FOREWORD (39 page)

In the split second before I respond, I see who did it –

sweet pretty Evelyn! What the fuck is
this
!

She gets me in a full nelson, drags me inside, closes her door; we’re in her hall. “Get up!” I do.

“Now,” she says, smiling, eyes shining, “now I get my chance to see if what’s in your pants is as good as what’s in your head!” I’m too shocked to reply, and she grabs my shirt collar and takes me to her room, still a bit shocked but feeling old Lucky Seven growing in my pants.

She pushes me onto the bed, kicking her shoes off and removing mine, not quite so gently. The rest of my clothes come off, and soon I’m lying on my back, wearing a half-unbuttoned shirt as she skins out of dress, bra, and panty hose, never taking her eyes off the cock sticking out of the shirt, smiling, nipples erect, licking her lips as she slinks onto the bed and unbuttons the shirt. I’m not so shocked now that I don’t like this more than a little! My cock feels like it’s going to burst, but she doesn’t slide onto it – she keeps moving up me and the last thing I see is her pussy before it ends its move up my body – and lands on my face. And she smells just the way I
like
a woman to smell –
herself
! 100 percent natural soap-and-water woman! Hey, this is fun!

I lick along the lips to her clit repeatedly, trying not to touch it even though she’s rocking her hips against my face.

Her thighs come off my ears and I hear her moaning, breathing really hard. And I’m really caring about pleasing her. I touch her clit with my tongue and she cries, “There,
there
, lick it
there
!” And I do; she’s not touching my cock and it seems like it’s going to explode, but it doesn’t, she does, and I get to watch! My tongue’s working her like a pencil eraser gone mad, and suddenly she comes, tears in her eyes, hands behind my head pushing my head
hard
between her legs repeatedly as she gasps, moans, screams and finally, after a seeming hour of inhaling her, she lets go, moves off my face, grinning a salacious, horny grin that tells me it isn’t over just
yet
. And I’m smiling, too.

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She mounts me like a horse – not down on my cock yet –

but teasing. And I want her to, I don’t want to move. She puts it between her legs, the bottom resting between the lips of her pussy, not moving, just sitting, arms out, teasing my nipples until they’re just as erect as hers. And she talks to me, for the first time since we got into bed.

“Look, Michael. I’ve been working with you for four months now. And I’ve wanted you to talk to me – beyond simple hellos and line-of-duty dialogue. I wanted you to take an interest in me, but you kept walking on by whenever we both had a chance. You know that I sat in my office wishing you could stop by and talk,
wishing
that you’d ask me out?” She rocks her hips and I grow stiffer as I feel her clit moving along the big vein.

Then she lifts herself a little, moves me to the entrance (oh, God, she’s
so
wet!) and slides onto me, bending over to rest full-length on me, lips nuzzling my neck as we thrust at each other. And soon we’re both on the verge of coming, her lips leave my neck and cover my mouth. Her nipples bore through my chest and I feel her pussy contracting around my cock,
hard
, again and again, and I want to watch her come so I pull her lips away and see them curve into a smile as she opens her eyes, staring at me as I begin to come, nothing like the joyless singles-bar balling – it rumbles inside me and I feel it, it’s so
hot
, spurting up and out of me, each new shot triggering another and oh, God, I feel so empty – it’s as if I really have given myself to
her
!

At this point in the fantasy (which, strangely, is a recurring wet dreamt) I have the orgasm I describe – in my sleep!

Sometimes I lay in my room, stoned, reliving my fantasy and masturbating, sometimes I relive it when I’m balling a pickup, but never – NEVER – do I think of it in school! The results would be too embarrassing. Besides, I think that for me, the time has come to stop bar hopping, gather my courage and ask her out so we might work on making that fantasy reality!

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CONRAD

I have always suffered from guilt feelings and even self-reproach because I knew, even as a small boy, that I had feelings which my parents and peers would not approve of. And thus I have shown one face to the world and concealed quite a different one.

There is nothing extraordinary about me: I’m in my forties, middle-class, reasonably attractive for my age ... nothing about my physique or personality could be considered outstanding. I am married and have a good relationship with my wife. Our marriage is not perfect, but neither of us expects it to be. There have been times when I tried to share my fantasies with my wife and she tried to understand. The fact that I’m unable to really convey my needs to her is not her fault.

She has done a better job accepting and adjusting to the role that society has told her she must accept. I have encouraged her to share her fantasies with me and had some success.

Nothing of what she has told me could be considered bizarre, but I may have failed to really dissolve her inhibitions. My problem is that I had hoped her fantasies would be compatible to my own, but that isn’t very realistic or reasonable. I find it better to encourage her to be what she wants to be in sexual imagery, and allow my own little fixations to remain dormant.

As a boy I was not very athletic and was never competitive or aggressive. The idea that I had to “win” the affections of a girl and “sweep her off her feet” only seemed awkward and foolish to me. I was a backward adolescent and very slow to mature, and slower still to develop rapport with girls. I was always attracted to the more gregarious and outgoing types, but they never seemed interested in me. I found myself waiting for the girls of my choice to take the initiative ... which, of course, they never did. Obviously, I did eventually get to the point where I asked girls out, but I found making sexual advances very difficult. I still do.

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My earliest sexual desires or fantasies were always of large healthy girls, who would aggressively make all the advances. I didn’t realize till years later that I wanted to be mothered and even dominated by a woman. But, as I came to realize it, I felt deeply ashamed of myself for having such unmasculine thoughts. What would my male friends think?

What would they think even today? When I was in my twenties I was convinced that I was a latent homosexual ... even though I’ve always found men to be sexually repulsive. (In that respect, I’ve never understood how you women can stand us ... thank heaven you dot) I suppose I’ve always attempted to overcompensate for what I felt was my “deformed” or perverted sexuality by being a shade macho in my everyday life and marrying a feminine, “straight” girl with a nice

“straight” marriage. Let me explain that I find her femininity very attractive. But I always ‘Wear the pants.” I must fulfill the cultural role. In reality, I’ve always dreamed of a woman who would be the final authority over my very life ... who would always be resourceful and responsible for us both and, most important, who would always be the sexual aggressor.

Considering all the cultural taboos and mores which brand such feelings as warped and maladjusted or unnatural, I never imagined that there could ever be a woman who had instincts like this. Since reading your books, I’m not so sure how many such women there may be.

Incredibly, my fantasy did indeed temporarily come true several years ago. I met a woman a few years younger than myself when I was very nearly forty, and we had an affair. It lasted several years. I don’t know why it ended unless she simply wearied of our fantasy game and wanted something more. But while it lasted, it was beautiful. After we met, I found I could communicate with her as I had never done with anyone before. It wasn’t simply that she understood my dreams ... she “dug” them. She became very aroused when I explained them to her and she did indeed become the aggressor.

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She loved to be on top when we made love and could achieve orgasm in no other way ... she had to be in control at all times and, to me, it was like being born again! I cannot describe the wild sort of abandonment to ecstasy I felt by just lying underneath her for hours at a time in completely helpless surrender to her ravenous cunt. She would thrust her hips so furiously when she climaxed it felt as though she was about to suck my entire body up into her big, beautiful hot mother hole! She would reach her shuddering orgasm and then remain on top of me with her lovely thighs locked around me while she’d recuperate. In the meantime, she would not allow me to come but would still be holding my throbbing little cock up inside the wet furnace of her vagina.

Soon she’d start pumping again without ever releasing me. If I couldn’t stand the sweet sensations anymore, I’d tell her before I came. Then she’d stop pumping for a short time, and begin what she called “slow fucking.” She would fuck me very, very slowly ... expertly easing my little stiff stander all the way out and all the way in and never increasing that maddeningly slow rhythm. In the meantime, she always held me down with one hand under my ass ... sometimes with a finger up my rectum and would not allow me to move. She was fucking me and not the other way around ... she wanted that understood. And I loved it and loved her too. I loved her big hot beautiful cunt. It was like a sacred altar to me ... the place of creation. She would come many times and when she was finally finished using me, she’d let me come with her.

I don’t know why she gave up on me. It all seems like a fantasy when I look back on those few years. But it really happened! Even if she never calls me again, I know I’ll never forget her; never stop fantasizing about her.

NED

I have fantasized about sex almost every day since my teens, if not before. I repressed the fact that most of my fanta-Nancy Friday

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sies involved female dominance; and it was only a few years ago, in my mid-twenties, that I finally acknowledged this unfulfilled need in myself. My wife’s preferences were for traditional male dominance, so I always took the aggressive role; but I was often anxious about sex.

Recently, my wife has begun to take a more active and aggressive role; and we have sex more often as a result, since now either of us is likely to initiate sex. My wife is very responsive sexually, so I am pleased with our sex life; but I do realize that sometimes she would be more satisfied sexually by a more aggressive male.

I am a professional man. When I was young, my father was often away from home on business. While I did not have a strict upbringing, my parents did set a strong moral tone. I generally was a good little boy who followed the rules.

Fortunately, a woman friend loaned me a copy of
My Secret Garden,
which naturally aroused me at times; and now I regard my autoeroticism as a tribute to the women whose fantasies aroused me sol It was particularly exciting to me to know that somewhere a real woman existed whose idea of ecstasy was so close to mine, at least, my own fantasies. I could imagine meeting such a woman, but even just knowing she really existed was enough. I like to think that somewhere a woman will read the creation of my mind and find some satisfaction or pleasure in it.

Fantasy Number One:
I am on a beach with a tall, blond girl. No one else is there. She is very muscular and athletic looking. She smiles and asks me to rub some tanning oil on her back. As I do, she unsnaps the back of her swimsuit top and takes it off. I am excited but a little put off by her aggressiveness. She turns around and has me rub oil on her large tan breasts. Then she rubs oil on my chest as I lie on my back.

Suddenly, she grabs my swim trunks and starts to pull them down; but I grab them and protest. She grabs one of my wrists and twists it behind my back. She is very strong and powerful, and wrestles me down on my back. As she holds the one arm behind my back, she is holding the other wrist Men In Love

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down, her legs wrapped around one of mine so that I am pinned down, with her on top. Her oily breasts rub against my chest and she kisses me so hard she almost bruises my lips. When I resist, she twists my arm further until I stop fighting. She forces her tongue deep into my mouth; and I can feel her thigh pressing into my crotch, giving me an erection.

She pulls my suit down with one hand, twisting my arm as I try to resist. I try to push her off, but she is stronger, and it is no use. She mounts me as she holds both my hands down, and I can see her large oily breasts flopping as she moves up and down on me. She looks down at me in triumph and excitement, and breathes deeply with each stroke. I am willing now, and I feel the tightness of her cunt around my shaft as she works me up to a beautiful climax.

Fantasy Number Two:
My wife and I have a male visitor, who is staying in a room in our house. He is very strong and handsome, and I can tell she is attracted to him. I ask her if she would like to have sex with him, and she is obviously excited at the idea. I tell her I will not object if she goes to him that night, if she just has a “quickie” and then comes to bed with me. That night I go to bed a little early, and later I hear them go into his room down the hallway from ours.

Later, there are sounds of bed springs, and my wife’s moaning. I hear the door of his room open, and my wife says she has to go now. He says he isn’t satisfied yet; and though she protests loudly, I can hear them grappling in the hallway near my door. She pleads with him not to, but he insists that he will have her right there. I am excited but afraid to open my door. She shrieks, but there is sexual excitement in her cries. Her excited shrieks of pleasure gradually become moans, louder and more soulful than she has ever had with me.

Finally her moans are low and sobbing. I hear footsteps down the hall to his room. The door to my room opens; and she comes in, clutching her torn clothes. She gets into bed with me and complains that he was too rough, but I can tell Nancy Friday