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Authors: Dean

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who has sucked on them for her pleasure. I ask her if her husband likes them. She is still, so as not to give me any reply.

I tell her that no matter what, I won’t harm her, but that before she leaves me she must tell me about her masturbation

... how often, what positions, what she wears, where she does it. I become very detailed in what I want to know and I tell her over and over that she must tell me before I’ll release her.

I continue to lick her and tease her, occasionally playing with her nipples which now grow hard with my touch. I slowly work my fingers in and out of her cunt and ask her to tell me what I want to know about her masturbation. At this point in the fantasy she changes completely into total cooperation and tells me in vivid detail about her masturbation. She doesn’t stop struggling against the bonds or give into me but she does soften and tell me what I want to know.

As she finishes I am licking her curt furiously, lapping her juice and she is shuddering and responding to my tongue.

Suddenly her hips raise and she comes. But she tries to hide it a little and with a shaky voice tells me to please stop and let her go. She promises not to mention it to a soul. But I tell her I am not finished and that I must have my cock inside her as I will never again have such a superb opportunity. I undress and release my swollen cock. I move to her and touch the tip on her cunt hair. She tells me to stop.

I continue to play with her tits and I raise the front end of the table so she is sitting up. In this position, I slowly untie one arm and slip her vest, blouse, and bra off, redoing her arm afterwards and then doing the same to the other. She is nude from the waist up. I return the table to the reclining position. She tries to talk me out of what I am doing but I tell her she can’t. I put my hand on her crotch over her skirt. She tenses. I can feel her mound even through the skirt. I tell her that I like very very hairy cunts and I like them dripping wet.

She begs me to stop. I ask her if she has a hairy cunt. She is silent and still. I lift her skirt onto her stomach. She is wearing panty hose over a very normal pair of white panties.

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She has a very tight body and her mound is quite prominent as is a delicious space between her legs. I touch her cunt, cupping it. She attempts to squirm away. She tells me to stop.

I tell her that of all the men she has ever known that I have an appreciation of loving and of woman that no other can ever comprehend. I pull her panty hose down to mid-thigh and nuzzle my face into her cunt. I breathe her body deeply. I kiss her cunt through her panties. She keeps telling me to stop but she is careful not to raise her voice. I tell her her cunt smells delicious. I grasp the sides of her panties and slowly edge them down, then the first cunt hairs appear. I gasp and tell her how beautiful it is. Her cunt is, indeed, quite hairy and I quickly but gently pull the panties down and off. And there it is, hairy, thick, long, and very black ... her cunt, her physical secret! I tell her how beautiful and soft and lovely she is. I tell her I want to make her feel good and that I wouldn’t dream of harming her.

I drop the leaf on the table and raise it so her cunt is at the right height and her legs are hanging down. I spread her apart and examine each fold, I kiss it, lick it, bury my tongue in her vagina. It is just barely damp and very tight. I marvel over the amount of hair that hides her secret entrances, I am mad with desire but in control of myself for her. I am slow and easy and soft. I lick her clit and tell her how exciting it all is for me. I ask her if anyone has licked her cunt like me. She is purposely silent. Her juices begin to flow and I feel her responding to my tongue and fingers. While I am licking and sucking her I ask her things ... how many cocks she has had, how she likes to be sucked and fucked, how often she plays with herself. (This is a fantasy all to itself ... a woman loving herself in her own privacy.) I spread her wide apart and slowly push my cock into her warm secret place. She is still and silent. I feel as though I can’t hold it so I pull out and lay my cock on her mound. Her cunt hair is so exciting and it feels so erotic on my cock, and my balls are dangling on her cunt lips which almost makes me shoot off right there. I move to her side and then climb onto the table so my cock and balls Nancy Friday

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are softly brushing her tits. I press it down onto her chest and ask her if she’s ever known a cock that hard. I move up and drop my cock and balls onto her face and neck. I want her to suck me but I know it wouldn’t last but a moment. I ask her if I should come inside her cunt. I ask her if it’s okay. She is silent. I get off and go back to her hairy cunt. I look at it, spread it apart and I can’t resist sucking it again. I clamp my mouth over it and she breathes heavily saying that she’s too spent to have me down on her again. I continue, lost completely in the slippery, hairy cunt. She is moaning and crying and heaving her body away and then hard into my face. I feel her beginning to come again. I stop and quickly inserted my cock to the hilt. I begin to fuck her harder and harder and she moves with me instead of against me. In seconds we are both lost in a fantastic orgasm. I feel like my cock will never stop pumping come and I pull out and spurt the last of it onto her cunt hair.

Time passes while we regain ourselves. I bring a bowl of warm water and wipe her cunt slowly, kissing it occasionally.

She is silent, not moving or saying a thing. I carefully untie her arms, lean her forward and retie them behind her back. I then untie her legs and have her stand. I pull her panties on, her panty hose and her skirt. I finish dressing her, taking special care to lay her tits softly and gently into her bra.

Suddenly she says she has to pee, that if she doesn’t she’ll burst. I led her into a white bathroom with her arms tied behind her. I stand her in front of the toilet, reach under her dress, pull her panty hose and panties down and sit her down.

I hold her legs apart and her dress up so I can watch the stream of yellow pee come out of her. I am hard again. I tell her that I want her to suck me and that after she’s finished I’ll let her go. She says nothing. I wipe her cunt and as I stand I gently pull her head toward my cock. The tip touches her lips, I moan and she opens and takes me in. I move back and forth slowly and her mouth moves with me, not against me. I feel myself coming, I tell her I am. She tightens her grip and surrounds my cock with her tongue. A final deep thrust and I Men In Love

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empty my cock in her mouth. She sucks and sucks, a drip of come slithers out of the corner of her mouth and down her chin.

I tell her what a lovely sensuous woman she is. I withdraw my cock, she stands, and I pull her panties up, letting my fingers feel for the last time. I finish dressing her. And the fantasy ends. The come spurts from my cock with such extreme pleasure I think the fantasy has actually happened.

The conclusion is a deep and wonderful, restful sleep.

LARRY

My wife and I share a good sex life and frequently spice things up with variations and new ideas. Liberation will take time and patience. Women, however, will lead the way. What many good, not very chauvinistic, and loving men need is PERMISSION. Both men and women have been victimized by previous generations. We treat women we love with too much care of their lady-like sensibilities (due to our mothers, not our fathers). Most men are more aware of what they can’t do than what they can do. Strangely, there are many men in my age group (I’m twenty-six, postgrad) who are afraid to ask their wives for a blow job!

It’s been said, “99 percent of a hundred men masturbate, the other one is a liar.” And during masturbation, if not during actual fucking, men do fantasize.

Now for my fantasies:

I am called by a friend and hear that Harry’s wife has been bad and needs discipline, so come over. We (three or four) sit in the living room, and Harry comes in and explains some trivial offense. She comes in and pleads guilty. We are stuck by her sincerity and get up to leave, saying she’s been sufficiently embarrassed. Harry agrees; but his wife shouts

“WAIT!” She loves Harry, feels guilty, and needs discipline.

We’re confused, and she says the obvious punishment is to be our sexual slave for the afternoon. We’re hopeful, but Nancy Friday

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reluctant. Harry says that is great. She walks up to each of us and leans close, giving a pleading look, and fondles our balls or places a hand on her breast or cunt.

We retire to the bedroom, where Harry commands her to strip, slowly, with us echoing the order. She blushes when one man demands that she kneel at his feet and suck his sock.

She really gets into it, but he pulls his cock out and spurts all over her face and breasts. Another man tells her to rub the cream into her face and breasts, and moan. I tell her to get on the bed, on all fours. We all examine her and comment. We probe her and slap her behind a little, and ask her if a good gang bang will serve her guilt. She says yes, breathlessly.

Each man fucks her in turn. Finally, I approach and spread her cheeks, eat out her ass. I then plow her cunt till she comes with a shudder. I pull out and slowly ease my cock into her ass. She becomes amazed at the easy penetration. I finger her clit, she comes as I push all the way in. She screams for more and to make it harder. We repeat the whole process with her on the bed, her head on the pillows, with her hands tied behind her back, and on her knees. She finally thanks us, asks Harry’s forgiveness. They embrace and never quarrel again, There is an interesting parallel between women’s rape fantasies and male S&M scenarios. Not one woman I have ever met actually wanted to be raped in reality; what she wanted from a fantasy of being forced was release from responsibility. “I’m a good girl, but he made me do it. It’s not my fault.” The men who invent these fantasies don’t want to be blamed either. It is the woman’s stubbornness that is forcing them to take drastic measures; even then, they declare, the whip is used lovingly, lightly. In Tod’s fantasy (above) the woman’s flesh is so beloved that he uses padded handcuffs so as not to bruise her. He is merely being cruel to be kind; doesn’t “really” want to inflict pain, but to force the woman to relax, lose control, experience passion, lust, filth, perversity, depravity – all the orgasmic emotions that have Men In Love

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been rolling around in the man’s unconscious in one big undifferentiated stew labeled bad. Even in chains, the woman is placed in a judgmental role. If he can force her to join him in these forbidden pleasures, his anxiety will be appeased: Women like sex, too.

It is not his fault if she will not easily admit that she is aroused and he must go to extremes to break her inhibiting chains.
She is making him do it!
If she were free and nonjudgmental, spontaneously erotic and all-giving, he would not have to use force to get her to admit she secretly loves the orgiastic pleasures she pretends to hate. What he wants is not the “ouch!” of pain, but the shuddering “OOOOHHhhh!” of lust. This tells the man that control of the sexual situation has passed from the woman to him. The little boy has grown up.

Larry’s fantasy (above) of the woman as “sexual slave” goes further in expressing the contradictory notion of forcing your victim not to hate you, but to love you. What men need, he writes in capital letters, is “PERMISSION” from the slave.

But why? How could a slave hurt him? Why does he need her “PERMISSION”?

These questions cannot be answered on the level of every day logic. Only when we remember that the woman in the fantasy has symbolic meaning can we begin to fathom her retaliatory powers.

During the first months of life, mother bends every effort to see that the baby experiences no fear at all. If he is wet, hungry, cold, or lonely, all he has to do is signal his discomfort. Immediately, the malaise is fixed. One cry from him and he is fed. Magic! At this stage, he is so symbiotic with mother, he feels they are one; her powers are his.

As time passes, the infant’s growing ability to perceive more of reality and how it works ironically brings him realization of his helplessness. He is not mother; mother is not him. She has power, but is separate from him. The world is not waiting to fix itself just because he cries.

Mother has a will of her own.

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The object of the baby’s love has thus also become the focus of his fear. Maternal care and solicitude may put this fear to sleep for a while; and in the happiness conferred, a basic balance is struck. Contrary to popular superstition, mother doesn’t have to be perfect. If she is what psychiatrists call “a good enough mother,” the child will come to see life as something more to be trusted than not. Fearful things may happen, but mother can soothe them away. Thus encouraged, the child moves outward, into life. He has learned that if he is obedient, doesn’t lose his temper, and does everything mother wants, he will be rewarded by her love. If he is bad, gets angry, or throws things to express frustration, he will be met by another mother, the one who frowns. This is the origin of the conflict: the good mother and the bad one.

In the second year, a traumatic war breaks out.

Psychiatrists call this phase of life “the Terrible Twos,” when the child finds his will pitted against his mother’s in the battle over toilet training – one of the universal traumas of life everyone “forgets.”

Like S&M fantasies themselves, it is a conflict that mixes love and fear, rewards and punishment, anger and affection, discipline and freedom. Not every atom of our being is beloved by mother! In fact, there is this other, furious side of her that does not like us, that disciplines and controls us because she thinks we are shitty. How dare she! we feel, but are too scared to say.

Sphincter control is difficult. How many of her frowns and punishments must we endure before we learn selfdiscipline so iron-clad it never relaxes even in sleep? We hate this bad side of mother but must obey her. What if she got angry and withdrew her love? We are diminished. One day, we will get our revenge.... Is it surprising that so many S&M fantasies dwell on details of excretion?

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