Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (24 page)

We criticize, try to fi some defect. When you are rich in beauty, you experience all the pros and cons of your wealth. When love, real love, is offered, many beautiful people don’t believe it any more than the very rich believe they are loved for themselves.

Eddie

I have been married now for six years. We have no children yet. I want one or two, but my wife has changed her mind and now wants none. We may have to divorce over this irreconcilable difference. We have a repertoire of four positions. I believe my early childhood experiences helped mold the strong voyeur streak in me. When I lived in my parents’ house, until I was twenty-five, I could see across to another apartment, where this incredibly hot neighbor was having frequent sex in a lesbian relationship.

In one of my fantasies, I am never present. It is like a porno flick in the making, and I am a roving cameraman who picks up the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of the scent. This scenario has been developing and evolving over the years.

A large mansion resort, à la Playboy Mansion, is built surrounded by a large expansion of well-tended and groomed fields and meadows with skinny-dipping ponds, a small cave, a man-made waterfall, etc.

Farther out is an evergreen forest to keep out trespassers. Access to the resort is by a paved road that is barred with a gate and a large guardhouse/cottage. Guests arrive and check in with the two beautiful female guards at the guardhouse cottage. The guests undergo a medical checkup to screen for STDs (sexually transmitted diseases). First-time guests are briefed on the house rules. They are as follows:

All guests can wear at most is one layer of clothing. Partial or total nudity is at the guest’s discretion. The gorgeous, mostly female house staff also wears only one layer of clothing or uniform and cannot refuse any sexual request from a guest except for anal sex. The female staff also wears either a bracelet or a necklace. The color code immediately indicates if the woman is agreeable to anal sex or not. This option is overruled under provisions described in another house rule.

Male staff do not engage in homosexual acts under any circumstances. Sexual acts can be done anywhere, anytime, alone, or in groups.

A guest can refuse a sexual request from another guest.

If a guest witnesses one person masturbating or witnesses a couple fucking, the proper etiquette for joining in is to approach the people involved and begin to masturbate. If the person masturbating or the couple fucking wishes to be left alone, they will politely ignore the newly masturbating guest. Otherwise, the joinee will be caressed into joining the sex act already in progress.

If three or more people are engaged in sex, it is open season to join in. For example, if a male guest sees a trio engaged in sex and develops an erection and a female in the group has her ass in the air, it is up to the male’s discretion if he fucks her cunt, if he fucks her ass, fingers her clit, feels her tits, etc.

There are no restrictions on lesbian sex. In fact, it is encouraged.

The resort has a full-fledged library, several game rooms, with gambling games. Other game rooms have pinball machines and the very popular pool tables, and there is a bowling alley. The resort has a set of reward and punishment fortune cookie jars. (I always thought that a fortune cookie looked like a shaved cunt.) The guest can engage in any of the games with the added stakes that either the winners can pick up a reward fortune cookie or the losers get to dip into the punishment cunt jar.

Some of the women’s punishments are: she must masturbate three guests, with at least one being a woman. She will be provided a chamber pot and must pee in public while nude.

Some of the women’s rewards are: the nearest person to you will eat your cunt to your satisfaction or you can have sex with the guest of your choice. Similar prizes are in the men’s jar.

I can reuse this fantasy framework over and over by simply building a fantasy based on various guests’ escapades during their stay at the resort. This is an X-rated “Fantasy Island” without Ricardo Montalban or The Hobbit.

It is not just beauty we look for. Some things never change. Men are still wildly charged by fantasies of watching women losing all control sexually. As long as men are raised by women, this will be true. The dream of women
losing
control is thrilling. It takes her off the pedestal, making her supremely fuckable.

Men stagger out from under women’s maternal rule, only to find themselves brought to their knees by the beauty of young girls who have all the power in the world to reject the hungry boy. Once again, the beauty of the breast enters his life, this time

around feeding his eyes, tempting his hands, a mouth-watering kind of hunger different from the first time around.

In a few more years comes the workplace, where the breast’s pre-eminence, far from fading, will be reinforced by the woman who uses her breasts, buttocks, whatever it takes to beat the guy out of the job. She will deny she is using her body to get ahead, but her heart won’t be in it. “Business is cutthroat. You use what you’ve got to get the job,” says my friend Sharlene.

Carl, a PhD and scientist, imagines a woman on a powerful aphrodisiac. His excitement comes from watching her lose all control during wild orgasm. Much as he may love women, no boy really ever gets over the feeling of total control a woman once had over him. How often he failed her expectations of him. Now he is watching a woman in the throes of orgasm, self- control gone with the wind. Oh, God, how marvelous to see her out of her mind in an orgasmic high!

N a r c i s s i s T i c V o y e u r i s m

Instead of just looking, we find men today in front of the mirror as never before in modern times.

Carl

Besides watching a woman in an out-of-control orgasm, I love watching myself cum. My early masturbation was very experimental. I wanted to know how everything worked. I tried my best to pee while cumming (never could), shit while cumming (did but not easily), sneeze in the middle of orgasm (the feelings just stopped, but the ejaculation continued), hold my hand over my opening so the cum wouldn’t come

out (the pressure was too high; it just sprayed out like when you try to hold your thumb over the end of a hose. When I held it really hard, it didn’t come out, but the tube got very sore for a while), get right to the brink of orgasm and see what sorts of stimulation will set me off. Once I got right to the brink, then put on tight pants and walked around in front of a mirror until the friction triggered orgasm. I still jerk off in front of the mirror.

When we imagine in fantasy an audience applauding, as in Alex’s “biggest, most beautiful penis” contest, this adds genuine narcissism to the scene, a wish to be admired for one’s sexual prowess, for one’s body, the ability to be free, uninhibited. It is indeed raising oneself to the level of a performer. The narcissistic element, added to the erotic, doubles the sexual pleasure. In the first case, it is the power element: “
You
, my parent or society—

watch
me
! I defy you!” And in the second case, it’s the narcissistic

element that increases sexual pleasure.

In the psychoanalytic world, the “audience” of lookers can rep- resent the daydreamer him- or herself. Imagine this kind of dou- ble effect: the fantasizer is both a “peeper” as well as a performer. The gorgeous male steps in front of the female. From his sheer trousers, one can see the detailed configuration of his penis. What a feast for the eyes! But who is looking? The hot blonde with the breast implants? The dreamy boy toy with the tanned, waxed chest? As the power of beauty sits more equally in both camps and the unrelenting competition to be seen and admired

shrinks the audience, do mirror sales increase?

Lora

Lora, a virgin, feeds her eyes with the image of herself masturbating in front of all the mirrors in her house. Leave no glass unfilled!

I lived with my parents until I was twenty-five, and starting from when I was seventeen, if my parents were out of town or just not home, and I would get real horny, I would masturbate in front of all the mirrors in the house. (Our house had lots of mirrors.) It turned me on just watching myself masturbate. I’d pretend that my image was really into me watching, really getting turned on by it. Sometimes, I’d pretend that my image was into watching me, but that was harder to do.

At the age of thirty-one, I’m still a virgin, and the following is my newest fantasy: Desperate to lose my virginity, I decide to run a personal ad online:

THIRTY-ONE YEAR OLD ARIES FE- MALE WHO WISHES TO LOSE HER VIRGINITY AND SATISFY BUILT-UP ENERGIES LOOKS FOR PARTIES TO ASSIST HER IN ACHIEVING THIS GOAL. IF INTERESTED, PLEASE BE AT (my

address) ON 4-4 (my birthday, too. Oh, what a present!)THEDOORWILLBEOPEN, JUST WALK IN AND SHE WILL BE READY!

The line of thousands of men waiting to fuck me goes all the way to the state line, and they all get satisfied by me.

I relate to Lora’s determination, honoring and applauding her efforts to reflect her own sexuality.

F e m a l e F a N T a s i e s o F V o y e u r i s m , o r ,

“ Why’s a Nice Girl Like You Hiding in a Place Like That?”

It’s exciting to see women getting into voyeurism! When I think of the amount of sexual “needs” women swallowed so as to fit the stereotype of patriarchy prior to the ’70s, I’m amazed how we lived with it. Believing that women weren’t sexually aroused by visual stimuli was passed from mother to daughter. It’s amazing it worked, considering the amount of industry today that feeds women’s eyes, turns us on, makes us hot and eager to masturbate or find a partner.

What a lopsided world we used to have in which half the human race was supposed to feel nothing when they looked at nudity or blue movies or the naked person bedside them in bed.

When I was twelve, I remember some of the older women in Charleston complaining to authorities on a hot summer day that sailors were working on decks of ships with no shirts on. The culpable sailors were promptly dealt with. I told everyone how unfair I thought it was that the sailors should have to work in such extreme heat with their shirts on. But the real anger came from not being allowed to see their gorgeous, stripped tor- sos. It was a pleasure I felt entitled to. What was the great fear of these ridiculous women?! Could this lack of propriety really taint their despicably pure eyes?! I realize now that the answer is an astounding, “Yes!”

How difficult it must have been for women back then to suppress lustful thoughts, especially with these bare-chested Adonises strutting practically in front of their faces. How it must have threatened their tightly held nonsexual conceptions of themselves.

When I look back, I realize how much these women gave up to support a false image, a lie. All to be accepted, to assure mother’s love. It’s all well and good being the exhibitionist, getting oneself seen, taken in, visually adored, feeling the warmth of eyes: “Let me look at you. Let me take you in. Dear God, you’re a sight for sore eyes, and mine adore you!” But voyeurism is an equally charged flip side of this coin. How lovely it is nowadays to take in and admire the male body, as delicious eye candy as a woman’s body.