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
Where I grew up, it was one hundred per cent white middle class. The boys weren't interested in me for some reason. But I didn't really like them. I kept thinking, well, sex just isn't something that I really like. I thought it was boring. The white well-spoken boys bored me. Then I met a Brazilian guy who flipped my world upside down and I've never looked back! Now I adore sex, I'm such a sexual person. But I only like darkskinned men, usually foreign.
I have so many fantasies, but my favourite is being approached by a sixteen-year-old teenage boy, black, usually Caribbean. He hits on me, and I laugh in his face because he doesn't realise how old I am (I look young). When I tell him that I'm 27, he looks shocked, then smiles. He's tall, over six feet, with beautiful cheekbones, skin, teeth and gorgeous eyes, which have a slightly cruel/bad boy look to them. We flirt and I tell him he has no chance with me. He tells me that I'll never have it as good as I would with him. I keep laughing at him, because he's so cocky and arrogant (as most teenage boys are!). But I can see something in him, the way he walks, talks, holds himself, the way he looks at me. He's not a virgin and he's been with women who have told him that, yes, he's as fine as he thinks he is. My curiosity gets the better of me and I give him my number. His testosterone is like a heat shimmer around him. He's too hot, too young, too fine . . .
He calls me later that week and tells me (not asks me) he's coming over. He turns up just after I've got back from work. I'm in a work skirt suit and heels and I know I look good. The skirt makes my butt look curvy and big, and my waist look tiny. He's wearing a T-shirt and I can see his ripped muscular arms and pecs. His baggy jeans hang off his hips, showing just a taster of flesh on his stomach. As he stands behind me while I make him a drink, I can feel his body heat and he smells so good. He puts his hands around my waist and I arch my back and push my ass towards him. He slides his hands down to my ass and whispers in my ear that I'm the finest white woman he's seen. I turn around and we kiss. He bites my lip, teasing me. I pull his T-shirt over his head. His body is amazing. I can't tell you what muscles covered in black skin do to me. He even has some tattoos covering his biceps. I just want to bite him, eat him all up. I spend minutes just smoothing my hands over his body, as he bites my neck and shoulders . . . You know what? It's not even about the sex. It's about his body and how good it looks and feels to touch and how salty and warm his skin is. I'm obsessed by bodies like this. It's his dark skin against my lightness. It's his youth, how perfect he is. I know boys like this, and all I do is stare at them. Stare so much. I can't have them, so I get what I need from staring.
S, age 22
Heterosexual
Steady relationship/not live-in
Bachelor's degree
Writer
Dublin, Ireland
I like the idea of forbidden sex . . . and I get really turned on by guys with plump sexy lips. I used to have a boyfriend with these amazing bedroom eyes and full lips! He was so beautiful in a sort of feminine-model way, but he was also really masculine; he really did it for me! I like spontaneous sex. I love to be able to chat to a guy for hours on end and really connect on a mental level first; it makes the sex so much better. I like cheeky boys who know how to tease endlessly without being too mean. Big willies also, it goes without saying. The thought of being dominated (like thrown over the edge of a couch or tied up) is quite sexy. I also like the idea of being the innocent schoolgirl type in a short skirt being corrupted by the bad man! I think this was my sexually repressed Catholic upbringing.
Imagine this . . . you have been carved into this perfect young lady. All-girls' convent, university education . . . sex was never really discussed in your household. You learned all you know from poring through magazines and books, and reading about blow jobs and sex in aeroplanes. Now imagine coming to maturity and wanting to rebel against it, yet have it in every way possible – in your mind, body and soul. To completely surrender to it.
In my fantasy I am wearing a very short skirt. It's a school skirt pleated and high on my thighs, which in the fantasy are long, slim and tanned. Underneath I am wearing white lacy pants, which make me feel sexy and naughty, stockings up to my knees, and a school shirt. I am the ultimate juxtapose: naughty, hungry and dirty on the inside; sweet, happy and innocent on the outside.
I am in school that day, aged about seventeen, and wearing what I described above. The young training teacher tells me he needs to keep me behind. 'I want to see you after class, young lady,' he says good-naturedly, winking. In his mid-20s and fresh out of college, he's tall and good-looking with lovely masculine hands, piercing eyes that look right into you, and a cheeky grin. Every girl in the class has a crush on him. After everyone leaves, I'm sitting at my desk waiting for him to come and talk to me. He shuffles his papers and, when he's sure everyone has gone, approaches me to ask why I haven't done my homework. Looking up at him from my chair, I reply that I just didn't want to. He is wearing a white shirt and a tie, and he loosens it a bit and sits down beside me quietly and puts his hand on my leg, which is now tensing at his touch, sending lightning blots through my whole body. Our eyes meet – he looks me up and down lustily and I know what's going through his mind. He then gets up and closes the blinds and locks the classroom door. He sits back down and tells me I have been a bad girl and I need to learn my lesson. He then runs his hands right up my thigh to my lacy pants; he pulls them aside with his fingers and pushes his hands roughly into me. I suck my breath in, biting my lip, and he pushes them in deeper. He then kisses me gently and grabs my hand, putting it on his crotch where I can feel his hard cock through his trousers. He then tells me to get up on the desk. I do that and he tells me, 'No, I want you to kneel on the desk.' So I do what he says, getting on the desk on my hands and knees like a cat, my bum in the air. I am tense for a moment, wondering what he will do next. He rubs me again, sending volts of electricity up my spine. He takes my pants and he pulls them down to my knees. Then he pulls up my skirt, spreading my legs wider apart. He puts his head under my skirt and licks me with his strong tongue, gasping as he does. My head is arched back and I'm shivering. He then undoes his button and takes out his cock in his hand, rubbing it openly. I turn around and sit on the desk, opening my legs and undoing my shirt. He has a look of ecstasy in his eyes as he massages his dick. He puts his free hand up my skirt once more and I throw my shirt on the floor. Then I undo my bra, and sit back on the desk. He gives me a dirty look and comes over to me, kissing my breasts for a minute, then k
issing my face frantically. He pushes my head down, forcing me to suck him until he is rock hard and moaning. He pulls up my head and gets me to turn around once more. He probes his cock against me and we both let out a gasp. Then quickly he enters me, forcefully. He grabs my hair and pulls on it, my neck back, my spine arched as he pumps harder and faster . . .
And it pretty much ends there I'm afraid. Hopefully teachers like this will never be employed in real life!
Kele, age 21
Heterosexual
Celibate
University degree
Student
Western Cape, South Africa
I'm turned on by fantasies about ex-boyfriends, where the relationship has ended dismally, and they're fingering me to orgasm. In my fantasy he stands above me and torments me until I give in. He doesn't tease, he doesn't listen to my pleas. He just forces his hands and makes me come so hard I think I'll fall apart. Just when it's subsiding, he starts again and I'm rocking with the sensation. I hate him. I hate the way he hurt me. I hate that no one has made me feel like he has in three years. I hate this on-off thing we keep having. I hate that when I see him my whole body goes into shock again. I hate the small town we live in where I bump into him almost daily, at the library, in the supermarket. I hate that he rejected me before. I hate that I'm loving his smell, his feel, his taste so much. I can't stand him but I can't say no.
We met in the club tonight, and I knew it was time to leave. I had to walk past him to get out and, as I did so, he greeted me casually. I barely looked at him because his eyes burned into me. But I had to look back; is this really him? He smiled in that knowing way, his latest girlfriend on his arm, grinning prettily (bitch!). I swore I would never be alone with him. When I came out of the toilet, he pushed me into the cubicle hastily. And before I knew it I had sunk again. His lips, oh God, that man makes my head spin every time he kisses me. My legs open of their own accord. And he whispers, 'I knew you couldn't resist me. Since that first day, I know you've wanted this.' I can't even deny it, I've been craving him for so long. I know he doesn't love me. I know it will never be anything more, but, God, I need this. It's been three years since he touched me and nobody can even come close. I've been celibate for two years now, can't even make myself come without thinking about him. And now he's here, and it feels so good, but I have to stop. 'This isn't right. You can't just show up and fuck me up all over again, Nkuli.'
The New Black Lace Book of Women's Sexual Fantasies Page 8
