Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (19 page)

it. When I was three or four, I accidentally touched my father’s penis. He was taking a shower, and I, as usual, was sitting in the bathroom talking to him. He got out of the shower, and I do not know why, but I reached out and touched his penis. I began to stroke it in my hand, and I remember now, clear as day, that it began to grow and grow, until it was hard and darkish purple. My father took my hand away firmly and told me I shouldn’t have done that.

In my fantasy, I am fifteen years old, and my father is forty-five. In real life, he was a large, handsome, muscular man, a laborer/builder, with a thick head of black hair that never really thinned as he grew older. In the fantasy, I am in the house alone when he comes up behind me, presses himself against me, placing his large yet gentle hands over my breasts. Then, he carries me upstairs, I know what for.

Deirdre

Deirdre is a black woman in her thirties living in a large metropolitan area.

This is the fantasy that I had when I first experienced the joy of an orgasm during intercourse: It starts with my birth. When the doctor told my father that it was a girl, he takes me and kisses me on my pussy, and he has kissed it every day since. (It’s never my father’s face in the fantasy.) At the age of five, he started to eat my pussy, and at the age of ten, he began to finger-fuck me. He said it was to get it ready because at thirteen, he would fuck me for the first time. One day, my dad is eating my pussy and finger-fucking me, and I start sucking his prick. He’s so turned on by my sucking him off. And I am so hot by his tongue and fingers that I need something bigger in me. So, I hop on top of him and

fuck him like he has never been fucked before. I am riding him really hard, and he begins to scream that this is his pussy, and he will
never let me leave him
.

B r o T h e r l y l o V e

“The Family That Plays Together, Stays Together”

At the time of writing
My Secret Garden
, I felt unqualified to give an opinion of incest. I still try to take a nonjudgmental stance on sexual fantasy and always politely hold the doors open for consensual adults. But since my research in the early ’70s, I’ve have a clearer understanding of the pitfalls of incest. The laws protect the child, just as we are protected from murderers and thieves.

In everything I’ve written, I seem to include reference to the issues of attachment and separation, these stages in life that pre- pare us early on for our journey as individuals. Since my writ- ing in the early ’70s, I’ve come to believe that when we are very young, the bedrock should be laid for our ability to believe in ourselves, alone and separate from the people who bore and raised us. It is this human brickwork, bit by bit, that allows us to strike out on our own, impatient to further the adventure of who we are.

This is the great theme of immortal stories read to small chil- dren who take them in and remember them for the rest of their lives, telling them to their own children along the way. Would Cinderella have been happier finding out that the prince is not only the best sex she’s ever had but also her long-lost brother?

Slaying the dragon stands for the excruciating aloneness of separating, making it on our own. Reread Grimm, replacing the

dragon with your competitive, unscrupulous new boss, “substi- tuting” the forest primeval with the streets of the new city where you have been assigned. Sexual discovery of a new lover’s body, the mirroring image of ourselves in new eyes, the reflection of ourselves is now that of an adult. A new identity we’d never have discovered had we not become a pioneer.

What a glorious discovery about oneself, falling in love, win- ning the man/woman of our dreams. What a great jolt of excite- ment when someone decides to give themselves to us, says they have seen something in us that is pure re-enforcement of self- hood. Winning someone’s love in the family, well, so you beat out your brother or sister. Big deal.

Once upon a time, the close tie between parent and child was all important for the procreation and growth, the sustenance the child needed and the parent offered. But that sustenance is sup- posed to raise a young person to take the first steps out into the world. If the feast in the parental bed is kept available, why should the son/daughter venture forth?

A fi ty-year-old woman’s brother introduced her to sex when she was nine years old; then her father took over. She doesn’t sound the least unhappy about the past and has absolutely no remorse for what her father did to her. In fact, she looks forward to having sex with her eighty-year-old father-in-law as a birthday present.

Another woman speaks of having sex with her sister since they were children. “Who can you trust but your sister?” she adds. Though her sister is married, they still “steal” sex together. She fantasizes finding a man to marry who would be compatible sexually with her and her sister and brother-in-law.

Men and women who have shared an incestuous relationship with a parent are sometimes evangelical about the experience. Do

we proclaim the joys of what happened as an effort to camouflage ambivalence? Does having been there, in Mom or Dad’s bed, feel better, more justified, if others we know have tried it too?

Sleeping alone, in one’s bed, is how life on one’s own begins. We learn to deal with bad dreams not by crawling closer to a parent but by understanding fear of the dark, fear of being alone, all the fears a child can only resolve by his or her own self, not cuddled against the parental body. I believe the more nonthreatening the path of incest becomes, the more we’re stepping back over the millenniums into tribal times or even further back to when we lived as a pack. Th is my own per- sonal belief.

During pillow talk, a boyfriend once asked me, “So, who was your first?” I replied, “I don’t remember.”“Bullshit,” he said. “Ev- erybody remembers their first time.” I said, “Really? I think peo- ple remember their best times. I had so many firsts, I wouldn’t know where to start. Do you count the first peck on the cheek?” He said, “Who’s the first guy who fucked you?” He was right. The memory of that first time is so vivid, it’s hard to believe it happened such a time long ago.

The act of sex, the leading up to it, going through it with someone, can be one of the great steps into one’s new, individu- ated life. This crucial business of separation, the delicate balance way back when we are too young to control what happens, is the foundation that we will live with for the rest of our lives. Sym- biotic oneness in the first year, the loving gaze, the adoration, then separating frees us to be our own person without forever reaching for that missing love.

If the move beyond home is complicated by intimate ties to Mom, Dad, siblings, we are going to be less inclined to open

doors, to take risks, to forge friendships and love relationships with the people we meet.

Sex isn’t just pleasure. In choosing the people we want to lie down with, we are betting on ourselves. When it works, when sex with a new person opens us to one another in that rare way, it is one of the great gifts.

ExHiBiTiONiSm/ VOYEuRiSm

e x h i B i T i o N i s m / V o y e u r i s m

I remember glancing up from the bed where I lay with my lover to see a man standing in the doorway, smoking a cigarette, watching us. We were at a guesthouse in Martinique. Th e was a moment when the stranger’s eyes met mine. I felt no fear or disapproval, perhaps because the guesthouse was small and intimate. If I’d cried out, I’d have awakened other guests, or was my silence part of my own exhibitionism, which was in turn part of coming of age and accepting who I was?

I’d chosen to be with this interesting man beside me in bed, know- ing he was on a personal voyage of sexual discovery. I was crazy about him, a brilliant intellectual, a voyeur, and an exhibitionist.Th were the wild and crazy ’70s when we were beginning to throw off our chains and stretch our libidos. Th music, the dance, the costumes that we wore were all part of this age of discovery. We who wanted to be seen now didn’t have to hide it.Th was central not just to the costumes but to what we wrote, how we danced and spoke. It was the beginning of in vogue exhibitionism, for both men and women. Perhaps the entire country didn’t instantly jump on board, but New York City and other urban centers were a voyeur’s smor- gasbord. It was impossible
not
to take in the man approaching, his “package” so adroitly arranged in his tight crotch you could see the outline of every twist and turn of his penis. The competi- tion for the eye was over the top! “Take me in! Feast your eyes!

Look at me, for I am hungry to be seen!” We were both patrons and artists in this new sexual catwalk.

With every door my lover opened, I followed, until one night, the door he opened was the beginning of our end. We were at a wild party, and in the bedroom he entered were three peo- ple embroiled in a scene straight out of his favorite fantasy. He stood at the foot of the bed, transfixed. So, there we were, the woman watching her man watching the three people in bed. I wanted my lover to turn and see me. I might as well have asked a famished dog not to sniff at a sizzling steak. His eyes full, he stripped and fed his starved erotic soul, no exaggeration. It was absolutely in keeping with who he was. I bowed out. Had he been just a friend and not my lover, I’d have joined in. But I was learning my limits.

Designers today still try to recapture the excitement of the ’60s and ’70s when fashion was caught up in a sexual revolu- tion. Of course, it’s not about the clothes and music. It’s us. In revolutionizing the configuration of how men and women are. As we remove more and more “Do Nots,” there are less rules to bend or break. There is less differentiation between man and woman. As the sexes become more interchangeable, there is less spark. For sex to come alive, there has to be a me and a you, a space between us for the spark of eros to jump and ignite. There may be a lot more sex but perhaps without as much fire. Instead of patrons and artists of this new sexual catwalk, we become the blasé gatekeepers. With more strutting and less looking, the exhibitionist in us goes hungry.

Ours is a shaky world these days. It is easy to get lost in it, so crowded are the streets, so intense the competition to be recognized. There is little left to shock, few new dishes left for our eyes to devour. Everything and everyone has been taken to the extreme. Where does the exhibitionist in us go from here?

Feeling invisible in a crowded world of anxious, competitive, an- gry people is a dynamite position with a hair trigger. When it comes to sex, these feelings don’t dissipate. The rising fever to orgasm is a furnace that draws on all available fuel.

How “natural” that we reach in fantasies for the sensations that have been hounding us all day. This time, we make them work for us. All day long, we’ve felt “unseen, unimportant, invis- ible.” We spread our legs, making “them” see our most private parts or we imagine we are voyeurs of others’ most intimate mo- ments. Without having to do anything, not having to work or strive or even seduce, we feed our eyes, which feed our soul, and feel whole again.

Is it so surprising today that fantasies of exhibitionism and voyeurism are one of the most prevalent themes? Craigslist ads like these have become common, ordinary.

Looking to show off in public spot or in a restroom. Would love to let you get a nice look and maybe even more if it’s hot. Please email back with a location and we will make it work. Want to let you see it all!

I’m pretty, white, 22, 5´5´´, thin, blonde and looking to strip for an older guy, have him watch me parade in sexy panties. You’ll possibly get to watch me masturbate. This is not for sex. There will be no body contact. You just get to watch.

Are you a hot skinny skater type in your 20’s? How about hanging out, having a few beers, you strip off your shirt to show off your tight smooth skinny chest for me to worship and adore? I’m 45, very in shape, gwm 5´10 165 shaved head, great chest, hot nipples, fun, intelligent and very imaginative. Let’s see how we could meet each others needs.