Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (36 page)

Stefan

I’m now fifty-one and seldom masturbate, though I did frequently as a boy. I still have a lot of varied fantasies, though, which I use mainly while making love to my wife. I occasionally make love to other women, some girlfriends, and some prostitutes and make much slighter use of fantasies on these occasions.

Most of my fantasies are based upon a woman I know, whom I find attractive, but I know wouldn’t normally have sex with me. It starts where I have to sacrifice something, like money or my marriage, in order to get her to sleep with me. She can get me to do anything. Very soon, she wants other lovers. I have to set it up, but I’m driven crazy with jealousy and want her even more.

I watch her get involved in threesomes with other couples that I know. And sometimes I have to buy her a dog for her to have sex with.

This suggests that I like to be humiliated, and indeed, some element of humiliation seems necessary to bring me to orgasm. As I’m getting older and never had a partner who tried to humiliate me during sex, I realized it may never happen. So, I finally confessed to my wife, and to my surprise, she agreed to it. She said she’d always felt there was something missing. She wouldn’t let me watch her in a threesome, but she was more than happy to humiliate me. I was pretty amazed what a pro she was at it. Whatever anger and disgust she had felt toward me during all the years we’ve been together came pouring out. It was

an incredible turn-on. However, we haven’t done it again yet. We might just leave it as a special one-time thing or maybe a special once-a-year thing for my birthday. Who knows? But I’m definitely up for it.

Jill

I have always had sexual fantasies. As far as I know, I’ve been having them since I was five years old. I’m now twenty-four but can remember sneaking upstairs to look at a photo album that my parents had hidden. It had pictures of them in all sorts of sexual positions, and I remember getting certain feelings from looking at it.

I now live out every fantasy that I can. My favorite is when my boyfriend throws me on the bed and undresses me. Then, he turns me over so that my bottom faces up. He ties my hands and puts handcuffs on my wrists. Then, he starts to spank me while smoking his pipe. (Pipe smoke turns me on.) Then, he starts to lick me from behind. That is the best eating out that I have ever felt. He grabs my ass and pulls it up close to his cock and shoves it in me as hard as he can till I cum.

We take a shower, and he shoves it in me again. Finally, I tell him I have to go pee, and he lets me but plays with my clit as I do so. That is the best orgasm ever. After I’m done, I stand, and he licks my pussy, telling me how good I taste and how hot and wet I was.

Dru

I come from a fanatically religious upbringing. My father tried to control my life even after I was married. I’m divorced now and have three children. My mother, although a successful businesswoman, never discussed sex with my sister or me. In fact, I don’t think I ever heard her utter the word.

My first sexual experience at twenty got me pregnant. The boy disappeared, and, of course, I married an obsessive, controlling, abusive ass just like my father. That lasted, incredibly, thirteen years. The day after my third daughter was born, I had a hysterectomy. And the day she started kindergarten, I left. It was hard, but I raised them alone.

After a pretty tough time, including operations and ulcers, I met the man I thought didn’t exist. We now live on a farm. Raise our own vegetables, goats, chickens, and rabbits. I said all that to lead up to the best part. Before I met Ronnie, he had had a lot of women. They even used to send their friends to him, two or three at a time. So, even though he was gentle, the sex overwhelmed me. But for the first time, I became orgasmic.

It took five years into the marriage before I told Ronnie that I had fantasies about a threesome with another woman. He got excited and went out and found one.

I knew I’d enjoy seeing him “do” another girl, but I had no idea what it would do to
me
. I was on the bottom, she was licking me, and he was behind her by then. The harder he pumped her, the harder she licked me. We were all three carrying on like animals. I reached up and grabbed his beautiful buttocks and pulled him deeper into her. My fantasies were good, but reality tops everything I ever imagined.

Real scenes that might have disgusted us twenty years ago are fodder for tonight’s erotic fantasy. Take that stranger across from us on the bus. He caught us staring unknowingly at the enormous bulge in his trousers. When had our eyes gone there? Chagrined, we get off the bus before our accustomed stop, quickly turn and see him staring at us from the window, his tongue lasciviously licking his lips, then showing us how his tongue will lick our clitoris. We quickly turn away in disgust.

But not so disgusted that we don’t put him and that tongue into our fantasy at night as we lie beside our sleeping mate. A mate so very dear but known far too well for the kind of forbid- den sex we desire, the kind of dirty sex the vile stranger would force upon us.

As I, and more than one person in this book, have admit- ted, there can be a downside to living out a fantasy. In fantasy, we control everyone and everything like Olympian gods. Once we’ve invited others to play out this theme that never fails to give us orgasmic pleasure, these real-life people don’t always re- spond as we would have them.

Being made to feel inferior, smaller, unworthy can be a sexual turn-on for some, if executed properly. But even most masoch- ists desire the attention drawn on them. They are the ones wor- thy of being punished, abused, humiliated.

If I pay someone to force me to snivel at their feet, and instead, I’m forced to sit in a corner watching someone else take the abuse, I’ll want my money back. For many, nothing makes a penis droop or a vagina dry and wither like jealousy. So, as I advised with threesomes, think twice about living out your fantasy.

k i l l i N g T h e d r e a m

It is always a toss-up, this business of trying in real life what excites us in our imagination. While it is thrilling in fantasy to fuck another person while our married mate watches, we can’t “stage manage” reality as we do our fantasy. We can’t force our partner’s eyes to stay focused on us instead of this new woman or man folded into this supposed dream come true.

For some, the reason not to tell our mate the fantasy that most excites us isn’t just a question of our beloved’s response but the added risk that once aired, the fantasy might be less exciting the next time that we call upon it. Secrecy is often the spice that keeps the oldest and dearest fantasies fresh as the day they were born. Living out a fantasy, even telling it, can lessen the erotic impact forever.

Th following fantasies in this chapter show some of the many reasons fantasies are sometimes best left to the imagina- tion. For Brad, it’s the remorse he felt and the lowering of his own self-esteem.

Brad

I’m a single, college-educated professional, twenty-five years old, an only child, and reared in the suburbs by parents who never talked about sex. I masturbate regularly, usually once a day if given the chance. The most I’ve cum with a woman is three times in one session. I would like, though, to save my cum for a least a week and then see how many times I could perform.

Women intrigue me, attract me. I believe I could gaze for hours upon nicely shaped women, observing their gentle gestures, the drape

of a blouse over a breast, the cinch of blue jeans over a hip, the fall of luxurious dark hair, strands clinging against ears and neck.

My heart goes out to women. They think about relationships a lot. Look at women’s magazines. I have some sexist attitudes. I believe women should stay home with young children, if they can, and not have children out of wedlock. Does this sound naïve or ancient?

I’d like to go out with a woman who is wearing no underwear. In the shadows, I slip a hand over her buttocks, under a short skirt, a finger up her twat—wet and ready. She’s walking around in public with her nipples protruding, aroused. We’re driving somewhere and so horny we have to pull off the highway and go fuck in the long grass.

I’d like to tie up a woman and make her so hot she’s begging, absolutely begging, for my cock—for anything—a massive dildo up her cunt and asshole.

I’m on the quiet side, but I fantasize about loud fucking, moaning, and groaning, calling out obscenities. Homosexuality does not appeal to me, although I’ve thought about sucking another man’s cock and swallowing, a mildly stimulating fantasy. Men in general repel me sexually, though. But women are so luscious I can hardly walk by a good-looking one without a fleeting imagining of my hand behind her buttocks—bada boom!

On another musing of male power, I’ve had the feeling that women want to capture this power for themselves, to capture me for their own protection, for their needs of affection and human contact. This is nature, to be able to capture something, someone more powerful than yourself, someone who is physically stronger. In that way, women exert a stronger power, a quiet, almost supreme power. After all, I believe that women are calling the shots when it comes to marriage, mating, the important stuff of continuing the race. And I like to think they’re all still okay with men running the rest of it,

building their buildings, setting up political structures, and pulling them down again.

On a last note, I have to admit that I lived out one of my fantasies. While visiting Chicago, I saw an online ad for a sex party that I answered and then was invited. There was a woman there who was tied up (willingly) and about seven of us men jerked off on her. Some of the men were calling her things like “cum bitch,” “fucking whore,” etc. The reality just wasn’t like the fantasy in my head. I have to admit I felt badly for her. I couldn’t help but think, “What happened for her to allow herself to be treated like this?” I could tell she’d been physically and mentally abused by men, and I felt like I was adding to it, taking advantage of it. I knew I never wanted to do it again.

Cindy

Cindy, a thirty-year-old woman, married with two children, knows better than to turn one of her fantasies into reality.