It was only imaginary, I had tried to explain I didn't really want that other man at the football game. Lying there among the crumpled sheets, so abruptly rejected and confused as to just why, I watched him dress. He got out of bed, put on his pants and went home. As I'd never stopped to think before doing anything to him in bed (we were that sure of our spontaneity and response), I didn't stop to edit my thoughts. "Tell me what you are thinking about," the man I was actually fucking said, his words as charged as the action in my mind. And as the man behind me roars, clutching me in a spasm of pleasure, Unitas goes over and I. My excitement gets wilder, almost out of control as I scream for Unitas to make it as we do, so that we all go over the line together. It's Unitas' last down, everything depends on him we're racing madly, almost at our own touchdown. He's inside me now, shot straight up through me like a ramrod my God, it's like he's in my throat! "All the way, Johnny! Go, go, run, run!" we scream together, louder than anyone, making them all cheer louder, the two of us leading the excitement like cheerleaders, while inside me I can feel whoever he is growing harder and harder, pushing deeper and higher into me with each jump until the cheering for Unitas becomes the rhythm of our fucking and all around us everyone is on our side, cheering us and the 's hard to separate the two now. We are all leaping about, thumping one another on the back, and he puts his arm around my shoulders to keep us in rhythm. We are all jumping up and down and I have to lift my leg higher, to the next step on the bleachers, to steady myself now the man behind me can slip it in more easily. He's got his cock out now and somehow it's between my legs he's torn a hole in my tights under my short skirt and I yell louder as the touchdown gets nearer now. Unitas is blocked, but all the action, thank God, is still going toward that goal and all of us keep turned to watch. I can feel his erection through his pants as he signals me with a touch to turn my hips more directly toward him. I keep cheering, my voice an echo of his, hot on my neck. Somehow, one of the men - I don't know who, and in my excitement I can't look - has gotten himself more closely behind me. As he races down the field, we all turn as a body, wrapped in our blanket, screaming with excitement. Suddenly we jump up to watch Johnny Unitas running toward the goal. Four or five of us are huddled under a big glen plaid blanket. In my mind, as in our fucking, I am at the crucial point.We are at this Baltimore Colt-Minnesota Viking football game, and it is very cold. ExcerptĬhapter 1: "Tell Me What You Are Thinking About," He Said. Dare to read, dare to dream, and dare to discover the beautiful blossoms, the winding paths, and the hidden nooks of female sexuality. Join them in their exploration of the meaning of desire. Even now, in a new millennium, over then thousand women each year buy a new copy of this astounding classic of feminist literature. When it first appeared, it created a storm of outrage in the media.and an equal sense of exhilaration for those women who finally were able to share their sisters' most intimate thoughts. My Secret Garden is the daring compilation of those fantasies. Safe behind the walls of anonymity, hundreds of real women responded to Nancy Friday's call for details of their own most private fantasies. Welcome to Nancy Friday's secret garden, a hidden place where ordinary women are free to express the sexual dreams they have never dared to confide before. Newly repackaged, the groundbreaking bestseller that explores female sexuality through women's most intimate fantasies.
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