The New Black Lace Book of Women's Sexual Fantasies (9 page)

Crystal, age 40
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Four-year college degree
Writer
New York, USA

I'm turned on by intelligent alpha males. The best sex I ever
had was masturbating on the phone while my online pen pal
did the same on the other end, and hearing him come at the
same time I did as he said my name. My favourite fantasy is
having sex for the first time with him – the man I write to
daily online but have never met. My sex life would improve if
I could finally fulfil my fantasies in real life with this man.

Rowan, age 40
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
College
Writer
New England, USA

I feel so much more comfortable with and proud of my sexuality.
It's not only part of who I am, but part of my power as a
woman. I believe that women who ignore their sexuality are
not as powerful as they can be and have cut themselves off
from a very important part of who they are. My sexuality is
part of who I am, and my imagination only gets better with
age and confidence.

Some of the best sex I ever had was when I met a lover at
a hotel. He was dressed in a tux. The role-play was that he was
the groom-to-be and I was a bridesmaid with the hots for him
and wanted just one time with him before he married my
friend. We fucked for well over an hour on that fantasy,
pleasing each other orally, vaginally and anally. It was
wonderful.

I like to fantasise about being a courtesan and pleasing men
of my choice; being a goddess, worshipped and adored; and,
surprise – seducing the package delivery boy! For some reason
I find myself frequently feeling frisky in the early afternoons.
My kids are in school, I'm home alone and my mind . . . wanders.
Before I know it, I'm up in my bedroom masturbating.
One of my favourite fantasies is that, before I get upstairs, the
doorbell rings. When I answer it, I find a good-looking delivery
man there with a large heavy package. He asks me to sign for
it, and I ask if he wouldn't mind bringing it in for me, since
it's so big. He says yes, and I ask him if he would bring it up
to my bedroom. I get a suspicious look, but he agrees.

I follow him upstairs and tell him the truth. What's in the
box has nothing to do with the bedroom, but I'm totally horny
and I would love him to fuck me. I kiss him deeply and his
response is all the answer I need. We strip quickly and get into
bed. As he's kissing and touching and fingering me, he asks
me if he can go down on me. His girlfriend doesn't let him and
he loves doing it (hey . . . it's my fantasy!). I tell him I love that
and he's welcome to, and I spread my legs for him.

Usually I come thinking about this stranger licking me to
orgasm. Other times it's when he's deep inside me that I come.
And some days I put my husband returning home early into
the fantasy – and being touched and taken by both men gives
me an explosive climax.

Name withheld, age 45
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
Some college
Writer
California, USA

I know what I really want now, before I just daydreamed. I
want a tall man, with a thick cock, a great sense of humour,
and the power to make things happen in his life. Before I wasn't
sure what I wanted. My imaginary lover was just a dark figure
with no real details. Now I fantasise about a famous man who
finds my ass irritable as well as irresistible. We lock eyes in a
crowded room and fireworks go off. He is over 6'4" and has
blue eyes; he pushes my sexual safe buttons. We have a past
life connection and we hump like rabbits. Sounds funny, but
true.

Michelle, age 32
Heterosexual
Celibate
GCSE
Nanny
Location withheld, UK

I'm turned on by men with a nice smile or an accent. A gorgeous
bottom always helps! I fantasise about some guy I fancy
turning up on my doorstep and, before any words are spoken,
he kisses me, rips off my clothes, and makes love to me right
there in the hall, then the living room, the kitchen, the dining
room, and finally the bedroom.

Natalie, age 40
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
Post-graduate coursework
Self-employed retail business/Property management
Arizona, USA

I fantasise about Tim McGraw (the country and western
singer), having sex in public, sex with strangers, and sex with
a younger man in his prime (since I'm in my prime right now).
While I think about Tim McGraw often (and can direct my
dreams in that way by listening to him before I go to sleep),
lately I've been fantasising about my husband and trying new
things with him. While we have amazing sex when we do, the
frequency has lessened. He'd never had oral sex performed on
him or anal sex until we got together. I try to think of new
ways to please him in our real life, but my imagination and
fantasies are a bit beyond him. I do enjoy minor bondage play,
and he does get into that well. I feel that I'm a control freak
in real life, and to be dominated is very exciting to me.

Here is my fantasy. I love Tim McGraw. He's such a sexy man
with that black cowboy hat, perfectly coi-ed facial hair, sultry
come-and-get-me eyes and painted-on jeans. And, like a fine
wine, he simply gets better with age – both physically and
musically.

I listen to my Tim CDs all the time. 'Back When', while
driving – his smooth voice calming potential road rage. 'Do
You Want Fries With That', driving through McDonald's,
absurdly praying he'll be the cashier. 'She's My Kind Of Rain',
while masturbating in the bathtub – his manly, throaty
purring mingling with vanilla bubbles, creating an irresistible
sensory-stimulation spa.

I could listen to him all the time. 'Honey, could ya wash my
shorts?' in that Louisiana-cum-Nashville accent. 'Sugar, we're
out of toilet paper.' Glorious goose bumps.

Time for bed, radio on. Hubby is working late tonight. My
CDs are parked in the car and I'm too lazy at the moment to
get them. Ooooh! He's on the radio. I crawl beneath the sheets
in my Tim nightshirt and lay my head upon my 250 threadcount
Tim pillowcase, both recently acquired on eBay. The
steady, repetitive chorus of 'Ticking Away' lulls me, comforts
me and soothes me. I smell rain mingled with the night air
while the mini-blinds bang against the window sill, keeping
time with Tim's soulful crooning.

My fingertips feel my hardened nipples through Tim's
glorious ironed-on portrait. A percussion of hair brushing the
pillowcase's crinkly decal contributes lamely to the languor of
the song. I feel for Tim, sitting in that bar, waiting for someone
to enter and alleviate his loneliness. My eyelids are heavy. My
pulse beats a rhythmic adagio as I drift off, my hand between
my bare thighs.

A tickle upon my left shoulder stirs me. Did the dogs get in
the house? I turn my head slowly, sighing. Tim's rigid image
is slick beneath my sleep-sweaty hair. I hope I don't wrinkle
him. I contemplate turning the pillowcase over. But then he'd
su-ocate. Another sigh. A noisy yawn. I blink my eyes. I blink
them again. A black cowboy hat materialises on the pillow
next to me, attached to Tim's head.

I lift the covers, praying for a body. There it is. Wow. Naked
too. Hairy chest and all.

'How's it goin'?' That accent. I'm gonna have a coronary.

'Um, what are you doing here?' A falsetto voice, not mine.

'I got tired of sitting in the bar alone, so I grabbed a six-pack.
It's in your fridge. Want one?' What? I'm having a multi-sensory
delusion.

'No thanks. About the beer, I mean.'

'I'm gonna go snag me one then,' he drawls, rising from my
bed. Hmmm. I guess his jeans aren't permanently attached. I
wonder if baby oil would allow my 30-something-year-old ass
to slide into my 20-something-year-old jeans.

'OK. Hurry back.' How lame. Tell him you're gonna miss him
too.

With the full force of a hurricane I realise I am wearing his
sexy persona on my boobs and crinkling his handsome face
beneath my messy hair. I kiss the pillowcase and turn it over,
hoping he can hold his breath a long time. I remove my shirt,
folding it carefully and placing it gingerly on the floor. If my
ultimate celebrity fantasy hallucination is naked, I should be
too.

He slowly saunters back, taking a prolonged swig from the
longneck bottle, his manhood swinging in the breeze, hat still
on. Maybe it's sewn on. I should check. The hat, I mean. He
climbs back into bed with me, placing the beer on the bedside
table. I'm not going to worry about a coaster right now.

'So, what do you wanna do?' he asks, grinning behind a
flirtatious wink of his magnificent eye. Sounds like a Cyclops.
No, he has two eyes. Now that might be an interesting future
fantasy: if Tim were missing one eye he might have an
extra . . . My mind floods with a multitude of X-rated images,
contortions, locations, props, extras. No, not extras. Well, maybe
Chris Cagle. I'll put his CDs next to Tim's in my case for easy
access.

My conscience hits me like a bolt of lightning from the
tempest outside. I channel Benjamin Franklin. I lean over the
foot of my bed, reaching for the dresser. Digging in a drawer
I produce a pair of my husband's boxer-briefs, waving them
above my head, surrendering, scruples still intact.

'I'd feel better. They are clean.' He slips them on. Not as sexy
as his jeans, but they'll do. Abruptly realising my own nakedness,
I casually retrieve my nightshirt from the floor and yank
it over my head.

'Nice shirt,' he observes. I smile, turning eleven shades of
fuchsia. 'Want me to sign it for you?'

'Let me get a pen.' I leap out of bed, like a pad-less cat on a
hot tin roof, and sprint down the hall in twelve seconds flat,
unearth the Sharpie from the top of the refrigerator and race
back. 'Here you go,' I pant, handing him the pen, cap removed
for his convenience.

'Whoa. Slow down there.'

I lie on my back as he signs my boobs, his other hand on
my belly holding his face still. I can't move until the ink dries.
'Thanks a lot,' I gush.

'Anytime.' Yeah, anytime I hallucinate you into my bed.

'Do you ever take your hat off?' I am nosy.

'Only in the shower.' Only? I am intrigued. I ask why. 'It's
"The Cowboy in Me".' I should have known.

'You know I'm your number one fan.'

'Uh, please don't say that. It scares me in a Stephen King
Misery
sort of way.'

I giggle. 'Sorry, Mr McGraw.'

'Call me Tim.'

'Call me anytime. Oh, and "Please Remember Me".'

He chuckles. 'You're a funny one. Mind if I keep these?' He
points at his luscious ass.

'Unless you want to moon the neighbours. I don't think my
husband will miss them.'

He kisses me on the cheek, the tickle of his goatee titillating
my every nerve. I'm never washing my face again. Then he
left. Just left. Vanished. Disappeared.
Adios. Hasta la vista
,
baby.

'I like it, I love it . . .' I had forgotten about the radio. Oh yeah,
I'd love some more of him. I close my eyes, remembering the
look in his eyes, the softness of his moustache on my skin, his
fluid signature decorating my chest like icing on a cake. I check
the ink. My nipples are so hard, I am afraid they'll poke his
eyes out. I stroke my thigh, recalling his smell: a macho mixture
of beer, testosterone and denim. Denim? I am soaked. My
fingers slide across my clit. Randy Travis is on the radio now.
I feel guilty masturbating to him. I sigh insu-erably and crawl
out of bed, adjusting the tuner on the radio. Tim, Tim, where
are you? I need you.

Four stations later, the sweet strains of 'Let's Make Love' fly
out of my radio and into my soul. Tim and Faith. Faith and
Tim. The way it should be. All is right with the world now. I
dance back into bed and close my eyes. My hand continues my
extracurricular activities. I am happy. I am tired. I come. I
sleep.

My husband climbing into bed at dawn awakens me. 'Did
that come signed?'

'Come to the edge, he said. They said, we are afraid. Come to
the edge, he said. They came, he pushed them and they flew.'

– Guillaume Apollinaire

'Everything is sweetened by risk.'

– Alexander Smith

There's no doubt about it, women have become much more
open-minded about their sexual interests and sexuality, even
if they choose not to act upon it. There's now a lot more willingness
to be experimental in the bedroom, and this naturally
translates into the realm of sexual fantasy. As human beings,
we love to explore, to imagine what can be found over the next
horizon, what treasures can be uncovered, new sensations felt.
We search for the same thrill we felt in that first tentative kiss
with our lover, the thrill when we initially began to discover
each other. We store these things in our memories and keep
them close. But sometimes we dare to want more. Soon we
find ourselves being drawn away from safe ground, moving
further and further outwards until we finally come to the edge.
Do we jump, or do we play at the brink?

This section is for those who have chosen to play at the brink
– not quite taking that giant leap into empty space and possibly
oblivion, but still defying the odds that the earth won't crumble
beneath us and send us careening over the edge. We will
explore fantasies that take a more daring turn away from the
'vanilla', that move into the shadows, although not into
complete darkness. For some there is perhaps a fine line
between what's considered 'on the edge' or in the 'danger zone'
and, indeed, it's a highly subjective line, but for our purposes
we'll reserve this section for those with a more adventurous
streak. Here we have forbidden encounters, sex-toy play,
outdoor sex and exhibitionism, threesomes, light bondage and
S&M scenarios. We even take a dip into the realm of the fantastical,
featuring encounters with the paranormal. It's all about
adventure, a taste of the unknown . . . It's all about playing on
the edge.

Forbidden Fruit

Carolyn, age 44
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
High School diploma
Writer
South Australia

I get turned on by men in uniform or in positions of power:
politicians, police officers, soldiers, etc. As a result, I usually
fantasise about a man in a position of power asking me to
'help' him in a sexual way. In my fantasy I'm at work in the
tiny office I share with Mr X. We're talking about non-work
things when he indicates that he wants me to come closer to
where he's seated, next to his desk. I comply, and soon enough
I'm sitting astride him. Somehow the door is locked and I can
feel his appreciation of my actions tapping on my bum cheek.
I reach down and release his penis, which is the most impressive
one I've seen in terms of length and width. I shiver at the
thought of having this organ invading my private territory – a
shiver slightly of fear, but mostly of anticipation. I'm hardly a
blushing virgin, I've been around, but this man, and his friend,
are possibly more than I'd bargained on. Was there a promotion
in his pants?

At that moment work was far from my thoughts. I climbed
off Mr X's lap and knelt in front of the two of them, him and
his dick, licking all the way. He held his hand out to me and
made me stand, rubbing my clitoris with his hard penis the
whole time. I couldn't control myself as I came, trying heedlessly
to muffle my cries against his chest as I came, and came,
and came. Mr X came with me, and, when the pleasure
coursing through me slowed down and his mighty member
spewed its last, I glanced at the carpet. Mrs Klemp was going
to have a job of cleaning tonight, I said to myself, not caring
at all. Mr X had his pleasure in hand and was rising to have
another go, but this time we weren't going to go alone. I
pushed him back to his executive chair and climbed onto his
penis, riding him all the way to another bout of executive
release as he sucked my nipples and I held onto his hard
shoulders.

Alice, age 17
Heterosexual
Virgin
College student
Southeast England, UK

I'm turned on by loose natural clothing in beautiful colours.
By contrast, I'm also turned on by crisp handsome businessmen
(I always wonder what lies beneath their organised and
anonym ous exterior). Men in uniform, of course, particularly
security guards and police officers are turn-ons. Heat, the sun,
the sound of waves and running water, the tranquil sounds of
nature in a forest or open countryside . . . I've recently taken a
liking to guys who play guitar in a band. There's something
really sexy about the way a guy pays so much attention to
playing his guitar; it makes me wish I was his guitar and he
was holding me against him and flicking my strings. The one
thing that would definitely improve my sex life would be losing
my virginity. Let me rephrase that: meeting the right person
with whom I can feel totally comfortable having sex – 'mind
sex', not just physical lust.

One of my favourite fantasies (an old one) involves a French
teacher from secondary school a few years back. He is tall with
dark curly hair and brown eyes that make you melt and has a
deep voice with a sexy French lilt. It goes like this: I am in
another lesson and the teacher asks me to get some exercise
books from the sta- room. When I enter the sta- room it at
first appears empty, but when I walk to the other side of the
room where the books are I see that this French teacher, I'll
call him Mr S, is sitting at a desk marking some papers. He
looks up as I approach, and I say, 'Hi, Sir' to be friendly, hoping
he hasn't noticed me blushing.

He looks back down at his papers, but I am aware that he's
watching me closely as I bend down to look for the books. I
find what I'm looking for and am about to turn around and
head for the door when Mr S throws his pen down and says,
'Good homework, by the way. I've just finished marking it.' I
mumble, 'Thanks', slightly embarrassed, as he gets up and
moves towards me.

Am I imagining the playful twinkle in his eyes as he
approaches? Probably. What would he see in an inexperienced
schoolgirl anyway? The silence is intense as he looks me
straight in the eye and gently traces his finger down my jaw.
I think, 'OK, I am definitely not imagining this!' as he pulls me
into him, and I can feel the whole length of his body, the heat
radiating off him. My heartbeat goes mad as he bends down
to kiss my neck, and I can feel the saliva he has left on me as
he runs one hand through my hair while his other hand slides
up my back.

Up to this point I'm too stunned to move, but I begin to
respond by running my hands through his luscious dark curls
and feeling his broad shoulders as they envelop me. The feel
of his stubble brushing against my skin and the novelty of
being so close that I can pick out each individual pore on his
skin sends shivers down my spine. He likes this and smiles
slightly as he slowly walks me backwards towards the table.
I can feel his hard-on against my abdomen, and he slowly
and deliberately grinds himself against my thigh as I'm
pressed against the desk. By this point I am soaking wet and
aching to feel him inside me, but reluctant to let him go
further. I voice this reluctance, pointing out that another
teacher could come in at any moment. 'I don't care,' he
breathes in my ear. His hands move slowly as he begins to
pull my tights down. When I make a move to escape, his
strong arms grip me like a vice. His weight is pinning me
down and I cannot move, my chest deliciously compressed
under his. He becomes more frantic and in a couple of
moments my school shirt is half ripped off me, my black lacy
bra exposed. His tongue flickers over my breasts and down
my stomach and he oh-so-gently kisses the skin, underneath
which my womb is aching with anticipation. His hands move
slowly between my legs and I pulsate beneath his long fingers
as he moves them underneath my panties. I reach up and
loosen his tie, undoing some of his shirt buttons. He can feel
I'm ready, and unzips his trousers. Sometimes it is me who
does this but I usually prefer the thought of him taking total
dominance and overpowering me. When uncovered, his genitals
are huge! At this point I feel very intimidated and he has
to force my legs apart, all the while muttering in my ear in
his lilting accent, coaxing me. Sometimes I give him oral
first.

There are two di-erent endings: the first one is that just
as he is about to ease himself into me we hear voices outside
the door and we both dive into a small room and block the
door. There he proceeds to take my virginity and brings us
both to bittersweet orgasm, but in near-total silence as the
headmaster is now in the sta- room drinking coffee! Or the
second ending is along the lines of him making love to me
over my newly marked homework on the desk. I then return
to my lesson hot, sweaty and sore. My teacher tells me off
for taking so long and my mates in the class all give me
funny looks as I sit down and realise my shirt has a huge rip
in it and I'm grinning like a Cheshire cat! I have several other
fantasies involving my old sexy French teacher as he is very
fantasy-worthy, but I could be here for days if I go through
all of them!

Tami, age 36
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
Some college
Stay-at-home mom
Illinois, USA

When I was in eighth grade three really cute, popular boys
from my class tricked me into going into a bedroom with them
and then grabbed me and threw me down on the bed. They
held me down and rubbed me all over. They didn't really go
any further, but the feeling of being restrained and having all
those hands all over me was something I will never forget. I
don't know if that qualifies as the best sex I've ever had, but
it probably left the biggest impression.

I have always loved to be dominated (but not hurt) by a
very big strong guy. I love to fantasise about people who are
in a position of trust – doctors, priests, nurses – forcing me
to, or convincing me that I must, have sex with them. Sometimes
I fantasise about being raped or gang-raped by large
black men. They never hurt me and they are always very
good about giving me pleasure. I have never been raped and
I do not want to be raped for real. But in my fantasies it is
all so good.

One of my favourite fantasies is about a trip to the gynie
doctor (male or female, does not matter). I am in the stirrups
and the doctor and nurse come in and proceed to examine
my pussy, just looking and touching – no speculum! They
decide I have a very unique pussy or a possible disease (it
changes) and would like to observe me having an orgasm.
They proceed to stimulate me to orgasm . . . the ways in which
they do it always vary. Sometimes they make me stay
completely still until I orgasm, which is very difficult. Sometimes
they refuse to penetrate me until I orgasm, just letting
me feel the head of a dildo against my pussy hole but not
giving it all to me. Sometimes the doctor begs me to let him
use his penis instead of the dildo even though he knows he
could lose his licence, but he just has to be inside me. I always
say yes!

Name withheld, age 37
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
Associate degree
Registered Nurse
Ohio, USA

The best sex I ever had was an encounter with a friend of a
friend after I'd broken up with my boyfriend at the time. We
were staying at a friend's house because we'd been drinking.
We were both sleeping on the floor in the living room and had
sex while my friends were in the other room asleep. It was a
situation where we could have been caught at any time, and
we weren't even 'dating' each other. But those facts made it
feel forbidden and dirty.

Sometimes I wonder if I ran into someone who aroused me
and the opportunity arose to act on it if I could really do it or
not. I am married, though, and that holds me back. But as a
fantasy it is very powerful. In my favourite fantasy, I have hot
uncontrolled sex with an old boyfriend or stranger. At some
point he puts me up on a table/dresser. My panties are around
my ankles and his pants are around his ankles because we
cannot wait to have each other. He can't keep his hands off
me. It is a forbidden encounter.

Juliet, age 26
Heterosexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Degree
University Administrator
East Anglia, UK

I've always had an obsession with sex. I masturbated frequently
from the age of nine and still do. When I was fifteen I was
watching a late-night TV show on the American porn industry,
and there was a short clip on gay porn which really made me
horny. I actually even now find it more appealing than lesbian
scenes.

My job requires me to attend meetings, which of course are
very boring. In some of these meetings there is an English
lecturer who basically gets me wet when I see him. In my
fantasy I can feel him eyeing me from across the room and
catch some glimpses of him looking. After meeting some
people I decide to go for a drink. I say that I will catch up after
I tidy the room, but the lecturer doesn't leave. The next thing
I know he's behind me touching my neck lightly with his
fingers, then he starts to knead my breasts (which I like in real
life). His hands find my zip, then work my trousers down to
my knees. He inserts two fingers in my cunt, to which I let out
the biggest moan, although still conscious that we're in a
meeting room. Oddly, he doesn't say anything to me the whole
time. I eventually turn around to face him and take my trousers
off. I hitch myself onto a table and, with knees bent, I give him
a full view of my cunt. I then have the best fuck and orgasm
I've ever had.

Although I'm quite happy with my fantasy, I do feel that if
the lecturer and I meet I would ask him to have sex with
me.

Alexandra, age 27
Heterosexual
Single, very sexually active
College degree
Occupation unknown
London, UK