Forbidden Flowers (8 page)

Please continue with your good work. I know it must be pleasurable; I hope it is profitable. Now that you know that in the experience of at least one psychoanalyst, it is therapeutic as well, you must feel you have found the best of all occupations.

Your photo on the dust jacket does invite me to tell you a sexual fantasy of my own. You have an intimate, sexual, and candid look about you. Perhaps your appearance invites people to be candid with you in return. To tell such a fantasy is a mild sexual experience in itself – but you asked for it.

It is this: On any given day in my office, when a woman comes in with a brief miniskirt and no panties, she is rewarded with a gentle, moist, caressing of her cunt with my tongue. It would be important for her to sense that this would happen only if she gave a sign of acquiescence by the way she dressed and sat.

Freud talked about the sexual fantasies that patients had about their doctors, and went on to posit and discuss the counter-transference this developed in their therapists. Which is a stuffy, polysyllabic word for what amounts to a little cunt-licking in my case.

I am sure you understand why I request that while you let the fact that I am a psychoanalyst stand, I ask that you assign me a fictitious name.

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Deedee

I'm writing this because I think I may be a lesbian – I'm not sure. I think it all started when I was six or seven years old. My playmate and I used to take off all our clothes. Then I would climb on top of her (I'm very aggressive), open her pussy lips, and grind the hell out of her. Then I met her older sister, Tish.

One day, Tish was alone in the house, and asked me to come over. She had on a nightgown, but with nothing underneath.

She raised the gown and told me to rub her pussy. I did it, and in my fantasies even today, I am often still seven years old. I like to remember how I opened her lips and tickled her clitoris.

Even as I write this, I can imagine how she looked when she reached climax. The reason I think I may be a lesbian is that she didn't tell me to open her pussy lips and tickle her. I did this all on my own.

When I became eight years old, I gave up my playmate for a boyfriend named Teddy. Teddy and I used to go down into the basement and take off all our clothes and fuck all day. (I know that isn't the way it could have been, but that's how it seems in my memories.) But he soon told his pals, and they joined us.

One day, seven boys pulled a train on me. I didn't tell my mom or dad, because I enjoyed it so much. But I think that incident is what made me dislike boys and want to go back to women.

When I say “Go back to women,” I mean, thinking about them, fantasizing about them. I often find myself wanting to have an affair with a woman rather than a man. As I've said earlier, I am very aggressive. When I go out with a nice man, I find myself being bossy. I like to make up fantasies about girls with blonde hair and blue eyes. (I am black.) In my fantasies, I always see myself going up to them on the street and propositioning them. But in real life, I never do. I also want to rape my best friend. I think I'm waiting for the right moment. She doesn't know the real me. I've never told her how I feel about her, and the part she plays in my fantasies. Perhaps I will grow out of this phase. Maybe I don't know very much about life since I'm only seventeen, and want to shock my parents. Am I really mixed up, or is this a super, superfantasy?

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P.S. To show you what thinking can do, even though I have not described my fantasies in any complete way, I have been thinking about them while writing this, and my cunt is dripping wet!

Loretta

The idea of “innocence” being initiated into sexual pleasure and orgasm is something I love to use in fantasies, my favorite having to do with a “religious” experience. (Oddly enough, I had no religious upbringing, and no religious experiences of any kind.)

In the fantasy, I am a young girl who has been raised without any sexual knowledge. My family are churchgoers; I am meant to be pure and virginal. When I reach the right age (late puberty), my parents take me to church for some special religious instruction from the “priest.” He takes me alone into the room for initiates. There are candles burning around a cushioned table that is covered with purple velvet. The priest wears long robes. He is a man in his thirties or forties, with a quality of masculine virility, despite presumed celibacy. He has a deep voice. He explains that I am now to undergo a very holy condition – the supreme ecstasy of God's greatest power. I will experience extraordinary sensations, quite beyond anything I've ever known, but I must freely open my will, and my body, to the Holy Spirit. I must allow myself to react without fear to whatever frenzied state the Holy Spirit ordains when it takes possession of me. And I must be in the pure state of complete nudity. “Don't be embarrassed now; this is a holy thing that is about to happen to you….” He helps me remove my clothing and instructs me to lie down on the cushioned table so that he may prepare both my soul and body. While I lie naked on the table, he anoints my breasts, belly, thighs, with perfumed oil, and intones prayers and chants. “Let this young woman be filled with the Holy Spirit. Enter her body and soul and encom-pass her in the greatest ecstasy. Fulfill her in joyous holi-ness….” His touch is pleasant, strangely provocative, and mysterious. His voice is hypnotic. I lie in an entranced stupor. He 52

waves a scepter over me. It is made of gold, with a rounded, bulblike tip. “Let the holy scepter find the entrance to her soul through her body…” he murmurs. He lays the round gold top on my throat, my shoulders…. Every place he touches produces a magic tingling – probing my breasts, nipples, stroking my belly. It moves toward my loins. Cool metal stroking between my labia. The sensation produces a soft moan from me, an uncontrolled lift of my torso. “Ah,” says the priest. “This must be where we will find the magic orifice … the pathway of the Holy Spirit.” He opens my body with the metal scepter. It slides into me, filling an orifice of my body that I never knew I had until now…. “Yes, it is here!” he cries. “Do you feel it …

the beginnings of your experience of ecstasy? Is the Holy Spirit beginning to work in you?”

“Yes … yes. I think so…’

“You must give in to it, my dear. You must give in completely to whatever feelings the holy spirit creates as it takes possession of you…. You will give in?”

I nod, and groan. The scepter slides in and out; as it slides in, it fills me with unexplainable excitement. My body moves in reaction, out of my control.

“Do you think it is coming? Do you feel the Holy Spirit, coming to you?”

“Yes … yes!”

“Let it come … however it wishes….”

The priest is doing something unexpected, but I am too overcome to be concerned at the moment. The table has a drop leaf at the end, which he lowers so that he can move himself up closer to me, between my legs. With a quick movement, he opens the lower front of his robes, and brings out another scepter. As the metal scepter pulls out of me, he pushes the other one in, leaning over me, his face contorted with ecstasy, too, it would seem. Perhaps we are both meant to be fulfilled with the Holy Spirit together. He presses his other magic scepter deep inside me. It feels smooth and warm, and extraordinarily tantalizing. “Is it coming?” he cries.

“Yes … something is happening to me!”

“Let it come! Do what it wants you to do!” 53

It is making my body writhe and undulate. My orifice swallows and squeezes his scepter with a sensation that is driving me into a wild, delicious frenzy. Never have I felt anything like this…. The Holy Spirit is about to overcome me. I can feel it!

He acknowledges my groans and thrashings with, “Yes … yes!

That is it! Here it comes! It is here!”

(Amen and hallelujah! You bet your sweet scepter, your holiness … you have made it come, and it has come to you, too, you devil you…. )

I return to the priest and the room of initiation time and time again. I receive more instruction and more experience in the ways of being entered and fulfilled by the Holy Spirit. I am a devout young woman…. With the candles burning and the scepter sliding into me, I experience, time and time again, the greatest of all religious ecstasies. The priest and my parents rejoice in my religious gifts. Sometimes the priest shows me paintings of the saints having religious experiences – naked bodies in the midst of ecstasy – arched backs, contorted faces. I may wonder how these physical experiences can actually relate to the soul. Secretly, I begin to doubt the authenticity of the priest and the validity of this “church.” I think he is a bit of a fraud. Even the most innocent have some concept of sexuality.

But I never let on; never mention my suspicions. I am having far too much fun to give it up; and everyone (except perhaps the priest himself) believes me a thoroughly pure, devout, innocent, and religious young woman…. We pretend, and fool each other, and continue to have glorious orgasms on the purple table.

Sharon

Having read your book, I decided to write to you and tell you my fantasies.

First, let me tell you a little about myself. I am a thirty-five-year-old virgin (also Virgo!) and relatively happy under the circumstances.

My divorced mother and twice-divorced grandmother live with me – my mother is sixty-four (today!); and my grand-54

mother, who cannot walk, is eighty-six. Both are in poor health, and I don't expect them to live long.

My mother hates sex, and her attitude caused her twenty-year marriage to come to an end when I was ten years old. I was “word blind,” but overcame this and finally graduated from the University of Ohio.

Presently, I work in a library where through reading have

“liberated” my own attitude toward sex. Actually, I realized how sick my mother's attitude was long ago.

As a child, I enjoyed sex-play with several boys who lived close by me, and recovered from my guilt while studying Freud in high school.

I am a Methodist and a Republican, and I do believe more and more in the new morality.

I attend church for social reasons, but disregard the Pauline letters and believe in the occult sciences (I love to cast horo-scopes!).

Starting with my present fantasies – I found in my student teaching that I was VERY attracted to young boys. One of them, a bisexual, used to come to my house (before my grandmother's illness) while my mother worked. We spent the day in bed “necking.” I gave him photos of nude people from
Playboy
on which I glued male sex organs – aimed at the females. I got these pictures from
Sexology
magazine.

We would look at the photos – he was seventeen and I was twenty-eight – and become aroused. We would kiss and breathe. Then he would masturbate under the covers or go to the bathroom. Finally, he would leave – go to the bus station and “make it” with a boy. We played this game day after day.

Our pleasure was to hold out. He wouldn't even bring a rubber so I would be afraid to “let him” in case he would get me pregnant. He and I both loved to know how much we wanted each other – but neither would give over to the passion.

Many times when I was breathing hard, he would lie on me and watch me struggle to not give in. Sometimes, I was on him watching his face while he tried to get his hands to his penis in order to jerk off.

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Finally, we both got tired of our game and just drifted apart with No hard feelings.

I believe we BOTH enjoyed being wanted by another and JUST leaving it that way.

My fantasies stem from this experience.

Fantasy 1
: We do live together, as my “family” have all died. He discovers I need more sex, and I want it from boys in their early teens and inexperienced. He loves money so he gathers heterosexual boys once a week to come to “our” house (they pay him).

I am now completely nude with my legs wide and far apart –

there are about six boys partly dressed (pants on) standing around the bed.

George (my lover and former student) helps a boy about twelve “mount” me.

I can feel his young penis move into me – then he starts to move faster and faster. The room is silent.

One at a time, these boys “learn to be men” using my body.

But only until George enters me do I have a climax.

Fantasy 2
: A short fantasy – I set up a movie camera, and we have home movies of ourselves having intercourse.

Fantasy 3
: I bathe George in the tub and then rub him down with powder and oils. We then have intercourse.

Fantasy 4
: George has a date with a young girl – she won't let him sleep with her – he comes home to my front door – it is dark and his penis (very large) is out of his pants – we make love on the sofa in the living room. He never leaves me again.

Fantasy 5
: We decide to have a child, so I hire a real good prostitute to live with us to take care of his sex drive. After he has had intercourse with her, he comes to bed with me, and I examine him to see if he is relaxed and soft. Then we go to sleep.

Fantasy 6
: Sometimes he has to have a boy for sexual release, so I give him money to go to the bus station to get what he wants.

Fantasy 7
: Most of my fantasies are just having relations with him.

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Fantasy 8: Sometimes I think it would be fun to go to the basement of the library and have oral sex with him – while everyone is having a coffee break in the next room.

Fantasy 9
: Sometimes I dream (awake) of having oral sex (I don't care for it performed on myself) with him lying on his back. I watch his face as he feels great pleasure.

Whenever I am interested in someone or date them, I have fantasies about them – I do NOT masturbate with my fantasies

– (much) maybe twice a year! I always wonder about the size of a man's penis – almost EVERY man I meet. Yet I have NEVER seen a man's penis except in photos (to me they are beautiful!).

My fantasies take place normally in the morning!

Sometimes at night (I usually go right to sleep!) and many times at the library.