New York Slimes)))
Opinion: if you let girls be girls they will sleep with their fathers and will ELECTRAfy their mothers.
So says Herr Docktor Seigmount (((Fraude)))
From “My Secret Garden: by (((Nancy Friday)))
But my principal fantasies have always been about my father. I was an only child and had a good home, receiving lots of affection from my parents, especially my father. He has, since I was about eight years old, been my fantasy lover during masturbation.
Alone in bed with Dad, I had a wrestling match with him. I remember enjoying the cuddles and embraces as Dad tried to subdue me and then he decided, I suppose, to let me win. He lay on his back, his pajamas were undone, my own nightie was up around my waist, and when I straddled and sat on my father, my naked pubic area came down on my Dad’s very large and, I now know, erect penis.
It was like sitting astride a broom handle. At first it lay flat against my Dad’s tummy. I rocked my bottom back and forward while Dad lay very still. It was at this precise moment I learned to masturbate. Eventually Dad reached for a hankie and rolled me off him. He got out of bed and dressed in the bathroom. I continued to lie in bed and touch myself lovingly with my fingers.
I then began to do this all the time in bed or when I was alone in the house, always thinking of that hard thing Daddy had, and how nice it would be to feel it between my legs again. But this was not to happen. Every other Sunday morning I went to my parents’ bed, but Dad was already up and about. As I began to learn more about sex from other kids at school, I became more adventurous in my fantasies, until they settled into a set pattern when I was almost thirteen.
With this new information buzzing in my brain, I was out for a walk with my Dad one Sunday afternoon. Deep in the woods he decided he wanted to urinate and did so against a tree. But he turned toward me before he put his penis back in his trousers, and I gazed for a few loving seconds at my Dad’s beautiful monster. It has remained the main erotic feature of my masturbatory fantasies ever since.
All I have to do is imagine myself walling in a silent woods, and I can almost feel that my Dad is somewhere else in that woods, and that if I can almost hold my breath long enough, we’ll meet. The way I meet him is always the same. I turn a corner or come around a tree, and there he is, with his back to me, peeing against a tree. Then he turns around toward me, his penis still out and being held in his hand to guide the stream of pee. I find this too exciting to write about even now and find myself thinking about my Dad even in real life.
I once dreamed I was making love to my father-in-law while I was having sexual intercourse with my husband. My husband’s father is one of the most handsome and attractive men that I know personally, and I have often wished that my husband were more like his father.
When I was six or seven, I can remember masturbating and imagining my father inserting the handle of a large screwdriver inside me and masturbating me.