Preinternet Fantasies #7 (conclusion)

Written by Uncle Pan

All things must come to the end, and I've finally reached the end of my preinternet erotica collection, mostly from Response magazine and from Nancy Friday's collections of women's sex fantasies, My Secret Garden and Forbidden Flowers. In my second collection I quoted from the introduction to My Secret Garden. It is so right and to the point that I'd like to quote it once again, to usher out the last volume of the series.

"In the late 1960's I chose to write about women's sexual fantasies because the subject was unbroken ground, a missing piece in the puzzle, and I loved original research. I had sexual fantasies and I assumed other women did too. But when I spoke to friends and people in the publishing world, they said they'd never heard of a woman's sexual fantasy. Nor was there a single reference to women's sexual fantasies in the card catalogues at the New York Public Library, the Yale University library, or the British Museum library, which carry millions upon millions of books - not a word on the sexual imagery in the minds of half the world.

"Publishers were intrigued however, for it was a time in history when the world was suddenly curious about sex and women's sexuality in particular. Editors were frantically signing up any writer who could help flesh out this undiscovered continent called Woman.

"I remember vividly the first publisher who rejected My Secret Garden. When I mentioned the outline I had drawn up along with a sampling of fantasies, he salivated, pleaded for me to send them to his office. 'Women's sexual fantasies!' he juicily exclaimed, and then before the day was over, they'd been returned, double-sealed, to my apartment. What had he expected? I'll never know, but the ritual was repeated by almost every publisher in New York. Let me quickly add that women editors as well as men hated the evidence of what women's sexual fantasies actually were.

"As for the behavioral world, the dozens of psychologists and psychiatrists I interviewed informed me that I was on a dead-end street. 'Only men have sexual fantasies,' they told me. As late as June 1973, the same month My Secret Garden was published, permissive Cosmopolitan magazine printed a cover story by the eminent and equally permissive Dr. Allan Fromme, stating, 'Women do not have sexual fantasies ... The reason for this is obvious: Women haven't been brought up to enjoy sex ... women are by and large destitute of sexual fantasy.'

"Finally after three years of research, My Secret Garden was published. After publication there was a final salvo from the media accusing me of inventing the entire book, having made up all the fantasies.

"But within months it seemed that women's erotic reveries had been with us always, so much so that advertisers were using 'fantasy' as a selling tool before the year was over. It is fascinating when you think about it, how quickly women's fantasies have been incorporated into the universal understanding of women." -- Nancy Friday

Have I saved the "best for last?" Well, only you can be the judge of that. But as usual these fantasies, in the terse words of the nonprofessional writer, paint what I see as an honest look into aspects of human behavior that are rarely covered anywhere else. And many of the tales trigger the libido, or at least many of them triggered my libido. Read and enjoy, and I would like to doubly thank mrdouble for giving them the ink of html and thereby allowing them a second life.

Fourteen . . . from Response: I love your magazine, but I am only fourteen and haven't had a chance to do near as much as most of your other letter writers. However last night at the movies I did have a neat experience and I thought I would write and tell you about it.

My friend Angela and I went to the eight o'clock show, and while we were there a man and his family came in and sat down on my right. The man was next to me, his two sons next to him, and his wife was on the other end.

I had my hand resting on my leg, and he put his hand over mine and kept it there for a few minutes. It felt good having his hand on mine. After a time he picked my hand up and moved it over to his leg. That felt even better, so I let it stay there. I guess he took that as a good sign, because he very slowly inched my hand all the way from his knee to his lap. Once there I could feel something warm and hard, something throbbing at my touch. It seemed to be six or eight inches long and very fat. He took his hand off mine for a minute, and took off his jacket, and laid it over his lap. Then he reached under the jacket and he must have unzipped his fly, cause when he took my hand and brought it back to his lap, this time the lump was naked. There was not a stitch of clothing between my hand and the lump.

I felt it in wonder. The skin was as soft as velvet. It seemed to have a little knob on the end, and that was what was sending out the tiny electric shocks. After I had felt its every inch, the man put his hand back over mine, wrapping my fingers around it, and began working my hand up and down. While he was doing this he turned and whispered something about the movie to one of his sons. My hand began moving faster, and his breathing seemed to keeping time. After a minute he went for his handkerchief with his other hand and slipped it under the jacket. Then he sighed and trembled and his hips gave a jerk, and something warm and sticky flooded out of the lump. It got all over my fingers and the handkerchief. After he had wiped himself off, the man wiped my fingers off and then gave me the handkerchief to keep as a souvenir.

I sat there clutching it tightly in my hand for the rest of the movie. I couldn't wait for the movie to get over with so I could take the handkerchief out to the light and get a good look at it, and show it to Angela. name and address withheld.

mother - son, father - daughter, brother - sister . . .from Response: Our whole family enjoys your magazine and since we are a young family, we look forward to your articles on family sex and children's sexuality.

I find it difficult to understand that in enlightened times like these there are people who still have trouble accepting the fact that children are sexual beings. My husband and I discussed this only last night and we both agreed that nature has a wonderful way of preparing children for adult life. If nature did not want children to explore and experiment with sex, it would not have given children such a strong urge to do so.

What I am trying to say is that one's childhood should be a carefree time for children. In other words, if they are allowed sexual freedom and given opportunities, with parental consent, by the time they reach their ages of reproduction they would know what they were doing sufficiently to be receptive to adults teaching them responsibility in birth control.

With regards to sex my own children enjoy a relaxed atmosphere. By the way, we have five children: boys 14, 11 and 7, and girls 12 and 9. We practice nudity in our home whenever practical and we have other friends with children who do this too. We often get together and both families, even the teenagers, have no problem in getting completely nude when we all have a sauna bath together. And no one laughs at the boys if they have erections as the girls are quite used to seeing them this way.

Our children started experimenting with sex at a very young age. At first, mutual masturbation, then oral manipulation, eventually, sexual intercourse. Our oldest boy was nine and his sister seven when he had full coitus with her. They both shared their experience with us and were dying for us to see them perform on the very next night. The other children did not wait quite as long at the older ones did, as they had their brother and sister as models. ......(cont)

.......Read the entire Preinternet Fantasies #7 (conclusion) ....written by Uncle Pan.
Copyright © 2007-8 Uncle Pan. ALL Rights Reserved









This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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