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I do and she puts my cock in her mouth and sucks me until I come and she swallows my sperm. She then dresses, kisses me, and leaves.

I love to please my lover, and I have never forced any of my sex mates to do anything that they didn’t want to do. To use force for sex repulses me.

LENNIE

I am twenty-four years old and single. My fantasies almost always happen when I am masturbating.

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Fantasy Number One:
This fantasy concerns a make-believe happening between myself and two real people that I know. I am alone at my cousin’s house when the doorbell rings. I answer the door and it is his mother-in-law, Marge (fictitious name). She wants to know if John or Debi (also fictitious) are there. I tell her they aren’t. She says she’ll wait for them if it’s okay. I don’t see any reason why not and let her in. She is not overly beautiful but is quite attractive for forty-five years old.

There is a book on the table that I’ve been reading. It is what we used to call a “dirty book” or “fuck book.” Marge looks at the book, looks up at me, and then she picks it up and starts to page through it. While she is reading it I am getting a terrific erection just reliving some parts of it in my head. She then says to me that some parts of it are very erotic. I agree with her and to my surprise, because I am very shy, I ask her which part she is reading. She turns toward me on the couch, which makes her skirt ride up on her thighs and I can see her panties. She says she is reading about the man and woman having oral sex with each other.

She then begins to read out loud from the book. Finally I can’t control myself any longer and reached over and kiss her violently. She comes alive immediately. Her hands unzip my trousers and she gives me the best blow job I’ve ever had.

Pretty soon we are both naked on the living room floor fucking like mad. Suddenly, we are joined by Debi who is twenty-one and Marge’s daughter. She has returned unknown to either of us. She has taken off all of her clothes and is masturbating while Marge is on top of me sliding up and down my hard-on. I have Debi squat above my mouth and I begin to tongue her madly. We are all in this most pleasant state of being for a while until Debi climaxes, which makes me explode, and this causes Marge to have a tremendous orgasm. I also come in real life at this time too.

If this fantasy ever came true I would love it. But as I say, I am quite shy and could never make it happen by myself.

Nancy Friday

314

Fantasy Number Two:
I am at home alone when the Avon lady comes to the door. She says she is new and would like to get to know her customers. I invite her in and we look at her samples of men’s products. She is forty to forty-five, quite attractive, and has on a rather short skirt which shows off her shapely legs. I have an aching hard-on after a few minutes from wondering what she would look like naked (I often imagine this about women I see). I sort of shift positions to be more comfortable because of my erection. She then looks at the bulge in my pants and says, “Here, let me help you.” She reaches over, unzips my trousers and takes out my cock. She plays with it and then we have oral sex and intercourse with each other all afternoon until she must go.

KENT

I have never revealed this fantasy to anyone for the same reason that prompts me to keep this letter anonymous. I am a professor of psychology at a fairly large university; neither age (I’m fifty-six) nor my own sessions in therapy, however, have rid me of my “fear of being found out,” a deep-seated guilt complex of a sort. Both my fantasy and the reason I’d never act it out involve this fear. It’s a classic situation: having sex with a student.

The student in my fantasy is a real person, a young woman who was in an advanced seminar of mine several years ago.

She is dark, Italian looking, and almost scarecrow thin except for large breasts. I imagine that she has come to my on-campus apartment one evening ostensibly to discuss her ap-plications to graduate school programs in clinical psychology. Competition for these programs is fierce, and she wants my advice and recommendations. Her gestures, looks, and attention reveal non-academic interest in me, however. (My wife, age forty and also a psychologist, is away for the week; I have no children from this marriage.) I offer her refresh-ments and she accompanies me into the kitchen, brushing Men In Love

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against me now and then. We are having rather a comfortable discussion as she is very bright and asks provoking questions; but although I am very attracted to her and am feeling relaxed (we’ve had some wine), I cannot make a pass at her for fear I’m reading too much into her behavior and that she will tell others. She turns the subject to sex, though, asking me about the effects of drugs on sex (I’d implied in class that I have used heroin, which I have), and moves closer. She touches me cautiously and casually as we talk about this, then becomes bolder and slides her hand toward my crotch. She sees and feels my response, and moves closer, unbuttoning her blouse at the same time. Now I can respond more actively, and we go to my bedroom. She undoes my pants and undresses herself as she sucks me, then comes up underneath me on the bed, telling me as we fuck how she nearly goes crazy just watching me in class. Then she comes, several times, holding me tighter as she does and moving her hands up and down my back and sides and rear, as I feel her breasts and the rest of her body. Finally I come and then she nestles up against me, still caressing me. Sometimes I worry that others in the building have seen her come in and heard us; she promises not to tell anyone about our liaison.

From here my fantasy varies: Sometimes she stays the night and we fuck several times in the morning (something my wife doesn’t like to do); other times we agree to keep meeting and she comes to my office regularly; sometimes I picture meeting her again a few years from now as a colleague, when she has her doctorate, perhaps at a meeting of some sort, and having a sexual reunion. Occasionally I imagine that after our first night she becomes pregnant, and as she walks about campus later on obviously showing and, later still, pushing our son in a stroller, only she and I are aware that I am the father. My wife of course remains ignorant of all of this as well.

This fantasy remains more of a daydream, although I sometimes call it to mind before retiring for the evening with my wife. She and I have discussed fantasies, but I have never Nancy Friday

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told her this one, and in fact I am nervous writing it as she is in the next room at this moment. However, writing it out has been enjoyable.

P.S. I notice as I reread this that I am rather hazy on the details of the actual sex. In fact, it
is
the situation and the action
preceding
the sex that is most exciting to me!

If a woman asks a man to go down on her, is he passive for following her orders? Or might it be said that he is the one conducting the sexual proceedings, while she passively accepts? A third point of view reverses definitions once again: In sex performed this way, the woman will climax while the man usually does not. Is she the more active sexual partner even though he is the one making it happen?

A more useful word might be to say that the man is not so much passive as agreeable or
receptive
to the woman’s idea.

Dayton (above) is invited into the bedroom, Rudy (above) is literally kidnapped by a woman who leads him into sex at eighty miles an hour. He says “She drives like a man” – endowing the woman for once with the manly qualities he is tired of carrying.

Lowry (above) sees himself in the position of the child.

The wished-for older woman does not tell him sex is a naughty, but leads him into it instead, step by step – a fine example of how fantasy uses the very stuff of everyday life to work its magic, changing red lights to green, turning old frustrations around so they become pleasures instead.

It is as if, entering the risky or forbidden area of sex, these men want a masterful woman to show them the way. Permission is often given in so many words, just at the moment when the man is undecided about following through on her seductive invitation. “It’s all right,” these fantasy women say.

“It’s okay.” From this realization of men’s need for permission, the next step becomes obvious: Characteristic of fanta-Men In Love

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sies like these is that the women are often considerably older than the man, “old enough to be his mother.” I do not wish to be understood as saying that the men in this chapter are all looking for mother figures. What they want is the kind of person mother once stood for – a powerful, grown-up woman. Someone they won’t have to worry about, who is capable of taking care of herself, and even him, if need be.

These are very special leading ladies, prototypes not easily found in everyday life. Women have the milkman, the gas meter reader, the Fuller Brush salesman – men who carry the safety of the stranger we need never see again. Where is a man going to get the image of a woman who just walks up and rings his bell?

Enter the Avon lady, carrying a whole suitcase of tricks a guy doesn’t even have to ask to see.

She is one of the great heroines of men’s fantasies. Leaving out prostitutes – who come trailing an entirely different set of emotions – it is hard for a man even in our permissive times to get laid without strings. The girl he fucked the night before is already on the phone, saying she can’t work today for thinking about him; but the Avon lady is too busy for all that. She has other houses to call on, other people to see, a living to earn. She comes and goes (all puns intended) just like a man.

JASON

My fantasies take place on another planet. I board a sub-marine tied to a dock. It is usually night or dusk. I am Victor Laszlo without my wife, a lone fugitive – not from the law, but from life on shore.

The marvelous undersea cruiser has an all-woman crew, but I want nothing to do with them. I retire to my bunk and am asleep before we leave.

Nancy Friday

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Sometime in the night the captain awakens me. I accompany her to the control room where she dims all instrument lights to a dull green and rolls back the protection from the windows. Suddenly we are in the middle of the alien sea. All around us a blue-purple glow spreads like static lightning across the water. Something in the ocean, some life form, glows from our contact and the energy waves spread out from us.

“Nice,” she says, and hands me a lighted joint. We smoke and watch the sea bum its harmless flame around us. ‘The light show will last for hours,” she says, and leads me m her cabin. The wide bed seems as big as the sea compared to my narrow bunk. A touched button opens a window that curves from the floor up over our heads. We seem to be hanging outside the ship, in the fire. We make love until the ocean turns out the lights.

ED

I am thirty-three and single. I’m five-eleven and weigh 160 pounds. I don’t equate masculinity with sex whatsoever, and enjoy being aggressive as well as passive during sex. My fantasy is probably quite typical, as it involves a movie actress. The fantasy goes:

I’m a delivery man in Beverly Hills. I take some roses to an address in Bel-Air. When the door opens to my knock, Raquel Welch is standing there. I’m dumbstruck.

She invites me in and asks me to wait a minute as she disappears with the roses. She is wearing a tight pair of hip-huggers and a skimpy halter, and just the sight of her has given me a rock hard-on. After a short while she calls for me to “come in here.” I follow the sound of her voice and step into her bedroom; she is placing a vase upon a bed table. I stand there tongue tied. She looks at me and smiles, then starts walking toward me. She has noticed my awestruck attitude; she passes me and locks the bedroom door.

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She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, so I am standing just in front of her. She reaches back and unsnaps the halter, and I gasp as her lovely nipple-hardened tits are exposed to my sight. I fumble at my fly and take out my erect prick and start to masturbate. She motions for me to stop, then has me undress as she removes her pants.

She leaves for a minute. When she returns, she is carrying a small flight bag which she places on the bed. She motions me onto the bed and tells me to lay on my back, then she takes a pillow and slips it under my ass, raising me off the bed. She takes a jar of Vaseline and rubs my asshole with it, then takes a large dildo from the bag and straps it on. Then she bends down and takes my prick into her mouth. I come instantly.

She mounts me and eases the dildo into my ass; my mouth seeks her gorgeous nipples, and devours them as she steadily eases the dildo deeper and deeper. I begin to moan and move my hips and she starts rapidly fucking me.

I have a large poster picture of Raquel in a bikini, and I often lie on the bed and fuck myself with a vibrator as a jackoff to her.

I know I can never act out this fantasy in reality. My picture, my vibrator and my imagination must suffice. Oh, well!

VERN

I’m a man in my late sixties-healthy, vigorous, and still very much interested in sex. My wife, age sixty-one, still enjoys sex to some extent – but too slight for my taste. My sea fantasies are myriad.

In one of my favorites, I’m a kid of about thirteen, and I’ve just found out what a thrill it is to jack off. My teacher is a doll by the name of Pennwell – we call her Penny. Every time she starts writing high on the blackboard her dress goes up, and every cock in the class rises in tribute. I’ve never Nancy Friday

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seen a cunt but I daydream constantly of Penny’s and every time I jack off I imagine I’m plunging into her.

One day I cut up in class – not unusual – and when the bell rings, Penny sternly tells me to stay. When everyone’s gone, she tells me severely that she’s got something very private to talk to me about, so we’ll go into the anteroom, which is furnished like a sort of restroom with a couple of comfortable chairs and a daybed. Penny closes the door, sits in one of the chairs and makes me stand facing her about five feet away.

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