Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (6 page)

This is not a sex game with me. I’ve had this type of relationship before and found it very fulfilling.

I simply cannot be happy in a plain old “vanilla” relationship.

I need a woman who enjoys being in charge, and having me be submissive to her in all ways, while infusing this is a relationship which will appear as a normal loving relationship in public and to family and friends, yet we know who I belong to in private. I am 5´11, 200, successful in shape, very attractive and sexy.

You should be over 32, slender or medium build, nice legs (for me to adore), disease free, open-minded, and have an idea how a Dom/ sub relationship should work.

This is very real and not a game.

Only those truly interested should inquire. We can discuss things more deeply when we speak by phone, as voice verification is required.

F a N T a s i e s o F T h e s T r a N g e r

“ Take Me, Whoever You Are!”

The Internet provides a New World enabling us to easily act out fantasies or just discover how common our fantasies are— fantasies we thought were reserved for us alone. Perusing the Craigslist ads, it’s fascinating to see the similarities and differ- ences between the sexes. Straight women may advertise for more romance, walking on the beach with that someone special. Les- bians tend to be more sexually adventurous, exploring something taboo. Straight men may also advertise for finding that special someone, although the underlying theme may have more sexual undertones, whereas gay men are the most sexually explicit. Ads such as the next one are not uncommon.

Looking to take on a big hot pole today, get you rock hard, then feel you pound my meaty butt like a bitch in heat. Masc 37 bottom, 5´10´´, 200 Italian br/br, 7˝c thick here with an incredibly sweet and juicy bubble butt. Pic below is my ass around a buddy’s big thick tool. Please respond with a pic…not into surprises. Uninhibited and anon guys are cool.

For several years, Mitch has been posting: “Pound My Sweet Hole Raw! I’ll be blindfolded, face down in bed, ass lubed, door open, come in, plant your seed, and go.” Before the Internet, he only occasionally fulfilled this common dangerous fantasy of anonymity by visiting certain sex clubs. Since going online, it

has been hard for him to not post this ad whenever time allows, even though he is knowingly putting his life in danger.

It’s the rare family where children are raised to admire their genitals, enjoy masturbation, and anticipate sexual intercourse as an activity as enjoyable, acceptable, and responsible as driv- ing the car. The fantasy of being taken by the faceless stranger allows us to enjoy guiltless sex with no emotional repercussions.

Bree

I’m a single mother raising my daughter while going to college to become a teacher. I had a difficult childhood. My mother was not there for me, mentally or physically. I was put in foster homes or stayed with friends of my mother’s. I was molested from the age of six until I was thirteen. All of my molestations were men. I resent my mother for not being there to protect me. My father has never been a part of my life. He could not handle being a father. I have such disgust for him. But at the same time, I feel so sorry for him.

Boy, was I sexually active as a teenager. I did it with anybody who would screw me. I never used protection. All I did was tell the guy to pull out before he came. All that resulted in five pregnancies and four abortions. I don’t like to masturbate at all. If a guy does it to me, I love it. But I am older now and much more careful, and I am damned lucky I’m still alive.

I fantasize a lot about men. I dream about men. I think about men all day. I am into X-rated books. I get real turned on by seeing a black guy getting it on with a white woman or two guys getting it on with a woman.

My favorite fantasy is that I am housekeeping when a man comes in the house and throws me against a wall and blindfolds me. I am so

scared, but at the same time, I want this stranger to fuck me. This man is rubbing against me with his dick. I am moaning for him to put his finger into me, and he does, faster and faster. I tell him I want his dick in my cunt. He tells me to turn around, and he lays me down on the table and tells me I better be a good girl or he won’t give me a good fuck. But first he tells me to go down on him. I tell him I have never done this before. He gets mad and gets on top of me and rams his dick into my throbbing cunt, his balls flapping against my body. I cum in spasms.

Sherry

Finding sexual pleasure is a large gift, and it was even more so for me. I’m almost thirty-three years old, married for seven years to a man I adore, and I have been with him for almost eleven years. My sexual history is simple from one point of view—I’ve never had sex with anyone other than my husband—and complex from another. After having intercourse with him for about nine months, I developed a condition called vaginismus. My vagina muscle closed involuntarily when anything tried to penetrate it. I also went through phases where I didn’t want my husband to touch me sexually.

I had this condition for about six years before I discovered it was a problem shared by other people and found professional help. It took three years with a really great therapist and a very patient and understanding husband to work my way to wanting and being able to have intercourse. I thought my family history was normal, but it was actually one of neglect and intense emotional isolation. This led to problems I had never identified in trusting, communicating, and connecting with others, including my

husband, and these problems all became focused in my vagina. Finding ways to turn my body on and achieve orgasm using tools such as fantasy was crucial to my wanting intercourse again.

In my favorite fantasy, it is summer, and I am in a crowded subway station waiting for a train. It’s hot and sticky, even with the air conditioning. I’m a bit sweaty. I’m small-breasted, so I can get by without a bra, and it’s too hot for panties. When the subway doors open, I am swept on in a gigantic flood of people. When the doors close, I find myself pressed up against a metal pole, hemmed in by a wall of humanity. The heat from all those bodies against and around me is intense. As I cling to the pole for dear life, I become aware of a body behind me, a masculine body, pressing into my back. There is nowhere to even shift my weight given the press of people around me. Then, I feel his penis through the back of my thin skirt, hardening and rubbing. It feels gentle, questioning, and urgent.

I lean slightly back into him to show my interest. I lift up my shirt to feel the cold metal against my breasts. I rub my clit up and down the pole. I can feel myself groaning although it is drowned out by the noise of the train. He’s got his penis lengthwise against my skirt. He knows he is driving me crazy. That’s his purpose. His hands move up under my skirt to caress my hips and buttocks. My juices run helplessly with sweat pouring down my legs. He’s hiked my skirt so high that my clitoris is bare against the pole now. Then, the loudspeaker announces the next stop, and the train starts to slow. Finally his cock starts, teasing for a moment, just a bit, in and out, so I am sure I will die right there on the spot. The ripples inside me get longer and more intense until they explode in a series of spasms that feel like they’re moving the pole along with me to the other end of the train. As the last one dies and I cling limply to the pole, the doors of the train open, and he is gone with the rush of exiting commuters.

F a N T a s i e s o F s p a N k i N g

“So, That’s What a Brush Is For!”

I look at the women I know, bright, brilliant, beautiful, some of them leaders in their field, and yet, still today, most would be offended if you called them dominating.

We women used to pretend that the ability to discipline was not in us. We were the softer, gentler sex. While women raised the human race—the most formidable job on Earth— we were only “girls, ladies,” dependent on men who ran the show. Those few exceptions were considered almost depraved, certainly not a real woman. There was nothing more unlady- like you could say about a woman than to accuse her of being “dominating, domineering.”

Men took on the role of “the heavy.” They were assigned “punishment duty,” as in “Wait till your father gets home!” At the same time, children in their hearts knew that no one really had more influence over them than the woman who bore and raised them. It was often confusing to accept that the tired man who came home at the end of the day was The Enforcer. None- theless, movies and television backed up this division of roles within the family—with sweet sitcom shows like
Father Knows

Best
and
Leave It to Beaver
.

Thank God, women no longer look stunned when you tell them to stop being so bossy.The jaw may drop, a plaintive protest on the tip of their tongue, but then reality strikes. The woman shrugs, owns up to that side of herself with which she’s still not comfortable, and changes the subject.

With women out of the home now for several decades, has the lack of discipline in real life led to more discipline in fantasy? Children have grown up with a hunger for discipline, for some- one in control. Many families no longer eat dinner together, each person grabbing something from the fridge, throwing it in the microwave, to suit their own schedule. By the time these children are in their twenties and thirties—such as many of the young men and women in this book—the taste for what was missing in childhood is fixed. Although fantasies of spanking are often traced back to the discipline of the commander in chief of the home, the all-powerful caretaker’s hand, it is not exclusively the case. Control, and losing it, are often what sex is all about.

Luis

I’m a twenty-nine-year-old single man. Both my parents worked and were pretty lenient. I was never hit, rarely punished, the worst I was given was a stern talking to. I probably would’ve misbehaved more if I thought it would’ve led to a good spanking instead of a boring lecture. My spanking fantasies went back to when I was very young. I used to read lots of superhero comic books when I was a kid, and I remember there was one issue of
Superboy
where Lana Lang was pictured over her father’s knee about to take a spanking with a hairbrush. I found if I laid on the floor and moved my groin up and down when I looked at that picture, I used to get a very nice feeling indeed. Still today, nothing gets me as excited as thinking about a strong woman taking a paddle to my butt.

Barry

Barry, a youngmanfrom Britain, is in his longest relationship. Hewas never physi- cally disciplined by his parents but remembers very vividly being spanked over the teacher’s knee along with several of his boyhood classmates in grade school.

When I was about twenty-six, I was working up in London, and I was not seeing anyone. There used to be lots of cards in phone boxes for “Strict Mistresses” or “Naughty Schoolgirls,” and one day, I couldn’t resist. I phoned and arranged to see one of these prostitutes. She was an exceptionally pretty girl of the type I have always liked. I felt very embarrassed telling her that I wanted her to cane me, but she took it all in her stride as if it were perfectly normal. She gave me the cane and then the whip on my bare bottom and then asked if I wanted anything else. I paid fifty pounds for sexual intercourse. “How do you like it?” she asked. “Could you go on top?” I answered, and she smiled very sexily.