Free The New Black Lace Book of Women's Sexual Fantasies by Mitzi Szereto Page A

he makes me come with such a force I nearly
fall off the desk.
    He rises to his feet and stands between my legs. I can feel
his hardness pressing against my pussy lips. He leans forwards
and whispers in my ear, 'I know it is wrong for me to take your
innocence before we are married but I ask your permission to
let me please you the way you please me.' He steps back, his
eyes pleading, and I remind him that I was married before and
that I would be honoured if he pleased me, so with a smile he
slowly enters me. I wrap my arms around him and as he goes
deeper I can feel my orgasm rise. The captain thrusts his solid
member deeper and harder inside me and brings me to the
most amazing orgasm I've ever had. As I come I feel him
explode deep inside me.
    After our breathing stabilises, the captain looks me in the
eye and smiles, saying he is going to enjoy being married to
me. I tell him he's allowed to get dressed, to which he bows,
and that makes me smile. When the captain is fully dressed,
he gives me a long passionate kiss and says he will miss me
while he's away. As he walks out of the door, I tell him that if
he misses me too much he can smell the hanky. Intrigued, he
pulls out his hanky and smells it and, as he does, a huge smile
spreads across his face.
    Name withheld, age 44
Bisexual
Live-in relationship/marriage
Children
Master's degree
User-Interface Designer
California, USA
    I mostly fantasise about being dominated, overwhelmed,
manhandled, or otherwise forced into sexual situations. In these
fantasies I am being lusted after madly and seduced, and
occasionally being worshipped, or being the seducer of a sweet
young thing. One of my long-time favourites is a classic
Victor ian romance-type fantasy. I'm a proper young lady in
Victorian times (more or less), wearing a long elaborate gown
with a plunging neckline. I've slipped away from a party and
my chaperone to meet secretly with a young man – a handsome,
fair young man whose family owns the estate where
the party is being held. We've agreed to rendezvous in a quiet
room, but he hasn't yet arrived. While I'm waiting for him, his
good-for-nothing half-brother lets himself into the room and
finds me there.
    The half-brother is handsome in a dark, cruel, sneering
way. He's bitter because he's older but has somehow been
cheated out of his rightful place as his father's heir. When
he sees me, he knows immediately what I'm doing here. He
torments me a while with verbal fencing – I desperately want
him to leave before his brother comes and our plans are
revealed. He suggests he might tell my chaperone that he
found me here, alone, clearly planning to meet someone
. . . who?
    I decide to bolt from the room, but he has locked the door.
I turn back and find him standing there, too close to me. He
tells me I'm really quite beautiful . . . and starts stroking my
hair, my neck . . . I tell him to take his hands off me, I threaten
to scream . . . He asks if I want to explain to everyone why I'm
here alone in this room with him in the first place.
    I'm trying to decide what to do, but his hands are distracting
me. He's holding me too close, now he's kissing my neck,
moving down to my breasts . . . I try to pull away, but he's
holding me too tightly. Suddenly he throws me onto the sofa
and looms over me. I try to struggle up, but I'm tangled in my
gown and his weight is pressing down on me. His hands are
everywhere, he's biting my neck and then, in a fit of passion,
he tears open the front of my gown. I cry out but he covers my
mouth with his . . . I'm going liquid, I can't believe what's
happening to me.
    He chuckles; he knows what's happening. He says it's lucky
he got to me first, his brother wouldn't know what to do with
a girl like me. He lifts up my skirt, reaches underneath . . . I beg
him not to do it, but he won't listen, he won't stop . . . and I'm
not sure I really want him to. I threaten again to scream, and
he asks if I want everyone to see me all exposed like this.
    His