Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (28 page)

Whether my wife is beautiful or not, they rape her in front of me; one in her cunt, one in her ass, one in her mouth, and the fourth she has to masturbate. Sometimes, I imagine my being forced to undress her and to clean their penises after they have fucked mywife. This fantasy is a strange mixture of sadistic and masochistic elements. I am a little ashamed of the sadistic fantasies but very much ashamed about the masochistic fantasies because “men have to be strong” and that kind of stuff.

Patricia

Patricia is a university-educated young woman in her twenties, who describes her- self as coming from a middle-class background with no “religious strings.” She grew up in Europe and has traveled a lot. She says her fantasies are a mixture of things she actually did, would like to do, and some she never wants to do. in the ones she never wants to do, she watches as a third person, deriving a vicarious pleasure.

It’s strange because if I feel pain during real sex, I can’t have an orgasm, but while fantasizing about pain, I can. Presently, my fantasies are centered around this absolutely crazy guy I met some months back. I thought I knew my body and what I liked, but he definitely showed me my deficits! I’d never met a man who could get me this aroused in three seconds flat. I was so dripping wet and hot. I think I actually bit him because I couldn’t get that lovely fat cock inside me fast enough—and in my fantasy, that’s exactly what he’s doing—fucking me wherever we might be at that moment, like maybe on a kitchen table.

In other fantasies, the participants are kind of faceless; in any case, not people I know. I don’t enter these fantasies as myself. For a few seconds, I might take the role of either man or woman, but mostly, I’m

kind of a distant watcher. My present fantasy is about a young woman who has been kidnapped. She doesn’t remember anything but comes to in a strange room, naked and tied spread-eagled on a bed. A few minutes later, a man walks in, quite good-looking, naked, and with an enormous cock already hard as a rock. He calmly tells her he’s going to fuck her. She struggles and begs him not to. But he just laughs, spreads her, and pushes his prick into her. She screams because he is thrusting hard and deep. After a while, her screams turn to sobs as she realizes she can’t fight him. When she thinks it’s over, he just changes her position and says, “I want you from behind.” He has various instruments in the cupboard nearby, like cushions to place under her and sashes and leather cuffs to hold her in place. He ties her up loosely and goes to work.

In the weeks that follow, he introduces various sexual toys, all made of cold metal, which are designed to spread her and increase her pain. Sometimes, the man fucks her mouth or invites a friend (usually black, if the first one is white), and they both fuck her. He also has a collection of videos of similar activities, so he can watch them while he fucks the woman and keep it up longer.

Even before I knew what a cock was, I had fantasies along these lines.

So much is laid down in the first years when we were soft as clay. But dependency is not always pleasant. Nowhere are we more at odds with Mother than in matters surrounding our gen- itals, that area that is so instrumental in sexual pleasure. We learn to hold our bladder and bowels and either abandon altogether touching our genitals—except to wipe ourselves clean—or we do it in secret. Before we’ve even found a partner in the crime of sexual pleasure, we have so woven the spice of “forbidden” into

touching ourselves, stealth and near discovery are laced into not just the act of sexual feeling but also the thought.

Without bidding the fantasy to appear, our minds go to the images that accelerate the first flame of eros. We are held and kissed, maybe just a handhold, and the circuitry ignites the home movies in our head that never fail.

That so many of us, male and female, climb to orgasm on im- ages of restraint, imminent terror, and punishment speaks of the longevity of life’s earliest lessons regarding our bodies. No one wants to think that a child is taking in the basic lessons of later sexual feeling. Were you raised to respect, admire, and care for that place between your legs? Of course, the climb to orgasm has to get past the early denials and obstacles laid down when we were too young to know that we were being programmed.

F a N T a s i e s o F c a s T r a T i o N , o r ,

“My Testicles Are Your Testicles”

Nick

I’m a twenty-three-year-old with two basic fantasies—one of them about dominance and the other submission. I think of submission more and more.

My fantasy of submission involves a woman in her mid-thirties to early forties. Her women friends are at her house, and she is going to give them a show. I am nude on my knees with my face down on the bed, with my ass in the air and my legs spread. My fantasy woman is wearing something sexy and comes from behind and starts stroking my hard cock and pulling it back between my legs. She sucks my balls, first one, then the other. She sticks her finger in my ass while she strokes my cock. Her friends look on.

She usually ends it by jacking me off so my cum shoots into her hand, and she spreads it all over my ass. Sometimes, she takes out one of those large kitchen knives and presses the flat of the blade against my ass and balls so I can feel the coldness of it. Then, she firmly grabs my ball sac in one hand and puts the dull edge of the blade against my scrotum and tells me she could “Cut my fucking nuts off.” This is to show her power.

Dominic

a young man in his late twenties, Dominic has an innocent face and a nice smile. He’s a blue-collar guy who sees himself as rugged and virile.

I’ve had a lot of girls. I’m always sexually attracted to “take charge” types. My fantasy involves my being the possession of a very beautiful, strong, confident woman. She’s dominant and classy. We live in a spacious contemporary home, which is always immaculate. My duties include cleaning the house, making meals, washing clothes, and giving massages to my “owner.” When she is really tense, I sit on the floor and give her oral, anal, and vaginal massages. One day, she comes home raging mad because I have cheated on her with a neighbor. To put me in my place, she has my testicles removed surgically. This gives her much delight.

When the surgery is over, she has me wear short skirts around the house. She has me dress totally as a woman, complete with bra and wig. When she gives a party at her house, she has me raise my miniskirt to show the women “what happens to naughty boys.”

Joshua

Joshua is a thirty-five-year-old blue-collar worker in the Bible belt. He had a good marriage for two years until his mother-in-law started a rumor that he was having an affair with someone at work.

We went for a year without having sex. Then, when my wife found out I was masturbating, she got mad and made me move out. My first fantasies started when I was fifteen and began masturbating. Much to my mortification at the time, my first fantasy involved my mother. Looking back on it now, I realize it was probably because she was the only woman I had ever seen nude at that point in my life. I soon learned to fantasize about girls I knew. That was a great relief.

The next noteworthy fantasy involved asking a girlfriend to put a diaper on me and fill it with mashed potatoes, then scold me for messing my diaper. She would fondle me while cleaning me up. Another fantasy involved having sex with me and my partner wearing one big messy diaper.

Once my marriage was on the rocks and sex was on the decline, I started masturbating more frequently about the women I saw online. My favorite to date is to be tied to the bed and teased, to be kept for hours at a time erect without an orgasm. In between teasing me, she will sit on my face and force me to perform oral sex. The force isn’t necessary, since I love oral sex anyway. But I enjoy being shown I’m not in control. She will have three or four orgasms in this manner before allowing me to have one. Then, when she decides it’s time for my reward, she performs oral sex on me while using a vibrator in my anus and rubbing her vagina all over my face.

I also have a similar fantasy in which I visit a sadistic mistress wearing a pair of pink panties. I imagine she ties a wire around my testicles, with the other end tied to a door, just to see how much torture I will

withstand in order to please her. When she gets mad because I cry too much, she slams the door, slicing off my testicles.

We live in a world of stress, competition, real and imagined danger. Nothing can be counted on to stay in place, not just in our physical world but in the world of intangibles: fidelity, hon- esty, trust, and, oh yes, love ongoing.

But we can control ourselves and to a degree, if we are clever, the people around us. We decide not to fall in love, not to de- pend on or trust anyone; people let you down, betray you. Their word means nothing. Who needs them? We lock ourselves up and throw away the key. Now no one can get at us. After a while, no one tries.

So much for love. What about sex? The tricky bit about sex is that when it’s good, really good, many of us fall in love. We didn’t mean to, but he or she is there, in our minds, making us weak and needy. Afterward, we lie on the sofa, dreaming, replay- ing again and again what it felt like in our beloved’s arms the night before. In these dreamy recreations, we can’t resist putting our hand between our legs, closing our eyes, and awaiting once again the climb to orgasm. But we are rigid, our minds still on work left at the office. How to let go? Fantasies of force
make us
give up the iron restraints as someone more powerful than we
demands
we let go: “Beyond my control!”