks said, when you translate “womb,” it means a living thing-thirst.

Anonymous

Just finished your book and couldn't resist sending you my favorite fantasy. Although it's based on fact, I conjure it up when I'm alone and getting it on by myself or with my friendly little vibrator. I'm married but have had a lover for a very long 207

time. I love my husband but I have this leftover sexual desire that he – and maybe no one man – could ever satisfy. I don't dig cheating on him, but it's better than frustration. My lover and his wife, my husband and I, and several other people we know all form a kind of close-knit group, and so we very often do lots of things together. Many of us like to ski, and last year, one of the couples in our group invited my husband and I, and my lover and his wife, to come north for a weekend of skiing with them.

They have a small weekend house, with a combination living room and kitchen, one large bedroom with two double beds side by side and two single beds. At first, I thought, Shit –

there is nowhere in this little house where my lover and I could hope to get anything on.

We skied all day and were totally exhausted but feeling sexier than ever. We had tried to get off on the slopes alone, but someone was always tagging along with us. It was a great night. A big fire in the fireplace, drinks, soft music, and me –

ready to screw anything that moved. I had almost resigned myself to making it with my husband, which wouldn't have done me too much good, but I was desperate. We all went to bed. My husband took some sleeping pills (he has insomnia).

So there I lay in one double bed and my lover fifteen inches away in the other double bed. I was going crazy.

Could I kneel on the floor and go down on him without anybody hearing or seeing us? No, that's out. Just then, he must have been reading my mind. He pulled back the covers and turned on his side, and there was the most beautiful hard-on in the world. I was going to get down on the floor and the hell with anyone else. He motioned for me to stay where I was and then started to jack himself off. Right then and there I knew what he had in mind. I turned over on my side as close to the edge of the bed as I could. My heart and everything else was beating like a trip hammer. I was so wet and my clit was so hard, I thought it would burst. Then he started to come and cupped his both hands to catch it all. He then brought his hands up to my mouth, and I proceeded to lick them bone dry, not wasting a single drop of that lovely stuff. Between pictur-ing in my mind him jacking off and that warm, slightly salty 208

semen in my mouth, and of course the danger in what we were doing, I got off twice. I drifted off to sleep with his finger in my mouth.

Now when I masturbate, I think of that scene and it's almost like having him there. Given a good husband, a good lover,
and
my fantasies, I'm never frustrated. I hope you can use this.

It would be an even bigger turn-on reading about it. Plus knowing all my friends were reading it and not even knowing it is about us. Thanks for bringing fantasy out of the closet, and crotch-watching too.

Have you ever listened to an older person talk about “the good old days”? To hear them, the men were all tall, kind, and rich, the women beautiful and generous as queens, the rain never fell on weekends, and every night was New Year's Eve.

To say that they are telling us lies would be incorrect and narrow-minded. What they are trying to do is recapture a feeling they had when they were young, and which they have no more.

They are not deliberately misleading us as much as they have embellished their own memories of a world that should lave been. They themselves can't be sure if a certain happy event, which they describe in such glowing detail, really happened or not.

The next two fantasies may be based on just such memories To be honest, it is not clear to me if Diane's or Cecelia's fantasies are about events that really took place, or if both women have not taken some specifics of real events and, because they ignited such truly erotic fires in their imagination, embroidered them into two of the most vivid masturbatory fantasies I have ever read.

For our purposes, it does not matter, because whether or not the events took place, both fantasies are true to :heir own inner logic. Diane does not even present her story as if it we re a fantasy. It is all memory, and whether it is about masturbation, dogs, her grandfather, another woman, a casual newsboy, or a salesman, the details all pour out, one after another, with no hesitation, second thoughts, or guilt getting between herself and her mounting excitement. The very act of writing the letter 209

becomes part of her total masturbatory fantasy: “Our dog gets his share, and he can lick my cunt as he is doing right now, while I am writing.”

Cecelia's story seems to me to be a bit more complicated. I have shown it to two psychoanalysts, both of whom share my feelings that it is difficult to know just by reading her letter where reality ends and fantasy begins. If the events actually happened, it can be said that she was legally and technically

“raped,” but I believe it would be a total misunderstanding to believe Cecelia is the exception to my statement that I never met a woman who wanted to be raped in reality. In her letter, she tells us where her true excitement lies: it was “the enslavement, the subjugation [which] I found so thrilling.” When she wants to experience these emotions again, she does not go out alone for a walk on a dark street – she turns to “the understanding and indulgence of my wonderful husband” to turn her fantasy into “a way of life,” in the safety of her own home.

What is particularly striking to me about Cecelia's letter is that it gives us such a clear example of the healing powers of sexual fantasy. By going over and over again “eleven hours” of

“terrifying brutality,” Cecelia gets a feeling of mastery over the events. She can resummon those hours in her imagination now for her own pleasure. Her erotic imagination has taken the horror out of her experience, and transmuted it into pure sexual gold. She says the entire experience now “thrills me to think of.” In the safety of her fantasies, the man who abducted her can no longer frighten her; they have been turned instead into her erotic servants, Cecelia's source of “extremely satisfying pleasures.”

Diane

Your book,
Secret Garden, is
very well fitted for its purpose. My gramps and I have read and reread many parts and many of the fantasies fit my life. Am twenty three, single, and have had a varied sex life. My remembrance of sex-play must be when I was about six years old. Every chance I had when alone was to strip all my clothes off, sit with my legs up to my 210

chin, and just finger play. At the time, the words cunt, fuck, cock, etc., were not my language, but now I know and shall use the proper word in my letter. The sex-play I enjoyed was to use my finger, and then I tried many items, rubber items for pets, such as is given to dogs to chew on. Well do I remember finding a big rubber cock in a box in the storage room. I kept it well hid and played with it after I had gone to bed. The size was large, but in a short period of time I had mastered getting it way up in my cunt. The time I had it up my cunt when our dog came into my room, jumped up on the bed, and – as your book described – a fast lick with a doggie's tongue, and your new experience is in for a thrill. Well, after that, whenever I could be alone, I would let Skip lick my cunt. Could be in our garage, basement, or in the woods, as we lived in the sticks. He was always ready to lick my cunt. From that, I soon learned he loved to hug my leg and work his ass. Well, I had him on his back one day and played with his cock. No one home, so I stripped and sat on his stomach and slid my cunt up to his cock and let it go in. It was real warm. I worked my cunt on his cock, and he laid still. His head was behind me, so I could hold him and force his cock in. While I was only eight then, I had seen dogs fucking, so I was anxious to see if he could fuck me.

We went for a walk back into the woods and found a spot where we would be not so apt to be found. Now I never wore panties, and all I had on was a dress. I took off my dress and spread my legs apart while standing, and let Skip lick my cunt.

When he got to working his ass, I got down on my knees to get him to fuck me. He knew what I was doing and mounted me. I got my hand on his cock and spread my cunt open and led his tip of his cock into my cunt. What a thrust he gave, and my cunt was full of his cock. Every stroke he gave, his cock got longer, and then I felt a bulge go in my cunt, and we were in action. Sure glad no one was around to hear me talk like I did.

When he got going, I kept telling him to fuck faster, faster, faster, and it seemed so much pleasure. Finally, he came, and when I started to pull away, he cried; I could feel the hardness just inside my cunt. When he pulled his cock out of me, my cunt was on fire, and was his cock slender, but long. The huge knot at the back end of his cock was bright red. I laid on my 211

back and just let my cunt cool, as it was really hurting. He licked my cunt, and when he found my clit, he just kept licking. Guess my juice was coming, and he was licking it as it came out. Well, we have had many a good fuck since, and I found another dog to replace Skip. Well, when I was about eleven years old, our newsboy came to our house to collect, and everyone was gone to Seattle. He and I talked for a while – he was sixteen then – and while he was talking, he gave me a hug and kiss, and left. Shortly after, he returned and explained he had to finish his collections. We were in my room playing records, etc., and he started to fool around, and that was all I needed to get my cunt hot. In our playing on the bed, he got his hand on my cunt, and that was where I lost all respect. I stripped and let him do what he wanted. My tits were small, but he found a way to suck both. Then he had me lay cross-ways on my bed, put two pillows under my ass, and had my cunt up high. I could see my cunt lips open up when he spread my legs. When he put his mouth to my cunt and started to suck my clit, I grabbed his head and pulled his head up to my cunt, and as he. sucked, I kept telling him, “Suck, suck harder.” Finally, he came up on top of me and told me he was going to fuck me, and he got his cock up in my cunt, and when he started to fuck, my legs were over his shoulders, and did we fuck. This was our start to fucking. Did he get a look of surprise when Skip came up and licked his cock and nuts while he and I were fucking later on. Skip, Ted, and I are now a threesome for a long time after. When Ted was eighteen, he joined the service and is now making a career of the Air Force.