Beyond My Control: Forbidden Fantasies in an Uncensored Age (38 page)

hot but also because I can drive. We’re going eighty miles an hour. “The curves are tricky, and unless you want to be dead,” I say, “don’t touch me.” I’m in perfect control. I begin to masturbate with one hand as I drive with the other. It’s exciting for him to watch a girl cum off because she wants to drive him crazy. I moan. My fingers dart in and out of my cunt. Suddenly, I pull the car off the road to a secluded spot. I jump out. Will scrambles after me. We fall into the long grass and make love.

I’d love this fantasy to happen, but I know it’s too risky. It could end up being horrible. Still, someday, if I’m driving and see a guy like Will hitching, who knows?

Burt

I’m thirty-seven, never married, but completely heterosexual. My fantasy is admittedly very bizarre and much too dangerous to ever try out. I am walking through some open woods with three very attractive young women. We sit down and begin to play strip poker. We draw cards. Whoever gets the lowest card has to submit to anything the others wish. I lose.

They tell me to strip, and after some embarrassed hesitation, I comply. They giggle and fondle my cock, which quickly gets very hard. They order me to lie facedown on the grass, and they tie my hands behind my back. One goes away, and the other two begin to masturbate me, teasing me about how long they are going to keep me right on the edge of orgasm. The one who went away comes back with a noose and chair. They put the noose around my neck and throw the rope over a large tree limb.

I become frightened, but they tell me that they’re just goofing off. They place the chair under the tree limb and tell me to stand on it. I do and then they pull down on the other end of the rope until there is absolutely no slack in it at all. They then tie the end of the rope to the trunk of the tree. The three of them walk around me, pinching my balls, caressing my ass, kissing the tip of my cock, and terrifying me by shaking the chair I am standing on.

The one who brought the noose quickly kicks the chair out from under me. All I can do is dangle there. As the realization sets in that I am slowly strangling, I panic. I begin kicking, and as I look down, one of the women is staring at me, saying, “Oh, my God, oh, my God,” as she watches me jerking around in the air. But the one who tied the rope is enjoying every moment of it. She shouts, “Dance! Dance a jig for us!” My naked body bucks and jerks as my legs flail around at nothing but thin air. I struggle frantically and kick harder, but it doesn’t help. My slow strangulation continues.

I hang there kicking until I am reduced to spasms and twitching, at which point they let me down. Then, the one who kicked the chair out from under me jerks me off with her hand. I shoot a tremendous quantity of cum over her hand and my own stomach.

I know where the fantasy comes from. When I was a boy, I discovered that shimmying up the slanted frame of a schoolyard swing set would rub on my cock and that it felt great. I quickly learned to fantasize that the cutest girl in my third-grade class had tied my hands and was hauling me, naked, up this slanted pipe for all the other girls to see.

Burt knows that his fantasy would not only become night- mare but could also lead to his death.

Louis

a happily married man in his early forties, Louis and his wife, Phoebe, are both teachers with advanced degrees who work in different towns and so have differ- ent groups of acquaintances. Lou had a few relationships before his marriage at twenty-four; Phoebe had more.

Our life together has been extremely happy, and we have spent many delightful hours in each other’s arms. Phoebe enjoys sex greatly once we have begun foreplay, but she can go through extended periods where she has little need for it.

Phoebe takes a lot of care of her appearance and clearly enjoys male attention. She is anything but prudish, but she tends to regard sex as a favor she gives to men rather than something primarily for her own enjoyment, even though she clearly enjoys it once she gets started. As a result, she has on several occasions since we’ve been married fucked with other men. She has been open about it with me, but despite her efforts at being cool, the excitement of sleeping with another man has aroused her own sexuality to the point where she becomes much more sexually awake.

As a result, the weeks following these sexual adventures have been among the most highly charged and explosive in our entire marriage. My feelings have, of course, been pretty mixed on these occasions, but on the whole, it made our fucking never better. Furthermore, I once had an affair of some duration. The only difference was that Phoebe didn’t know about it until later because my lover was a close friend of ours. Anyway, fantasies have developed because I see them as the beginning of a period of enhanced sexuality between Phoebe and me.

One involves a party at our house. Phoebe is dancing closely with a particularly tall, slender man whom I’ve only met that evening. When the last guest leaves, they are still dancing. She looks over at me

with the look of a naughty schoolgirl who knows she is misbehaving. I don’t really want to spoil her fun, so I just excuse myself and go to bed. About a half hour later, I wake up and notice the music has stopped. There is a guest room with a double bed under our bedroom, and one can hear pretty well through the radiator pipes. I lean over and hear Phoebe’s voice: “Oh, yes, that’s nice. Please! Put it in me! I want you!” I hear more of this until finally I hear Phoebe’s telltale “Uhhh, uhhhh, yes, yes, ohh!” I realize she is having a smashing climax. Then, silence. I doze off and wake up two hours later. Still, Phoebe is not in our bed. I lean over again, and I hear the now- familiar sounds just at the point of another all-out orgasm. Now I’m wide awake and hard as a rock.

About a half hour later, I hear the front door open and close, and a few minutes later, Phoebe comes sneaking into the bedroom, looking a bit disheveled but rather happy. When she realizes I am awake, she gets a somewhat sheepish look on her face, but I pull her into bed before she can go into the bathroom and wash. In an instant, my cock is in her pussy, which is juicy with another man’s cum, and I have an almost instant climax. She is totally exhausted by now, and we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

I told her about this fantasy, and she said she wanted to make it come true for me. I brought it up to a friend of mine that I know Phoebe is attracted to, and he was game. Going in, something told me it was a mistake. I’m not small, but his cock is huge, and with him there and Phoebe so excited, I couldn’t even get hard. I felt so insignificant, a feeling I wasn’t able to shake, even after it was over. It was terrible. They both had a good time, and Phoebe thought I was happy because I pretended to enjoy watching. But it didn’t take her long to know something was up. I developed paranoia of not being able to satisfy her. It actually caused temporary impotency around her.

After some time and a lot of Viagra, our sex life is back on track. But I realize my fantasy of being with Phoebe and another man is just where it belongs—in fantasy.

Kenya

Kenya, a beautiful young woman who works near an army base, had the opportu- nity to live out her fantasy.

When I was twenty, I’d been having a fantasy about having five or six men all to myself when suddenly it became true. I had just met Johan. We were so attracted to each other, we became instantly involved. After our first date, we made love all night.

We made plans to meet at a bar a few nights later before he went out of town, but when I got there, he was with another girl. I decided to make him jealous and fawned all over his buddies. I had one dancing hip-to-hip with me and one pressed right up against my ass, too. I also had three other guys waiting for their turn. These guys had been on exercise and were starved for girls. Johan came over and joined his friends. This went on for about an hour, me dancing with other guys, and other women chasing him around. That’s when the expression “gang rape” actually took on meaning. I felt someone’s hand on my arm, pulling me toward the door. Johan noticed the ruckus.

Outside, I was being stuffed in a cab. He hastily got my jacket and pursued us. He forced his way into the cab and gave words of advice. He said, “You’d better cooperate with them because they’re all excited enough now that if you refuse, they’ll just force you. I came because I don’t want to see you hurt. I should be able to keep them from getting

crazy.” I started to think of my fantasy to try and enjoy it. They all came to my house, and I was full of all orifices all night. It was horrible and nothing like my fantasy of group sex.

I have four older brothers, and I used to love it when they’d play rough with me, even though they’d sometimes get in trouble for it. Maybe that’s where the fantasy came from. But I always knew they’d never really hurt me. This was totally different. I wish I could have just kept it in my mind.

Sex, especially when there is only one woman and a group of men, can be a hot box that sets each man off in a different way, culminating in more than one man angry and confused at being left out—a horror of a fantasy that should have remained just that.

We are often inclined to follow our erotic fantasies as if they were real maps to a buried treasure rather than clues to who and how we are, not just sexually but beyond. Like dreams at night, our erotic reveries inform us not only of our desires but of our past. They especially open doors to who we were when very young.

I think of the world of sex not just for the pleasure it can bring but for the energy it contains, that state of well-being in which we are left post-orgasm, the brief mental balance, breath- less equilibrium. Both sex and love, two very separate entities, if handled with care can be brilliant. I try to treat them with the same respect and with the same close attention I give to sharp knives and dynamite.

A final note of gratitude to those of you who have bared your souls to me over the years, saying again and again, “Thank God I read your book; I thought I was the only one.”

What kind of shame is it that we attach to our bodies? It must be buried very deep and go back to the beginning of time, not just our time but
the
beginning, as in Adam and Eve trying to cover their naked bodies, racing from the Garden of Eden be- fore God smites them.