This is from the venerable Nancy Friday “Forbidden Flowers” book of female sexual fantasies:
As the excitement builds, I transport myself out of our bedroom and into a large, dimly lit chamber. Faceless, hooded, sexless people are tightening straps to my wrists and ankles. They then gag me, and I hear a door slowly creak open. I try to stretch my taut body that I might see who has entered, but I never can see the person. (I never know if it’s male or female, so I’ll call it “it.”) But it’s dressed in long, dark, flowing robes, and it approaches me slowly as it pulls a feather from a pocket in its sleeve.
This person checks the straps and gag to make certain everything is in place, then slowly proceeds to run the feather across my breasts and down my stomach to my cunt. It starts tickling me there, laughing a deep, throaty laugh all the while. The more I struggle to free myself (oh, the pleasure), the stronger it laughs. It continues this until I am all wet and creamy and quite ready to come. Then it suddenly stops, bends down, and touches the lips gently and carefully, as though it were examining me. Then it starts a soft, gentle blowing. I am still on the threshold of orgasm, but I feel a bit more relaxed, despite the wonderful agony.
Suddenly, I feel teeth biting me, fingers pulling at me, tongues (more than one, it seems) licking and eating me up. This drives me to a frenzy that is unimaginable.
If you’re thinking it’s a little tame, remember that this book was published for general audiences in 1975.
