Chapters (17)
- Cover
- Imaginative Sex
- No Fantasy, Please, We’re Americans
- Contents
- I. Imaginative Sex: The New Sexual Revolution
- II. Love, Hunters And Evolution
- III. Marriage, Sex And Normality
- IV. Sex And The Brain
- V. Marriage And The Ventilation Of Emotion
- VI. Privacy
- VII. Disease
- VIII. Requirements For Imaginative Sex
- IX. Imaginative Techniques
- X. Sensuous Fantasies: Recipes Of Pleasure
- EPILOGUE
- Appendix
- Copyright
The games and episodes suggested in this book do not speak expressly of love, or seldom do so. Rather they seem to speak, often, of quite other relations, egotistical ones, exploitational ones, but, for subtle reasons, yet not incomprehensible reasons, love tends to be a natural consequence of their practice. That is perhaps because they are games, and are understood to be such. They bring men and women together sexually in ways that add light years of dimension to their sexual outlooks and understandings. They make them vitally interdependent on one another for incredible and fantastic excitements and pleasures. They unite a man and a woman in a complex, mentally-challenging relation in which the success of the game depends totally on the willingness, the eagerness and intelligence of both partners. These are games in which the woman, all of her, her mind, her imagination, her body, is fully and necessarily the equal of the male partner. If she is passive, if she does not understand, if she is puzzled, if she does not join fully, the games are impossible. Her ideas, her inventions, her imaginations are as needful and as important as those of the man. She is a stimulating and full participant or there is nothing. The natural outcome of these games, it seems to me, is love. Love, of course, sneaks up on the players. It need not be there at the beginning. The pay-off and the justification for the games is the profound pleasure they can produce. When two human beings, over a period of a year or two, or perhaps in some cases of only a few weeks, can give one another such exquisite and mind-expanding excitements, it is natural for them to grow terribly close and dependent on one another. Each becomes an intellectual, emotional and physical joy to the other. If this is not love, it is the bud of love. Perhaps some morning afterwards, over the coffee, as the husband and wife look upon another, he reaches forth. He touches her hand, gently, because he has an irresistible impulse to do so. She puts her lips to his hand. The petals have opened.