On Fantasies

 

 

 

“T.B. fitted the first supple, black fabric cuff around my right ankle, carefully folding the Velcro over itself to form an unyielding, yet comfortable hold. Then he wrapped a second cuff around my left ankle. He continued to arrange my body to his liking. My slender legs bent under me as I knelt before him in a tight, black mini-dress, one shoulder strap fallen to reveal the backless, black, lacy teddy clinging to my body.

“My reddened and stinging buttocks, having been well-attended to minutes earlier by hand and paddle, rested gently on my heels. My knees enjoyed the sensation of the plush grey carpet beneath us. I held my wrists behind my back. The metal ring harness connecting the four tight cuffs didn’t allow for any other position. My partner continued to painstakingly affix the Neoprene restraints to my delicate wrists just so. When it was done, I was pleasantly surprised at how at ease I felt, how comfortable I was in the forced position of this new device of ours…”

 

So begins the preface to my memoir, F*ck Me: A Memoir, which – truth be told – originally began as a collection of sex stories I wrote for my ex-boyfriend.

We shared such a passionate connection that throughout the time we were together, my mind was inundated with sexual thoughts in a way that overwhelmed me. I’d never, even in my hormonal teenage years, experienced anything like it.

So, bursting with desire, with curiosity, with myriad fantasies dancing in my head and stimulating every inch of my body, I started writing down my thoughts – in detail – and making recordings of them to send to my ex. It was a way of testing my boundaries and predilections; of testing his interest in exploring and playing with me in new ways; of asking for what I wanted.

And it was f*&^ing hot. I was almost as turned on writing the stories as I was engaging in those same acts with him in person.

My ex loved it - mostly because our fantasies aligned so well (and because we turned most of them into realities), but also, he claimed, because he thought they were so well-written, so vivid… and so hot. He told me I HAD to publish them. He said ANYONE would enjoy them. 

I was flattered, but remember thinking that no one would want to read a book of the sexual fantasies and exploits of a middle-aged mother.

Fast forward several years, and I’ve just begun reading Want, Gillian Anderson’s collection of anonymous letters contributed from women all over the world describing their most secret, most sizzling fantasies.

In just the first few pages of the introduction, I learned that Ms. Anderson had experienced an awakening much like my own in midlife and couldn’t keep it to herself. She wanted to give others permission: permission to mothers and daughters, religious women, older women, married women, widowed women... Permission to exist as more than one thing. Permission to be both mothers and daughters, religious women, older women, married women, widowed women AND ALSO sensual and sexual beings.

Want is only the latest in a long line of books I’ve been reading in the last few years centered on the sexual lives of women. All Fours, for example, a fictional account of a middle-aged mother becoming enamored with a younger partner, was the hit of the summer. While More – a memoir about an open marriage - caused a less-than-quiet riot through homes of America when it was released earlier this year.

But this isn't a new phenomenon. Going back a few years, we saw how 50 Shades of Grey changed the sexual landscape (or at least people’s willingness to admit what was really going on behind closed doors), how How Stella Got her Groove Back shined light on the older woman’s experience, and, as Anne Rice has stated, how The Sleeping Beauty Trilogy has garnered as much success and popularity as her vampire books, inviting non-vanilla, S&M-curious and so many other types of women, of readers into the fantastical world of extreme BDSM.

Going back even farther, we experience obsession, passion, infidelity and s3xual ‘deviance’ in Jong’s Fear of Flying and (Nobel prize -winning author) Ernaux’s Getting Lost.

Every one of these books features women on the brink sexual reawakening at an older age, or the discovery of new and unfamiliar worlds of sexual pleasure. They take on the (shockingly) still-taboo subject-matter unabashedly and unapologetically – with pride, with force, with delightful, fumbling honesty.

Such reading has helped me to realize and continuously reassure me just how important it is that we keep putting the message out there: that it’s normal, that it’s ok, that it’s even healthy to fantasize, to explore, to play; that we keep giving women permission to enjoy every aspect of their lives without shame or guilt. 

Regardless of what the backlash will be; regardless of how frightening it might be to do so.  

Since the moment I began to consider publishing my memoir, I’ve questioned the marketability of my work, the importance of my message, the relevance and relatability of my story… and I’ve worried about the risk I’d be taking in exposing so much of myself, so much of my internal being and external behavior.

But as I read more of these courageous, articulate, and exciting voices, I’m more and more convinced that not only are people interested in this topic, not only will they benefit from my stories, my experiences, my mistakes and my successes, but that the world needs more stories like this, more voices like this.

So, I for one, will keep fantasizing. Without shame or guilt.

And I will keep talking about it.

And I will keep writing about it.

And I will certainly keep acting on it.

 

How about you?

 

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