The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies

by Sonia Florens

  Finally, he’s making me slide my middle finger into my pussy. I can feel my muscles contracting gratefully around it. Just as I begin to push it in and draw it out to relieve the unbearable tension inside me, he stops me, then gestures with a quick jerk of his head.

  Following his direction, I withdraw my reluctant finger and hold it up for his inspection. He makes me suck it dry. That’s a thing I normally like to do, for I love the sweet flavour of my juice, but he’s watching me do it. He’s staring at me while I lewdly savour myself. He’s watching me so closely, so intimately, making me feel absolutely naked. Hell, I am naked, far beyond exposed. I’m sucking for him and it’s just not the same as doing it to satisfy my own desire. It’s much baser, it’s worse and, because of that, it’s so much hotter, so much better.

  He moves his eloquent head down and to the side. Obeying, I lower my legs to the lowest rung of the stool, climb down, and walk to the fridge. I’m opening the door, bending down to the lower bin, once again being reminded of the heavy, naked weight of my breasts.

  I pull out the bin, reach in, and grab the largest cucumber I have. It’s his decision, not mine, to pick that precise one. I swear he made me pick the biggest one. It’s really long and thick – I wish it were his prick and not just a damned cucumber. I quickly walk back to the window, climb the stool, and settle back into the required position.

  He’s wagging his big cock back and forth at me as a reward for my alacrity and obedience, or perhaps it’s just a cruel tease – “this is mine and you can’t have it”. I’m not sure which he means to convey, but I feel both. Maybe that’s what he wants me to feel. Probably. He sure does know exactly what he’s doing, what he’s doing to me.

  He’s made me his puppet. If he were in my apartment right now, rather than across the street, he’d make me his abject slave. Actually, he already has. I guess I’m safer with him not so close. Look what he’s doing to me from a distance. I wonder what he would do to me if . . .

  He’s demanding my attention. Instantly, my mind stops wandering. I’m watching him stroke and squeeze in a consistent way, a regular rhythm, not slow, not fast. He has a lot of control over himself, as well as over me. My God, he’d be a great fuck! I can tell that he’s an animal who’d last for hours. A man who could fuck my brains out and make me come and come and come till I had to beg him to stop. No one’s ever been able to drive me to that. Not so far, anyway. I think he can. I know he can. I’m sure he’s the one, the one who can give me more than I can take!

  He’s beaming as if he heard me say those words aloud. Feet back on the windowsill, legs far apart, I’m spreading myself wide open with my left hand. I’m rolling the smooth end of the cuke around and around my slick labia before attempting to push it into me.

  It’s really huge! So big, I have to insert it in little increments. A tiny bit further each time. A little bit deeper, stretching the yawn of my tight, hungry cunt. My tender pussy is stinging sharply, but I persist in fighting my tightness and my fear. It’s so thick. But I know I have no choice – I have to take it for him, and besides, the reward will be much, much greater than this temporary pain.

  With each push, I drive it farther into my sheath and with each stroke out, more slippery juice covers it, making it easier to coax it farther in. As he moves his hand, so I move mine. Our hands are dancing together to the same primitive music, our bodies in heat and in sync.

  As his other hand fondles his balls, so mine manipulates my clit. Our eyes are locked together and our breathing is in tandem. Just like a bicycle. Just like riding a bicycle. Just like fucking. It feels like we’re actually fucking each other. In/up, out/down, in/up, out/down.

  So good! So fucking good! So bloody fucking hot! Looking into his eyes, watching his quick, blurry hand, shoving it in, feeling so totally stuffed, then feeling the phallus pulling my walls so deliciously, leaving me so achingly empty, waiting for the next welcome, hard thrust, all the while, pulling my clit to bits!

  “Fuck me! Fuck me!” I’m mouthing wonderful obscenities to him as he calls me his horny bitch, his slut, his fucktoy. He’s growling at me, telling me how fucking great it is to be banging my hot, wet cunt.

  It’s a brutal, vicious, bestial fuck and I feel so uncivilized, so animal. We’re so dirty, so filthy, so bad! Our hands are flying. He closes his eyes, scrunching them tightly, throwing his head back, the sweat’s pouring from his face. Maybe he’s telling me that I can close my eyes, that I should close my eyes, but now I want to watch. I want to watch my voyeur, my sweet, cruel, demanding voyeur. My master.

  So I’m watching him as I’m fucking myself. It’s making me even hotter, watching him, seeing his hand, a blur in contrast with his slow ball-handler. My hands are on automatic. My mind is fixed on only one thing, watching him right now while he’s too lost in himself to be watching me. My eyes are wide open because I have no need for fantasy. He is my fantasy. He’s pushed me to a strange, dangerous place I’ve only dreamed about.

  I’m lost in watching him as his hand speeds up and then slows way down to clench his spurting prick, watching his spunk flying up out of him and arcing down to splatter on the sidewalk in front of him, then up again and down, then up again and down.

  That torrent pushes me up over my own climax and now I have to close my eyes. I have to close my eyes and just feel. Just feel that natural dildo, forcing my sheath apart when the walls just ache to collapse, close down upon each other, clench and grip and squeeze. Just feel the piercing, shocking moment when my clit can’t take any more and its jagged sharpness slices through the rounded rollings of my cunt.

  Coming! Coming! Coming! Over and over again!

  Finally, totally depleted from my shattering climax, I groan and pull the dripping artificial penis from my worn-out pussy. I relax as the contractions inside me become softer and farther apart. I wait for my pulse and breathing to get closer to normal. I can hear myself sighing in relief and contentment as the sweat drips down my body.

  My dreamy haze begins to clear and I straighten up and look out the window at him. He’s sitting there, with his big arms folded across his chest and a broad smile of satisfaction on his face. All I see is a look of tired, contented pleasure, no more threatening stares and leers, no more demanding, severe expressions of dominance and mastery. I can look at him as I would look at any lover lying next to me in bed. Now he is truly gazing at me in the same way, now that our game is over, now that we’re both sated.

  He rises from the bench. His flaccid penis and emptied balls fall heavily over his damp shorts. He pulls out the elastic from under them, adjusts himself carefully, and tugs the tiny shorts back up to his waist. He winks and waves, grandly blows a kiss at me, then turns and begins walking away.

  I lean out the window, this time, because I choose to, and watch his lovely, tight arse receding into the distance. I watch as his fine body gets smaller and smaller, till he’s too far away for me to see. I remain here a while longer, feeling the sweat evaporating and cooling my hot body. With him no longer in my sight, the lascivious and decadent experience seems almost like a dream.

  But it hasn’t been a dream. In my hand, the glistening cucumber, as hot as my cunt, tells me it all had to be real. I begin walking out of the room and the dripping onto my thighs confirms it. I feel so deliriously content. I’m even moving differently than I usually do when I’m alone. I feel like a sleek jungle cat, slinking, gracefully prowling. I feel beautiful, desirable, sexual, alive!

  I love this sultry, sexy feeling, I don’t want it to end. I need this every night. I need him to come back and play with me again. I pray he comes back. Please, he has to come back to me. I’ll be watching for him at the window. I’ll be waiting.

  Captivated

  Wendy (Nottingham, UK)

  My name is Wendy, I’m twenty-four years old and I’m from Nottingham, England. I’m studying for a Masters degree in business psychology and I’ve had two previous sexual partners. Both men. I say that with some regret because
I’ve always wondered what sex would be like with another woman. I suppose most women have thought about that at some point in time. However, I like to think that my fantasy is a little different because I would like to be held captive by another woman, to be completely powerless against her and to be ruthlessly dominated. It’s the contrast between a soft womanly body and a merciless female mind which excites me. The two opposing halves of the female psyche rubbing up against each other and making sparks fly. I guess you could say that fantasies are all about vixens and very willing victims!

  One of my favourite things to imagine is that I’m lying in the back of this rusty old Transit van. Actually I’m tied up. There’s an old musty mattress in there and a threadbare carpet that smells of engine oil and grease. My movement is restricted by the baling twine tied roughly around my wrists and ankles and secured to some kind of make-shift hooks welded to the tops of the wheel-arches. I am completely naked apart from a black lacy bra and panties and silky black hold-up stockings, a birthday gift that morning from my flatmate Simone. Will Simone be wondering why I haven’t made it home tonight? Would she have called the police? I can’t see anything through the torn piece of rag that has been used as a make-shift blindfold. I can hear a diesel engine running rhythmically and the dry stuffy heat from the vents in the passenger compartment is starting to make me feel increasingly uncomfortable. I wonder how long I’ve been here and if I’m ever going to get out. What if no one knows I’m missing? How would anybody find me? Still, in spite of my anxiety, I find myself thrilling with the sheer anticipation of what could happen next.

  Suddenly I hear the slow but purposeful “tip tap” of footsteps approaching the van. Is it a curious dog-walker or a police officer? I wonder how the hell I would be able to explain my predicament to a strange man and fear grips my stomach. The footsteps approach the back of the van and I strain to hear more. Next there’s the sound of a key being placed in the lock and the door opens. I feel a welcome rush of cold air from outside mingling with the stifling air inside the van and hundreds of little goose-pimples raise up along my arms and my thighs, but that’s not just due to the colder air. Someone’s in here. Someone sees me exposed like this. I hear a mocking laugh and a low voice speaks to me.

  “Oh, please don’t get up!”

  “Let me go!” I beg.

  “Don’t talk!” A swift reply, hissed in my face. I recoil.

  “Good girl,” says the voice approvingly. “Now I’d better make sure you stay nice and quiet.”

  Through my blindfold I see the outline of a shadow move and I feel someone crouching over me. A gag is placed in my mouth and I catch a whiff of scent, quite musky and somehow familiar.

  “Just do as I say and you won’t be harmed,” commands the voice, now an unmistakeably female voice. “Now let’s play a little game, shall we?”

  My mind is just registering the fact that I’m totally at the mercy of another woman when I feel her shift position and straddle me. She’s wearing something skin-tight and slippery. The warmth of her legs enveloping mine contrasts starkly with the goose bumps still prickling along my naked body. I feel her weight pressing me down against the floor and I realize that I’m trapped here.

  “We are going to play a little guessing game,” she announces.

  I strain my eyes to see if I can make out any of her facial features through the cloth but I can’t. She could be anyone, my best friend, or a complete stranger. She is as hidden from my gaze as I am exposed to hers. Then I feel it, something cold and metallic with a smooth curved surface, brush against the sole of my left foot. I have always had rather sensitive and ticklish feet and this sends a shudder up my spine.

  “Mmm, you like that, do you?” she asks. “Let’s see if your other foot likes it too.”

  I shudder again, though not quite so much this time as I know what to expect. She returns to the left foot but this time I feel the tip being dragged slowly along my instep to the heel then around and up the inside of my leg. It feels like some kind of metal tool, like a spanner or such like. I feel the tickling sensations rising slowly up my body. Gradually I start to find myself enjoying the new sensation after the monotony of the waiting and the wondering. My fear starts to slip away as I surrender my body to the metallic caresses of this all-powerful stranger.

  She moves the tip of the instrument in a meandering fashion up past my knee. I shudder again as the metal touches the bare skin at the top of my stocking. Then she stops and removes it when it reaches the top of my thigh.

  “Looks like you enjoy having a tool stroked across your body, don’t you!” she murmurs. “I bet you like a firm tool rubbed against your pussy too you little slut!”

  As I am about to try to make some kind of response, I feel a colder and wider but similar metallic object pressed against the bottom of my panties and drawn slowly upwards against the taut satin fabric. I can’t help but shift my position and open my legs a little bit wider in response to this. She draws it up and down my panties in long constant strokes and I feel the lips of my pussy gradually beginning to open and moisten. She circles around my clitoris and I feel my back arching and my hips raising to meet the strokes and guide the tip to where I want it.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she says, “I can see what you’re doing. I’m in charge here and I’ll decide if and when to tease that firm little clit of yours.”

  I’m pushed back down flat and feel her shifting her weight forwards to press me all the more firmly into the mattress on the floor. I feel her hot breath moving over my chest and then blowing onto my right breast. Her gloved left hand cups my left breast then takes a hold of my nipple and tweaks it gently. Mmmm! She seems to be wearing tight-fitting gloves made of the same slippery and shiny material as the overalls that she must also be wearing. She leans forward and her long slender gloved fingers slowly ease my bra straps outwards across my shoulders and down my arms, exposing my breasts to the cooling air. My nipples are hard and tingle with expectation.

  She swirls the tip of her tongue around the tip of each nipple in turn and I feel them standing to attention. She takes each one fully into her mouth, nibbles around the areola and then lets it slip out of her mouth, covered in saliva. She then begins to blow gently around each breast, her hot breath causing the saliva to evaporate, leaving a delicious cooling and tingly sensation behind. By this time I have to admit that my pussy is soaking wet and each nipple is sending delicious signals rushing down my spine to my clit.

  Then I feel a metallic object being placed around first one nipple and then the other. It’s some kind of spanner that encircles and grips both nipples simultaneously. The constant cool sensation all around the base of each nipple is interspersed with the flicking of her tongue and the sucking of her moist lips. It’s almost as if the electricity of the nerve impulses is being conducted from one breast to the other by the metal. She begins to bite the tip of each nipple, dragging her teeth along its length as she does so. I whimper as the sudden sharp pain combined with the other sensations heightens my arousal. By now I have forgotten the strange situation in which I have found myself and open myself up to the unexpected. I am enjoying these new erotic sensations and I am ready for even more. I know deep down that I will do whatever she tells me to. I want to be a good girl and I want to please her.

  She moves away from me for a moment and I feel her gloved hands circle my ankles. My toes splay outward in pleasure at her touch as gently she drags the tips of her fingers up my legs, with her thumbs tracing the outline of my inner thighs. Her fingers then start to press deeper and more deeply into my skin. I can feel her sharpened fingernails through the tight-fitting material covering her hands. I know there will be bruises on my skin tomorrow. My heart is racing now and my breathing is increasing, my chest rising and falling with ever increasing amplitude. What next, I wonder?

  As the steady pressure of her hands reaches my hips she slides her thumbs under the edges of my (by now soaking wet) lace panties and begins to pull them down gra
dually over my thighs. I am completely captive. She moves her thumbs along the edge of the inner lips of my pussy and I push my hips forwards and upwards to try to increase the pressure on my clit. As I do so she pushes her index finger deep inside me and I let out an intense moan. My hips rise up to meet her touch. Next I feel her finger slide along the slippery walls of my inner tunnel as my muscles relax and my hips lower. I am completely hers. I feel her press down hard against my pubic mound and hear the sound of her husky voice in my ear.

  “You want me to fuck you don’t you?” she teases. “But you’re not quite ready just yet.”

  I moan in frustration. I want to beg her to please, please fuck me but with the gag pushed in my mouth it is impossible to say anything vaguely intelligible. I know she senses my arousal and part of me is ashamed that I am so obviously her toy, her plaything. Then I feel something else being tied around me, this time around my waist, and something else cold and metallic being pulled tight against my clit. I hear a low rhythmic buzzing. This seems to alternate with the constant clanking of the van’s diesel engine, which is still ticking over. Soon I can feel the buzzing being transmitted through my clit and up my back, where it mingles with the stiff impulses from my breasts. I can hear the pitch increasing as she turns up the frequency of the vibrator. I begin to squirm and wriggle from side to side, or at least as far as my restraints will allow. I am murmuring to myself and starting to lose control of my body. I am completely at her mercy now and she knows it. The vibrations are driving me wild. My excitement is increased by the thought that it is a woman who has me prisoner here in the back of this dirty old van. It is a woman who has tied me up, it is a woman who has gagged me and it is a woman whom I must now obey to the depths of my being.