The New Black Lace Book of Women's Sexual Fantasies (5 page)

You bend down again and kiss me gently on the shoulder
and very slowly you slide to your knees, not once taking your
hands away from my breasts. Without your body to support
me, I have to rest myself against the marble unit, my breathing
hard and heavy. Slowly, you move your hands down from my
breasts to my waist, to my hips, down past my thighs to my
knees, where you reach my skin. Your hands are hot, soft and
hard on my legs, and it feels good.

Slowly, you move your hands back up my legs. I'm really
having to support myself now; my legs are weak with desire
and I know that I am hot and moist with excitement and that
at any minute you're going to discover this, and I'm going to
feel a little ashamed of how quickly you've managed to excite
and arouse me.

You know I'm aroused; you have seen the light in my eyes
and don't need to do any confirmatory explorations. But you
know what you want to do, and with one swift movement you
hook your fingers in the top of my tanga and bring them down
to my ankles. 'What?' I cry, not sure whether to laugh or be
cross.

'Step out of them,' you order.

I do so. I have no choice and you put them in the pocket of
your boiler suit, turn around and walk out of the bathroom.

Damn you! I push myself back into my bra and button myself
up and, although my legs are still trembling with excitement,
I manage to follow you out and back into the suite.

So the tour continues, only this time whenever we go up
any stairs you, being the gentleman, go last in case I should
fall. And each time one of your hands reaches up into my skirt,
sometimes you just hold my buttocks, sometimes you explore
a bit deeper, sometimes a finger comes out glistening and wet
and you taste it, meeting my eyes as you do so. You know
exactly what you're doing to me, and you are loving every
minute. You see my nipples grow even harder and the nowpermanent
flush on my cheeks and my pupils dilated with
erotic arousal.

At last, the final door. You open it and immediately I recognise
your cabin. You turn and lock the door. I stand there, partly
excited, partly terrified . . . well, mainly excited, but not really
sure what you're going to do. I am almost at screaming
pitch.

Gently, you push me over to the bed. You sit me down and
kneel in front of me so our faces are at the same height. Taking
my head in both your hands, you kiss me; at first it is gentle,
slow, but very quickly it becomes something more urgent,
deeper, more penetrating. I hold you so tight, it's so good to
feel you this close, the softness of your lips, and hardness and
softness of your tongue, your teeth; I have no feelings other
than when our bodies are touching.

You break away and gently undo my cardigan again, slowly
pushing it off my shoulders, then undo my bra, pulling it off
and throwing it into a dark corner. You bury your head between
my breasts, and I hold you there as you smell my skin. Taking
both of my breasts in your hands, you squeeze them together
until you can put both nipples in your mouth at once. It feels
so good, and I cling onto you, my hands in your hair as I feel
your teeth, gently but firmly, biting the soft dark flesh.

You don't want to stop this; it feels so good and you can feel
how much it is exciting me, but eventually you stop and push
me back onto the bed, my legs still hanging over the edge. You
stop for a while and look at me, and I wonder what you are
thinking, but I love the fact you're watching me, half naked on
your bed. It seems as if you are deciding whether or not to take
off my skirt. Eventually you decide yes, it will only get in the
way. Unzipping it, you slide it off and throw it after the other
clothes. Now you kneel back and, with your hands on my knees,
you move my legs apart. Even you are surprised by how open
and red and moist she is, the juices almost beginning to run
down my legs. You place each of them on your shoulders and
very slowly start to kiss and stroke my inner thighs.

I am moving, begging you silently to come closer, closer
where it is hot and wet, but you don't want to rush this pleasure
and slowly, very slowly, in total torture you move inwards.
Finally you bring your hands to her lips and open them, at the
same time bending your head, and, with a strong tongue, begin
to lick her. It is somewhere between a scream and a moan, but
the feeling is so intense, so powerful and so sublimely beautiful
that I just don't know what to do! I raise my pelvis up to meet
your tongue and, within a few minutes, I can feel muscles
beginning to shake and contract. So can you, and to increase
my pleasure you insert one, two, three fingers inside, gently
exploring, seeing how my moans increase with your movements.
By now I have no idea where your tongue ends and
where I begin, where your fingers meet your tongue with a bit
of me in between them, a bit that is just a raging red fire of
pleasure. I am terrified by these feelings; it has gone beyond
just a mere physical sensation into something I could lose
myself in, and I reach down and touch you. 'Don't stop,' I say,
'please, please, please do not stop.'

And you don't.

Until, some minutes later, the aftershocks still coursing
through my body, you raise yourself up beside me so that I can
cling to you. You stroke my hair and kiss my forehead as I,
incapable of coherent speech, mumble something you can't
quite understand. And you hold me tightly, so so tightly until
my breathing has calmed down, and I look up at you, deep into
your eyes, smelling my smell on your face, and I kiss you very
gently on the lips and say, 'Thank you.'

To be continued . . .

C, age 39
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
Bachelor's degree
Freelance writer/Photographer/stay-at-home mom
Maryland, USA

I rely on the same fantasy, much of the time. I am masturbating,
and my husband stands next to the bed, also masturbating,
until he comes on my face. It doesn't sound like much, but it
is, shall we say, reliable.

Amber, age 24
Bisexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
No children
Some college
Sales
Texas, USA

My husband is a turn-on for me, as are compliments, some
forms of role-playing, silky clothes and bubble baths. To be
honest, anything can be sexy if I think about it the right way.
I have two fantasies, the first one involves seducing a priest.
That's fairly straightforward. The second is about my best
friend. He says all the right things and makes all the right
noises. There's nothing special about the fantasy. It changes.
The most important thing is, he wants me and that
want
drives
me crazy. It translates itself into me doing all sorts of dirty
things in earnest. I fantasise about things being simple and
hot, I guess.

Tiffini, age 34
Heterosexual
Virgin
Single, occasionally sexually active
College degree
Design
West Virginia, USA

I'm turned on by intelligence, someone to talk to. I think it's
good to have some form of fantasy in any relationship, just
don't go overboard or it could become chaos; remember
simplicity. And yes, I'm a virgin, but that doesn't mean I'm
innocent. I just haven't fallen in love with someone to have
sex with. But I've had fun without 'going all the way'. The best
sex I ever had was when I was in a nightclub with a boyfriend
(now my ex-boyfriend) and went down on him in a corner. On
the way back home we were walking along and found an
empty area down a little slope of a hill and he went down on
me (while I was gazing up at the stars).

In my fantasy there's a tall man with dark hair, not necessarily
what mainstream society would consider good-looking.
He will do anything I want. He starts by undressing me gently
and slowly, one item of clothing at a time. While doing so, he
lets me undress him at the same time. He then lays me down
and we make love, with him on top, and then me on top. We
will be as one when he enters me and this continues on going,
with di-erent positions and not a lot of talking – we just let
our bodies go in whatever direction is happening at the
moment. Anything goes, a little spanking of me when I'm on
top, a little of tying me to the bed when I'm on the bottom.
When I climax I let him know how appreciative I am . . . a little
bit of petting and sucking and massaging.

Brenna, age 38
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
Bachelor's degree and professional certificate
Author/Teacher
Massachusetts, USA

The best sex I ever had was make-up sex when my husband
and I got back together after being legally separated. We'd
separated because he was having an a-air. I had a fling of my
own (a gent that was in an open relationship). While that didn't
go well, badly enough that I decided I wasn't cut out for meaningless
sex, it showed me that I was desirable again. To boot,
I lost about 30 pounds, since I couldn't eat or sleep early on in
the separation. I got my self-image up and found my muse
again. I wasn't taking any crap from him. And, when we did
end up in bed again, it was positively explosive. You see . . . even
my sister admits the man is my soul mate, so when we are
together and doing well, we really mesh. There's also a deep
emotional bond between us. The second best sex I've had was
when he graduated boot camp. We'd been apart for eight weeks,
and when we got back to my hotel room, the first time involved
flying clothing and sex that was over – quite explosively for
both of us – in about 90 seconds. We had sex, as memory serves,
six times in the first thirty-six hours. Even later in our marriage,
we averaged sex every eighteen hours, when he was in port.
What would improve my sex life now would be me losing
about 40 or more pounds and the kids being out more during
times when we're both at home.

In the past I particularly enjoyed some of the old romance
books, the ones that would be classified as soft bodice-rippers.
The man is intent on the woman he wants. She is not entirely
happy with the idea of being married to him, but she's drawn
to him and seduced by him in all ways, and in the end they
are together happily. He's always a very alpha-male type, and
he's very protective and caring about the lady in his life. To be
honest, this sort of seduction was always more stimulating to
me than just seeing naked male bodies. I'm still turned on by
alpha males. I think there are only a couple of other men that
turn me on . . . ones that are clearly not alphas. I like attitude
– not disrespect but attitude; not necessarily bad boys but not
doormats, to be sure. I like men that are focused on me when
they are with me. If they are checking out every other woman
out there, they can forget a second date. They can talk to
me . . . to my face, looking in my eyes. If they are talking to the
chest (especially the chest, since I have a fairly impressive one),
they are done for. I've met men who couldn't look at me and
talk at the same time, because I had the nursing breasts and
was wearing wench garb. I love eyes, intense, how the colours
change, the expressions in them. I like intelligent men. I like
men with a sense of humour, even if it's dark humour . . . sarcasm
and irony.

I adore a certain amount of bondage, toy play – more
male-led than me leading, though I don't consider myself a
sub. I have some recurring themes and some breakout fantasies.
The recurring themes often involve a man intent on me,
sweeping me away into hot sex, sometimes in places that I
wouldn't normally consider having sex in real life. Obviously
he's an alpha. My breakout fantasies are often things that my
characters are experimenting with or doing. It might not be
something I personally would do in real life (including samesex
experimentation), but if I can empathise with the character,
I can certainly fantasise about it myself.

There is a man, the
only
other man I've considered marrying
besides my husband. He's not much of an alpha and never
has been. When my husband and I were separated, we came
close to starting something, but he didn't want to be a
rebound. He gave me time to decide, and I ended up back
with my husband, so nothing ever happened between
us . . . not even a kiss. In the fantasy I've lost my husband and
we get a second chance together. He's hungry, because he's
tired of waiting and won't give me the chance to change my
mind again. His hunger gives him just that edge of alpha to
him and the sex is often and explosive. Since I have few
consensual things I don't do, you can pretty much vary it
from there to just about everything a healthy, experimental
hetero couple does in bed.

Name withheld, age 41
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
No children
National Vocational Qualification
Not employed
Southwest England, UK

Watching women have sex with each other turns me on
massively – to the point where I thought I was bi. However,
never in my adult life have I met a woman I fancied or even
really thought about outside of watching a porno. I think the
reason I like it is that it concentrates on clitoral stimulation.
Interestingly, answering this question has just made me realise
that I never have the urge to write about it either.

At the moment Keanu Reeves is floating my boat; previously
it was Ricky Martin. Straight sex is pretty much as wild
as my imagination gets. Being fucked hard is the main focus
usually. I tend to remember scenes from movies I've seen; I
have a few faves – and I don't need to insert myself into them
to enjoy thinking about them, I'm happy just to remember
them.

I think I have given up on the idea of a competent lover.
That sounds harsh but I mean someone who'll put their ego
to one side long enough to learn what is basically a technique
that will improve the more you practice it. I enjoy sex alone
more than with another person these days. I always know sex
is not going to live up to the hype, but I still live in hope. Things
might improve if I could find a new man who is driven by
sexual desire rather than inhibited by a fear of being too 'open'
– a man who doesn't find my sexual confidence intimidating.
Losing some weight would help me feel confident enough to
throw myself around a bit more too.