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Here's another reader's response to my question about sexual fantasy and the role it plays in your life:
Hi Daniel,
I just happened upon the piece in DoubleX about sexual fantasies, and I'd like to respond. I guess you still want answers to the original question, so here goes:
Before I begin, there are a couple things you should know about me: I'm pretty young (22) and I grew up in a home where there was sex almost everywhere: in films, on TV, in magazines, and in those Mills & Boon romantic novels where the man is always impossibly handsome and his member is always throbbing with desire. But, somehow, we were Christian, and it was taboo to talk about, or even acknowledge, the existence of sex. I discovered how to masturbate around the age of 13 and haven't looked back since. My upbringing is so ingrained in me, though, that I'm still overcome by a terrible sense of guilt right after I orgasm. But that's a whole other issue. I'm also black and grew up in Europe around a lot of white people. As a result, I often felt that I wasn't quite beautiful enough (something I'm still dealing with today). I found myself attracted to white boys, but all the boys had crushes on the girls with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. Not much has changed, and it's not very different here and now in America. So today, my fantasies are of a white man, whom I'm attracted to, being unable to control himself sexually. I like to imagine him beautiful beyond words (perhaps because I know this is something I can't have). He is tall and tan with azure eyes and thick, dark hair.
Typically, I use porn to aid my fantasies. I usually go for the dominatrix kind where the woman is bound and suspended, and the man is walking around her with a raging erection, but instead of taking her immediately (which is what his body clearly wants), casually whips her ass and her breasts with a leather whip as he walks around her, inspecting her all the while. When he finally does fuck her, it's unrestrained and debauched.
Depending on my relationship status, my fantasies take one of two forms. If I'm not in a relationship (and if I'm not having sex with my significant other), the fantasies are more bizarre, they are more violent—the faceless white man slams me against a wall and holds me in place with his elbow as he strokes out his rock-hard dick. He whispers right into my ear all the vile things he wants to do to my body. He tells me he's going to shove his cock so far into my pussy, I'll feel it in my belly; he says if I don't behave, he'll call in his friend (who's right outside, ear pressed against the door, violently masturbating) to come fuck me as well. Would I like that? he asks. Would I like two hot cocks in me? He takes me rough and hard from behind, standing up and he is calling me a bitch and a slut and a whore (note: not a “ho”). Just as he begins to cry out loudly as he comes inside me, his friend bursts in and comes on my ass. Both men are calling out in such pleasure that it almost sounds like they're crying. I should let it be known, though, that in real life, I'm so aware of being black and being a woman, that if any man called me any of the things the fantasy lover calls me outside of sex and without my consent during sex, I would slice his penis off and feed it to walruses.
If I'm in a relationship, my fantasies are gentler. I think this is because the things I imagine mirror my actual sex life to some degree. This recurring "relationship fantasy" comes to me when I'm making love with a boyfriend: I imagine that the man has had his eye on me for a long time. Maybe we work together, and I notice he often sneaks glances at me from across the conference table. Then magically, we are in a dark room with just enough light that I can see the powerful curve of his bare shoulders and the strain of his stiffening penis against his pants. He is suffering when he takes his time to gently press his lips against mine. He wants to tear my dress off and throw me to the ground and take me there from behind, but he doesn't. Then our clothes are off and we are standing opposite each other. He softly takes my hand and wraps my fingers around his hard cock as if to say, "Look at what you do to me. I know it shouldn't be this way, I know that society and logic say I shouldn't be attracted to you, but my body can't help it." He communicates this by looking deep into my eyes while his are large and helpless. Then I throw myself into him, and he quickly, but gently lays me down on a thin mattress on the floor and makes love to me. The love-making is savage and slippery, but his inability to control his hunger for me makes it tender.
I fantasize about sex a great deal. I do it so much that for a long time, I thought there was something wrong with me hormonally. When I see a good-looking man, I immediately imagine what he would look like fucking me from behind as we stand in front of a mirror. I work from home now, and take as many as three masturbation breaks a day (things are going to suck when I start working in an office again!), all fueled by the sight or the thought of a man and how I imagine him walking around me with a stiff penis, denying himself immediate gratification. Sometimes, if I'm in public, I store the fantasies up for when I come home to my boyfriend (or vibrator, as it were). I need these mental and actual images (through pornography) to make me orgasm whether I'm having sex or I'm masturbating.
As a side note, though my fantasies are always interracial, I notice that none of the men ever say anything racially derogatory. They never say a thing about my skin. In fact, the fact that we're different colors only seems to really occur to me, except in the fantasy where the man knows that according to society, this is sort of taboo. But to me, what makes the fantasy exciting is the fact that the man is stepping outside of societal bounds because he can't control his feelings. I am never in control in these fantasies, really. On the other hand, in real life, a lack of control makes me severely anxious. I am especially aware of being lorded over by white men in real life. Whenever I can, I won't let it happen, but it's all I want during sex; it's what I need in my fantasies. It's all that gets me wet; all that makes me come. I've never told anyone about my fantasies because I still harbor a bit of that embarrassment about and self-reproach for thinking about sex as much as I do, and also the fact that I seem to only be attracted to white men—which is a WHOLE other issue.
Thanks for reading. I hope this helps your research. Best of luck to you.
Photograph of a woman by Medioimages/Photodisc/Getty Images.
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Here is another response from a reader to my question about the role that fantasy plays in your sex life.
As women, we are taught to fear men: fear them in clubs, fear them on streets when walking alone, and fear them in general as we lock up the doors for the night. Also, as women, in many ways we are taught that we shouldn't enjoy or ask for sex lest we be labeled as sluts.
So what better way to take control back from a society that wants its women pure and unlustful and take control of the fear we must have to protect ourselves from assault than with a hot, sexy, wanted rape fantasy? Enjoying a rape (during a fantasy setting) is the antithesis of both problems; first, a woman is fucked and LIKES it, and second the rapist is no longer in control of the situation because of the target's enjoyment.
The control is perhaps the best aspect of a rape fantasy. A partner who is loving and willing to indulge his woman is NOT in control of the situation (and, by the way, not some screwed up rapist in training as some "therapists" would lead you to believe). That is the very definition of a submissive in sex play. Submissive in name only. The submissive decides what actions are allowed and what aren't, and decides when play is finished. They may be crying out for help, or begging for mercy, but once the submissive says "that's IT, no more," the dominant "rapist" does not continue.
Finally, as a rape fetishist (let's call a spade a spade, here), there is nothing I like more then setting up the time, the rules, and the safe word and then letting my husband have his way with me. Sometimes we have plain-old "vanilla" sex, but the rape play, complete with tying up and a bit of boring spanking, makes me far, far more excited. And then, we snuggle.
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So many patterns have emerged among the fantasies—and analyses of fantasies—you've sent in over the past few weeks. Violence and submission. The excitement of being desired (which has come through in all kinds of ways, including, if I'm not misinterpreting, in the reference, within yesterday's post, to being a pinup among soldiers serving in Iraq). But for a moment, I want to linger on the opening line of one recent reply: "I consciously avoid fantasizing about things I would never want to happen in real life." Is there a fear that desires given life in fantasy will take on more power, will become more real, more urgent, until they hold sway over life itself? Is this fear warranted in any way? What exactly is the relationship between what we fantasize and what we actually desire? Would we want to live out our fantasies if we could do so without harm? How much psychological danger lies within this territory? How closely can we allow fantasy and actuality to coexist? ... But this is subject matter to circle back to later. For today and tomorrow, some new replies. And then, next week, a new topic.
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Here is a response from another reader to my question about the role that fantasy plays in your sex life.
Sexual fantasy only played and plays a part in my life when I am lonely. I grew up in a loosely Christian household, meaning that we didn't really talk about sex and I always felt awkward seeing sensual scenes on TV when my family was watching. It was something that was for adults, I was told, and so to venture into the realm of sexuality I felt I had to keep it covered up. The first fantasies I can recall involve having sex with men in their 20s or 30s, because when I started masturbating around age 11 to some porn magazines of my father's I had found by accident, I had seen only male-female hardcore interaction. Eventually my fantasies turned from just regular consensual encounters to rape scenarios—no violence, just aggression. Safe aggression. My favorite one was of a man in his 30s approaching me from behind and pushing me up against a metal chain-link fence to have sex from behind, pushing my clothes aside as necessary but always having a soft, firm grasp on my body. Throughout the whole fantasy I was never scared, and I didn't know enough about the idea of rape and the power dynamics back then to realize how dangerous and horrible of a situation rape really is. The idea that appealed most to me was the idea that a man wanted me, and found me attractive, and would please me aggressively—having never felt attractive until my early 20s, it was important to me in my mind to have my fantasies featuring males aggressively desiring sex with me, not desiring love with me, and not wanting to harm me. Eventually, I started using the early Internet to look up porn on the computer because I was curious, and as I learned of new things and different types of sexuality, I became more sexually explorative, as did my fantasies. When I was old enough to realize the complications and terror behind rape, rape fantasies immediately stopped.
When I was in my first year of high school, my fantasies turned to more lesbian-based fantasies because I did not feel attractive to my male peers and felt that women never showed me any disinterest, so they could still desire me but not hurt me. I've never been in love with women and do not consider myself to be bisexual because in the end, women are like playthings to me. They're wonderful people and fun to be with in bed, but that's it—they're like objects in my fantasy bedroom—and I've always loved and been truly attracted to men. When I went to college, I blossomed into my sexuality and lost my virginity, and my fantasies became focused on men again because now they were prevalent and eager to have sex with me. Additionally, I noticed the foreplay became prevalent in the fantasies when they had not really been a factor or even present before. Fantasies were only used by me during masturbation and NEVER sex.
As I began acting upon my sexual fantasies in college, I found that I did not need them as much, and so long as I was having regular sex I rarely had fantasies. My fantasies have always reflected my inner emotion, but I have never needed them to achieve climax, and actually prefer being "in the moment" during sexual encounters now. I'm now engaged to the most wonderful man, and my fiancé is in the army in Iraq. Since he's overseas, my fantasies have been regularly occurring again since I am lonely with no sexual interaction but the phone and cyber sex we try to have and the photos we send one another (I hear I'm kind of a small-celebrity Army pinup right now haha). My fantasies are currently a mix: 5 percent are of the group sex experiences I had in college, and the other 95 percent involve my fiancé and me—sometimes him, me, and another person, but mostly just one-on-one sessions.
My fantasies last as long as my masturbation sessions do, which can range anywhere from a few minutes to hours. I tend to relive intense parts of fantasies over and over again during masturbation, like hitting the rewind button on your favorite part of a movie. When my life is "regular" (fiancé is home, job is stable, sex is regular, etc.), my fantasies and my masturbation only happen once a day, if that. However given my current "drought" I find myself plagued with fantasies at work, home, and out with friends—especially when under marijuana and alcoholic influence. I currently masturbate about three times a day regularly, and the intensity of the sessions often depends on the level of stress in my life, and how lonely I feel.
I hope this helped you in some way—lovely to see you're continuing your research. I look forward to reading more from you soon!
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Another reader describes the role that fantasy plays in her sex life.
I consciously avoid fantasizing about things that I would never want to happen in real life. Violence, being dominated, having sex with a stranger or a celebrity ... I don't know a celebrity personally. I couldn't be intimate with someone I don't KNOW. If I start trying to picture someone I don't know, it's repellent. I recoil, and my drive shuts down like that. Being with someone who's not my husband ... what the hell happened to my husband if I'm having sex with someone else? To the core of my soul, it's my greatest fear that he will die or leave me. It violates everything to take him out of the picture.
Before we were married, my husband and I were away from each other for four months. He was living in a dorm, and when we talked he made it sound like everyone else was hooking up. While I'm 99.99999 percent sure that he was faithful, I use that tiny bit of doubt to fantasize about him being with this girl there that was totally his type. In my fantasies he's really into her ... more aggressive with her than he is with me. He just WANTS her like he's never wanted anything in his life. More than he's ever wanted me. My husband doesn't have a very strong sex drive. Or, maybe we're just not in sync that way. I think I get turned on and can climax to the idea that he's really sexual and knows how to ravish a woman, but I can't put myself in that position because he's just never been that way with me. I think I'm protecting my heart (and vagina) from aching for him to be something he's not.
Related to this, a dependable fantasy is picturing him in a four-way with people from that dorm. Him, his roommate, the girl from the other fantasy, and another girl who I learned lost her virginity that semester. Everybody's coming, and that just plays on a loop until I come too. I don't know if I could orgasm without fantasizing.
While we were engaged, I had a small dalliance with someone I worked with. Nothing physical, but I was physically attracted to him in a way I've never been to another man. We talked at work, and one time spent the whole night at a party getting drunk together (my first time) and talking, leaning in close the whole time. He wanted me to come home with him ... I think I knew what might have happened, so I refused. I've come so hard so many times thinking about what might have happened that night.
When masturbating or stimulating myself during sex, I can climax remembering this porn video I watched of two women. They started out in bed like they were just waking up, progress to taking off their skimpy pajamas and caressing each other ... kissing. What takes me over the edge is remembering how into it one of the girls was. It's like I could feel something like love in her eyes while looking at and fondling the other woman. I've never seen it in any other piece of porn, and now I look for porn like this. Search terms like "love," "romance." I don't want to think about a penis being jammed into a vagina. I search for videos of something that looks like yearning, but I've yet to find it. It can be animalistic but it has to be tender.
And at random times I like to picture myself with big boobs. Not huge but pretty and smooth C-cups. It's amazing how that small detail can boost my self-esteem enough to make me climax. I can't wait until I'm pregnant and I can fill out a top.
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Thanks to everyone for your patience as we get The Desire Lab started. We'll begin posting more replies this week. Let's spend one last week on the range of ideas that have come up around sexual fantasy, with a new subject on the way a week from today. Here's the initial question I asked last month, along with the follow-ups I've posted; I'd still love to hear your thoughts at desirelab@slate.com.
What role does sexual fantasy play in your life? Some researchers say that erotic fantasy does not play a major part in women’s lives. Little is truly known. How often—and when—do you fantasize about sex? What are the fantasies? How long do they last? I hope you will get deeply into the details. Understanding lies in such depth.
Several of the answers I've received note that fantasy is essential to reaching orgasm. Researchers are beginning to study the parts of the brain that are involved in sexual climax. For those of you who depend on fantasy to come, is your sense that fantasy is putting you over the edge by stoking up arousal? By shutting off the voices of inhibition? By creating a kind of distance between you and your partner? Is fantasy serving in some other way?
I've noticed that very few responders said they do not often fantasize. Probably this was a product of the way I phrased the initial question. Please don't hesitate to write in with your thoughts if you fantasize rarely or not at all.
I’m interested, too, in the fact that themes of violence and submission have emerged so strongly in the replies. When I raised the topic of rape fantasies in my New York Times Magazine article, I did so with some hesitation—and with some uneasiness from the psychologists I had spoken with about the subject. Let’s state clearly what probably goes without saying: This discussion is not an endorsement of sexual assault. But it would be enlightening to hear your analysis about the appeal of such fantasies. And it would be illuminating to know whether there are lots of women out there whose imaginings don’t include the themes of violence and submission at all.
Please do feel free to comment on each other’s contributions, but remember to be respectful. This is a space that aims not for judgment but insight.
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