Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (18 page)

Sometimes, he would have me lay on my back while he looked at my pussy and kissed it. One time, he had me take a shower with him, and we washed each other. I dreaded being home alone with him, but I was ashamed to tell anyone. He always gave me money afterward and told me not to tell. This went on until I reached puberty.

I got pregnant and secretly had an abortion when I was eighteen. Sex with boys was disappointing. I masturbate almost every day. In my fantasies, a man, or men, whom I do not know forces me into various sex acts. I am either physically overpowered or coerced through the threat of violence. Violence itself turns me off. As a second job, I was secretly a call girl for about a year. I made excellent money, but I wouldn’t recommend it for everyone.

Erica

I was sexually abused and regularly penetrated by my oldest brother, starting when I was about twelve years old. There was no one to tell, as I had a stepmother. My grandfather was also sexually inappropriate with me. He never penetrated me or took my clothes off, but it was sexual abuse. He kissed me, forcing his tongue into my mouth and pressing me against him so I would feel his erection. I found my first husband couldn’t sexually satisfy me, and I became sexually active with other men. After we divorced, I was raped by the first man I went out with, became pregnant, and had an abortion. I could not handle children as a single parent.

My fantasies have always bothered me a little. I can only guess it is because of the sexual abuse. But I have always been very stimulated by taboo situations—parent and child, interracial, same-sex lovemaking, clergy and parishioner, older and younger. I think I want to share the discomfort of potentially abusive fantasies as a person who has been abused.

I have a fantasy of a daughter and father having sex while Mom is away. The thrill of the risk of discovery is an additional pleasure. Mom

makes a phone call home to see how things are going while she is out of town. The daughter tells Mom, while she and Dad are having sex, that Dad cannot come to the phone, as his mouth is full or he is working hard on the pump. The daughter and mother have a long conversation about other things while the sex goes on. It is more stimulating to both of them knowing the mother might be able to hear some noise but will not suspect what is causing it.

i N c e s T F a N T a s i e s o F W i s h F u l F i l l m e N T , o r ,

“Love Thy Parents, More Than They Know”
One of the positive values of fantasy is that it allows us to play out desires we know we cannot fulfill in real life without hurt- ing ourselves and others, such as sleeping with a best friend’s spouse. The same could be said of incestuous thoughts of one’s family members. If the thoughts are there, if they arouse you, so be it. Putting these fantasies into action is
altogether different

and irreversible
.

Is the surrender to incest the cry for intimacy of a sort that was totally missing in the first years of life? Do family members turn to one another for missing parental/maternal intimacy? When there’s only a mother and a son in the house, does the emptiness cry out for everyone to sleep in one bed?

Disturbing as the intrafamily sexual fantasies can be, I some- times hear these voices crying out for not so much sex but the kind of familial intimacy that used to define us, a tight, loyal group of Mom, Dad, and children.

Leigh sees her fantasies with her uncle as a way of repairing and rewriting the sad reality of her childhood.“I never got along with my family, and these erotic fantasies with my uncle could be a desire for that harmonious family relationship. In any case, if I could make this fantasy happen, I’d leap at the chance.”

Leigh

I am thirty-six years old, and my sex life with my husband is pathetic. If it weren’t for the kids, I’d be gone in a minute. He only cares about his own satisfaction in bed, and I’ve come to realize, after all this time, it’s not going to change. I’ve given it my best shot but now realize it’s hopeless. In the early days, I believed that I turned him on so much that he couldn’t control himself; now I know he just uses me to get his rocks off. I’ve done everything for him that any man could want (I mean
everything
!), but he won’t spend any amount of time pleasuring me. Fantasy and masturbation are much more satisfying to me than sex with this clod. I dream of being with a man who will make love to me for hours—someone who wants to do more in bed than fuck for twenty seconds and then go to sleep. I think about men I know as well as strangers (a highway patrolman who stops me for speeding and ends up eating me on the hood of my car). When I fantasize about guys that I know, it’s usually a very passionate and sensual scene with lots of kissing, touching, massaging, licking, sucking, and talking (as well as fucking).

As I masturbate, sometimes my fantasy wanders off into other areas—being with another woman, group sex, incest, rape.

I started masturbating when I was five. One time, I started wiggling when I was alone with a neighbor man. In no time at all, he was on the floor next to me, with his hand under me, encouraging me to keep

wiggling on top of his hand. When he found out what a horny little kid I was, he progressed to putting his hand in my pants (that was easy, since he already knew how much I liked having my pussy rubbed), licking my pussy, finger-fucking me (he let me watch in the mirror), showing me his penis (seeing it become erect was my biggest fascination)—and finally, at my urging (“just stick it in”), penetrating me and ejaculating inside me.

By the time I was twelve years old, I also had been fondled by a teacher during a private lesson, ravished by my swimming coach, and gang-raped by a bunch of teenage boys in their summer fort. (I loved every minute of each of these encounters and started looking for opportunities to get laid.) I also sucked the tits of an older teenage girlfriend. Besides fondling and sucking each other’s tits, we kissed and rubbed our pussies together and felt each other up. I can’t explain it. I just love sex. Always have.

My fantasy is inspired. I am twelve years old and staying with my uncle at his ranch for a weekend. He tells me I need a nice hot bath after horseback riding. I fantasize that we’ve always been close, have spent a lot of time together, and
we
know and love each other very much. I trust him so much that I would let him do anything to me—and he knows it. He takes my hand and helps me in the bath. He immerses my body in the warm, soothing water as he adores the sight of my naked body—mature enough to have small firm breasts but young enough to be without pubic hair. He joins me in the tub. His soft penis and scrotum hang way down as he climbs in and sits down next to me and pulls me onto his lap. He talks quietly. Then, his hand slides down my flat belly to my soft, smooth pussy, and he sticks his middle finger in my slit and feels me up for a long time.

He says he knows another way to make my pussy feel good, and he leads me out of the tub and lays me down on his warm water bed. With

my legs together, he rubs my vulva and presses on the mound over my pubic in a circular motion. His finger probes deeper into my pussy, searching to see if I am getting wet. I try to open my legs, but he holds them together. He brings his face to my pussy. He licks me from asshole to belly button, over and over. After a while, his cock is aching for some attention, and he tells me how to suck him. He pulls out and squeezes his shaft to delay his ejaculation and whispers in my ear that he needs to put his cock in my pussy
now
.

He has a look of pure delight on his face as he watches his cock slide in and out of my little hairless pussy. After a while, he starts shoving it in a little harder and occasionally looks up to see my small round tits dance as he plunges into me. He cries out in pleasure as he fucks my tight virgin cunt.

Beverly

I’m in my twenties now, and I never felt guilty masturbating to fantasies, but my fantasies have never been based on love. Mymost recurrent fantasy concerns my father. I would hate to have sex with my father, but I suppose it turns me on just because it’s wrong. I’m almost positive it hasn’t entered my dad’s head. He would be disgusted. I hope I don’t offend anyone.

My mother has gone away for the weekend, for some reason, and I am watching TV with my father. The film contains some explicit sexual scene. I start getting hot and gradually start to masturbate. My dad ignores this. Soon, my father wonks off, as I do. I suggest we might as well fuck each other. My father is hesitant, as he is a conventional man. When I kneel before him and reach for his huge beautiful cock, I tell

him how much I want to fuck the cock that made me. My father becomes wild, ripping off my skirt and bra. My tits tumble out to meet my father’s fingers, which caress and circle my erect nipples. My father now laps away at my clitoris, ecstatic at his new experience, while I finger-fuck my sopping-wet cunt until I have a heart-stopping orgasm. I get up to see my father’s reaction. He tells me what a big girl I am, and he carries me upstairs and gives me a bath. Then, we head off to Mom and Dad’s room for a night of endless fucking in every conceivable position.

My dad buys a separate apartment for our sex sessions near to my home, and we pursue a secret affair. The room always smells of sex, for we are there at every opportunity.

Tilda

I’m a mother of three teenage children and have been married for over thirty years. I feel so awful having all these feelings and having fantasies and experiences like I do. My husband is loving and caring, and our sex is just as good as when we first got married. I am faithful and dutiful and very happy.

I have fantasies, however; the power of the mind to be immensely erotic does not die with age. I masturbate having such thoughts, both with my husband and when I am alone. I fantasize about sex with my father, who I dearly loved. Nothing like I imagine
ever
happened—I was
never
sexually abused; our family was warm and close and loving. So, this is not some deeply repressed memory. This is just a fantasy.

I always have fantasized about him for as long as I can recall. It confuses me, excites me, thrills me, scares me even. I do not understand