Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (37 page)

I’ve been called every name—whore, slut, tramp. But I have never thought of it that way. Especially when the girls and guys who were saying that were doing exactly the same thing. My husband’s friend— and boss—told me one night that he had a girlfriend but that when he makes love to her, he always thinks of me. This was revealed one night when he was over at our house and my husband had gone out to pick up some pot. I’d had a fantasy about him with his girlfriend and my husband in a foursome, but I fantasize about stuff like that every day. Thinking about sex is one of my favorite pastimes. However, I’m not unfaithful. I lost all that was important to me once because of that,

and I don’t think I could ever do that again. The sex just wasn’t worth it. I would hate to lose everything I have. I would also hate to lose my husband’s trust. We just aren’t ready to explore that far yet. He could get very jealous.

Keith

Sixteen years old and a senior in high school, Keith recently returned to the united States from an all-boys school in Britain.

It was great. I had a lot of gay sex there. If there is one thing I won’t run out of, it’s sexual fantasies. Now that I’m back home, one of my classmates here is the focal point of my fantasies. Cameron is seventeen, and we were always out getting high or drunk, but, oh, how I wanted him! Well, it finally happened. Cam and I got a six-pack and were parked, drinking. After we were a little high, I broke the ice by asking him how much he jacks off. He says a couple of times a week. I say, “That’s all?” We laugh ’cause we both know it’s a lot more. I ask him if he feels like it now. He says: “I don’t know. Do you?” I say, “Sure.” In no time, we’re out of our pants. I tell him about some of the things I did at my school in Britain, and when I’m finished, he asks kind of suspiciously if I want to get it off with him. I say: “Sure. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just fun. If we’re not feeling it, we can stop.”

We undress all the way, and man, do I have a raging hard-on. He lays on top of me and starts licking my nipples. I can tell he’s jerking off. So, I move down to service his cock with my mouth until I swallow every drop. I think that’s it, so I’m ready to jerk off, but without a word, he goes down on me. He strokes me with his mouth, and in no time, I

cum. I see him lick some of it off of him. He lies close to me, our bodies rubbing against each other’s, and we begin French-kissing. When I get home, I jerk off a couple more times just thinking about it.

But the next day I see him, and he’s acting weird, like it didn’t happen, or he was too drunk to remember. Then, he keeps avoiding me. I barely see him now except in school when he doesn’t have a choice. It was amazing having that fantasy actually happen with him, and I still jerk off to it. But I miss him as a friend. If I could take it back, I would. I pretty much wish it never happened. The way I feel now, it would’ve been better to just keep it in my head.

Benjamin

I was married for eighteen years to a very sexual girl. Karin and I enjoyed a tremendous sex life, and we had two children. But once, she was lent a porn video, which we were watching together. It was rather boring, so she went to sleep, and I stayed up. Toward the end of the film, there was a fantastic gay scene between these two hunks, and I was so turned on that I started to beat off—only to be caught in the act by Karin, who was most annoyed. Nothing more was said about it, but some months later, in London, we went into a sex shop, and she saw among the displays a strap-on dildo, complete with balls. She told me to buy it.

Back in the hotel, she told me that she wanted to fuck me, as she had seen how turned on I was watching the video. Seeing her undressed with the dildo strapped on was mind-blowing, and I readily vaselined my anus to receive her. Alas, the pain was excruciating! Though I wanted

to try it, and in fact did, all the way in, I had no physical pleasure out of it and would definitely pass on it next time. However, making love to her while she still had it strapped on was fantastic.

I have a fantasy of meeting a nice, well-dressed young woman at a social function. We go to her hotel room. We start undressing, and she lays herself down on the bed, invitingly. We kiss, and I fondle her tits. She moves her hand to my own nipples and the other to my throbbing cock. The combination makes me go wild, and my hand goes for her crotch.

Then, I freeze, for there, tucked and hidden between her legs, I find a penis! My lay is a man with tits!

I go down on him/her, taking the prick in my hungry mouth, and suck it with greed. My she-male does the same to me, and as the night progresses, I fuck her ass while holding her sweet cock in my hands, bringing us both to climaxes to break all records.

For a long time, this fantasy disturbed me greatly because it gave me a complex about being gay. Now I have come to terms with myself. I understand that fantasy and reality can live side-by-side, one not disturbing the other. My fantasy of being fucked by a she-male is just that—a fantasy. I know better than to live it out. I am very much an active heterosexual man of forty-five. My eyes follow every delightful girl that passes by. Karin and I are separated now, but I look forward to meeting someone new to share a full life with.

Julissa

Julissa, a twenty-three-year-old graduate student who still lives with her parents, has fantasies about being “on top” in a sexual encounter with a man.

I come from a middle-class, fairly conservative background. I consider myself quite liberal, however, both in my political views and my personal thoughts about life.

I have many fantasies, which I use when I masturbate. They always bring me to fantastic orgasms. One is about a professor. He’s not particularly attractive (funny, in my fantasies, the men are usually very plain), but in the fantasy, he’s very sexy to me. I make an appointment to meet with him at his office about a paper I’m writing for his class. My appointment is in the evening, and when I arrive, the building is virtually empty. (It’s great how in fantasies everything works out perfectly, isn’t it?) I stand at his side while he reads my paper, and I push myself a little closer to him every minute or so. I notice that he has been on the same page for a while now, and his breathing has slowed down and gotten very heavy. Taking a chance, I put a hand on his neck and run it slowly down his back.

He closes his eyes and moans softly. Great, I know he wants me. After a minute or so of kissing my face passionately, he lifts me onto his desk and tugs at the front of my blouse. A few buttons pop off, and he groans when he sees I have no bra on. He sucks my breasts like a hungry man who hasn’t eaten for days. I push his face lower and lean my torso back onto the desk. He starts to lick my cunt through the silky wet fabric of my panties. I push my cunt into his face with wild abandon, and he sucks and licks faster and faster. I look down and see he is masturbating himself while he eats me.

The sight of his hard cock in his hand makes me cum, but I still can’t wait to get to his cock. I push him back into his chair and kneel at his feet. I grab his cock with both hands and start to suck it as hard as I can. He’s groaning and bucking his hips to meet my mouth. I pull away from him. Then, I smile seductively and tell him I want to feel his cock inside me. I climb onto his lap and lower myself onto his ready-to-burst cock.

I move myself slowly up and down on his hard rod, milking his cock with my pussy. I start to ride him faster. We cum simultaneously, arching our backs to meet each other. I quickly dress myself, thank him for the help with the paper, and go home.

I never thought I’d have the nerve to try this in reality, but during a private evaluation in his office, he said things and gave me looks that made it clear the possibility was there. However, I just played dumb. When faced with actually having sex with him, I didn’t want to. The desire wasn’t there. I realized, it’s only my fantasy of him that I’m attracted to, not the real person.

As we progressively remove the “forbidden” from sex, will we automatically expect the fantasy to be even more satisfying in reality? Or will some of us still give second thought to the idea that maybe all fantasies weren’t meant to be aired? When a man tells his wife his fantasy of wearing women’s clothes and she encourages him to put on the dress and join her for a stroll around the block, it seems endearing. But there are other sexual fantasies that aren’t x-rays of what we really want to do. There’s a reason they’ve remained only a fantasy—so far.

Nowadays, the line between fantasy and reality grows even finer. Endless email chat may eventually materialize into nothing or access to our dreams may be only a few keystrokes away. The thought becomes the deed before the consequences are weighed. Sex has become more instinct and less responsibility. We’ve come to think of it as disposable as any other commodity.

T h e d r e a m B e c o m e s a N i g h T m a r e

Do I think the precarious state of the world today affects eros? How could it not? With the world on tilt, the possibility of obliteration is something we’ve learned to live with. Our fertile imaginations whip up a tailor-made fantasy to take us out of this real world and into a reflected one for that brief but oh-so- remedial orgasm.

Christine

Christine, who is twenty-two and whose brother died of aiDS, is just beginning to explore her sexuality.

I know that my boyfriend’s best friend prefers women’s fantasies. Is it because it is sexy to hear about the opposite sex’s needs, wants, and cravings? To hear about the unknown?

As for my sexual fantasies, they run the gamut from rape fantasies to controlling men. I have an extreme fear of being raped, so my rape fantasies are strange to me. When I feel like masturbating, I review my past fantasies and select one that turns me on. If none do, I make up a brand-new one. My sexual fantasies are based more on things I’ve read. I get more excited by the written word than pictures (boring) or porn.

My earliest sexual fantasy was one I got from your book
Men in Love
, and it still turns me on, although I’ve adapted it. I’m in a red Mustang convertible, driving down a lonely highway. The vibrations from the car massage my cunt, making me horny. I see a handsome young man, Will (a guy I had a serious crush on my senior year of high school). He’s hitching a ride. I pick him up. We speed down the highway. He looks at me admiringly, not only because I’m pretty, tan, and my body is