TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction
CHAPTER ONE - The Anal Hedonist
CHAPTER TWO - The Anal Sadist
CHAPTER THREE - The Anal Reluctant CHAPTER FOUR - The Anal Homosexual
CHAPTER FIVE - The Anal Masochist
Conclusion Bibliography
INTRODUCTION
"At the start, the lights were so low that you had to be standing next to a person to see them. This is where we got rid of our clothes. They had it stacked so that we'd start straight. I was lined up with a cute redhead named Jill who had fantastic pear-shaped tits with freckles on them. Her husband was Alex, an assistant professor of something at a local college. Alex was with Celia, the hostess, a rangy blonde with a tan all over her body. Lauri was paired off with Rex, Celia's husband. Sure, I was ready to play the game with the broads-but I couldn't wait to get my hands on the husbands.
"Alex was sort of average, except that without his clothes he looked about eighteen. He was smallish, kind of soft, and incredibly pink. Even his cock was pink. And then there was Rex. Christ, he made me drool just to look at him. Rex was a health nut, a weight-lifter type. He looked just like one of those pictures of the guys who pose for male pinups-only without the G-string. But he wasn't muscle-bound and bulky, except in the crotch. He was sleek skinned and the muscles just seemed to ripple over him as he moved. With him in the same room, it was getting difficult for me to breathe. Before the lights were turned up somewhat, I practically ruined my eyes trying to see more of him.
"As I said, it began casually and heterosexually. I fucked Jill in a chair while she sat on my lap. For an extra kick, it was one of those massage chairs that vibrate. Not that I needed any extra stimulation. By that time, the party was well lit and I could glance across the living room and see beautiful inches of Rex's cock tunneling in and out of Lauri. I was afraid I was going to lose my whole load right then and wipe out the evening, but Jill seemed to have things under control. I think they had it set up so I'd be hotter than hell when we got around to the gay sex. To ease us along in that direction, the lesbian action started first.
"Lauri was as ready in her way as I was in mine. Celia took her down on the rug in the center of the living room and was joined there by Jill. They each worked on one of Lauri's tits for a while, then Celia broke off and went right down to the cunt with her tongue. Jill moved into a position over her head and lowered a very wet cunt into her face. It was quite a sight, all that cunt-lapping, my own Lauri both giving and receiving. As exciting as it was, though, I couldn't have cared less-except maybe to crawl over and pluck Jill's ass-hole which I could see winking above Lauri's tongue. I even forgot about that in the next couple of minutes.
"While we were watching the girls, Rex had made a round of drinks and brought them over to where I was sitting on a chair. He sat on the arm, his hard thigh pressed against my shoulder. Alex came for his drink and sat on the rug at the foot of the chair, his back leaning into my leg. It was all planned, all very smoothly done. They had made the first physical male contact, and they were waiting to see if I would shrink away from it. And I was worried that they might take my sexual trembling as a sign of rejection.
"We sipped as we watched the girls, who were winding their way into a cunt-licking fury. Then Alex turned around and looked at me, having to stare up between my legs to do so. With my aching cock hobbling before his eyes, he said something about the excitement, something about the thrill that could be had from various pleasures, and some further blah-blah-blah about the beauty of open-mindedness. I hardly heard him. I knew what he was leading up to. And I knew why he was on the floor. I wanted to reach out and grab his head and haul his mouth onto my cock, but it was like dealing with the only kid on the block who owned a baseball; it was his game, no matter how badly you wanted to play.
"Finally, he got around to it, fingers at first, casually fondling my testicles, then moving up the hard shaft. When I didn't object, he set down his drink and eased between my knees. His lips went over the burning head of my cock, and I had to hang on to keep from coming in his mouth. From that moment on, I was oblivious to the cunt-licking tangle on the floor. I sighed, leaned back, and let Alex suck me deeply. As my cock was drawn hotly and deep into his mouth, Rex shifted on the arm of the chair so that his beautiful big hard-on was exposed and only inches from my hand. I tried to reach out and touch that sweet meat with enough hesitation so that I wouldn't seem greedy-but when I had it in my hand, there was no letting go.
"I jerked and caressed him and bent the cock toward me. He got the message and stood up. By leaning to one side, I could suck him off as he posed beside the chair. I mean, it was a scene hard to believe. Three broads on the floor going at each other, and me a few feet away with a hot cock and a hot mouth working out simultaneously. It couldn't have been a wilder arrangement if I'd planned it myself.
"There wasn't any doubt that they had taken us through the tulips. They were my kind of people. Before the evening was over, I had fucked two ass-holes, Celia's and Alex's. And Rex had taken my ass and come off inside of me. I mean, it was a night to remember. I had everything in the way of sex I ever wanted ... . "
The preceding narrative is excerpted from one of the case histories presented in this study of sex swapping and analism. At the outset, the reader should be appraised of the odd complexities in the behavior we shall examine.
It would be too simplistic merely to state that the relatively modern, middle-class phenomenon of social sex swapping would naturally include isolated instances of all manner of sex acts, anal intercourse not excepted. That, of course, is a true statement. More pertinent to our own investigation, however, are questions such as: Does sex swapping lead to acceptance of analism where no acceptance was present beforehand? Do group sexual pressures encourage analistic experimentation? Or, does sex swapping merely serve as a vehicle in which individuals of analistic persuasion find a convenient outlet for their sublimated sexual desires?
Interestingly, the answer to each of the above questions can be a qualified yes.
To go beyond the apparent contradiction, we must first take a look at the current extent and popularity of sex swapping. Population movement, to the suburbs and to the urban enclaves, contributed. With the growth of suburbia to its present vast transient or semi-transient population, sex swapping or wife swapping-as it has been called in the past-has reached a new peak in the U.S.A. and Canada. Millions of men and women who, outwardly at least, lead normal married lives, are in fact actively engaged in a practice officially abhorred by society in general and condemned as well by implication and in varying degrees by some of the confused sex laws in the various states. These couples, for whatever reason-be it boredom, curiosity, imaginative daring, mental and/or physical abnormality, or just plain escapism-are turning up in clandestine groups of sex swappers.
Two years ago, calculated estimates from professional statisticians placed the number of adult Americans who have in the past or are currently engaged in sex swapping in groups at more than five million couples! Obviously, that figure will rise rather than decrease. These studies note as well that couples involved in sex swapping are in social and economic groups ranging from the highest to the lowest level of the society. Outwardly, these couples live routine and constructive lives. Inwardly, they are faced with the necessity of keeping an important part of their social lives-often, the most important part-secret from the general society in which they live and earn their livelihoods. This necessary secrecy can and does, of course, cloak more than just a mere acceptance of group sex.
It can also cloak desires for sexual activity not commonly found in most marriages.
Yet sex swappers can justify their activities. Although there are, as one might expect, a certain number of swappers who are nothing more than libertines, deviates, and even psychotics, most of the people involved in exchange of mates are intelligent, responsible people trying to find a new way of maintaining the ties of marriage while continuing to enjoy the pleasures of sex. This is their view, and they are entitled to it. However, the assertion that their way of life is conducive to mental health bears examination. Dr. Frank S. Caprio had this view of sex swapping: "Individuals who enter into such orgies attempt to ease their conscious or unconscious feelings of guilt by rationalization, stating that it is healthier to release one's sexual inhibitions rather than suppress them. Indulgence in pluralism exacts a price from its participants as it inevitably creates neurotic conflicts between the id and the superego, resulting in psychosomatic symptoms."
In The Sexual Offender and His Offenses, Dr. Benjamin Karpman reports on one swapper:
Here is a case of a man as shrewd and intelligent as you make them, who uses every bit of his intelligence in order to seduce people into his group, including psychology and hypnotism. He is married, and has two children, and his wife regards him as a devoted husband. Though in normal daily relations, he is a rather kind and considerate man, when it comes to his parties he is absolutely ruthless and heartless. He wouldn't hesitate to induce the participation of the daughter of a good friend of his if that suited his purposes. His parties usually run to about a half dozen people, in which all sorts of sexual activity, usually of the irregular type, are going in the presence of other people. He derives tremendous satisfaction in seeing one couple perform fellatio heterosexually, another couple engaging in the same thing homo-sexually. He is a pluralist who-likes to see himself in the sexual act while others are looking on. When finally arrested, he naively complained that he wasn't guilty of anything more than some unorthodox sexual behavior.
On the other hand, the doctors Kronhausen take a less hostile attitude. They mention the sincerity of the sex swappers' beliefs, although those beliefs run counter to the ethics of the rest of society. They state: "Their way of life does not seem to cause trouble for them, or for those who are not participants."
There is, then, little agreement among authorities themselves on the subject of sex swapping. There is even less agreement when referring to particular sexual activities, such as anal-ism within the broader scope of the swapping practice. In many sex-swapping situations, the individuals attempt to control or limit certain activity that they deem to be potentially harmful. But this is an extremely difficult task. If one accepts the statement of many swappers that they enter into group sex out of boredom, then it follows that eventually group sex of a controlled or limited nature will also become boring. The pressures toward more and more sensual variety will build. Common coital and oral sex will no longer fulfill the needs. And, as we shall see in our case histories, there is a continuous pressure for homosexual contacts. Except in the strictest of groups, analism is inevitable. Beyond that activity loom some more bizarre acts. It is wise to ask, where does the quest for sexual variety end?
The answer to such a question can only be guessed at. It may be instructive, however, to examine some of the possibilities as to where the seeds of pursuing sexual variety begin. Though we have yet to run across a sex guide or marriage manual that recommends analism as a sexual variety between partners, we do know that for many, many years it was used in extreme cases, usually in hasty situations, as a unique way of preventing pregnancy. Particularly, there are many references to this sexual act being performed in incestuous situations where there was a fear of pregnancy, and in the latter stages of pregnancy where normal coitus is prohibited from a medical standpoint. From the standpoint of medical ethics, however, analism is not generally recommended either before or during pregnancy.
Another potent source which may lend the idea of analism to couples who had not considered it a potential sexual variety is that of classical and popular erotica. Worldwide pornography, in its literary sense, is replete with instances of analism. For example, pornography is used in Japan as an inexpensive form of sex education. Japanese "pillow books," so-called for their aphrodisiac effect, include illustrations of anal intercourse. It would be foolhardy to assume that young people using such books as guides would not at least attempt all of the illustrated variations. Similar pictorial sex books have not been widespread in this country; but with the recent removal of obscenity bans in Scandinavia, many illustrated magazines and books are reaching these shores. Even more recently, illustrated educational material on sex has emerged from domestic sources for the sophisticated adult market. Hence we find that both foreign and domestic publications show anal intercourse to some extent.
While it is true that a minority of Americans peruse so-called pornography of the pictorial type, a great many read popular, sexually oriented novels. Thus, national best sellers by famous American authors may just as easily be a source of inspiration to the prospective analistic experimenter as any other type of book. A pertinent example, perhaps, is Norman Mailer's best seller, An American Dream. The following excerpt should point up what we mean:
"...there was Ruta, Fraulein Ruta from Berlin, lying on top of the covers with her pajama pants down, a copy of a magazine in one hand and her other hand fingering, all five fingers fingering like a team of maggots in her open heat. She was off in that bower of the libido where she was queen, and those five fingers were five separate lords and ladies at work on her.
We did not say a word. Her face ... was on the edge of dividing into two women, that queen for certain of her fevers and a little girl trapped in a dirty act. I winked like the friendliest peasant neighbor-I recall how natural was this wink-and then I stripped my coat and started to take off my clothes ... . The maid set down the magazine and turned her free hand palm up toward me, her fingers long and thin with a hint of the fine curve in a double curved bow. I remember seeing that the curve of her fingers, her lips, and her long thin calves were a part of that sly bright fever she gave off, and in a new whiff of boldness as if to be bold was her metier, boldness had brought me to her, she lifted the other hand (those lords and ladies) and moved it across to me for a kiss to her fingers. Which I did, getting one full draft of a heated sex which was full of the flower, full of earth, and with suspicion of one sly mouse slipping through the garden, a bit of fish in its teeth. My bare foot came up from the carpet and I put my five toes where her hand had been, drawing up that instant out of her wet spicy wisdom all the arts and crafts of getting along in the world. She made the high nasal sound of a cat disturbed in its play-I had stolen some thing from her, and she was about to draw back, but there was a look in my face-I was ready to kill her easy as not, there was an agreeable balance in the thought that I was ready to kill anyone at this moment-and my look cracked the glitter in her eye. She shook her head and gave the prize to my five toes which moved in the wet with all the deliverance of snakes who have crossed a desert.
. . . But then ... a thin high constipation smell ... came needling its way out of her. She was hungry, like a lean rat she was hungry, and it could have spoiled my pleasure except that there was something intoxicating in the sheer narrow pitch of the smell, so strong, so stubborn, so private, it was a smell which could be mellowed only by the gift of fur and gems, she was money this girl, she cost money, she would make money, something as corrupt as a banquet plate of caviar laid on hundred-dollar bills would be required to enrich that odor all the way up to the smell of foie gras in Deborah's world and Deborah's friends. I had a desire suddenly to skip the sea and mine the earth, a pure prong of desire to bugger, there was canny hard-packed evil in that butt, that I knew. But she resisted, she spoke for the first time, 'Not there! Verboten!'.
I had, however, gotten an inch of the verboten. A ... detailed specification of a city rat, came out from her into me and deadened the head of my heat. I could go for a while now. And go I did. That other presence (which, I could remind you, leads to the creation) was lying open for me, and I barreled in on a stroke, expecting glory and the hot beat of jungle wings, but she was slack, her box spoke of cold gasses from the womb and a storehouse of disappointments. I quit her there and went back to where I had begun, the fierce pinched struggle to gain an inch and then a crucial quarter of an inch more, my hand was in her red dyed hair, pulling at a swatch with a twisting upward motion, and I could feel the pain in her scalp strain like a crowbar the length of her body and push up the trap, and I was in, that quarter-inch more was gained, the rest was easy. What a subtle smell came from her then, something back of the ambition, the narrow stubbornness, the monomaniacal determination to get along in the world, no, that was replaced by something sneaky, full of fear, but young, a child in soiled pants. 'You're a Nazi,' I said to her out of I knew not what.
'Jo,' she shook her head. 'No, no,' she went on. 'Ja, don't stop, ja.'
This plainly demonstrates that the "idea" of analism can be planted from a source available to most Americans. If they are sufficiently curious, experimentation can follow. In a sex-swapping situation, where experimentation toward sexual variety is manifest, the presence of analism is not inexplicable. It merely deserves to be examined and, possibly, understood.
CHAPTER ONE
The Anal Hedonist
"Yes, of course I was embarrassed. After all the sex that I had participated in! Me, with a vaginal infection. Vaginitis, the doctor called it. All I know is that I had one sore, inflamed cunt. At first I had thought that some sonovabitch in our sex-swapping group had given me a dose of clap-gonorrhea or some other venereal disease. I milked my husband's prick right away to make sure it wasn't in the family. Phil was clean. I called the other wives and checked to see if they had picked up anything. Nothing there, either. That's when I became worried. You see, aside from being a great one for douching and using feminine hygiene sprays, there was another reason that it was weird that I, of all the girls in the group, would have problems with my cunt. To be blunt, I'm basically anally oriented. I like my fucking in the ass.
"Not knowing what to expect, I purposely made an appointment with a doctor in a suburb some distance from where I lived. It was a rather strange experience. Believe it or not, for all of my twenty-five years, I had never had a doctor examine my sexual parts. A nurse had me change into a dressing gown that tied in the back. Then she helped me onto an examining table where my feet were put in stirrups, holding my knees up and spreading my legs wide apart. That was a great little table, I tell you. The position was perfect for a fast fucking. That was the last thing on my mind at the time, though. Yet I couldn't help but be curious about the doctor's reaction to my complete lack of pubic hair. When he lifted the examination gown and pushed it over my waist, the cunt that stared up at him was as hairless as a billiard ball.
"All of the girls in the group shaved their cunts to a greater or lesser degree. Some, like me, used a depilatory and are really hairless. It makes me feel sexy, and it really seems to turn on most of the husbands. The doctor was no exception. He was acting very cool and professional, but he couldn't keep an eyebrow from going up when he viewed my crotch. It caused him to fumble a bit when he poked and probed at me with his rubber-gloved fingers. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I wasn't there because of a burning cunt. I tried to fantasize that the doctor was playing with my sex with loving fascination. Naturally, it didn't work-especially when he inserted a cold steel instrument to scrape off a skin specimen of the infected area. After that came an equally cold glass slide for a smear examination. He left me hung up on the stirrups for some time and finally came back with the word: vaginitis. It sounded horrible, but he assured me that it wasn't anything rare. In fact, it was relatively common. He asked me about my hygienic habits, and I assured him on that point. Then he asked me about Phil, his genital cleanliness. Well, I couldn't very well tell him that Phil had the sweetest, cleanest tasting cock I'd ever sucked and that I usually gave it a very good tongue lathering before he did-anything else with it. I simply said that my husband was scrupulously clean.
"That's when the doctor did the damndest thing. He told me that he was going to give me another examination, and that I wasn't to be upset by it. This time, instead of putting on rubber gloves, he put on a single rubber sheath over his index finger. He called it a finger stall, and it looks like a tiny prophylactic. I thought: so, he's going to diddle with me-maybe work on my clit to see if I get aroused. But no. The finger went between my legs, but not to my cunt. I twitched involuntarily when I felt his fingertip press against my ass-hole.
"Had he guessed my passion? It was inconceivable-yet there he was pushing into my anus. God, it felt beautiful! I could feel my rear love-muscle tightly gripping the darling digit. He obviously wasn't trying to arouse me with any sexy finger movement; nevertheless I was getting deliciously hot. I would have loved to suck his finger inside my ass and squeeze it. Immediately, I was fantasizing again. As his finger moved steadily up my ass-hole to his second knuckle and lingered, I could only think of how marvelous the doctor's hard cock would be in its place. Well, can you blame me for having such thoughts? He had already told me I had a vaginal infection. Now he was fingering my horny ass-hole. Surely he was one of those doctors you always hear stories about but never meet. If he couldn't fuck me straight because of my infection, he was going to try to rip off a little through the back door. What else could be his motive? I mean, whoever heard of examining somebody's ass when they obviously had a vaginal problem?
"It goes to-show how little I knew about it. Just as I was working myself up to giving his finger a playful tug, he withdrew it. He looked at me straight in the eye and asked: 'Mrs. R-, how often do you have anal intercourse?'
"He knew. Out of some sense of reflexive propriety, I protested. It's one thing to enjoy one's unique sexual pleasure, and to have it known and appreciated by your husband and intimate friends; it's quite another to have it spoken of with such surety by a perfect stranger. I was indignant. Me-anal intercourse? Ridiculous!
" 'Mrs. R-, it's not my intention to embarrass you. There's nothing inherently wrong or immoral about anal intercourse in my opinion, nor is it abnormal. The reason it is not a widely practiced sexual habit is because a great number of people find it uncomfortable. And, of course, others have taboos about the practice. Yet there are more women than you would most-likely imagine who practice and enjoy anal intercourse. I have no argument with them.'
"I remained stubborn. I felt certain that he was patronizing me. All right, even if his sliding his finger up my ass did tell him something about my particular sexual desires, I didn't have to admit it out loud. I had covered myself at this point and was sitting stiffly on the edge of the table. He wrote out a prescription for antibiotics and a medicated douche, then he said: 'I'll be frank with you whether you want to confide in me or not. From the reactions of your sphincter muscles during the rectal examination, I'm forced to professionally conclude that you frequently practice anal intercourse. I suspected as much from the nature of your vaginal infection. I won't burden you with the technical terms, but the bacteria that caused the infection are a variety found in fecal matter. A word to the wise should be sufficient. If you and your husband ever do consider engaging in anal intercourse, be absolutely sure his penis is completely clean and bacteria-free before moving on to vaginal coitus:' I thanked him coolly and walked straight out of there without saying another word. On the ride home, though, all I could think was: Oh my God, if he only knew the half of it!
"I remember perfectly the night I must have picked up the infection. As far as the medical part of the story goes, enough said about that except that I must have been lucky for a long, long time. What happened sexually that night was the rule rather than the exception. There were four of us. Mike and Ronda were the other couple, and if was at their house where the party took place. They're a sweet pair, handsome and beautiful, and just as uninhibited as we are when it comes to sex. Once a month, the whole gang of us-twelve couples in all-get together for a real blast of an orgy. But on the weekends in-between we usually pair off with a single couple. Mike and Ronda are our favorites.
"The night began on a wild note. Ronda grinned at me and said with relief, "Thank God you're here! I can't handle Mike. It must be the phase of the moon or something, but he's been like a stud all day. He's fucked me royally twice this afternoon, and I've had to fight him off ever since.'
"When I kissed Mike hello and hugged him as usual, I knew what she was talking about. He was already hard, and with Mike that makes quite an impression-eight solid inches worth. I let my hand drop and gave the bulge in his pants a hearty squeeze. 'Is that all for me?'
" 'As much as you can take,' he laughed. 'Honda's been playing hard to get. But to hell with her now. All I've been able to think about is that sweet ass of yours.'
"Which was exactly what I'd been thinking about. I didn't let go of him-neither of us had to say aloud that we didn't want to mess around with the preliminaries. I should explain that usually we all have a drink or two and get in the mood with some sexy talk-a sort of a casual warm-up to the heavy action that follows. But not all the time. That night was particularly ripe for a fast opening.
"My Phil and Ronda weren't quite as steamed up. They stayed upstairs to mix a drink while Mike and I went down to the basement den they call the "playpen.' It had been fixed up with soft rugs, a couple of sofas, and some large pillow-like hassocks-a very comfortable room for balling.
"Mike was all over me in seconds. He had my blouse and bra off and was nuzzling my nipples with his lips at the same time he was tugging down my slacks. Slowing him down was out of the question. I let myself fall over on a big pillow and allowed him to free me of the slacks, then I was naked before him, my legs spread. I flexed my thighs, beckoning to him with my smooth cunt, as he stripped out of his clothes.
"God, was he hard! I practically drooled at the sight of that fabulous erection. My ass was tingling, too. I could tell that he could sense it, by the way he grinned at me. He knelt on the floor and reached underneath me and caressed the cheeks of my ass. As he came closer, I lifted my legs and rested them on his shoulders. He knew the routine well enough once we were in that beautifully accommodating position. Next, he leaned over and took my mouth with his. Our lips clashed, devouring each other's tongues, while his hands were squeezing and pulling on my titties-tripping the nipples into a swollen sensation of warmth. Then his great cock was pressed tightly into the moist groove of my cunt. The fat head thumped on my clit, causing my loins to vibrate and my juices to flow.
"I kept playing the erotic tape-recorder of my mind: Let it go and get it wet, baby.' Get that big, beautiful tool nice and slippery!
"You could say I have my own quirks when it comes to being fucked in the ass. I've had men lube up their cocks with everything from spit to Shinola-vaseline, vaginal jelly, cold cream, even olive oil. The best yet, though, is Mother Nature's own: my cunt juices. Or someone else's. Oh, I know all the arguments about how it's not supposed to last, rubs right off, and all that. I can only say that it works for me. The best part is that there's no waste of time, no aching delay to grease up. When I want a cock where it will do the most good, it's there, and it's ready!
"With Mike, I arched my back and grabbed the root of his erection. Then I dipped it in the well, teasing his balls while he pushed all eight inches into me. Fantastic! The second best thing in the world! By the time he had stroked me a dozen times, I was squirming all over the pillow and pumping so much cunt juice it was trickling down the crevice of my ass. That did it! I couldn't wait another second.
"I was gasping when I told him to put that huge cock right where it belonged. And he didn't need a second invitation. Quickly he pulled his slick rod out of my cunt and moved back slightly, rocking on his knees, jiggling my buttocks, and aligning his thick plunger with the puckered, greedy hole. I moaned when I felt the wet, heavy knob push up against my ass-hole. Then came the pressure. I felt the tight ring being spread open a fraction of an inch with every breath he took. I didn't move; I tensed my body with electric ecstasy and savored each delicious twinge of the splitting sphincter.
"But once again, my compulsions got the better of me. As he was tantalizing me with the head of his cock, I shoved forward suddenly! The great knob popped beyond the barrier and a blast of dark air rushed out to sweep his balls. I can't adequately describe that moment. Glorious, I think, would be the one word to sum up the feeling that surged over me. And it happens nearly every time. Of course, the first penetration of any evening, just like I was enjoying with Mike at the moment, is the very, very best. I practically come apart at the seams. All of me is in motion. I yell, bite, thump, claw, scratch, kick and squirm. Most men are intuitive enough to realize that the only way to calm me down at that precise instant is to jam their cocks as fast and as far up my ass-hole as they possibly can. Mike is no stranger to the strategy. He did just that. I lay there quivering under him from head to toe and had my first gushing orgasm!
"It's always hard to explain my orgasms under those circumstances. I mean, I'm not really sure where they originate. Sometimes I think it's way up my ass, deep in my bowels. Other times I think it's the pressure in my ass that causes my cunt to climax. I do know that the intensity is a great deal more powerful than the orgasms I experience in a straight fuck or when my clit is being worked on by either a hand or mouth. Maybe that's why I can't pinpoint the location. Maybe the explosion I feel in my guts is so powerful that the location gets lost in the storm. Sometimes I've even fainted momentarily, and that is a fantastic sensation-waking up after a few seconds with my entire body on fire and feeling as though I were floating on air. In any event, I won't bother to argue precisely-as many of the girls I know do-on whether I have vaginal orgasms or rectal orgasms. That's a female mystery that doesn't mean much to me. All I'm really concerned about is the extreme pleasure it gives me.
"Mike was in me hugely. I could feel the crown of his cock plowing furrows in the tissue of my ass, so I kept humping upward to meet each new thrust. I could feel his heavy balls slapping into me--jolting my spine. My hands were busy, too. I pinched my nipples and clawed at my clit. I went through a series of orgasms that were less intense than the first but equally pleasurable. I knew that Mike was striving to come, too. That's when I began milking his cock with the pressure of my anus. I wouldn't call it the greatest trick in the world-in fact anyone can learn it-but without bragging I can say I've learned it better than most. It's the same kind of pressure one uses when taking a crap-a sort of controlled spasm. Control it well enough and you can grab a long cock, squeeze it, release, squeeze it again, all within a single withdrawal stroke. Maybe it can be done with a well-trained cunt, I wouldn't know. But I can tell you that there are very few men whose balls are bursting who can stand up to more than a minute of my anal massage. Mike couldn't. He moaned as I squeezed and, in a matter of moments, he was spurting huge gobs of hot come up my rectum.
"When we broke apart, we saw that Ronda and Phil were watching us. They were standing naked just inside the doorway. Phil had his arm around her and was fondling one of her very full tits. She has a hefty 37C size bust, just a little more than I have in that department. At the same time Phil squeezed her tit, she had a stranglehold on his cock. From the expressions on their faces, it was obvious that our show had put them in the mood-but good!
"Their own heated nakedness recharged my batteries, too. Mike was out of it for a few minutes, so I called to them to join me. I should say at this point that Ronda and I know each other's bodies as well as two females can-and, no, I'm not a lesbian. Neither is she. Even classifying myself as a bisexual would be going too far. Oh, for the sake of getting the point across to people who don't know me too well, I would say I'm AC-DC. Yet it's more involved than that. Basically, I'm a man's woman, for no cockless creature could ever please me sexually for very long.
"On the other hand, I reject the idea that sexual pleasure should be limited. I happen to enjoy having my cunt licked and my clitoris sucked. If a man can do it and please me, why not a woman? Naturally, I reciprocate-and see nothing wrong with it at all. Frankly, it's quite a thrill to drive another female up the wall and bring her off. Do I find the taste, the texture, or the scent unpleasant? That's like asking if I'm repugnant to my own self. I like to think that I have an infinite capacity for eroticism. If I enjoy the tongue of another woman lapping at my sex, yet deny her the same attention, then I'm, in effect, denying myself.
"There are limits, though. Sadomasochism, for instance, has no place in my sexual scheme of things. I'm the first to admit that there's an instant of pain that goes along with accepting anal intercourse, but I don't agree at all with the conclusions of some so-called sexual authorities that that makes me masochistic to some degree. What we are talking about is only a couple of moments of discomfort weighed against a long period of the sheerest ecstasy. I happen to know a couple of girls who feel an instant of vaginal pain when they are fucked straightaway, when the man's cock gets into them fully at the beginning, and nobody calls them masochistic. Among the girls in our group who take it in the ass--just to liven up a party or because there's no other hole available-there are a couple for whom it's a very uncomfortable experience during most of the time it's happening, but I don't call them masochists either. As for myself, I don't allow any of the other stuff one reads about: slapping, spanking, whipping, being tied up, and all that sort of thing. I know people who dig it, but it's not my bag. Getting back to lesbianism, you can see that I don't qualify. I do it because it's kicks, not something I couldn't live without.
"When Ronda and Phil joined me on the floor of the playpen, I knew how I was going to handle them both. I had a pretty good idea what they'd been doing before they came downstairs. Phil's cock was slightly shiny and damp, and Ronda had a tiny droplet of spittle at the corner of her mouth. Her cunt, on the other hand, was the epitome of dry heat. The thick lips, surrounded by the tiny fringe of blonde pussy hair, were swollen and blushing. There wasn't any visible sign of juice. Phil had obviously let her suck him off without reciprocating in any manner. Good! She was ripe for a little head. And it would also give me a chance to get my dear spouse's cock up that back alley he knew so well.
"Phil sat down beside me and teased my nipples. When I turned my back on him, he knew it wasn't a rejection. He spread his legs and, pulling me by the tits, snuggled my ass back into him. In this way he could lean back on the floor with his head on a pillow and pull me, outstretched and belly up, against his taut body. Ronda had lowered herself in front of us. That's when I raised myself so that I was above Phil's crotch and his beautiful hard-on jutted up between my legs. Ronda reached forward and stroked it. The erection was so tight in my own crotch that, when Ronda ran her fingers up and down the shaft, her knuckles pushed into the outer flesh of my cunt. She effectively caressed both of us at the same time. Slowly, while she was jerking with her hand, I spread my thighs further and further until my legs slipped over Phil's and were on the outside of his. I was in a fantastic split-open and ready for anything.
"All I had to do was arch my back off my husband's chest, raise my pelvis slightly, and his cock would have slid into my cunt at a wild, up-thrust angle. I could have made the move, but I waited for Ronda. She was sharp enough to know what I really wanted. Holding Phil's meat with one hand, she wiggled a finger underneath us where my buttocks pressed into his groin. Teasingly, she snaked it up to my ass-hole. She tweaked the button and pushed the fingertip in. Oh, yeah! My ass came up off Phil's belly. Ronda took Phil's cock and waved it like a fat dagger. She aimed it at my tight hole where her pinkie was doing a devilish dance and, when I came back down from my initial jolt, she snapped out her finger. In a single, glorious plunge, Phil's cockhead was halfway buried in my anus!
"I pushed down, grunting and shoving, while Ronda kept everything aligned with her talented hands. The cockhead burst into my rectum, and I clamped onto it, rutting more and more of the stem up my ass.
"I was in a frenzy atop Phil. His hands were around me, his fingers literally gnawing at my tits, his mouth nuzzling me hotly at the nape of my neck. That's when Ronda bent low, brought her face down to my cunt, and flicked at my clit with her tongue. As crazy as it sounds, I had to reach down and stop her. I couldn't explode in orgasm that quickly, I just couldn't. I lifted her mouth off my clit and found her tits. I pulled on the firm flesh and squeezed her already rigid nipples. I urged her upward and she crawled between our legs, over our outstretched bodies. Phil's cock was a good four inches into my ass-hole by this time, and I was humping for more as Ronda straddled us. But my hands didn't let loose of her abundant breasts. I opened my eyes, and her beautiful cherry red cunt, now gaping, was only inches from my hungry mouth.
"Here I'd like to say something about the beauty of that moment-and that particular position. You see, it's not just for me, it's for Phil too. When he's taking me in the ass that' way, with my back to his chest, his head is just below and behind mine. When another girl crawls over us and sits on my face, he gets a fantastic close-up view of my lips and tongue working over a juicy cunt. It drives him up a wall! He loves to watch it from there. Sometimes-and don't ask me how-we've even managed to get in weird alignments where he gets a taste also. But most of the time he just watches wildly, inspiring him to fuck my ass like there was no tomorrow. That's what happened when my tongue found Ronda's sweet cunt. Phil went practically out of control in my rectum-and you should have seen me!
"The second I sucked in a mouthful of pussy flesh, I twitched so hard that I almost lost contact with everything above and below. Thank God my floor partners had more composure. Phil really reamed me with a deep stroke, and Ronda grabbed my head and brought it up so that I was clamped on her clitoris. Wow! But in a moment, I planned to settle down to a pumping, licking, sucking rhythm. And that, friend, as they say in the television soap operas, is where the plot thickened.
"Mike, watching from the sidelines, had just been waiting for the right moment to join us. So when Ronda lovingly pressed her cunt onto my mouth, he saw his opportunity. He straddled Phil's body and mine, then I felt his balls on my belly, and soon they were higher between my tits. I was so caught up in my own heat that, for a minute, I didn't realize what he was trying to do. Then I knew what his perspective of the tangled pile of flesh must be. He inched up close to Ronda who was bent and crouched over my mouth, her own ass-hole in the open and exposed just inches from the love bud that my tongue was lavishing.
"I couldn't see, but I felt the nudge when Mike jammed his cock against Ronda's anus! I could feel him clench her hips and shove. I could hear, and my lips could actually feel, the lusty plunge that took him inside of her. She jolted upright! My mouth lost contact with her clitoris, and I could see for scant moments his hairy balls and, above them, that great thick rod pushing into her rear. The sight made my own ass-hole quake.
"I should mention, however, that Ronda isn't as anal as I am. Oh, she took it all right, and I'm sure she got quite a charge out of it. At least from her squealing and quivering, one would have thought so. But anal fucking isn't anything she enjoys for prolonged periods of time. A few strokes, a quick thrill, and for her that's it. To each his own, I say. But in a secretly perverse way, I was glad she didn't think it was all that great. I knew she would start farting and groaning as soon as Mike had forced his way in about three inches and, sure enough, she did. Then came my golden opportunity-greedy Gussie that I am. Amid all the loud, wet, smacking sounds, I managed to make myself heard. Just as Mike was being expelled from Ronda's ass, I yelled for him to take me in the cunt!
"Yes, I know, that's the stuff that sexy jokes are made of. But no female alive should knock it until she's tried it. Two gorgeous, strong, hard cocks, front and back, at the same time!
"Mike slid down and wedged himself into me. Believe me, it wasn't easy with Phil's cock already packed in tight and nearly to the hilt. But I'll give Mike credit, he didn't let a crowded ballroom stop him for long. Up and up it went! I no longer had any control over my anal or vaginal muscles. I was totally at the mercy of those two magnificent pricks! My crotch was distended in ecstasy! I could swear that Phil and Mike were touching each other inside me! I couldn't hold back-I came, and during that ecstasy, the others followed. It was a combination of the Fourth of July and the Johnstown Flood.
"But, you see, that's where it all went wrong. I'm referring now to my little medical problem, the vaginal infection. I mean, what female could insist upon absolute hygiene at a time like that? It goes without saying that Mike's cock wasn't enzyme clean. It had been up my ass, and up Ronda's too, before he got around to my cunt. I've gone over the whole night in my mind, and it was only during that particular wild, four-way set that I could have caught vaginitis. We did a lot of other marvelous things that evening, but periodically we washed off. No, it had to be that moment. It's ironic that that moment was also the supreme incident of joy for me during that entire session.
"Has it affected how I feel about anal intercourse? Am I afraid of future consequences? The answer to both questions is an emphatic no. It's a risk I'm simply going to have to accept. Call it, if you will, a kind of risk I accept concerning pregnancy. I'm on the pill now and that lessens the odds. But when I was younger, the men and boys I fucked used prophylactics, and I knew then they weren't entirely foolproof. So I accepted that risk, just like I'll accept this one now that I'm aware of it. There's no greater pleasure in the world to me than a cock up my ass-and I'll be damned if I'll give it up for any reason!"
The narrator of the above case history, Jean
R-, is an attractive twenty-seven-year-old brunette who could adequately be termed an anal hedonist. It is amply apparent from her words that for her a successful sexual encounter can only occur with at least one incident of anal intercourse. Also apparent is the fact that she has given the matter of her anal impulses considerable thought. She becomes a loquacious advocate for her own brand of sexualism. In this regard, Jean is somewhat unique. Most anal erotics (as we shall see in following chapters) are defensive in varying degrees about their anal activities. Jean, on the other hand, would have the reader believe that she possesses the true answer to female sexual fulfillment. It is a false assumption, of course. She is one of a distinct, albeit growing, minority. The fact that she presents a persuasive case for anal intercourse stems mainly from her own narcissism and sexual ego.
Many individuals are strong advocates of particular sexual activity. There are a number of reasons for this. An individual, for instance, may find satisfaction in only one coital position-one, perhaps, that insures physical dominance over the sex partner. Other individuals find a variety of sex acts so distasteful that they attribute undue enthusiasm to the one act they can accept. Partialism and fetishism also create such advocates. As for Jean, we mentioned her sexual ego. She is obviously sincere when she refers to her own physical pleasure during anal intercourse, but it is also probable that she is indulging in a game of one-upmanship.
Our subject is quite aware that a majority of women find anal intercourse taboo. There is, in the first place, the society taboo in which the anus is merely a source of dirt and filth; while the fact that the anus is also an erogenous zone is entirely ignored. The second taboo is that anal intercourse is always and unequivocally painful. Jean, as we have noted, went to some lengths to dispel any notion that she was masochistically inclined and attempted to thoroughly minimize the element of pain. It was also obvious that she completely ignored mention of the first taboo (dirt, filth, etc.), even though she knew that it was the bacteriological source of her vaginal infection. What we have, then, is a woman who consciously dispels or ignores the two dominant taboos concerning anal intercourse. At once this sets her aside from her sisters. In a profoundly personal way, she becomes something better than they, a more complete sexual creature. The real physical pleasure that she derives from anal intercourse is heightened by the sublime pleasure derived from the knowledge of her uniqueness.
It can be stated that the subject's sexual ego and her anal activity feed upon one another. But what is the Source of such a syndrome? The answer to that question lies in part in her willingness, her enthusiasm, for participating in organized sex swapping. We are all, to a degree, competitive animals, and this also holds true in the area of sex. In most individuals, there is pride in sexual performance as well as pride in the ability to stimulate and satisfy a sex partner. Normally, a married couple will reach a plateau of mutual sexual satisfaction, then when the magic dims, they will experiment and incorporate additional sex acts or procedures to fulfill their expectations. Cunnilingus, fellatio, and anal intercourse are but three devices that can serve this purpose. Yet within a marriage in which neither partner seeks extramarital activity, the question of mutual fulfillment and satisfaction is not of a competitive nature.
The single person who dates more than one member of the opposite sex is in a better position to judge his own and his partner's sexual performances. The sexually enlightened single female wants to be known as an exciting bed-mate. The single man almost universally strives to perform to the peak of his virility. Single men and women realize that they are in a position of competition, that they are being compared, perhaps subconsciously, with previous sex partners. This awareness of competition is nowhere more striking than in sex-swapping circles. The idea is intensely implanted in the vast majority of participants that they must "outdo" the other fellow or girl or suffer disfavor or even ridicule. And, in fact, this does happen to a great extent whether two couples are exchanging mates or a larger group of couples are engaged in a full-scale orgy.
It is not surprising to find individuals achieving sexual abandonment. It is. also quite common to find others who, having been imbued with the spirit of competition, will "try anything once." Yet, the most recent and most reliable data on the sex-swapping phenomenon indicates that anal intercourse, especially the acceptance of it by females, is far down the list of sexual preferences. (It has a far greater incidence among sex groups, however, than it does among the married population at large.) For the sake of illustration, we place a woman like Jean into this picture.
We previously stated that Jean was attractive-but she is not extraordinarily beautiful. like many a suburban wife of her age, she is stylish, well-groomed, and keeps her well-proportioned body in good trim. Without her clothes on, she would admittedly tempt most normal men. By the same token, though, without her clothes on she is no more nor less attractive in a startling way than the other wives of her sex-swapping group. Also like the others, she is physically adept, possibly talented, at a variety of sexual acts both heterosexual and homosexual. Only one thing separates Jean from the rest of the crowd: her loudly acclaimed enthusiasm for anal intercourse.
This is not to say that Jean first experienced anal intercourse in a sex swapping situation and then proceeded to champion it. Such is not the case; she discovered anal intercourse at a relatively early age. Shortly, in her own words, our subject will discuss this. The point that we make here is that, in sex-swapping, Jean found a situation perfect for the exploitation of her unusual sexual predilection. Given the taboos that we have discussed, a knowledgeable individual like Jean was quick to realize that she had a special, uncommon, sexual quest to offer the group.
Forearmed with this knowledge and feeling that she was unique in her anal desires, Jean broadcast and propagandized her quest. She knew from experience that most of the women in the group would be abhorrent, stymied, reluctant, or hesitant at the introduction of analism. She could only gauge those who would and those who wouldn't. Of those who would, she could merely gauge relative acceptance versus pleasure. The degree of their pleasure was low; this she knew from observation. Therefore, her own star shone in the particular sexual heaven which she habituated.
Another essential point in Jean's personal philosophy concerning anal intercourse is dependent upon the male consideration of the act. The taboos discussed earlier seem to be far less prevalent among males. A pertinent study shows that analingus (oral excitation of the sex partner's anus) is a frequent corollary of cunnilingus as well as being a foreplay gesture preceding anal intercourse. A desire for anal intercourse also manifests a belief in what we would call the "virgin syndrome." Here we refer to the male misconception of the alleged tightness versus looseness of the vagina: tight is virginity and innocence, loose is promiscuity and guilt. An inordinate number of men fallaciously bank their ideals against this illogical set of precepts.
Anatomically speaking, there is no correlation, of course, between genitalia and virility-male or female. The feminine provider of a capacious vagina may dreamily lust over an oversized penis, but rarely do the twain meet. And the female does not usually carry her dreams to distraction. On the contrary, the male ideal is to find a woman who is "tight." It goes without saying that the word is relative. Perhaps, as Freud suggested, there is a capacity for rape in everyone. When we think of rape, we do not think of the village whore. We think of her as gaping, loose, slack, a grossly used cavity into which we can vent our current frustrations. A "nice girl" or, if we're married, "our wife," rarely fits our fantasies nor does the slippery whore. What, then, for the virginal tightness that most men secretly dream about and desire? The anus is the answer.
Jean had considerable insight into these observations. She chose to exploit them to her own ends. It would be well at this point to examine the rudimentary inception of Jean's analism. Her narration continues:
"What we're really talking about happened in my junior year of high school. Before that, I'd been laid about four times and I thought it was the greatest thing in the world. But I didn't know anything about birth control. I had this stupid idea that the guy was supposed to take care of everything. I would let the guys, whom I thought I loved, fuck me. Okay, so that happens to a lot of girls in high school. I mean, I wasn't promiscuous; I wasn't the town whore or anything like that. But I did like fucking. "There was a feeling, in those days, that I couldn't equate with anything except dying and going to heaven. At the same time, though, I thought I knew all about letting a boy come inside of a girl, without him wearing prophylactics, or her wearing a diaphragm-which only a couple of very sophisticated girls in our group did. I had no real consciousness of the disaster that could evolve until one of my best friends got pregnant. They sent her away-bang!-until she ended up in a weird religious school that was like a prison in another part of the state. I shouldn't have to tell you that we all took a pretty close look at what we were doing ourselves.
"Motherhood? The funny thing was, I had no interest after that in the usual female joy in having a baby. I was only concerned with how to avoid the same predicament that my friend got sapped with-and I soon made up my mind just how that was going to happen.
"The night it first happened, I was out with a fellow named Tom. You know, I can't even think of his last name. Tom was a basketball player, a tall, big, good-looking kid who was very smooth. I'll say he was smooth!
"After the dance following the ball game, we drove a few miles out of town to a little lake where there was a hotel and a dance floor. I'll admit two things: I was a little bit terrified of Tom, but I was having the time of my life. To be perfectly candid, I was prepared to fuck him. After all the vodka drinks, the dancing, and laughing, I really did find myself in a room stretched out on a bed. Evidently, I had passed out, and he had taken me upstairs and pulled off my clothes. I awoke with a strange sensation and then discovered that he was sucking one of my tits. It was a marvelous feeling to awaken that way; my first thought was how warm and sexy I felt. I reached down, took hold of Tom's cock and began to fondle it. I remember it was hard and throbbing like it had a little heartbeat. It made me feel so warm and sexy that my cunt was already wet and he hadn't even touched me there. While I was enjoying the size and heat of his cock, he redoubled his efforts to suck as much as he could of my tit into his mouth. I could feel my nipple deep in his throat and I moaned and squirmed on the bed. Somewhere about that time was when panic struck me.
"I recall that Tom was fingering me. He began gently with one slow finger, then increased the tempo and doubled the number of fingers, and finally ended up plunging three fingers in and out. My cunt was literally on fire and I was almost to the point of begging him to fuck me. But he was doing some anticipating, too. He eased up on me and spread my legs. His hard cock was pushed against the inside of my thigh and, as he arched his back, I could feel the hard meat slide closer and closer toward my cunt. Just as he reached my pussy hair-yes, I had a full crop then-I suddenly remembered all the things that I had been saying to my self in relation to the girl who got pregnant. I realized, too, that he had no rubber on.-
"I grabbed Tom and asked him if he had a rubber. He didn't, but he promised he'd be careful and pull out before he came off. I knew better than to believe a promise like that. Not that I didn't believe he was sincere, but I just happened to know a bit about boys by this time. Once he started reaching a big climax, it would take a team of horses to drag him out of me. So I shook my head and kept saying no, fighting with him, protesting my fear. I think I even offered to suck him off. In any event, he wasn't having any of that. He was determined to get fucked, and was getting very uptight about it.
"Oh sure, I could have screamed and yelled rape and woke up the whole hotel, but that wasn't really the issue. I wasn't trying to play the part of the precious virgin. I wanted sex, I wanted-hell, I don't think I knew what I wanted but rather knew what I had to avoid. By that time, we were wrestling on the bed with him fully on top of me and pinning me down. His cock was twitching between my legs, pressed tightly into my crotch. I was doing my damndest to keep my thighs together. Then, as I recall, his cock slipped underneath and was pushing at the crevice of my ass. I mean, it wasn't intentional; he didn't try to poke me there on purpose. Yet, with his cock underneath there and wedged up against my cheeks, the idea must have hit us at the same time. We sort of stopped, me with my protests, him with his demands. We looked at each other, and he asked me if he could-meaning could he put it up my ass.
"I don't remember exactly how I answered, but it was something to the effect that it was all right if it didn't hurt. My language was a little more delicate in those days. Anyway, he promised that he wouldn't hurt me, that he'd stop the minute I told him to. I guess I thought it was a better bargain than trying to get him to pull out of my cunt before he came, so I said okay. I gave him the go-ahead to fuck me in the ass.
"God, how dumb I was then! I had no idea about things like lubrication. I guess I thought that my ass, when it got hot, would juice up just like a cunt. And my friend was no smarter than I. I rolled over on my stomach and lifted my ass, offering it up, so to speak, making the grand sacrifice for the sake of birth control. In retrospect, I realize that Tom's cock wasn't very large; his physical height was in no way related to the dimensions that pronged out from his crotch. But, oh, did he ever feel like a gargantuan monster as he shoved his prick up against my anus! I think I would have leaped off the bed and run out of the room at that point had I not been so terrified. Instead, I just crouched there, frozen. I clenched my eyes shut and gritted my teeth while he rammed and rammed at my tiny, virginal ass-opening. The flesh felt like it was being shredded. Thoughts of being ruptured forever, being split beyond repair, flashed through my mind as he wedged that torturous cock in a fraction of an inch at a time. Then he suddenly plunged through!
"I gasped and yelled and nearly collapsed. Then the strangest sensation overcame me. All that initial pain had been instantly replaced by a great feeling of warmth-but more than that, so much more. I had never dreamed that the flesh inside my ass would be so sensitive. I felt every fractional movement and every twitch of his cock. It was like being explored to the depth with a big, hot, fleshy tool. And every move that I made increased the tremendous gratification that I was receiving. I couldn't help playing with my clit-that, too, was a bonus.
"For the first time with sex, everything was right. Until then I had always thought I had orgasms, but they were like hiccups compared to the one I had when Tom finally came up my ass. I knew then, at that age, what I had missed up to that point and that all my girl friends had missed. As for Tom, he loved every second of it. Naturally, like most guys that young, he had to brag about the literal 'piece of ass' that he had ripped off yours truly.
"I found that I was suddenly very popular with the senior class. In a way, it turned me on to take guys away from their steady girl friends, guys who would do anything for me just to get something different. But let me set the record straight: I didn't treat Phil like that; I didn't wave my butt in front of him to offer him a change of pace. He didn't find out about the pleasures of my ass until the second day of our honeymoon. Then he got hooked pretty fast, too."
Among anal erotics, the hedonist, the truly sensuous lover of anal intercourse, is the exception rather than the rule. Nonetheless, she is a reality.
CHAPTER TWO
The Anal Sadist
"Have you ever felt as though the world revolved around your cock-or if it didn't, that it should? I can't help it, that's the way I feel. I know that my idea of sex is different from most people's. Sometimes I think there's an animal inside me gnawing and clawing to get out. I keep asking: do I really want to hurt Ann, my wife, or any of the other females I've Had since we got into sex trading? Sitting here like I am now, talking it out, I'd like to be able to say no, no, I never intend to hurt anyone. Yet it happens time after time. I see a woman's ass and I have to have it. And I know, as well as I know my own name, that I'm going to hurt her. I've yet to run into the ass-hole that could take my cock without a great deal of pain.
"What does that make me? Some sort of a monster? I don't think so. Believe me, I'm trying to be honest about this. After living with it for so long, I have finally come to the conclusion that most females want to be hurt, need to be hurt. Sure, some of them are more open about it than others. Some of them will lay it on the line that the best sex of all hurts and the place it hurts most is up their ass. Most of them won't admit it, but I believe this is what they truly want.
"Let me prove my point. How many women rave and go wild over, or secretly wish and dream about, the joys of a huge cock? Damn right, all of them! The evidence is everywhere-the stories you read, the sex movies they're showing nowadays, the sex confessions gals publish. They think about cocks of inhuman proportions. Think about all the phalli that females have worshipped all through history. Hell, some of them were six feet long.
"It's as plain as day that women want the biggest cock that's possible. On the other hand, very few guys can come up to that expectation. This I'm sure of because I've made plenty of comparisons. Not only that, but I read somewhere that the average adult male only had a cock five and a half inches long in erection. Five and a half inches! Christ, no wonder there are so many neurotic females running around. And you have to figure that five and a half inches is an average; there must be millions of poor bastards in this country who can't even show three or four inches. I've heard that a lot of faggots are extremely undersized in the cock department, and I figure that explains a lot.
"Okay, now then, you take me: Just a fraction over ten inches hard, almost two and a half inches in diameter. Now that, dammit, is a cock! I'm not bragging, it's a fact; you can measure it if you want to. There may be bigger ones, but no female I've ever known has seen one. Neither have I, even in stag movies I've seen. So here I am, the one male in millions who actually possesses the kind of equipment that women dream about. And what happens? They scream. That's right. The goddamn bitches. The same ones that wet their sheets at night envisioning a cock like mine start squealing and shaking and making every excuse in the book the minute they lay eyes on my cock.
"This used to bother me. It bothered me a lot until I finally realized that what they say and what they want are two different things. The truth is, they want to be hurt. They want to have a man, a real man, dominate them. Sure I've heard all this women's lib crap. You know the real score? They want someone like me more than they realize. I don't blame them for being frustrated with the run-of-the-mill five and a half inches. I can understand why they have so little use for the average man. But, just like all the others, they'd scream the minute they saw me with a hard-on.
"Just let me get my hands on them once, though, and let me start driving that ten inches into their asses, then you'd hear a different story. They'd change, alright. Most of them do. That's why I get so fantastically mad when I'm compared to a monster for being cruel and brutal. I'm only that way because I know it's what the woman really wants, no matter how loud she screams. After all, I don't beat up on them. I don't whip them. I'm not one of those.
"Why do I concentrate on the anus? You wouldn't ask a stupid question like that if you had .any real understanding of females. I just got through explaining that when a woman dreams about a huge cock, like mine, she secretly desires to be hurt by it, to be completely dominated by it. So I ask you, what better place than right up the ass-hole to make her dreams come true? Naturally I can hurt a cunt with my cock. I do, too, but just as a warm up. You see, when most of these bitches get hot enough, they can take ten inches and start whistling Dixie. Or, as another song goes, 'It only hurts for a little while.' Then you're right back where you started-they're using you.
"You can't let that happen, can't listen to them at that point, no matter how wild they say you are, no matter how great they think your cock is. They're just postponing their own ultimate fulfillment. I'm not saying that they're doing it consciously, but they're doing it nonetheless. But friend, let me go on record as saying that that doesn't happen when you roll them over on their bellies. Which even goes for the ones who know they want their ass fucked and come right out and ask for it.
"This brings me to the sex trading that's become part of my life. Mind you, I'm not a member of any organized group or any bunch of neighbors who go around swapping wives. In the first place, that isn't my style. In the second place, I doubt if very many husbands would want me around once they saw the size of my cock in comparison to their own. Talk about jealousy, they'd never let me next to their wives even if the wives were willing to take a chance. I had a brief experience like that just once, and it told me all I wanted to know about those kind of groups.
"This was six, almost seven years ago-before I met my own wife. I'll admit to really not understanding women back in those days-especially the rejections I was getting from them. I would take out a good-looking bitch, a sure fuck, and time after time I'd run into the same scene. The girl would see my cock and start screaming. All of a sudden it was their period or an aunt was due in from Portland in an hour or they'd had a hysterectomy the day before yesterday. And me, well, I was mister nice-guy. I either let them off the hook or, if I was too horny, I'd fall all over them to get them to try it. I'd eat cunt until my tongue was raw to get them so hot that they couldn't help themselves. What the hell kind of satisfaction is there in sex like that? But I don't blame them. I was too dumb to realize what they really wanted-that pain was part of the female fantasy.
"Anyway, as I started to say, it was about that time I ran into Ruth. Ruth was about ten or twelve years older than I, but she looked young, if you know what I mean. She was divorced and she had the reputation of being a swinger. We worked for the same real estate company; I was just getting started in the business and she'd been a successful agent for a long time. Under the guise of being the old pro, she liked to get hold of the younger guys in the office. I had some initial doubt about going out with her-I had a big thing for young girls-but since my sex life wasn't going too smoothly with the young stuff, I decided that Ruth was at least a change. After all, you hear all those stories about horny divorcees.
"One thing I'll say for Ruth, she didn't beat around the bush. We were at her place to supposedly have a couple of drinks and talk business,' but we were only halfway through the first drink when we were all over each other on the couch, going at it with our mouths and tongues, starting to feel each other up. Then she gasped aloud. She pulled her mouth away from me and stared wide-eyed. You see, she had just put her hand on my crotch. I thought: oh shit, here we go again, now the excuses start.
"But for once, thank God, I was wrong. When she was over her initial surprise, she flashed me the biggest, lewdest grin I'd ever seen. Her hands were at my zipper, and when she pulled my cock out inch by inch, she was purring like a big pussy cat. She was murmuring how beautiful it was, how she wanted all of it, everywhere. She went down on me at once, licking and kissing the entire fat length. She started with her tongue on my balls and went all the way up to nibble at the head, taking tiny love bites along the sides. She was able to stroke me with both hands while she sucked on the knob. Naturally, she couldn't get very much in her mouth, but she did a helluva job on the part she managed to swallow.
"It was a particular thrill to me to have a woman finally react like that. I think what I remember most about those first minutes with Ruth was the way she would open her eyes and look up into mine. Her eyes were practically dancing with excitement. There was no fear in them, no trepidation. Of course, I'll have to admit now that Ruth was quite a bit different than most of the females in my life. I shortly found out how different.
"She broke off the cocksucking before I came. We rushed into the bedroom, throwing our clothes off on the way. It wasn't until I was on the bed that I noticed what a damn beautiful body she had. She was a big girl, five nine at least and not an ounce of fat. Her tits were enormous, perfect cones that sagged only slightly under their own weight. I couldn't cover them with my hands as she crawled onto the bed above me. I made an attempt to bring the dark, excited nipples down to my mouth, but she told me bluntly that she didn't need or want any of that. The cock was the thing.
"She knelt straight up, straddling my thighs, running one hand lightly and teasingly up and down the tight skin of my hard-on, while with her other hand, she fingered her cunt. Almost immediately, I could hear the smacking of her juices as she worked her fingers furiously. Next, she arched her back so I could get a good look at what she was doing. I think my cock was harder then than it had ever been before. Maybe it was from watching her rub her clit and seeing the lips of her cunt open wider and wider, or maybe it was the realization that I was finally going to get fucked by a woman who really wanted it and who was going wild with anticipation.
"She raised herself and moved forward, then gripped my cock tightly and held it straight up. With a thumb and forefinger, she stretched open the lips of her cunt and I had a fantastic view as I watched her slowly lower herself onto my thick meat. I could feel the fingers where she held her flesh, then I could feel the hot flesh of her cunt itself. My entire cock-head disappeared into a furry hole, forcing her to grunt, wiggle and shove downward.
"Christ, was she tight! Tight and beautiful. She moaned, restraining herself from plunging straight down too soon. I was amazed at her control since she was so hot that her juices were dribbling out of her cunt and running down my cock. More amazing, though, was to watch her envelop me by the inch. It was as if I were through her womb and up into her belly. I was vaguely aware that she was hurting, that there was a tremendous strain on her cunt, because her forehead had broken out in beads of perspiration and her lips were twisted. But not for a single second did she quit fucking, squirming, and rutting.
"The noises that came out of Ruth's throat were almost inhuman-for they were sounds of lusty greed. The animalism of her, the sweet-sour perfumed scent of heated sex, the fierce clenching on my cock, all of it was what I had dreamed about. My balls exploded. She screamed aloud when the hot sperm blasted her innards, her depths. She shook violently in orgasm, then crumpled.
"At that moment, Ruth was the greatest fuck that I had ever had in my life. Here was a woman who accepted the size of my cock as something other than an object of horror. It's times like that when a young guy falls in love-forgetting about the age difference involved. I felt giddy, I wanted to tell her all sorts of crazy, romantic, silly, sexy things. I guess I did, too, but she wasn't really listening. She was concentrating on getting my cock erect again. And that's when she told me she wanted it up the ass!
"I couldn't believe what I heard. She had to be out of her head. That first fuck had twisted her brain. My cock up anyone's ass? It was incredible-and impossible. Sure, I had heard all about ass-fucking. I'd read about it and seen pictures of it; I knew that faggots did it. It was just simply beyond my comprehension, however, that any girl who had seen me would consider it. Yet, after all the trouble I'd had in my young life just getting into a few cunts, here was a woman suggesting-no, urging-a sex act I had never imagined as a possibility. You know, I actually tried to talk her out of it. Why ruin a beautiful thing, I figured. But she was insistent, so much so that I had no choice but to go along with her.
"When I was hard again, she brought a tube of lubricating jelly and greased up my cock and her anus. By the time I felt her hands smearing the lubricant, I had become really excited at the prospect. Okay, if she wanted it that bad, I thought, she'll get it in spades. I was already feeling less romantic toward Ruth and more caught up with the sensualism of her weird desire.
"She positioned herself on her knees and elbows toward the head of the bed. Her ass was like two smooth, pale domes jutting up in front of me. The dark pink anus, just slightly fringed with fine hairs, was puckered and shiny from the jelly. It looked so damn small compared to the head of my cock that when I pushed my slippery knob between the cheeks of her ass, I half expected her to change her mind and call it off. Christ, couldn't she feel the disparity? I guess she could, but you wouldn't have known it to listen to her. She asked me what I was waiting for; she called me a dumb kid with a big cock who didn't know what to do with it.
"That pulled the trigger. I worked into the greased crevice and butted her hips and bored forward with steady, even pressure. As rigid as it was, my whole cock was bending like a bow. I could feel the crinkled flesh giving way before it. I don't know what I had expected, but the sensation was fantastic. Not just the physical sensation of the ever-widening tight hole, either. There was a feeling of absolute power involved that was unlike the satisfaction I had felt earlier while fucking. I could look down and see that ring stretching incredibly.
I clenched my teeth and thought: don't slip out, go slowly, slowly, and it will go in. The only sound I could hear was her grunting, labored breathing. Then she began to break wind. As if it were a signal, the head of my cock suddenly passed the tightest part of her ring and squirted forward. The impossible had happened. I was in her ass. Not by much, true enough, but the penetration was irrevocable. Of course, I wasn't the only one who realized it. She grunted hoarsely, 'Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!'
"It could have been one minute or ten, I'm not sure. But I had reamed in steadily enough to begin to pump. That's when I first got the full sensation of the undulations of her ass-hole. It set my balls on fire. She was yelling at me by then, urging me to go faster and deeper. Faster was easy but deeper was a problem. Yet, somehow it was happening. I was into her ass-hole better than halfway up my cock. Every time I shoved forward, she moaned. Every time I pulled back, she squealed. Sweat was pouring off me as I heaved and pulled. I thought I was going to turn her inside out on every backstroke.
"Never, never had anything felt that hot and wild. And far from discouraging me, her moans and groans only triggered me into a fever of frantic ass-fucking. On Ruth's part, it was total anal abandon. For me, it was barely controlled savagery. When her orgasm hit, it felt as though she was having convulsions. When I came up her rectum, I thought half my guts erupted in the process.
"So that was my inauguration and that was Ruth. She taught me a lot about real estate-the intimate territories. She was an anal erotic of the first order. And, understandably, I spent more time in her ass than anywhere else. It was from her that I learned a lot about a woman's desire for pain. She used to talk a lot about the exquisite pleasure of being hurt. In other words, what made Ruth so different was her willingness to admit her sexual cravings. I mean, she just didn't like to be hurt or used in general; hers was a specific need. I'll be forever grateful for what she taught me.
"It was Ruth who first introduced me to group sex, also. She was a swinger, as I told you. One man wasn't enough for her, even someone with a cock as big as mine. Frankly, I was jealous when she first told me that as great as I was, she couldn't consider having an exclusive affair. She promised, however, to take me to an orgy. Right away my jealousy dissipated. If the other gals involved were anything like Ruth, I had it made. I mean, just stop and think about the kind of women who would participate in orgies. They had to have strong sexual appetites, a lack of inhibitions, no phony hang-ups-right? Wrong.
"It turned out be one of those sex groups I mentioned earlier, a neighborhood kind of wife swapping club. The rules weren't so rigid, though, that they didn't include a few single gals, divorcees like Ruth. It was understood that occasionally she'd bring along an unattached friend. For the next occasion, I was the friend. Christ, it was a disaster!
"The other four couples were married. Not that I gave a damn about that, but it went a long way to prove something later. At first I thought everything was going to be great. When we stripped out of our clothes, there were plenty of oohs and aahs over the size of my cock. The wives were acting like they'd never seen one before, and the husbands were laughing and joking with me. I thought it was in good humor, but it turned out to be a cover. Somehow I was a threat to them, to their so-called masculinity. The wives weren't much better. For all their comments about my cock, only a couple of them wanted to take it on, and then reluctantly.
"As it turned out, I spent most of the night getting sucked off. Two lousy, strained fucks were all I could squeeze in. Ruth finally had to come to the rescue by staging a little exhibition in which I gave it to her up the ass. The group seemed to get a charge out of it, but every one of the wives hooted and swore that they'd never try anything like that with me. I thought to myself then: Why the goody-goody bitches! Here they are fucking and sucking men in front of their own husbands, even eating cunt practically in public, and they have the gall to put me down.
"It was about then I began to realize that cunts like that had to be shown what a real cock was like. There wasn't much I could do about it then, though. I told Ruth to forget about anymore orgies. We continued to see each other off and on for a few months until I left the real estate firm and set up an office of my own. It was about that time I met Ann. Then Ruth just faded from my life.
"Ann was as different from Ruth as night from day. She was very blonde and pretty rather than exotic. She had a perfect figure, the hourglass kind, but she was only five three. She was also a virgin. Or maybe I should say, she was the damndest virgin I'd ever met.
"She came to me to sell a house that had been left to her by her family. Since she was attractive and unattached, I gave her a little pitch as a client and took her out. Clearing the title to her property took some time, and we saw each other regularly. Sexually, too. That's where the virgin thing comes into it. We got cozy on the second date and, because she was my age and seemed mature enough, I came right out and told her I'd like to fuck her. Just as straight, she told me no, it would be impossible. She was a virgin, she said, and she intended to remain that way until she was married. I was ready to call the whole thing off right there, and that's when she twisted me up. She said she didn't have anything against sex, just fucking. There were a lot of ways we could have fun together and please each other and relieve our tensions-couldn't I settle for that? I didn't know if I could or not, but I decided to give it a try.
"Well, to be brief, we did everything conceivable to one another with our hands and mouths. I would suck her tits and lick her cunt for hours, and she would feast on my cock for equal amounts of time. I tickled her ass-hole with my tongue, and she would do the same for me. She would blow me to ejaculation and swallow it, or jerk me off-whatever my pleasure. In turn, I would work on her clitoris until she reached orgasm. But the line was drawn at penetration; she would only allow my finger a little way up her cunt, no farther, really, than I could reach with my tongue. The same limit applied to her ass.
"Now, if I had been seventeen or eighteen years old at the time, it wouldn't have been so weird and not nearly as frustrating. Yet I tolerated it. Not only that, I enjoyed considerably more pleasure than frustration. The reason was this: never once, from the first moment she saw me naked, did Ann ever mention the size of my cock. She didn't get that 'Oh my God!' expression of impending disaster in her eyes, nor did she gnaw at her lips or turn pale. She didn't shout for joy or do handstands either.
"But the absence of a negative reaction was more meaningful to me than gleeful acclaim. I thought, here's a girl who isn't intimidated. Here's a girl who's a realist, a girl who knows what she's got, isn't scared of it, and her reasons for refusing to accept it are legitimate enough:-a desire to retain her virginity. It was something to feel good about. You can understand my state of mind at that moment. Perhaps, too, you can see how susceptible I was to a relationship that involved far more than just sex.
"In a nutshell, I asked her to marry me. She said yes immediately. She put her virginity on the line with the full knowledge-every inch of it-of what she was getting into, or what would be getting into her. I had no doubt that with patience and understanding, on both our parts, we could make the proper physical adjustment. I had no thought at the time, or at least it wasn't a conscious thought, of using her ass as a sexual receptacle. The thing with Ruth had been wild, but it was over. My earlier thoughts about bitchy females and their need for pain and subjugation were far in the back of my mind. Ann was different. So much for my fantasy.
"The night of our wedding, I suggested that it might be easier for her if I used a lubricant. I'll never forget that moment. She threw her head back and gave a sort of snorting laugh and said: 'You have to be kidding, darling! You're not going to put that monstrous thing in me. I thought you understood that. And why would you want to? We've had a perfectly beautiful relationship. Be an angel and don't spoil it all now.'
"I was dumbfounded. Either she or I was insane. I asked her what in hell she was talking about, and she gave me more of the same stupid illogic. I didn't lose control by going berserk; the rage was all inside of me-a cool, calculating rage. After all I had believed in her! Well, no wife of mine was going to refuse me my rights. She'd fuck-oh, would she fuck! And I made up my mind on the spot that it wouldn't be just her cunt that got it.
"Yeah, she screamed. She screamed until I gagged her. You see, we were in a hotel and I didn't want any interruptions. Prior to that I had ripped off her negligee. And I had a hard-on, a huge angry hard-on just from the emotion of knowing what I was going to do. I suppose you could call it rape. But it was legal rape. She was my wife, and she had just flatly refused to fuck. No, it was more than that: she had told me that she was never going to fuck, that she intended for our married life to be just one continuous round of adolescent sex play.
"When I lifted her onto the bed, she was trembling with fright, trying to squeeze her thighs together to protect her naked cunt. Suddenly, she was just the same as all the other bitches I'd ever met. All the old thoughts about how to handle them flooded my mind. My God, busting her cherry was too good for her! I'd let her keep her precious virginity. Her ass-hole was the target.
"I grabbed her ankles and flipped her over on her belly. Then I pulled on her until she was half off the bed, her ass sticking up at the edge. Because I wanted to drive into her as deep as possible and not hurt myself in the process, I coated my cock with the vaseline I had intended to use on her cunt. I leaned on her and pinned the upper part of her body to the bed. She had no idea at which hole I was going to vent my anger. But, of course, she could hardly protest. All she could do, was pound her head on the mattress and gnaw at the torn piece of negligee that was her gag. I maneuvered the thick hardness of my cock to the lower part of her cunt. I rubbed the head there firmly to confuse her. Then I came up those scant two inches that make so much difference. I shoved! Hard!
"I caught her completely by surprise. The bitch hadn't even had time to stiffen or clench her sphincter. The head of my cock plundered in before she realized where the ripping pain was located. Christ, how she squirmed and tried to reach back to claw me. It was futile, of course. Once inside her, I held her hips in a vise and jabbed brutally. Then I pumped with every ounce of my weight.
"Even to this day, I get excited thinking about it. It was the first time I sexually tormented someone deliberately-and I had no feeling at all except for the power of pleasure. With each inch that I gouged into that tight hole, I felt better and better. Even if she hadn't been gagged, if we had been in a private place, neither screams nor supplications could have made me stop. I was possessed with making her feel as cruelly used as possible. The physical signs of her agony didn't dissuade me, either. I could see the traces of blood on my cock when I pulled it out to mount another savage stroke. Good, I thought, beautiful-the bitch is only getting what she deserves. It didn't matter to me what vein I tapped for her virgin's blood.
"Something else that amazed me during this initial assault on Ann's ass was my odd ability to fuck for tremendous lengths of time without coming. It was as if a new dimension had been added to my virility. It gave me the opportunity to toy with her and add to her torment. I could change the rhythm of my stroking so as not to allow her to relieve the pain by anticipating my moves. I could sway from side to side and grind the hard flesh of my cock on the torn tissues of her ass-hole and I could tease her cunt. This is where I got my second shock of the night.
"The way I had her bent at the waist, and her crotch spread, caused her usually tight cunt to gape open. I snaked a finger harshly up the flesh of that hole, farther than she had ever allowed during our sex play of the past. And what do you think I found up there in the cunt of my virgin bride! That's right, nothing. No virginal membrane, hymen, cherry, whatever you want to call it. Nothing but smooth, moist cunt. The bitch had even lied about that!
"I pulled my cock viciously out of her ass-hole and slammed it into her cunt. All sorts of crazy, ugly thoughts were spinning around in my brain. She was a whore! Worse than any of the others, her deception had been just as cruel as my treatment of her at that moment-and how could I ever have been so stupid to believe her? Oh, I fucked her like I'd never fucked anyone in my life. I didn't care if I fucked her to death. She was going to pay, and pay, and pay for having made such a fool of me. And, the worst thought of all, the bitch had even gotten me to marry her!
"When I finally did come after what seemed like hours, I just left her lying there torn fore and aft, whimpering and sobbing through her gag. In the bathroom I looked at my watch; it wasn't even midnight. Well, I thought, here goes one of the shortest marriages on record. I didn't give a damn. She taught me a lesson, and I taught her a different one in return. The satisfaction I felt was of having stretched those tight virgin holes beyond the point where the next man would be fooled. I took a shower to wash off the stains of blood and shit on my cock and, afterwards, massaged it with cold cream to relieve the scraping it had taken. While I was in the bathroom, I had expected her to remove the gag, throw on some clothes, and escape me, her monster husband. I wasn't worried about her screaming rape. She wouldn't have enough guts to tell anyone what happened. Yet, neither did I expect her to still be there, in bed, waiting for me when I entered the bedroom.
"What I found was that she had dried her tears and her eyes were shining. The expression on her face was one of discovery. She didn't say anything when I approached the bed. She pulled back the covers and let me in next to her. Then she bent down, kissed my cock, and rolled over and went to sleep. That told me all I needed to know about how to treat her or any other female."
Adam M., the thirty-one year old subject of this case history, is far more than just an example of an anally orientated, sadistically inclined personality. He is a repository for about as much sexual misinformation, illogical pseudo-psychology and erroneous fact about women as can be hoarded in one individual. And, of course, he is dangerously disturbed.
The abnormally large penis of Adam has been a lifelong source of emotional and psychic conflict to him. The erstwhile pioneer sexologist, Krafft-Ebing, was one of the first to notice a correlation between abnormally sized genitals and sexual aberration. Yet the few cases Krafft-Ebing relates concern undersized penises, not those of exceptional dimension. A plethora of sex authorities from then until the present day have touched upon the psycho-sexual problems of the undersized male. It is the root cause of an often devastating inferiority complex. The male with the smaller than normal penis (Adam was nominally correct when he fixed the average penile size at five and a half inches at erection, although some doctors vary this measurement slightly) is often convinced at an early age that he can never properly perform the male function. This, often in spite of other sexually attractive attributes such as good looks, a handsome physique, or a potentially winning personality. Moreover, many men who are adequately endowed by any standard often suffer from a feeling of penile inadequacy. It is, in brief, a fear common to a large number of men.
On the other hand, there is very little psychological information extant about the problems of males with extremely large phalluses. Most of the writing on that subject comes to us by way of marriage manuals which, in addressing themselves to wives and brides-to-be, attempt to ease the apprehensions of the female, concluding that to the inexperienced woman any penis may at first seem abnormally large. There is a great deal of information wrapped up in sex manuals that is concerned with making physical adjustment through specific coital positions. Again, these seem primarily for the woman's benefit. Little if any of this data appears to answer the questions of men like Adam.
It is ironic that much of the same propaganda that causes penile inferiority complexes in males also contributed to our subject's problem. The reader is referred to his comment about the books he had read and the stag movies he had seen. The subject observed a preponderance of over-sized genitalia and drew the conclusion that it was both normal and desirable. Realistically, that is a false conclusion. Doctors Phyllis and Eberhard Kronhausen, in Pornography and The Law, listed as one of the major criteria of pornography, the "super-sexed male." Other writers examining written and visual erotica have also contended that exaggerated physical attributes, male and female, are an essential and consistent common denominator in such works. The vast majority of the readers of erotica are well aware that such exaggerations have no basis in reality.
Adam, our subject, apparently had no such awareness. He, uniquely, matched the outrageous descriptions of the super-sexed males. As less endowed men irrationally envy the fictional heroes of erotica and suffer by comparison, Adam only reinforced his misconceptions. He clutched upon the fact that the nymphomaniac heroines of titillating literature and film were enamored by and driven to dizzying heights of passion by gigantic phalluses. Then, as if to reinforce his fantasy, he actually did meet and have an affair with a woman (Ruth) who was the embodiment of the fictional nymph. One is always hesitant to state how much emotional and sensual lives are affected by a single coincidence, but it is quite probable that Adam's sensual logic received an unfortunate arrest in meeting Ruth. His initial contact with anal intercourse occurred in the midst of a more general confusion about the sexual appetites and desires of most females.
The subject's sexual conflict, however, began with adolescence. It is in this period that most young men display a great deal of concern over their penises. It is the time of youthful masturbatory experimentation, when there is anxiety over penile dimensions. There are the surreptitious comparisons with other males, peer group and adult. Adolescent sex talk is mainly hearsay, wishful fantasy entwined around a core of fact. Although valid sex education is currently a much discussed, and highly controversial social goal, its implementation is by no means widespread. During Adam's formative years, it was nonexistent. He and other young friends were victims of the prevailing sexual myths. At this point in his life, though, before he had actually experimented with girls, Adam was the subject of envy among his peers. While others worried about their potential penile growth, there was no doubt that Adam had already arrived as a sex symbol. It bolstered his ego; it strengthened his confidence in himself. He was not an unattractive young man; he found it easy to date. While many of his friends went through painful periods of shyness and anxiety, Adam was acknowledged to be a gregarious, popular, and successful lover. He was all those things except a lover in the physical and sexual sense. The girls whom he dated, with whom he petted and necked, did not allow him the ultimate liberties. And at this time in his life, it had nothing to do with the size of his penis. The girls were quite young (fourteen and fifteen), and were acting in deference to the social and sexual mores of a small town environment. Adam was an extremely frustrated young man. He took to lying about his sexual prowess and invented fanciful conquests of the fair sex. It reinforced his status in his peer group, but it played miserable with his conscience. To his friends he would brag, "and, fuck, when she saw the piece of meat I had for her, she couldn't stop squealing until I had it all the way in her." To himself, his mind reeled with the question, Why doesn't it happen that way?
There is an incident in Adam's youth that is extremely illustrative of his earliest frustrations. When he was sixteen, he was no longer a virgin. His initial experience was not with a schoolmate but with a prostitute in a nearby city. It cost him ten dollars, and he considered it a good investment. Though he had merely performed coitus during a "short time" encounter, he embellished the story lewdly to the thrill of his friends. In turn, they honored him as a man among boys. Still, the subject's private confusion grew. One night, he followed a young girl not known to him to her home. He waited until she had just entered, then he went up the porch steps and knocked on the screen door. When she returned to answer, he undid his trousers and displayed his erect penis. The girl screamed and ran horrified into the house to summon her family. Adam slipped away and remained unidentified. There was talk of a "sex maniac" loose in the area. Adam does not know what compelled him to this act of exhibitionism, and it only occurred once. He was terrified of being caught and labeled as a pervert.
In the subject's own scheme of sexuality, things never worked out quite the way he imagined or in ways that he let others imagine. It was at this time that he began blaming all of his sexual frustrations on the size of his penis. As soon as he reached the legal age to enlist in the Army with his parents' permission, he dropped out of school and joined. During the period of his enlistment, he did not try to date girls his own age, nor were there many opportunities to do so. He consistently utilized prostitutes for his sexual needs. Upon discharge, he relocated to a large city and embarked on a career in real estate. His narrative gives further examples of the frustrations he felt over a four year span prior to meeting Ruth, the older, less inhibited woman.
His absurd and disturbing philosophy that females intrinsically desire pain and domination is a pathetic rationalization. In essence, he is getting even with all females for their lack of passionate attraction to him. This is the springboard for his sadism. His sadism, in turn, feeds upon his pathological need to see himself as the super-virile, super-sexed male.
Concerning Adam's later marriage and involvement with sex-swapping, we shall put down his own words:
"You can call what I do wife-swapping if you want to, but don't confuse it with the variety people call 'swinging.' That's just another name for getting some different fucking with your wife's permission. The bag I'm into is a little more selective. There are underground publications, you know, all over the country that carry advertisements for any manner of sexual pleasure. It's true that the majority of ads are placed by swingers who can't find a compatible group or other couple in their own town and neighborhoods. But many other ads are more explicit as to particular sexual activities. A couple of publications I subscribe to cater only to the offbeat. I can better explain to you by showing you the ad I run:
Dominant Male and Submissive Wife. Exponents of Greek discipline. Attractive and discreet. She 36-24-36, he very largely endowed, seek similarly inclined active couples for mutual enlightenment....
"To anybody who knows what the score is, that bit about Greek discipline tells the whole story. Greek is the underground sex term for anal intercourse. Any guy reading my ad will know that I use my wife's ass harshly and would like to use his wife in the same way. If he's like me. he knows he gets the same honors. I'll admit that this kind of ad narrows the field considerably. Most of the time when you use the words dominant and submissive, you're put in the category of all the sadomasochists, the ones with all the leather, the whips, and the handcuffs. But that's not for me. The only whip I need is right between my legs. Still, you'd be surprised how many couples there are like us. I get replies from all over the country. And naturally, any ad I see that fits my scene, I write to. Most of the time because of distance and travel, I can't get together with those I contact. But between the couples who live locally and those that come to this area on vacations, I don't go without ass-punishing sessions for very long periods.
"The one a couple of weeks ago was typical, maybe even more enjoyable than most. Their names were Harold and Nancy, and I'd previously exchanged a couple of letters with them. They were from out-of-state, but he arranged to bring his wife with him on a business trip here. In his last letter, he had sent along a snapshot that frankly turned me on. It showed the wife naked, bent over on her knees, with her hands tied behind her back. It was a rear view, but a little off to one side. That was so you could see that the wife was sucking off Harold, who was kneeling in front of her. The close-up of the ass, though, was the exciting part. Jammed up Nancy's ass-hole was one of those battery operated vibrators, the bullet-shaped kind that are about seven inches long. It wasn't just in at the tip; it was shoved in so far that only an inch of it showed popping out between the cheeks of her ass. When I saw that, I knew I was in touch with a couple of kindred souls. Personally, I don't send out pictures. It's a precaution on my part. If my letters don't entice anyone, to hell with it. Anyway, Harold and Nancy arrived in town and came out to the house that night.
"I suppose I should explain my relationship with Ann at this time. When I classify her as submissive, I mean just that. She knows her place, her role, and I suppose you could say she's used to it. Certainly, she doesn't protest. Oh, when I'm treating her particularly harshly or when someone else is, she cries and whimpers and squeals, that sort of crap. But she's always ready for more. Although she doesn't beg to be hurt and doesn't provoke punishment like a died-in-the-wool masochist, I can see her getting nervous when she isn't taken care of. Even when I'm not feeling especially lusty, I often surprise her somewhere in the house at odd times and rip a quick hard one into her ass just to show her I still care for her.
"As for Ann accepting the same treatment from relative strangers, she says she detests it, that it's horrible, and that she never thinks she can stand it the next time. That's what she says. I happen to know she gets an extra thrill out of it. Take, for instance, that picture Harold sent. I watched her looking at it, and I knew damn well all she could see in the photo was herself with that electric dildo stuck in her ass.
"Which, by the way, gave me a great idea. I had never before thought about having one of those vibrators around, but it seemed the perfect time. An hour before Harold and Nancy were due at the house, I ordered Ann to bend over and lift her skirt. I won't allow her to wear panties, you know. She had on a garter belt and nylons. She argued that it wasn't fair to our guests to start so early. She wasn't aware of the surprise I had in store for her.
"When Ann bared her round ass for me, I goosed her anus a couple of times, causing her to gasp, then I pushed the vibrator in. The cold, smooth plastic did something to her at once, She didn't know immediately exactly what it was. When I got it in right up to the hilt, I turned it on. She knew; the picture of Nancy came back to her immediately. She didn't gasp or cry out, she just sighed.
"When our guests arrived, Ann was sitting on the couch, the vibrating dildo still in her ass. Without explaining why, I apologized for the fact she couldn't get up. I mixed us all a drink, surveying my prospective sex object. Harold was the forthright type, which I like. He settled on the couch next to Ann, patted her leg, and proceeded to tell me that Nancy was to be considered my property for the evening. I could do anything I wanted with her, short of beating her. Restraining her was acceptable, sometimes necessary; so was spanking. If she gave me any trouble, I was to tell Harold immediately. I don't know exactly what threat he held over her, but I could feel her twitch at my side when he mentioned it. Then it was my turn to offer my wife to him.
"There's a kind of etiquette that those of us with experience follow in such situations. Un-like swingers, we are dealing with the surety of masculine strength. The wives say hello to each other, but there's no social chit-chat crap. The men usually start talking sex in short order; partially to let the wives know exactly where they stand and what's expected of them, and also to inform the other husband what limitations to adhere to and, perhaps, what oddball behavior to expect.
"I told Harold: 'I thought you might have noticed that the couch is shaking a bit. When I take Nancy into the bedroom, feel free to bend Ann over and see how I turned her on for you.' He put his hand on the cushion near her ass, then grinned. He complimented me on a thoughtful gesture. Ann was being particularly demure, the bitch; all she could do was lower her eyes shyly like a schoolgirl. When I guided Nancy down the hallway toward the bedroom, I looked over my shoulder to see that Harold had stood up and unzipped his pants. He pulled out a semi-rigid cock-nowhere the size of mine, of course-and was guiding it toward her mouth. I could see that he was a thoughtful gentleman, too. He was going to leave the vibrator in her ass for awhile and indulge himself.
"In the bedroom, I told Nancy to strip. She did as told without my having to raise my voice or threaten her. She was nervous and blushing, but she wasn't hesitant. I think that in her own odd way she was confident of herself. She understood that she wouldn't be there, displaying her somewhat thin but well-proportioned naked body to a virtual stranger, unless she had wanted it so. She thought she had an idea of what to expect from me, and she was probably sure that she could handle it and enjoy it. And that is the part, the moment, that I love about these confrontations. Maybe it's another reason why I don't send pictures of myself to prospective contacts. Her confidence was entirely misplaced. She hadn't seen my cock.
"I undressed, making it a point to leave my pants until last. She was watching my crotch closely as I undid my fly. Then I quickly dropped my pants and stepped out of them. The expression on her face caused my cock to jerk into immediate erection. She stared wide-eyed and unbelieving. Her hand flew involuntarily up to her mouth to stifle a cry. Still in awe, she shook her head slowly to protest anything I might intend with my huge hard meat.
"But I was used to that kind of reaction. She didn't slow me down for a second. I stepped up to her and grabbed a tit harshly with one hand. With the other, I grabbed a handful of her dark blonde hair. I hurt her just enough so she'd know I meant business. Then I ordered her and forced her down to her knees. I demanded that she suck and lick my cock at my direction. I told her that it was to her benefit that she get it very slippery and slick. Shortly it would be going up her ass-and I wasn't going to use vaseline. When I said that, I could feel her lips, already gulping at my cockhead, tremble at the prospect. I had a feeling that Harold was right, that this was one of those times that I would have to tie a bitch up.
"In the meantime, she was blowing me as per instructions and doing an excellent job. I'm sure she realized that she was going to get her ass-hole stretched immensely despite any protest she might make. She purposely laid down a good layer of saliva along the length of my cock. That accomplished, I ordered her to the bed. I used one of my wife's stockings to tie her hands behind her back. She was a lovely sight, the picture of helplessness. I recalled what Harold had said about a spanking, and I gave her a dozen sharp smacks on each of her cheeks. The pale skin reddened fiercely, but I have no patience for that kind of teasing. I took her to the point where the moaning began, then I got behind her in a position to really give her something to scream about.
"It was obvious that her ass-hole had been used considerably. I jabbed one, then two fat fingers into her wrinkled rectum and twisted them from side to side. Her sphincter fought me, but it was too loose to be effective. I remember thinking, as I replaced my fingers with the head of my cock, that it would be a bit of a challenge. Any ideas I had about restraining myself seemed to evaporate. I yelled at her to shove back. When she did, I rammed forward!
"Now there, friend, was a scream like you've never heard before! My cock smashed up that back alley like it was going to rip a hole right through her belly. Beautiful! I don't think she knew what the hell had happened to her for a couple of moments. She choked on her scream and went all wobbly. Next she was trying to crawl out from under me, yelling, 'No, no, no!' You had better believe that she didn't keep that up for long. Every time she said no, I gave her a fast, hard, deep stroke.
"In a few minutes, I had her saying, 'Yes, yes, yes!' I knew it was hurting her, but there she was begging for more. Her ass-hole was a greedy whore all by itself. She wanted more, and I was the boy who could give it to her. I fucked her so far up the ass that my balls were rapping at her cunt. To tell you the truth, that's about as deep as I'd ever gotten into an ass. And she dug every long, hard inch of it. It seemed like she didn't stop having orgasms. She was a gusher, too. Along with my balls and our thighs, the bedspread under her was soaking.
"As for my own climax, there was no sense in giving her exactly what she wanted. It never hurts to reinforce your absolute power over them. When my balls tightened and I felt the load surging to get out, I tore my cock out of her anus. I threw her over on her back, grabbed her hair, and pulled her head down. The instant her lips clamped around my slimy, bursting erection, I shot a fantastic load of molten come into her mouth and throat. There was so much it was oozing out the corners of her mouth. Naturally, she was obliged to clean up every last drop."
The element of sadism which plays such a compelling role in the bizarre sex life of Adam M. is quite excessive in comparison to most anal erotic males. Fortunately, he has found his own niche on the outer reaches of sex swapping in which he can indulge his perverted pleasure. He is not alone. As he himself stated, there are many others who share or complement similar aberrations. There is every possibility that Adam will progress to more classical sadistic behavior. Presently he eschews the symbolic, fetishistic, and ritualistic trappings of sadomasochism. Yet the overwhelming evidence leads unswervingly to the conclusion that he will be influenced in that direction over a period of time. In his own recounting of his recent tryst, he most readily, almost without thought, used a mechanical device to produce discomfort; incorporated spanking as a chastisement; and utilized an instrument of restraint and bondage. There is no doubt, given the man's background, that his sadism will remain centered on analism. But even murkier waters lie ahead.
There is a valuable lesson in this case history for the so-called swingers and mate-traders of more popular and less disturbed persuasion. Many males who favor anal intercourse may be working out sadistic impulses that lie just above the surface of their sexual psyche. The
"friendly" sex-swapping group that tolerates an excess of analism may find itself gradually and unwittingly being swayed toward collective sadomasochism. To be sure, it would be mild at first. But the sexual trigger is ever-present. If the current indicators are correct, this is a growing nationwide phenomenon in sex-swapping today. Certain sexually liberated individuals may scoff and contend that anal eroticism has just as valid a place in group sex as any other act. They may be right-but they should be vigilant to the inherent dangers of awakening and encouraging latent sadism in males far less disturbed than the subject of this case history.
CHAPTER THREE
The Anal Reluctant
"Before I talk about my analism with a sex group, I have to tell you what it was like for me as a kid-what it was like and what it meant to me to be popular and have dates. You can't understand the rest of it without that. Not long ago I read a book on swapping, and the writer called it 'social sex.' You know, that's funny. I never thought of what I'm doing now, as a married woman, by any other name but swapping. Back when I was a teenager, though, I also called it social sex. And, God, was I social!
"There were only two ways to go in the town where I grew up: down or out. If you didn't lay down for a fuck, you were out of it. No dances, no parties, no fun, no kicks. Oh sure, there were some girls who had a third choice; they were the bookworms or girls who came from strict religious families. They could say no and accept the social isolation. There were a couple of other girls, too, who were so damn beautiful they could say no and still go out and have fun every night of the week. But not me. I was one of those girls who always got the line, 'Fuck or walk home.' I only walked home once. More times than I can remember, I fucked.
"You wouldn't know it by looking at me now, but when I was sixteen and seventeen, I wasn't a very attractive girl. Some kids take longer to blossom, and I was a late bloomer. The only thing I had going for me were my tits. They were as big as any girl's in the high school and bigger than most. The trouble was that the rest of me was big, too. I was fat-not in the ugly, obese sense, but just thick and round all over. I had an overdose of baby fat that wouldn't go away. I would see guys look at my tits and get that gleam in their eyes, then they would look down at my big hips, ass, thighs and ankles and you could just see the light go out.
"Poor Marilyn. That was me. If she'd only lose some weight, she could be cute. What a laugh! I tried everything; I drove my mother nuts with crazy diets. Nothing worked, except fucking. I didn't lose an ounce, of course, but I always somehow felt prettier and thinner after I had been fucked.
"My teenage sex life always seemed to involve embarrassments and humiliations. Losing my virginity was a humiliation. That happened before the high school sex got started. That was the summer I was fifteen. My parents had a lake cottage, and all kinds of friends and relatives used to crawl out of the woodwork every summer and visit us. The one person I'll hardly forget, however, was a third cousin named Fred. He was a couple of years older than I, and a mean, pimply-faced son-of-a-bitch that I never did like. He caught me in the boathouse one day while I was changing out of a bathing suit. He had watched me before, I found out, and he'd seen me play with myself.
"I don't mean that I masturbated or finger-fucked myself. I was curious about my body, that was all. And I was experiencing those odd sensations a young girl gets. Mostly I squeezed my tits and fondled them. After all, as I said, they were the only attractive thing I had going and they were already quite large. I might as well be honest-I also fooled around with my slit. A rough towel felt awfully good down there after I peeled off a wet bathing suit. Rubbing with the terry cloth would start a warm glow that spread from my cunt to deep up inside me.
"I knew this form of masturbating was decidedly sexual, but it was also something that nice girls didn't do. In fact, that's where cousin Fred had me over a barrel. He said he'd tell everyone and expose me if I didn't fuck for him. How was I to know the threat was hollow? I was too introverted and too unsure of myself not to believe him.
"I let him play with my tits and nipples and feel my body. At first it felt like slimy snakes crawling over me. Then his fingers were rubbing my cunt, and I found myself trying to fight the warm sensation he was causing. I was scared and whimpering, as I remember it, when he pulled down his pants and pushed me over on a pile of boat cushions. His prick was hard and looked horribly huge to me. At the same time, he seemed so adult about it all. He was carrying a rubber in his wallet, and when he put it on he explained what it was, what it was for, and that it was also lubricated so that he wouldn't hurt me.
"Partly in fear, partly in fascination, I didn't cry out. I watched him roll the rubber on his cock and resigned myself to the fact he was going to hurt me. He did hurt me, too-in the very beginning. He felt like a big pole inching up inside me. There was a sharp stab of pain that caused me to bite my lip to keep from yelling. But after that, I hardly felt him. I remembered all the secret, snickering discussions I'd had with my girlfriends-a couple of whom were testifying from personal experience-and the talk about the fantastic sensations that were supposed to occur. Yet, there he was drilling the whole of his hard prick into me and there were no fireworks at all, just an odd pressure further up than I had ever felt before.
"It wasn't for very long, though. I don't think cousin Fred made it for more than three or four minutes. So that was fucking, I thought. I hated the little bastard for forcing me into it, and I was terrified that my folks would find out. But I also knew that nothing very damaging had happened to me. I suffered his adolescent blackmail all that summer, avoiding him whenever I could. Un-like my girlfriends, I didn't talk about it under the heading of 'What did you do on vacation?' when I returned to high school that fall. No one knew I was no longer a virgin, but then no one cared either.
'The next humiliation was the one, I think, that got me really started on the sexual merry-go-round. I had a so-called girlfriend by the name of Pat who was known as a CT, a cock-teaser. Well, she could get away with it. She was cute, she had a curvy body, and she had a way of talking sexy, sometimes even dirty, that turned the boys on. I knew damn well why she used to haul me around with her. No competition. When the boys flocked around, she'd get all the attention. I was also an excuse so that she wouldn't get into any tight sexual spots. With me along, two guys would fight over her and she could do all the cock teasing she wanted, knowing that she wouldn't have to be alone with one of them, that the other wasn't going to settle for me. Well, one night I changed the rules of the game.
"We were at a local hamburger hangout, and she was into her act with two senior guys who were out cruising. They were bugging her to go for a ride, and she was giving them the, 'Oh, I just couldn't leave Marilyn,' routine. Usually, that got her off the hook. This night, though, the guys didn't back down. They left the shop, saying they'd be right back. From where I was sitting, I could see (outside. While Pat went into her standard dialogue about how boys were only after her fair body and didn't give a damn about the sanctity of friendship, I could see the two guys flipping a coin outside.
"I didn't need to be precocious at sixteen to realize what the two guys were doing. I pulled my eyes away and felt the awful hurt and embarrassment. The boys were going to push the issue-and the loser of the coin toss would get me. I didn't let on to Pat what I'd seen. When the guys came back, the one named Bill rather formally asked us to go riding, then with a graciousness I appreciated, asked me to be with him. Right away Pat started fumbling for excuses. That's when I perversely put her on the spot. I exclaimed aloud that we would love to go for a ride, that we had nothing else to do at all. Then I proceeded to shoot down Pat's increasingly feeble arguments.
"We left with the boys. Bill, as I had suspected, was going to drive. Ronnie and Pat would be in the darkened back seat. Bill didn't know it then, and for all I knew he wasn't even considering it, but he was going to get fucked and fucked good. I was going to get even with Pat for all the condescending, patronizing, humiliating put-downs that she ever laid on me. I was going to let the boys know where the action was.
"Ostensibly, we headed toward a nearby small town to see what was happening-and there was the inevitable short cut. We parked by a mill pond known as a lovers' lane, and already from the back seat I could hear Pat giving out with the coy lines she always used when the going got tough. Bill lit a cigarette and offered me one. He was sitting stiffly behind the wheel. Aside from the glow from our smoking, it was pitch black. I learned about the line 'All cats are gray in the dark' years later, but it seemed to have its application then.
"Bill kept edging toward me and drawing me closer with what appeared to be mixed emotions. I think he wanted to save face by making some sort of play but he wasn't too eager. And yes, I was hurt, damn hurt. If I hadn't felt like such an unmitigated bitch, I would have burst into tears and run off. Or if I had been cooler and less sensitive, I would have suggested a walk around the pond and got us both off the hook. But I didn't; I knew it was time for a boldness that I had never felt before. I snuggled close to Bill, thinking of cousin Fred's cock. I remembered the size of it, the hardness, the red mushroom that was the first thing to push into me. I remembered mainly how little it actually had hurt. And how much better looking Bill was than cousin Fred.
"I twisted in the seat so that the hand attached to the arm over my shoulder couldn't help but fall on my tit. For a second, he almost pulled away, then he realized it was an offering. But I didn't want to settle for getting my tits felt up. Again, for saving face, he might have settled for just that, but I was determined to go a lot further. I slid my hand up his thigh and came to the cock bulge in his crotch. I squeezed the firmness with my fingertips and felt him grow beneath his pants. While I caressed him to full erection, he opened my sweater and tugged off my bra. If I had any second thoughts about what I was doing, I had just gone beyond the point of no return. I undid his belt and unzipped his pants. I had a terrible time getting his hard cock out of his jockey shorts, but I don't think he gauged my inexperience. He shoved down both pants and shorts so they were below his knees. The thick, hard cock I held in my hand was twitching straight upright.
"He was bigger than cousin Fred, but I wasn't frightened. It wasn't just that I was going to fuck for this guy Bill, but that I was going to outrage the whole lot of them. I had heard about cocksucking from other girls, although cousin Fred hadn't forced that act on me. Nevertheless, I considered it a really dirty thing to do-something a boy would remember.
"I let Bill pull down my slacks and panties and massage the lips of my cunt with his fingers. Still gripping and squeezing his cock, I lowered my head into his lap. My eyes were accustomed to the dark just enough to see the paleness of his hard-on. I took the head of it between my lips and licked at it with my tongue. I felt him tense, then relax, maybe in astonishment. I didn't exactly know what to do. I had heard the term 'cocksucking.' Then again I had heard the guys use the term 'blow job.' As dumb as it sounds to me today, that's what I did with my mouth: I blew, then I sucked, and whatever I lacked in expertise I made up for in enthusiasm.
"And, God, was I noisy! Earlier there had been rustling and wrestling noises from the back seat, but there was suddenly a dead stillness except for the sounds of my wet mouth on Bill's cock. Actually, that thrilled me more than what I was doing. I realized what it must have looked like from the back seat; the slurping and puffing, my head out of sight, the movement of the seat, and finally Bill throwing his head back and moaning. Soon he had a finger inside my cunt and was working away rapidly. That was an additional wet sound. I heard Pat protesting once again-she had lost her coyness and sounded terrified.
"Shortly, I forgot all about her. I asked Bill in un urgent whisper if he had a rubber. He did, and I continued to suck him while he got it out. Then I put it on for him. He thought that was a wildly lewd, sophisticated gesture for such a young girl. I didn't let on that I did it to hurry things up and that I only knew how from watching cousin Fred. Then I threw one bare leg on the back of the seat and gave Bill the spread he wanted. With my cunt wide open, it didn't matter to anyone how fat and unattractive I was. I grabbed his rubber-clad, rock-hard cock and guided him into me.
"Un-like the summer scenes with Fred when I was afraid to open my mouth for fear of being discovered, I now let myself respond to what I felt. When he shoved it in strongly and deep, I groaned. When he stroked, I urged him to fuck me harder. When he had me hot, I was gasping harshly. I was no longer the emotionless blob that I had been with my cousin. I threw my big ass into the action and thrust my cunt up to meet his plunges. I kicked up my heels and grabbed him around the ass as best I could in that confined space. The whole damn car was rocking and fucking!
"I had my first orgasm then, and I suppose I would have enjoyed it more if it hadn't been for my girlfriend Pat screaming at me. Oh, did she curse and vilify me! It was music to my ears. I had sabotaged her. I had shown her up for the real cock-teaser she was. Ronnie had gotten so hot listening to me and Bill that he nearly raped her. It had taken all her strength to fight him off, and her final escape had been going into hysterics over my betrayal.
"Well, I solved the problem for her. I offered to fuck Ronnie-and he took me up on it without hesitation. He kicked Pat out of the back seat, and I took her place. We fucked, noisily, all the way back from the mill pond.
"Between showing up Pat for what she was and balling two seniors back to back, you can imagine how fast my reputation spread around the school. Good old Marilyn-good for a fuck, good for a suck. God, was I popular! I had a date any night I wanted one. Often, there was more than one guy. Yes, I was a whore, I admit it. The town slut, some said, but it didn't make any difference to me. I remember the night I took on seven guys. It was like a long parade of cocks. They had me upside down, sideways, and backwards. With one cock in me, I would suck another. Looking back, it's a wonder I didn't drown that night. I didn't think there was that much come in the whole male population.
"To answer your question, no, there was no anal intercourse at that time. I don't think the boys I was sexually servicing had even considered it. For the most part, they were young and naive and, even if they were aware of ass-fucking from the pornography they used to giggle over, they seemed to get enough thrill and satisfaction out of getting laid or sucked off. Nor did I consider it, and I saw their pornography, too. It was simply not in our repertoire. Nevertheless, all of what I've just related about my teenage sex life had a lot to do with the analism that's now part of my adult sex life. You'll see what I mean.
"Prior to what would have been my senior year in the local high school, my parents put me in a private girls' school. Sure, my reputation had gotten back to them-as if they couldn't have guessed by all the different guys I went out with and the hours I kept. Mine was the kind of town where a middle class family did not take an embarrassment like me to a psychiatrist. They just wrung their hands and said, 'Oh, where did we go wrong?' then shuffled the embarrassment out of sight and out of mind.
"Anyway, what could a psychiatrist have told them? I already knew I was fat and unattractive and was using sex to compensate for it. And, yes, I felt guilty about it. Guilty or not, it was like a narcotic. I was hooked on sex. It was far better than the other choice-loneliness.
"So I was shipped off to a boarding school where there would be no temptations. That was a laugh! I landed smack in the middle of the biggest daisy chain of lesbianism you could ever imagine. From the teachers right on down to the freshman class. I tried it, but it didn't do a thing for me. I was a senior, you understand, a late arrival compared to girls who had been there two or three years. The older girls were mainly interested in seducing freshmen. The teachers had their pet, cute favorites. And remember, I was still a decidedly uncute fattie. So I guess you could say it was for lack of opportunity and choice that I didn't get into the lesbian thing in a big way.
"That year in school was profoundly more important to me in another sense. It was then that I suddenly started shaping up physically. Believe it or not, I grew up-not out. I had been about five three when I arrived and weighed nearly one hundred and fifty pounds. I sprouted up over three inches that year and the baby fat rolled off me. I don't know what did it. The lousy food, all the rah-rah sports and exercise, I guess. I certainly didn't diet like I had done so futilely before. It irrationally occurred to me that all my previous sexual activity had stunted my growth. Later I found out that growth and weight distribution patterns just happen to some people that way.
"Anyway, toward graduation time, I was quite a chick physically. My tits were magnificent with the rest of me trimmed down. My legs were long and slimmer, the fat ankles were gone, and my ass was compact and smooth, not dimpled and flabby. Along with my body, I was thrilled to realize that my face, without the round cheeks and double chins, was actually lovely and well structured. Wouldn't you know it, too, the lesbians who had all but shunned me during this physical transformation were suddenly panting after my new body. I told them to go fuck themselves-who needed them at this point?
"Who needed my home town, either? I was smart enough to realize that just being beautiful wouldn't erase my reputation. If anything, it would just cause the large number of guys I'd known sexually to hound me all the more. I could understand their point of view. To have the town whore suck their cocks was one thing, but how much sweeter it would be if she were a well-stacked doll. Even today I have nothing against those guys. There had been nothing romantic about my kind of promiscuity. Enough was enough, however. With my new looks, I could pick and choose, fuck or not, just like other attractive girls whom I had always envied.
"The summer immediately following my graduation, I went to Chicago and enrolled in business school. It was far enough away that my reputation wouldn't follow me. It was big enough that I could be the new me without any hangovers of guilt. Indiscriminate fucking and gang-banging was a thing of the past. I did the career-girl-starting-out-in-the-big-city routine. I had a couple of roommates, an apartment, and I dated selectively. Also I kept my knees crossed and my panties on-until I met Eric.
"Eric is only important in my story for one reason-and that reason only concerns the night I decided to let him fuck me. Eric and I weren't in love; we were just a cozy couple. When I decided the time was right, I let him think he was seducing me. He did the classic set-up: quiet dinner in his apartment, his roommate shuffled out for the evening, low music, candles, lots of drinks. And I responded on cue: drank a bit too much so he wouldn't take all night to get around to it, and played the foreplay game on the couch-in the course of which I let him undress me.
"He was panting like a stud puppy when he half carried me into his bedroom. He even asked the stupid question about whether I wanted the lights on or off. Hell, I didn't care if he lit fireworks. It had been a long time since I'd had a stiff cock inside me. My self-imposed celibacy had worn very thin. I had all I could do to keep from yelling at him, 'For Christ's sake, quit fooling around and fuck me!'
"Finally, he was naked and we were on the bed. He did all the right things with his hands and mouth, and I liked him for that. Maybe at that moment I even loved him a little for it. There had been very few preliminaries in my previous sex life. Rarely had I gotten my tits sucked and my nipples teased. Even more rare had been the kisses that trailed down across my stomach and over my thighs and ended with a delicious nibbling on my clitoris. Eric did it all, tongue and fingers.
"When he spread my legs and mounted me, his breath was heavy and ragged with anticipation. I sensed that he probably wouldn't last long before he came; which was alright, for once over the first hump, there would be other times when I could count on getting my own fulfillment. I was content to play the innocent victim of seduction. For that reason, I didn't fondle or caress his cock or help guide it in my cunt. I clung to his hips and ass as he reached between his legs, held his erection, and rubbed the warm head of it over the hot lips of my sex. I let him find the way. I can almost remember it going in, scraping a little against the hairs, with me moving ever so slightly so that the smooth bulb was tucked in the wetness of my cuntflesh. Then came the first inch. God, the heat I had wanted-for so long! Then his body coming down on mine as his cock grooved in deep and full!
"At that moment, Eric stiffened perceptibly. Was I imagining things, or did his cock really wilt slightly? Had he come already? I wondered incredulously. No, no it was all right; he was plunging and humping, holding me tight, fucking me with full, fast strokes. He had given me a turn there, but it was all right. Or so I thought.
"Afterwards, I sensed that something was wrong. What? I couldn't figure it out. He had lasted longer than I thought he would; his ejaculation had been potent enough; I'd had an immensely satisfying orgasm; and my body felt warm and fulfilled in its new role. But Eric was distant, and I felt that something had been lost rather than gained. He told me to nap, that he was going to the other room and have a drink, and I did fall asleep for I don't know how long.
"I woke up to a door opening and voices. It was Eric's roommate returning. I was going to get up, but something kept me still. Then I heard them clearly. The roommate spotted my bra and panties on the couch and commented, 'I guess I don't have to ask if you scored.' Eric mumbled something, then the roommate asked, with a kind of leer in his voice, Well, buddy, how was she? Did you get yourself a virgin?'
"I'll never forget what I heard next. Eric practically exploded, 'Virgin? Hell, she's got a cunt so big you could drive a truck into it and double park! I've fucked whores up on north Clark Street that were tighter than she is. God only knows how many cocks that girl's had in her, because I'm sure she has lost count ... or lost track of them while they were in there. Listen, Al, it's one thing not to hit bottom, but when you can't find the sides...! You'd never suspect from looking at her that she was so ... ah ... shall we say experienced? She must have got her experience by fucking the whole Congo army. And what the hell, Al, I'm no pigmy.'
"I can't tell you how utterly humiliated I felt when I heard that. I can't tell you how crushed, how devastated I was. The new looks, the new shape, the beauty I thought I'd found-it was all superficial. Underneath, it didn't mean a damn thing. I was the town whore in a new dress. I was still a slut, only now I was a big-cunted slut. Can you beat that for retribution? I might as well have had a scarlet letter burned in my flesh. Naturally, I never saw Eric again or even spoke to him. All I could think about was how goddamn unfair it was.
"It wasn't my fault that I had been a fat, ugly little kid who'd tried to fight unpopularity and loneliness. What was I supposed to do for the rest of my life? I was built, attractive, and I knew it. Should I just date guys and never let them touch me? And, more important, what would happen when I found a guy I really loved? A guy who wanted to marry me? I couldn't very well refuse him sex. But I stood the chance of his rejecting me like Eric had, because of the size of my cunt and what a big cunt represented.
"The whole scene and all the alternatives played hell with my mind. According to what I'd heard, I couldn't even compete with a Chicago streetwalker. Imagine that, unqualified to be a whore. Oh, I know a lot of what I was thinking was crazy. Yet at the time, I was going crazy with guilts, fears, and an awful lot of self-loathing. I quit dating and stayed out of circulation. Why give anyone the opportunity to get lost in my big, gaping cunt? And you see, that's how I began thinking of my cunt: a huge slack cavern that had been excavated out of the middle of me. It was a shameful relic of old sins.
"I went on for months like that. My roommates knew something traumatic had happened and, without prying too deeply, tried to get me to come out of my shell and date. Gradually, I did, although I couldn't have been much fun. I couldn't allow any involvement, any affection or emotion that might lead to a bedroom. I had to break off budding affairs with a couple of very nice guys because I couldn't bear their potential reproach if they determined through my big cunt that I wasn't the person I seemed to be.
"You have to realize, of course, that there was a double misery involved. You see, I had never stopped loving sex. I wanted it; my body ached for it. Even in those years when I'd fucked half the countryside, I'd always physically enjoyed sex. That has never diminished, even during the years I was so afraid of ridicule because of the dimensions of my cunt. So, somewhere along the line, I took to masturbating. It was strictly a clitoral thing. I wouldn't put anything up my cunt. I guess I fantasized that if I didn't fuck myself with a finger or other objects, somehow I'd shrink. Other girls prayed for gentle lovers, I prayed for atrophy.
"My frustrations grew worse. One night they reached a culmination with a fellow I'd been out with just once before. I'd had too much to drink, and let him get as far as baring my tits and sucking on them. It was maddening; it was driving me up the walls. Certainly I knew he wanted to go a lot further. I wanted it, too, but I wouldn't let it happen. In the heat of it, I told him I couldn't, I was having my period. When he accepted the lie, I felt sorry for him so I sucked his cock.
"Just like that, I made up my mind that sexy me wasn't going to be a sexual zero. While I blew him, I sneaked my hand inside my panties and got my own charge by massaging my clitoris. I even swallowed his juices to show him what a good sport I was. That night I realized I could indulge in sex without opening myself to ridicule and castigation.
"I started on a whole new trip. Naturally, I played the field loosely, never dating a guy more than two or three times. After all, I couldn't use the excuse of having my period for weeks in a row. Usually, I would put a guy off on the first date but keep him interested enough to come back for seconds. The second time around, we'd go all the way except for actual fucking. Gradually, I became more confident of myself. I had left business school and had a job in the statistical division of an insurance company.
"I played my game of going halfway with sex for about a year. There were always plenty of parties going on the usual scene with large numbers of single working guys and girls in a big town. Looking back, I can say that I was moderately happy despite my frustration. I received a lot more invitations and propositions than I accepted. One guy even wanted to marry me after I had done my thing and gone down on him. I might have taken him up on it if he hadn't been such a jerk. He started me thinking, though, how good it would feel to get back in the saddle again and fuck.
"I started wondering if I couldn't take a chance here and there. I thought I was strong enough to take a rejection or two. So, selectively, I went all the way with a couple of guys. I'll give them credit; they didn't blow their stacks as had my old acquaintance, Eric. They didn't make a big thing out of their disappointment in my cunt. No, they just never asked me for another date. That was a low blow, of course. When a guy latched onto an exceptionally good-looking girl who would fuck for him, usually he didn't drop her like a hot potato. On the other hand, I wasn't completely crushed like I had been the year before-I had enjoyed the sex, even if they hadn't. And since I'd discovered that all males weren't loud-mouthed pricks like Eric, I decided that for the sake of my sex life I could go on selectively fucking-at least until someone hurt me badly again.
"It was through this hit and miss screwing scheme that I met Chet, who is now my husband. It seems funny now, but I thought at the time he would be the one fellow I could never make it with. I mean, he was a cocksman, a real hustler with the ladies. His hobby was, and still is, sex. We met at a party where we were both loose, and he picked me up immediately. I hate to use the old line that I was 'swept off my feet,' but that's literally what happened. Flat on my back, legs spread, and not caring a damn what he thought of my big cunt, we sucked and fucked until nearly dawn. He was a nut about positions. I felt like a contortionist by the time it was over.
"God, that was a marvelous night! I had orgasms like I'd been dreaming about. He did everything to me except fuck me in the ass. Nevertheless, I never thought I'd see him again. It seemed too good to be true. When I awoke in his apartment, he was gone-but he'd left me a note telling me to use his shower, have coffee, go on home, and he would call me early in the evening.
"That evening it was sex heaven all over again. I ended up staying the whole weekend with him. And not a word about the size of my cunt-was I dreaming? Instead, he lavished me with praise about my beauty and my body. He" told me over and over again how wildly uninhibited and wonderful I was as a sex partner. You would have thought he'd found a virgin princess. Me, I drank it all in. But a fearful part of me waited for the ax to fall. It never did. We became a steady twosome. We weren't so much in love with each other as we were with sex.
"Then Chet became serious. He talked about marriage, but he had stipulations. He would not promise to be the faithful husband. He wanted me to be his wife, but I had to understand that he might seek out and indulge in sex elsewhere. And if I wanted to do the same, it was all right with him. Jealousy and recriminations wouldn't be allowed.
"It was an odd way to start a marriage, considering all the usual vows of fidelity, but I was so crazy about Chet that it didn't matter. His cock was the most magnificent thing in the world to me. Not that it was exceptionally large, either-it was just that he knew how to use it. And many times, especially in the beginning, I wanted to ask him what he really thought about my cunt. I never did, though. If there were any objections, Chet would have been the first to voice them.
"I understood soon enough one reason Chet wanted his sexual freedom. We worked for the same insurance company, but he was training to be a territory supervisor. Shortly after our marriage, he was sent from the Chicago home office to cover two Midwestern states. Though we made our home in Kansas City, Chet was away at branch offices two and three days out of every week. He took his sex whenever and wherever he could find it. When he returned home after a trip, he would tell me in juicy, exacting detail all that had happened.
"Frankly, the stories about these strange women excited the hell out of me. I couldn't control myself sexually on the nights of his homecomings. If for any reason, he failed to score on a trip, I was disappointed. As for myself, I didn't stray, although he encouraged it. Chet, I figured, was all I needed. Why gamble on having my old hang-ups about my cunt come back at me?
"Yet they did come back to me. Not because I found an occasional lover or two for company while Chet was away, but because Chet had discovered a sex-swapping group in Kansas City. We joined the group, and this is where anal intercourse came to be one of the biggest things in my sex life.
"It happened so casually, I was stunned. When Chet first told me about the sex group, about the orgies, and about the exciting, attractive people we would meet intimately, together, I was thrilled. Minutes later, thinking of my cunt, I could have choked on my enthusiasm. I blurted out to Chet my long-held fear. To my surprise, he merely shrugged, 'Yeah, you're a little bigger down there than most girls, but some guys like that. It gives them room to operate. Anyway, if somebody gives you a tough time about it, you can always tell them to put it in your ass. That ought to be guaranteed tight enough for them.'
"I was flabbergasted to hear him say it. I stammered back, 'But. . . but, I mean, you've never done that before ... fuck me in the ass.'
"He replied easily, 'No, but I've tried it a couple of times with other girls. It's okay. I figured we'd get around to-it sooner or later. It's just that there was no big hurry and it's no big thing. For the time being, what we do now is plenty satisfying for me.'
"That's what I mean about casual. He hadn't really given it any thought. Well, I started thinking about it-plenty! I knew how badly he wanted to be involved in the sex group, as did I, and I didn't want anything to spoil it for us. I could see the virtue of having a sexual alternative to offer anybody who might be disappointed in my cunt. That night I asked Chet to break me in. I urged him to fuck my ass.
"I wouldn't say that I was exactly like the sacrificial lamb. I wanted it badly enough that I ignored the usual hesitations due to pain. Not that I thought it was going to kill me; I knew that anal intercourse was acceptable to many people, some even grooving on it. But I thought that, in my case, it would be rather far-fetched to find it as stimulating as the other forms of sex I had practiced for so long. Nevertheless, I was hoping I would find it at least somewhat enjoyable. I really needed to be able to offer a choice, front or back.
"And thank God for Chet! He was so very kind and considerate. Occasionally during a very steamy sex session, he had found my anus with his tongue and licked and excited me there until he had me quivering with passion. That night, however, he made it a point to snuggle between my thighs, lift my legs high and wide, and anoint my ass-hole with tender kisses and probing licks. The flicking tip of his tongue rimmed me to a heat I had never known before in that spot.
"In minutes I was calling for his cock, but he was more cautious. He brought a jar of vaseline to the bed, took a glob on his finger, and massaged the hot, tight hole. Then he poked his finger up inside, adding dabs of vaseline and moving deeper and deeper. He twisted his finger and probed smoothly-one knuckle, then the next. My sphincter stopped fighting him. The muscles were hot and relaxed. Then it was time.
"Chet lubricated his beautiful cock and positioned me on my knees and elbows. Reaching underneath me, he teased my already engorged nipples. The head of his cock pushed between the crevice of my ass cheeks and hesitated there. 'You push,' he directed me. 'Push back as slow or as fast as you want. I'll hold my cock steady so it won't slip away.' I did as he said, straining backwards. It was so slippery there from all the vaseline that I could actually feel him aiming his erection into my ever-widening ass-hole.
"To be truthful, I expected more pain. Yet it was more of a straining sensation than a sharp hurt. I dug my elbows and hands into the mattress and continued to slowly envelop the hard shaft of flesh that was now quivering for containment. Then I felt him deep inside me. Or at least it seemed deep. I was grunting at the marvelous hugeness that filled me. By God, I thought, there was nothing loose and gaping about this scene! Suddenly, I didn't want to go slowly anymore. It was good! The awareness hit me like a jolt. Yes, dammit, it was so very good! 'Fuck it, darling!' I gasped to him. 'Oh shit, fuck me!'
"He responded with a thrilling drive that took my breath away. His strokes were smooth and sweet, and each stroke took him deeper and deeper into my bowels. Crazy, goddamn crazy, crazy things were happening to my entire body! I felt my cunt twitch in response to the ass-drilling, and I groped for my clit and squeezed it frantically. Then my darling had a full head of steam and was fucking me as deeply and as furiously as he had ever fucked my cunt. I screamed my joy: 'I'm coming! I'm coming in my ass!'
"When the ecstasy finally wore off, I knew without a doubt that I was a changed woman. The prospect of sex-swapping held no fears for me. Deep inside, there was even a perverse secret hope that future sex partners might well be disappointed in my large cunt and so turn me over to find their pleasure. What a long, long way I can come!
In the case of Marilyn D., the long road from adolescent sex to anal intercourse is marked by inescapable pathos. The ugly child syndrome is all too real for many people. Rare is the individual who does not know some degree of insecurity during their youth. It is not merely the unfortunate who suffer such early pains, i.e. the crippled, the disfigured, the impaired, and the grotesque. To a young person, a natural state of unattractiveness-braced teeth, acne, weight problems, thick corrective lenses, etc.-may mean a time of emotional and psychic upset. More than one personality has been hammered in this forge.
As with our subject, the period of unattractiveness is often temporary, yet it can and does lead to actions, though understandable, that influence future behavior. Overt sexual behavior (promiscuity) is one of many resultant actions. Without sounding like a spokesman for male chauvinism, it is a plain and demonstrable fact that the great majority of promiscuous teenage girls are fighting to overcome a sense of inferiority. Our present subject is almost a classical example. She referred to herself in her narrative as a "town whore." She was not wrong, and where is the town or neighborhood that does not have at least one?
Unfortunately, most girls whose childhood sexual experiences were similar to Marilyn's did not "bloom," as she put it, into exceptionally attractive women. And for the record, Marilyn can easily be considered beautiful. Such is reality. In the majority of cases, the so-called town whores marry early to ignorant or idealistic young men. For some, the marriages endure and are replete with procreation. For others, a sad circle of marital discord and divorce is embarked upon.
Contrary to popular opinion, the "fallen" teenager, the one with the "reputation," does not quickly or readily leap into the life of a professional prostitute. In our society, that status appears to be reserved for the poor, the uneducated, and the opportunistic. Marilyn's reflections upon her comparison to a prostitute were significant. It must be pointed out that, in spite of her precocious promiscuity, she never entertained the idea of prostitution. Her dream and goal was to bury the past and to be accepted into the mainstream of society, including its current sexual ethics. In today's vernacular, she did not cop out.
She did, however, rationalize her fear, which is all too human. Pertinent to this discussion is the direction her rationalization took. In the course of her entire indulgent sexual experience, she had never entertained nor allowed anal intercourse. Indeed, she has stated that her numerous sexual partners seemed not to entertain the idea either. And Marilyn had no fear of sex per se. Excluding, anal intercourse and blatant perversion, she had indulged in all forms of sexual activity, including lesbian experimentation, by the time she finally sought refuge in normality in a large city.
To Marilyn, analism was a definitive choice. How unique is Marilyn as an anal erotic? Given the background of her early promiscuity and the reasons for it, adding to that the tortured feelings about the size of her vagina and the potential condemnation she would receive for it, does it seem inevitable that she should accept analism as such a convenient alternative? In this instance, her alternative can be taken at face value, for in spite of her background, she does not suffer from any pronounced sexual aberration. She retains, and understandably so, a mild sexual neurosis, as most people do.
Marilyn is exceptional only in the sense that her physical disparity (the large vagina) was the result of early overt sexual behavior. In another case history in this volume, a male with an abnormally large penis was profoundly, psychosexually affected because of his physical disparity. In his case, however, he was born with a sexual organ of extra large dimension. Yet it resulted in a sexual aberration: strong anal sadism. Marilyn's willingness toward analism, however, is more Of an attempt to overcome her neurosis rather than to let it grow cancerously into perversion.
In her own words, she gives us some of the details of her adjustment:
"With Chet's loving help in preparing my ass-hole, I wasn't nearly as nervous as I might have been when we joined the group of swingers. The joining part of it, the initiation I guess you'd call it, was tailor made for me, too. Since all the couples in the group were prominent people, there was a good deal of caution when they brought in new members. Before we met the whole crowd and were allowed to participate in the larger swap parties, we had to be evaluated by two couples on succeeding weekends.
"The first husband I paired off with was named John, and he was easy. To get acquainted, my Chet and his wife Delia were to use separate bedrooms from John and me. It was a simple matter to sort of cutely confess to him that I had a special passion and that I hoped he would indulge me. When I told him that I loved to be fucked in the ass, he was thrilled. I was even honest with him, to a point, in my explanation. I told him that I had had a difficult pregnancy and stillbirth when I was younger and that my cunt had been inadvertently stretched. I didn't mention any of my fears about a man thinking I was too loose. I turned it around and told him that I was the one who couldn't feel as much cock as I used to. That's why I preferred it in the ass.
"We were naked and caressing each other while I was telling him all that, and far from dampening his spirits, it seemed to inflame him. He turned out to be a pretty good man with his tongue, too. He knew that no matter what the size of my cunt, a good mouth job on the clit was always effective. He steamed me up to the point where I was ready for anything. I moved around on the bed and under him so I could get my lips on his cock in a sixty-nine position; but he was impatient to get on with what I offered him in the beginning. And, damn, so was I.
"He rolled me over and crouched behind me, kneading the flesh of my ass, tickling and kissing my anus. He asked me if I needed a lubricant. No, I told him, spittle would do it. It was something Chet and I had worked out-after the first few times, just natural moisture was good enough. I suppose that in John's eyes it made my story all the more believable. There was no reason for him to know that I had only been ass-fucking for a week and a half in anticipation of this very meeting.
"As Chet had shown me, I reached back under my legs and fondled his balls. I squeezed the heavy testicles firmly but gently, then ran my fingernails lightly up the tender underside of his fine, hard cock. He dabbed spit into my puckered, waiting ass-hole, applying more to his circumcised shaft. Then I found out he had a bit of a quirk also. He wanted me to describe how it felt going in and what I was feeling as he shoved it home. It excited him to hear me talk dirty. So, as he poised the hardness against the small entrance and started shoving that sweet meat in ever so tightly, I did my best to accommodate him both anally and verbally.
"'Oh, fuck!' I hissed at him. 'It's so great, your big beautiful cock! My ass-hole's on fire ... coming apart! There, baby, you're in! I can feel you in my guts. Fuck it! Fuck my ass-hole with your beautiful hard cock!'
"I kept up the dialogue as he filled every inch of my steaming ass-hole. It was good, just as Chet had promised. I could hear John grunting behind me and I could feel his sweat on my own warm skin. He was in a fucking frenzy up my rectum. No man can fake that kind of rutting pleasure. I was pleasing him beyond my wildest dreams. And the pleasure I was receiving for myself seemed to have no end. I worked my clit, bringing down an almost immediate 'flashing orgasm. When he came, squirting a fantastic stream of molten come deep in me, I had to bite my tongue to keep from cursing my disappointment. But John surprised me. Un-like most men, he didn't wilt as soon as he'd shot his load. His come added a wild slickness to my ass-hole and he was able to finish with a furious flurry of more hard, marvelous fucking.
"The next step in our initiation met with the same success. Before we even joined with the rest of the group, the word was out: Marilyn truly was a great piece of ass. The funny thing was that the story of my loose cunt was totally accepted by everyone. Naturally, in the three years we've been swapping, I've been fucked in the cunt many times, too. None of the men have shown any great disappointment. I think it's because my story to John psychologically prepared them. Of course, the real focus is always on my ass. And it's through anal intercourse that I really come to reach my greatest joys and orgasms. In fact, our group is making a movie now for our own personal enjoyment. And guess who's the female star of the ass-fucking scenes?"
For some individuals like our subject, analism may be a sexual approach that offers positive psychic and physical satisfaction without becoming an unmanageable perversity.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Anal Homosexual
"Call it a fixation or compulsion, whatever you want, but I knew I had to have Lauri's ass. The feeling began building to a head just a few weeks after we were married. In the first place, being married was something I had strong doubts about. Maybe it was a test for me. It helped that Lauri loved me and was willing to go along with the kind of life I'd cut out for myself. And, as chicks go, I dug her, too. We made a good team. The only thing wrong was the sex. Yeah, I wanted to be a stud, a straight normal stud-Christ, I wanted it in the worst way ever-but I just couldn't get with it the way she wanted and as often as she wanted. I mean, I don't have anything against girls or cunts, but I just couldn't hack fucking a cunt night after night.
"To say that my head is messed up over my sexual identity is to put it mildly. It was that way when I married Lauri, it's that way now. But back then I hadn't thought it out very well. My guts literally turned to jelly anytime anyone mentioned the word homosexual. Or any of the other words: faggot, queer, fairy, queen, and so on. All I could think was, do they know? Is there something about me? Did the subject just pop up, or is somebody trying to get a rise out of me? Whenever that would happen, I'd try and prove myself as straight as an arrow.
"There had always been girls available-then it became just Lauri. As soon as I was able to get her alone, I'd try and fuck her brains out. But, like, according to the book. You know, position number one, the classic in the saddle shot, man above, woman below. What could be straighter than that? Even so, I always doubted the performance. I wondered if I was only kidding myself. Yeah, sure, Lauri seemed to love it-she'd go ape shit. I mean, she's a real screamer and grabber. And, as I said, we got married. Straight middle class shot, although we were a long way from moving to the suburbs.
"Then I got this thing about her ass. There it was where I could see it, touch it, feel it, kiss it-but I hadn't tried to fuck it. I thought, if I can only talk her into it, it wouldn't blow the lie that I'm living. She'll never have to know that by spreading the cheeks of her butt for me, she'll be keeping me from running out and making it with some guy. I couldn't tell her that. At the same time, I was worried shitless that she'd think I was a frustrated faggot just for asking. I didn't know, if she hit me with that, whether or not I could laugh it off. Still, I was desperate. My whole world was closing in on me. I liked living straight, even if it was a lie. I'd seen the so-called gay world, and believe me it's a bad trip. Out and out faggot society has to be about the saddest, loneliest, most desperate shot there is. I guess I was more afraid of that than living a lie.
"So I kind of sneaked up on Lauri's ass. I didn't get much of a kick out of eating cunt, but I always did a little licking just for her benefit. She seemed to expect it. And she always reciprocated with a good round of cock sucking, which I really did dig. Anyway, it wasn't much effort to let my tongue go a little further. I'd let it slip to her ass-hole and just slightly tickle her. I wanted to see if I'd get any reaction. The first time I teased her ass like that, she didn't say anything, but she didn't say no. The next night I got a little bolder, stayed there longer, and rimmed her. I took the tip of my tongue, forced it into the tight hole, and jabbed. "That did make a difference. She squirmed and moaned. I was satisfied that she not only had no objections but actually liked it. On the third try, I really went at it with a passion and she couldn't have had any doubts that it was something I was really hot after. For close to a week, I started getting her ready for my anal tongue job by using a finger in her ass-hole while I was eating her cunt. Most of the time, she was simultaneously sucking me off so our sessions got pretty hot and sweaty. Then, at the peak of our heat one night, I put the question to her. I told her where I wanted to fuck her.
"All the preparation had been worth it. She didn't hesitate in saying okay, just asked me not to hurt her. Hurt her? The very last thing I wanted to do was blow what I'd set up. I was as tender with her as I knew how. I kissed her and stroked her until she was aching for me to get on with it. Then I positioned her on her knees on the floor beside the bed with the upper part of her body leaning on the mattress. I had a jar of vaseline already planted in the bedside stand and was able to get it out and opened without leaving her. I played with her clit to keep her furnace stoked while I lubed us up. Then I didn't give her any time to hesitate or change her mind.
"There was a considerable difference between the size of that tiny brown hole and the circumference of my cock. But I, of all people, knew that eventually it would fit. I knew, too, from out of my past that the best way to pork it to her was to get inside the rubbery ring as quick as possible. If you want to make an analogy; you can think of it as pulling off a band aid. If you do it slow and easy, it pulls the flesh and hurts like hell. If you snap off the adhesive with the quick stroke, it stings for just an instant, then it's okay.
"So I snapped the head of my cock into her fast. The cry caught in her throat and she grabbed for the bed. I grabbed her hips so she wouldn't get away. Then she found her voice and gasped, 'No, don't! Christ, I thought you weren't going to...' Then she realized that the pain was all over. The full, strange, strained sensation that remained was an erotic ache, not a hurt. And goddam it, I mean, did it ever feel great at my end of the stick!
"Don't ever let anyone tell you that an ass-hole isn't the greatest route in the world. Man or woman, it makes no difference. Of course, maybe that's why I was able to so thoroughly enjoy Lauri's ass. Once I was inside, it could have belonged to either a man or woman. To be honest, I'll have to say that I was leaning toward the masculine. My cock may have been up my wife's ass-hole-but my mind was someplace else.
"I was thinking of a young man named Frank, a soft, thin young man with blonde hair that hung in golden curls over his sensitive, handsome face. But in my fantasy, I couldn't see his face. I could only see his taut, flat ass split by my bursting cock. Even the sexual grunting sounds that Lauri made sounded to me like
Frank urging me deeper and deeper into his ass.
"And so not to break the reverie, I didn't reach around Lauri's thighs and titillate her clitoris. You see, I would have expected to find a thick, hard cock to hold and jerk instead. Without touching any part of Lauri that would make me aware she was a girl, I could and did play the homosexual fantasy right from the beginning penetration to the moment when I shot my hot load up her sweet, tight ass-hole.
"All right, if I was copping out on reality, just let me make it clear that I treated Lauri as best I could in every other way. I didn't resent her for being a girl instead of a guy. Except for the fantasies I had when I was fucking her ass, she was a wife to me in every sense of the word. We were a team, and for that I liked her. I mean, she could have easily been an establishment chick, but she opted for my life-style instead.
"Being an artisan isn't an easy bag, and I'm never going to get rich at it. A lot of people put us down by calling us hippies. Yeah, well, maybe it's the straight squares who don't know where it's at. When I was breaking Lauri into the ass-fucking thing, I looked a little wilder than I do now, but a good part of it was protective coloration. My hair was long, really long, and the beard wasn't trimmed at all. I just let it all hang out. Being a jewelry maker, working in gold and silver like I do, it wasn't exactly bad business to look weird and original. People expect that nowadays from artists, artisans, and craftsmen. If someone comes to my little shop and commissions me to do a fine gold piece, I like to reinforce the idea that everything about it is original. It's good box office.
"At the bottom of it all, though, I really went bohemian in appearance so I wouldn't look anything like a faggot interior decorator. Even now, with the hair cut and the beard trimmed down, I feel that I'm a cut apart from those sweet boys, sweet boys who do interesting, interesting things and run little shops all over the city. But, hell, like the other mask, there's a reason for my being cleaned up like I am. It has to do with the swinging sex scene that I'm into very heavy. Before we get into that, though, I want to rap some about my homosexuality and set the record straight.
"I was going to be an artist, you know. Not just a gold and silver smithie. I was going to be a painter. After I found out I wasn't good enough to hack that, I was going to be a sculptor. After I found out I'd be nothing but a lousy sculptor, I found a niche for myself in design work. I knew I was artistic, and especially good at the small stuff, like jewelry design, things I could personally shape with my fingers. like, I'm damn good at what I do, no apologies there. Still, it was a helluva a let down when I was young and I realized I'd never make it as another Picasso or be able to work with grand, out-sized art. It tore me up inside and made me something of a loner. I suppose that's what started the homosexual thing.
"I was going to a fine arts academy in San Francisco, sort of a high school and art school combined. Because I lived across the bay in Oakland, I spent a lot of time on my own in San Francisco. My folks didn't seem to give a damn. You know, I was the exceptional gifted child who could do no wrong. Anyway, I was on the loose a lot, a sort of straight looking hippie a few years before the Haight-Ashbury thing. Now I don't know whether you know it or not, but San Francisco is crawling with faggots. A kid like me, pink cheeked, sixteen, a loner with few friends and hardly any experience with females-well, I was ripe for a gay pickup.
"The first guy was about thirty. He saw me sketching one day in Golden Gate Park. He seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about art, and we talked. Then he told me he collected the works of Bay Area artists and asked if Pd like to see his apartment. Yeah, I know, come on up and see my etchings. But it worked. And he did have the paintings. He was also pretty shrewd. He did nothing but flatter me on my 'obvious artistic sensitivity.' I lapped it up in spite of the fact that Pd figured out the guy was gay.
"I mean, he came on very sweet once we were inside his apartment. It was cocktail hour, too-you know, like it was the most natural thing in the world to start feeding a sixteen-year-old kid booze. I can't blame the sex on the liquor, though. I was high, but I knew what he was doing when he put his arm around me and talked about sex.
"He was very delicate. Fellatio, he called it. Did I like to have girls do it to me? Shit, I'd only fucked one girl in my life, let alone have one go down on me. Did I know there was really no difference between a male doing it or a girl? He would simply love to take care of such a nice young boy as me. Somewhere along the line I said, why not? I already had half a hard-on from talking about it. When he saw that, he couldn't keep his hands out of my crotch. A couple-of minutes later, we were both naked on his couch.
"He tried to kiss me on the mouth and use his tongue, but I wasn't ready for that. I had bought his line about it not making any difference whether he or a girl sucked my cock, but I hadn't bought anything else. He didn't try anything else, either, unless you include the tongue bath he gave my crotch, balls and cock before he actually put my tool in his mouth and sucked.
"I think what amazed me most was how great it felt, those wet lips squeezing and the tongue working like mad. It's possible I went through the kind of transference then that I was to go through years later with Lauri, thinking her ass was a man's ass. I do know that it didn't seem particularly evil to me. It was more the enjoyment of forbidden fruit than anything sick or filthy. And it didn't hurt his seduction scene any that I had already naively romanticized artists like myself as being individuals beyond the mere mortal sanctions of society. If what I was doing was immoral, it was the kind of immorality that an artist could laugh at.
"On a more earthly level, the guy could really suck a cock. Not that I had any basis for comparison; I just knew how wild his pumping mouth felt. In those days, I was jerking off a couple of times a week, and I can tell you I never experienced anything like the sensation I felt when I let my load explode in that fellow's mouth. And there was no comparison to the one fuck I'd had. It was like suddenly a neon sign went on that read: Hey, man, sex is where it's at! Since I didn't know much about any other kind, where it was at with me was with cocksucking.
"Naturally, this guy had me pegged as real cherry. He didn't try anything else that first night, nor did he try to get me to do anything. He merely invited me back, and I went. For three or four times, it was the same routine, but I was really beginning to dig it. I discovered, for instance, what things he did with his mouth and tongue that gave me the biggest thrill. I liked him all the way down on me, sucking on the whole cock, rather than just working the knob. But up at the knob, I liked the way he squeezed his lips just behind it. I liked the way he pushed his tongue hard on the underside of the shaft where the sensitive veins are. Mostly, I liked a lot of suction and slurping and licking.
"By this time, I was feeling him. Not his cock, but his body. We had graduated from the couch to his bed prior to his sucking me off, where we'd squeeze and hug each other. I still wouldn't allow the French kiss routine, but I dug our bodies pressed together so that our erections were squeezed between us and rubbing one another. I knew it was inevitable that he'd want me more into the act. He brought it up by asking me to jerk him off.
"I say he asked me; actually he suckered me into it. I was stretched out on my back with my legs spread, my head on a pillow so I could watch his action. He was crouched between my legs, giving me a really powerful sucking. I was so hot that I was bouncing my ass all over the bed. I thought I could feel my balls aching and swelling, and I knew I was damn close to a great come. Suddenly, he pulls his mouth off and leaves my cock just standing there, twitching. That's when he told me what he wanted. Hell, I was squirming because I wanted to shoot off so badly. I said yes just to get it on, and he moved around to the side where I could reach his cock.
"I don't know exactly what I thought when I touched his hard meat and manipulated it, trying to use the same finger stroking and pulling that he had used on me. I do know that I wasn't repulsed. It felt strange at first but not particularly unnatural. I guess that subconsciously I figured it was only fair. I knew how great it felt when I came, so I had to assume that he felt the same way getting his load off. But I just used my hand, not my mouth.
"He took it easy on my cock while I jerked.
His lips were slack and he was barely using suction. It didn't take a genius to figure out the game. The harder and faster I masturbated him, the closer he'd bring me to ejaculation. Again, fair enough. I went at him furiously, and in minutes he had me back at my peak. He surprised me by coming first. I felt his cock spasm under my fingers, and I was staring right at the end of it as the first spurt flew out, followed by gushing gobs.
"The sight of his eruption was my own trigger. I didn't last another five seconds. And he really went wild when he caught my load. By comparison, the other times had been very controlled. like yeah, he'd swallow the wad, suck it all up very nicely, and clean my whole cock with his mouth. But this time, he gobbled and gulped like it was the last drop of come in the world. He pumped, slurped, and sucked with such frenzy that I thought he'd make me piss in his mouth. By the time he was through, I was getting hard again. So it was obvious what turned him on. Now we sort of came to an unspoken pact-if I took care of him, he'd make sure that I got the headiest sex he could offer.
"At this point, my introduction to homosexuality took an odd twist. You see, my friend with the art collection wasn't the first male whose cock I sucked nor was his the one to bring me out into analism. But in a way he was responsible for it all. I mean, if I had stopped seeing the guy, I don't think anything more would have happened. As it was, I was spending a lot of evenings at his apartment after art school. My parents were raising hell about how late I was getting back to Oakland. Of course, I lied to them and told them I had a girl friend, but I was still forced to cool it for a couple of weeks. I told my gay friend that I'd set up a deal to spend the whole weekend with him.
"Remember, all I'd ever done was jerk him off. I don't know if I had any intention of going beyond that point. But my friend had a surprise waiting for me that weekend. He was taking me to a gay party. He wanted to show off his latest acquisition to some of his faggot acquaintances. I said okay because I was curious; it would be my first inside look at the homosexual scene.
"Christ, it turned out to be an exaggeration of everything I'd ever heard about it. Those guys camped and swished like it was the powder room of the Mark Hopkins. There were about forty males crowded into a small two-story townhouse. There were a few as young as I, and a few that must have been in their forties, the rest somewhere in between with the accent on youthfulness. I didn't know what the word trade' meant at the time, but I had a pretty good idea what a trick' was. It seems I was both. I didn't know whether to be insulted or complimented. Since everyone there either admired my young body and obvious innocence or eyed my friend with jealousy, it wasn't long before I relaxed. I did stay loose on the booze, though. I didn't want anything to impair the bizarre education I was getting.
"As the evening progressed, I noticed that the incidents of kissing, hugging and ass-grabbing were more frequent. I was afraid to ask, but I wondered if the thing would disintegrate into a full scale orgy. I don't know what the hell I would have done if that had happened. I'd heard of things like circle jerks and daisy chains, and I couldn't quite put myself into the picture. My worries were eased as my friend and I circulated. I overheard dates and other meetings being made. The party was winding down. It was shortly after I'd made that observation that I met Frank.
"I mentioned Frank earlier, but I have to emphasize again how he struck me. I mean, he was the most beautiful goddamn "boy' that you can imagine. He was like a slim, blonde Adonis. And he knew it-just like an attractive woman knows how she looks. Frank played it for all it was worth. When he came over to me, he used his eyes to hold me transfixed and he said all the right things. For the first time, my friend was on the jealous defensive. He tried to get me away from Frank, and he succeeded only by being rude. I could see that he was seething inside, and it gave me a kick to realize I was the cause of all this sexual emotion.
"Then my friend sank his own ship. He had been drinking steadily ever since we had arrived, but he hadn't appeared to be more than socially high. After the incident with Frank, though, he belted down drinks one after the other. They hit him like a ton of bricks. One minute he seemed okay, and in the next he was reeling drunkenly and trying to hug me to him, Then he unceremoniously fell into a chair and passed out. I made a move to wake him up, but there was a hand on my arm. It was Frank.
"Frank told me to let him sleep it off, because if I woke him too soon, he'd get sick and puke. I guess I mumbled that I had to wake him up because I was staying with him and there was no place else to go. Yeah, then came Frank's charming smile. I didn't have a worry in the world, he whispered to me as he took me away from the party.
"Thousands of times, I've tried to figure out what happened to me psychologically that night when Frank took me to his apartment. As soon as we were inside the door, he was holding me and kissing me. I didn't try to close my mouth or turn my head. Suddenly his tongue was probing between my lips, and I licked at it and offered mine in return. Our cocks were hard bulges between us. There weren't any preliminaries like I'd had with my other friend. No conversation, no drinks-rhell, he didn't even bother to turn on the lights.
"While we still pressed close to each other, he was tugging at my clothes. Then we were naked in a pile of garments, his hot hands on my cock. And soon I was reciprocating. His organ was slightly thicker and longer than mine, but he was older, too. Actually, he was twenty-four and looked eighteen or nineteen. I wasn't the one making the cock comparisons, though, for as he pulled on my hard meat with very talented fingers, he whispered how beautiful my prick was, how sweet it must taste, and how badly he wanted it in his mouth. I didn't have to answer him.
"Deftly, he pushed aside a coffee table and sprung a bed out of a convertible sofa. In a single heated move, we were on the bed, I on my back, my eyes closed, waiting for the warm, wet ring of his lips to encircle my cock-like that was the way it always happened with my other friend. But Frank didn't play the same game. Hell, he had no way of knowing how cherry I was. He just assumed I knew the score and went the whole route.
"Soon he was crouching over me and taking my cock into his mouth, but he wasn't between my legs, no way! When I opened my eyes, I looked straight up to see his furry balls and big rock-like cock only a few inches from my face. He had taken me for granted and swung immediately into the sixty-nine position. I was in a bit of a panic. I didn't know what to do. If he lowered his ass six inches, I'd have his basket in my face. I thought: Go on, jerk him off, he's waiting for you to do something!
"I reached up and circled my fingers around the base of the rigid stem. You could say that the next few seconds were the fateful ones. Why I did it, I don't know. I just know that instead of masturbating him, as had been my first intention, I pulled his cock slightly so that it stuck straight down, then lifted my head and took it in my mouth.
"You see, I still don't know if cocksuckers are made or born. I don't know what made me do it. I don't know if it was the proximity, because he expected me to, or if I really wanted to. All I know is that once I started, I didn't spit it out. I was amazed at how velvety smooth he was. I was surprised at the heat of the thing and pleased that there was no unpleasant taste. There was nothing more to it than sucking a thumb. And I made up my mind that if I was going to do it, I was going to do it right.
"I emulated as best I could all the motions of Frank's mouth. Being underneath limited the actions of my head, but I don't think I did too badly. In fact, it allowed him to fuck into my mouth to the depth that gave him the most pleasure. It was funny, too, that I became so preoccupied with sucking him competently that I lost track of what was happening to my own cock. In fact, I didn't pay attention to the whole picture until my balls started to boil.
"Instantly, I was aware that I was on the verge of coming. I was also instantly aware that he'd be coming, too. I was torn with indecision. I could tear my mouth away before his juices spurted into my throat and ruin all that had been good about it right there-or I could take his come and swallow it. Maybe I was more afraid of gagging and choking than of not wanting it. I don't know.
"Call it hot sexual perversity, but I kept on sucking. Throughout my own ejaculation, I sucked like a fish. He was only a moment behind me. The thick fluid that poured into my mouth tasted like strange, salty gruel-but I didn't get sick or spit it up. I mean, it wasn't that bad. It was like taking strange medicine. You don't exactly like it, but you know it's not going to kill you.
"I guess what I had done only convinced Frank all the more that I was on familiar ground with all the homosexual acts. Anyway, we were lying on the sofa bed, sensually touching each other's bodies and getting hard-ons all over again, when he told me that he didn't want to waste a bit of my erection. 'Fuck me in the ass,' he said. 'I'll get the cream.'
"I knew what he was saying, but it stunned me nonetheless. If I had considered cocksucking to be a normal sex act between two males, I naively thought ass-fucking to be decidedly abnormal. But you have to remember that Frank was lavish, almost adoring, in his praise of my body and my boyish beauty. Furthermore, he was treating me as an equal, not a dumb kid to be manipulated. And, of course, I was to be fucking his ass. What harm could that do? Maybe it was, as I had heard a kid say once, the next best thing to a cunt. So when he came back with the tube of creamy ointment, I decided to go ahead with it.
"First, he efficiently buttered my cock and his ass-hole, then he rolled over for me. As I knelt behind his up-thrust ass, I braced myself and went forward. I had no idea what to expect. I couldn't even remember what the single cunt I'd been in had felt like. I couldn't remember anything about the feel, the tightness, or whether I'd had trouble getting in. Anyway, I pushed my cock between Frank's buttocks and easily found his hole. Then, as I started to push in, he wiggled his ass a little to make it fit better. Suddenly, surprisingly, I was inside. I must have paused at that point, not quite knowing what to do next, because he had to yell at me, 'Come on, sweetie, don't tease me like that ... fuck me!'
"Out of sight! To me, his ass-hole was a cunt. The pressure and the tightness were beautiful, and his hole was as slick as a greased pig. I whaled away without paying any attention to finesse. I didn't give a damn or know a thing about rhythm and pacing and titillating stroking, I just fucked like a mechanical rabbit, while at the same time he took my hand and placed it on his cock so I could jerk him off. Feeling my fingers wrapped around that growing hardness brought me back to the reality that it truly was a male ass-hole I was fucking. But it didn't diminish my enthusiasm or take away from the pleasure. I plowed that dark furrow furiously until I fell over in exhaustion after a climax much more powerful than I'd had at the first of the evening.
"Then it came my turn to offer up my ass. Frank just assumed that I'd be more than willing to give him the same pleasure. Hell, I can understand how he felt, but that was where I had to admit to less homosexual experience than he'd given me credit for. I didn't cop out on everything. You know, I just said that ass-fucking was something that had never happened before.
"He was understanding, but he was insistent. And all the time he kept feeling me up and telling me how great I was. Aside from what he was saying to me and what he was doing to my body, the one thing he really had going Jfor him was that I had no idea that anal intercourse might hurt. I mean, when I had fucked him, my cock had gone up his ass almost as easily as it had gone into his mouth. Yeah, it was tight and I had to push a little, but no one could have guessed it caused any strain. At the time, I didn't pause to consider that he'd had hard cocks up his ass for so long that to him it was as simple as putting one in his mouth.
"Anyway, he talked me into it. He went through the same lubricating scene, got me in the proper position, and kept urging me to relax! What he didn't know was that my ass-hole was as wound up as a rubber band. I suppose that's why I felt the pain like I did. Shit, man, when I caught that first inch of penetration, I screamed bloody murder! Frank had to stop right there and pacify me or I would have jumped up and run out. He kept telling me that it got better as it went along-that it would soon feel good. So I let him continue and managed to suffer through it.
"He was only partially right. After a while it felt better, but not good. You know something? It never has felt really great. I mean, sure, nowadays I can take a cock in my ass without any sweat. There's some pleasure involved, but it doesn't drive me out of my mind. I'll let it happen and sometimes, if necessary, I'll even encourage it. It can't compare with sucking a cock, though. And in no way is it comparable to having my cock up another man's ass.
"Of course, as I told you earlier, I'm a married man and supposedly straight. What happened when I was a kid, I tried to leave behind in San Francisco. Sure, I knew I was a homosexual. I mean, I went steady with Frank for almost a year-what else could I be? If that wasn't enough, I hustled my body in the gay scene there for another year after that, until I got out of art school. It boils down to this: I dug the sex; if things had been different, maybe I'd be a faggot right now, living and balling without any pretenses in some gay part of town.
"What I didn't like was the life of the homosexual. Most of them, with all their furtiveness and sneaking around, made it a helluva lot more dirty than it was or is. That got to me. I didn't want to be put down and stamped on by the straight world. I went to college at San Jose and, aside from an occasional weekend when I'd run up the Bay and pull up my skirts, I played it straight. In college, I discovered I could get along with broads, even attract them.
"That's why I came down to L.A. after I dropped out. That's why I pulled the Bohemian-hippie scene, including the camouflage, when I opened up my first goldsmith shop. I mean, a few years ago, it was inconceivable to think of a guy with a full bushy beard and wild hair down to his shoulders as being anything but straight. Weird maybe, crazy-but not a faggot.
"Yeah, but as Dylan says, "The times they are a-changing.' With a lot of these kids nowadays, the hair doesn't mean a thing. I've seen some queens around town that look like they've just stepped out of an acid rock album cover. Maybe that's all wrapped up in the way I appear now. There's no better protective coloration than being a married man. Yet even that doesn't work. My mind keeps getting bent out of shape by old scenes. Sometimes I think the smartest thing I could have done was leave my wife and come out in the open-get the queen out of the closet.
"But we don't all do the smartest things. I happen to like the kind of kooky, semi-straight life that I lead. That's why group sex-swapping was such a goddamn blessing to me. I think I would have fallen apart without it. In a way, it's like having the best of two possible worlds. How else can a guy suck a cock one minute, fuck somebody else's wife in the ass the next, get corn-holed for a nightcap, and wake up the next morning feeling perfectly normal?"
Following Kinsey's oft-quoted revelations of 1948 that a hitherto unsuspectedly large percentage of American males experienced at least one homosexual contact in their lives, popular sexologists rushed forth and used this statistic to explain all manner of disturbed patterns of sexual behavior ranging from impotency to psychopathic lust murder. In the following decade, the sexual-psychological investigators advanced the theory that all individuals are to a degree latent homosexuals. The die was cast. Active homosexuality was second in ubiquitousness only to latent homosexuality-which was universal. No one escaped. It was the psychiatric equivalent to original sin.
Recently, particularly in the last three years, a certain enlightenment has come about consistent with the wide dissemination of sexual material, analysis, and investigations. An educated public is a tough one upon which to pile further old sex myths. One of the myths we were glad to see dissolve was the one holding that practically all sexual aberrations could be traced to homosexuality, latent or active, the guilt therefore inducing, behind it all, the inevitable Oedipus or Electra complex, courtesy of Doctor Freud.
We have been made aware of the vast landscape of our sexual psyche. Abnormal sexual behavior rarely has a solitary root. Moreover, we have discovered that abnormal sexuality is highly subjective. In fact, much may depend upon one's acceptance or rejection of a socially imposed moral or traditional code. Such understanding enables us to avoid the pitfalls of the sexual behavior myths-specifically, in this discussion, the original sin of homosexuality. Almost.
The reservation is reserved for the subject of analism. Analism, especially in marriage, especially in a sex-swapping situation, is the one sexual practice that, when fostered by the male partner, is dumped unequivocally on the doorstep of homosexuality. There are many reasons for this, and some of them are good ones.
Dan B., the narrator of this case history, certainly has very little sexual mythology in his makeup. He must be classified as an overt and practicing homosexual, regardless of his marriage, regardless of what he calls his 'camouflage,' and regardless of the subterfuge (sex-swapping) he practices in a vain attempt to cloak his true sexual inclinations. His introduction of anal intercourse into his married life was done solely to provide himself with a homosexual fantasy relief in the course of physical contact with his wife. Neither his motives nor his actions are a psychological mystery.
On the other hand, a great many men who engage their female partners in anal intercourse are at once suspect and are often accused of homosexual tendencies even though they do not consciously or subconsciously fantasize the act in homosexual terms. These individuals are the ones who are often made to feel guilt and sexual shame for an act where no sexual guilt is warranted. And it may be some time before there is any common sense relief in sight.
It must follow that anal intercourse may be accepted as an occasional sexual change of pace for some couples. Note that we said "occasional" and "some couples." As with many sex practices, overindulgence or exclusivity signal perversity. A couple that morbidly concentrates on fellatio or cunnilingus for all or the greater part of their sexual satisfaction is similarly flirting with perversity. And, without going into reasons that have been enumerated elsewhere, anal intercourse is not for everyone, just as oral sex in its many forms is not for everyone. In this newer, relatively liberal sexual environment in which we live, it will still take time and additional sophistication for anal intercourse to reach the level of acceptance where it does not ipso facto label the male, if he has been the instigator, as a homosexual.
However, because individuals like Dan will always exist, so will the homosexual stigma of analism. There will always be homosexuals who try to make it in the straight world. Many will succeed; many, like Dan, will not. Dan, however, is one Who appears to have found an alternate life style. Contrary to his own statement, it is not "perfectly normal." Through group sex-swapping, Dan has attempted to legitimatize bisexuality. Few would argue that bisexual behavior is perverted, especially when engaged in by consenting adults. Still, it would stretch the point to call it perfectly normal. It is really more of a sexual expedient for men like
Dan-and also for married women with strong lesbian tendencies. To be charitable, bisexual swapping quite-likely serves as a valuable safety valve, enabling our subject to experience the homosexuality he craves while still maintaining the straight facade he desires.
Dan's introduction to bisexual swapping came shortly after his first experiment with group sex. His friends and acquaintances could be classified as sexual liberals-and so could his wife, Lauri. In fact, her "modernism" made it possible for her to indulge his earlier anal activities. She was a staunch believer in the separation of love and sex, and she soon met others who shared her feelings. At his first swinging party, Dan was terrified that he would give himself away. At the same time, he was rather surprised and pleased that Lauri was so sophisticated. At his second group sex affair, he was even more pleased when Lauri, at the height of the erotic excitement, openly engaged another girl in a lesbian act. Seeing her as a willing bisexual participant, Dan quickly explored other areas of the group sex scene and found to his excitement that there were groups who required bisexuality from both male and female members. He was quick to align himself, as a continuation of his case history demonstrates:
"It was what they called a mixer party. There were two other couples besides Lauri and me. Both of them were in the group and they were experienced. The idea was to bring us out and see how far we'd go, Well, hell, I was the one they were really worried about. In most sex clubs, the girls are usually AC-DC. That always livens up the scene. But the guys go out of their way to play it straight. So you can see where the guys in the group I'm talking about now would have been more worried about me than Lauri.
"I was worried, too, but not for the same reasons. What I was afraid of was not being able to stop myself from grabbing one of those big beautiful cocks and scaring everyone off. I mean, I couldn't come on too gay. You see, these guys have a tremendous thing about not being homosexuals. Yeah, that's right, they've all got speeches about how straight they are, about how they only go the gay route for variety and fulfillment'-which is one of their pet phrases. Believe me, I was ready to do some fulfilling.
"At the start, the lights were so low that you had to be standing next to a person to see them, This is where we got rid of our clothes. They had it stacked so that we'd start out straight. I was lined up with a cute redhead named Jill who had fantastic pear-shaped tits with freckles on them. Her husband was Alex, an assistant professor of something at a local college. Alex was with Celia, the hostess, a rangy blonde with a tan all over her body. Lauri was paired off with Rex, Celia's husband. Sure, I was ready to play the game with the broads-but I couldn't wait to get my hands on the husbands.
"Alex was sort of average, except that without his clothes he looked about eighteen. He was smallish, kind of soft, and incredibly pink. Even his cock was pink. And then there was Rex. Christ, he made me drool just to look at him. Rex was a health nut, a weight-lifter type. He looked just like one of-those pictures of the guys who pose for male pinups-only without the G-string. But he wasn't muscle-bound and bulky, except in the crotch. He was sleek skinned and the muscles just seemed to ripple over him as he moved. With him in the same room, it was getting difficult for me to breathe. Before the lights were turned up somewhat, I practically ruined my eyes trying to see more of him.
"As I said, it began casually and heterosexually. I fucked Jill in a chair while she sat on my lap. For an extra kick it was one of those massage chairs that vibrate. Not that I needed any extra stimulation. By that time, the party was well lit and I could glance across the living room and see beautiful inches of Rex's cock tunneling in and out of Lauri. I was afraid I was going to lose my whole load right then and wipe out the evening, but Jill seemed to have things under control. I think they had it set up so I'd be hotter than hell when-we got around to the gay sex. To ease us along in that direction, the lesbian action started first.
"Lauri was as ready in her way as I was in mine. Celia took her down on the rug in the center of the living room and was joined there by Jill. They each worked on one of Lauri's tits for a while, then Celia broke off and went right down to the cunt with her tongue. Jill moved into a position over her head and lowered a very wet cunt into her face. It was quite a sight, all that cunt-lapping, my own Lauri both giving and receiving. As exciting as it was, though, I couldn't have cared less-except maybe to crawl over and pluck Jill's ass-hole which I could see winking above Lauri's tongue. I even forgot about that in the next couple of minutes.
"While we were watching the girls, Rex had made a round of drinks and brought them over to where I was sitting on the chair. He sat on the arm, his hard thigh pressed against my shoulder. Alex came for his drink and sat on the rug at the foot of the chair, his back leaning into my leg. It was all planned, all very smoothly done. They had made the first physical male contact, and they were waiting to see if I would shrink away from it. And I was worried that they might take my sexual trembling as a sign of rejection.
"We sipped as we watched the girls, who were winding their way into a cunt-licking fury. Then Alex turned around and looked at me, having to stare up between my legs to do so. With my aching cock hobbling before his eyes, he said something about the excitement, something about the thrill that could be had from various pleasures, and some further blah-blah-blah about the beauty of open-mindedness.
"I hardly heard him, I knew what he was leading up to. And I knew why he was on the floor. I wanted to reach out and grab his head and haul his mouth onto my cock, but it was like dealing with the only kid on the block who owned a baseball; it was his game, no matter how badly you wanted to play.
"Finally, he got around to it, fingers at first, casually fondling my testicles, then moving up the hard shaft. When I didn't object, he set down his drink and eased between my knees. His lips went over the burning head of my cock, and I had to hang on to keep from coming in his mouth. From that moment on, I was oblivious to the cunt-licking tangle on the floor. I sighed, leaned back, and let Alex suck me deeply. As my cock was drawn hotly and deep into his mouth, Rex shifted on the arm of the chair so that his beautiful big hard-on was exposed and only inches from my hand. I tried to reach out and touch that sweet meat with enough hesitation so I wouldn't seem greedy-but when I had it in my hand, there was no letting go.
"I jerked and caressed him and bent his cock toward me. He got the message and stood up. By leaning to one side, I could suck him off as he posed beside the chair. I mean, it was a scene hard to believe. Three broads on the floor going at each other, and me a few feet away with a hot cock and a hot mouth working out simultaneously. It couldn't have been a wilder arrangement if I'd planned it myself.
"There wasn't any doubt that they had taken us through the tulips. They ivere my kind of people. Before the evening was over, I had fucked two ass-holes, Celia's and Alex's. And Rex had taken my ass and come off inside of me.
I mean, it was a night to remember. I had everything in the way of sex I ever wanted. Afterwards, Lauri was a little confused about me swinging into the gay sex so easily and without any apparent reservations. But I didn't cop out and tell her about my homosexuality. I spouted the sexual freedom/no inhibitions line to her. It was easy enough, and besides, that's what she wanted to hear. It bolstered her own lesbianism.
"Since then, the two of us have made it steady and regular in the bisexual scene. like we accept what we are and what we're doing. Sometimes when the action gets too heavily homosexual, Lauri will have a doubt or two as to how long we can keep up this kind of swapping without hurting ourselves. But I never have any trouble getting her back to the next gay orgy. For myself, I'm going to make it last as long as I possibly can. I want to get all the goodies while I'm still young and have my looks. I don't think anything could be lousier than being an aging old nellie shopping around for young boys. When I reach that point, I'll hang up my basket and quit. At the rate I'm going, I'll have worn out my cock anyway-and a few tender ass-holes."
Most authorities agree that it is the exception rather than the rule that a "cure" of homosexuality can be effected with the various tools of psychotherapy. Analysts contend that one criteria is essential: a compelling desire to end homosexual contact. Dan, the subject of this case history, certainly does not have that desire.
Though he desperately wanted to live "straight," his desire was not so overwhelming that he either sought help or restrained himself from introducing analism with homosexual fantasies into his marriage. His participation in bisexual swapping is a predictable escalation of his homosexual drive. For him, it was more of a social than sexual adjustment.
Again we must point out that a mere liking of anal intercourse in a marital or sex-swapping situation is not necessarily indicative of a homosexual personality. The true homosexual like Dan, will progress far beyond occasional analism in both marriage and group sex.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Anal Masochist
"I would say that I am quite definitely depraved. Does that shock you? It certainly shocked the last doctor I had-and a few before him. Of course, I knew exactly what he was thinking. like all the others in their fine, handsome offices, their shelves filled with books, this one was trying to be so warm. He probably thought: Here's an exceptionally good-looking woman of twenty-six who hasn't been married very long and who's having a sex problem.
Well, I'll listen politely and wrap this one up in short order.
"Then I told him about my anal eroticism. I told him how I craved being raped in the ass-hole. I told him how I desired to be tied and gagged and have my defenseless ass brutalized. I told him how I loved to be a slave to other people's asses, especially with my mouth. I told him that I wanted to be used as crudely as possible as long as it had something to do with an ass-hole.
"Then it's the doctor who goes to pieces! He stammers and hems and haws and gets flustered. He asks, stupidly, why I came to him. For help, obviously, I have to answer. I'm confused; I want to understand what's going on; what compels me to want a kind of filthy sex I've never seen in anyone else. And the doctor does not really want to help me-can you imagine that? I have already told him too much. It is not a neat little problem of sexual adjustment in marriage. It's too dirty for him to touch.
"Do you believe that I can't find a single doctor in this entire city to help me? You say it seems improbable that I couldn't find one therapist? Well, you're right. You've guessed. I was lying about the doctor-about all the doctors. I lie about it because I can't bring myself to see one. I don't want to have to look at them after I tell them what kind of a sexual freak I am. They will think it's too dirty. Anyone would. I don't know. It's ... it's so confusing. I want to talk about it, but I don't want to listen to what they have to say about me. I know I'm a pervert.
I can call myself that, but I don't want anyone else to. But it's all right to talk into this tape recorder, isn't it? I mean, it can't talk back to me, can it?
"Sex, as a word, doesn't have any meaning to me, not really. It can mean everything and it can mean nothing. But 'shit,' now that's a word that's explicit. I can relate to shit. In fact, I grew up thinking of sex and shit all wrapped up together.
"I was twelve years old when I got my first proposition to fuck.' That's getting slightly ahead of the story, though. It happened at a class picnic one spring. After a ton of hot dogs and soda pop, I had to shit badly-'poop,' we called it then. There weren't any toilet facilities at the lake, so the kids were using the woods. The girls were supposed to go in one direction and the boys in the other.
"Somehow I got confused. Then, armed with a couple of napkins for toilet paper, I went into the trees and heavy brush looking for a spot. I was just ready to pull down my jeans when I heard a sound and suddenly realized that I'd almost blundered onto a boy who was doing what I intended. He was just a few feet from me around a bush and I could see him perfectly. He was squatting with his pants down around his ankles and his bare ass was stuck out all funny-like. He hadn't really started to shit yet, and I was frozen to the spot for fear he'd hear me. I knew what he was doing was dirty and private, and I should have closed my eyes or turned my head-but somehow I couldn't.
"I kept staring at his ass, particularly his ass-hole, and as I watched in fascination, the little hole opened up and a hot turd came squeezing out just like toothpaste out of a tube. I'd never really thought about it before, but it occurred to me that the turd was huge compared to the size of the hole that emitted it. Not that it meant anything to me at the time. Anyway, as I watched him shit, I was forced to retain my own crap. I had a terrible, strange feeling in my ass-as if .seeing him made me want to go all the more, only I couldn't. I could only bite my tongue and try to stay still while he finished.
"I thought he would slip away then but instead he turned around to get some leaves off the same bush I was standing behind. He saw me and jumped back. It was an awkward moment for a couple of young kids. I finally stammered that I was sorry, that I had to do the same thing myself. Then I turned my back, while he wiped with the leaves. Though we were both embarrassed, he told me to go ahead and shit and he'd stand guard for me. I did, not knowing that he was watching me as I had watched him. Before I could pull up my jeans, he was right next to me asking if he could fuck me.
"Well, I was a pretty dumb kid. I had only heard the word whispered, and vaguely knew it was dirty and forbidden. I shook my head no. Then he said he'd tell everyone he saw me shitting if I didn't go along with him. I protested that I'd seen him shitting, too, and I could tell about him. He said admitting that would admit spying on him. And that was how I was confronted with my first fuck.'
"It turned out that the kid was dumber than I was. His idea of fucking had nothing to do with his cock or my cunt. Where he came up with the weird business, I'll never know. But his fuck' consisted of both of us baring our asses, bending over so that our cheeks touched, then rubbing our butts together with gradually increasing friction and speed. Our movements, as I recall, were sensual enough-rolling, grinding, and bumping. Maybe he'd spied on his parents or another couple making it and got the whole thing ass backwards.
"Anyway, for a long time, that's what I thought fucking was all about and I didn't learn any different until an older girl explained it to me. It's a silly kid's story, I know, but that incident had a tremendous lasting effect on me. Even when I was older and knew better, I couldn't help the odd feeling that would come over me that fucking-sex, if you will-somehow had something to do with asses and shitting.
"What happened a few years later did nothing to straighten out my head. My family was dirt poor, and when my pa took sick, I was farmed out to relatives as I was growing up. I ended up taking off from that last place I called home when I was seventeen. I wasn't exactly a runaway, I was just on the loose.
"I knew the sex route by that time, too. I don't think you could call me an easy lay, but if I liked a boy well enough, I'd fuck. It was no big deal. Anyway, down in Shreveport, I was working as a waitress and looking for a way out when a Bible preacher with a tent show came through. Good old fire and brimstone, foot-stomping religion. They pitched their tent near where I worked, and I got to know the troupe, especially the Reverend, which is the way we addressed him. He was a fierce, good-looking guy in his forties and he kind of hypnotized you.
"As soon as they set up their meetings, the Reverend took a imagine to me. He said it was the white dress I wore, said I looked like an angel with my honey-gold hair and all that white. He asked me if I could sing, and I said a little. Then he offered me a job with his revival. All I had to do was dress up in white lace and stand around and sing and look pretty and shout 'Amen, brother!' at the right times. Well, I grabbed at the chance, mainly to travel, 'cause the Reverend was taking the meeting all through the South.
"I didn't pay much attention to the religion part of it, but the rest was fun. There were other young people with the show, including a three-piece band. I got a thing going with the lead guitar player and pretty soon I was getting fucked every time we could sneak out of the Reverend's sight. Of course, we got caught. The Reverend fired the guitar player and sent him off, but for me he had something special in mind. He hauled me into his trailer that night and started screaming at me about sin. I don't mind telling you I was scared of the man. He was hell on wheels when he got wound up on sin. But you know, it was all a crock of shit. The Reverend wanted a little off his angel, too. The only trouble was the way he went about it.
"He yelled that he was going to purge the devil out of me. Then he ripped off my clothes, flung me over his knees, and whipped my bare ass with a belt until I couldn't even cry out anymore. And that was just the warm-up. I was cowering naked on his bunk bed, trying to escape his eyes by holding one hand over my crotch and the other arm over my tits. But he wasn't having any of that. He grabbed my wrists and pulled my hands away, then stood there, his eyes practically burning out of their sockets, pointing at my cunt. My cunt was a sanctified hole, he yelled. It belonged to God for the purposes of love and reproduction. And I had despoiled it by letting that lousy guitar player fuck me.
"Of course, the Reverend was more long-winded than I'm telling it here. It turned out that he'd been entertaining some ideas about my cunt himself and now wasn't willing to settle for sloppy seconds. How that man could talk that way about my cunt, interspersing the whole harangue with Bible quotations, I don't know. Actually, as it turned out, he was just leading up to my ass-hole. There was where the real trouble was, according to him.
"The ass-hole was hell itself. It was the Devil's own dark nest. It was Sodom and Gomorrah all in one tight, dirty little hole. But the Devil could be had, the Devil could be driven out of his black hell. Oh yes, he preached to me, it would hurt and there would be pain and suffering, but it would be good for my soul. I thought he'd flipped out completely because I didn't know what he was talking about. He was talking about a personal kind of purge. He was going to fuck the Devil out of my ass himself!
"I didn't believe him until he dropped his pants and I saw his erection. He gripped that huge, horny thing and raved that it was an instrument of God. Scared as I was, I realized it was more religion than I could take. I tried to get on my knees to pray-to him, to God, to anybody who would listen. For a minute, I thought he'd given in because he kept me on my knees and held my shoulders like he sometimes did with repentant sinners. But then I realized he was just turning me and swinging me into position so he could get at my ass.
"The first thing I felt was a sharp, jabbing finger that tore up my ass-hole. I kicked and begged, but the finger tore up my tight little hole without any mercy. I'm sure I almost fainted, but it didn't stop the Reverend. He gripped my hips and forced my bent legs apart with his knees as he knelt behind me. Then I felt the hot knob of his stiff cock pushed against my ass-hole. There was no lubricant or moisture except for maybe the sweat of my fear. I had a nightmare vision of splitting in half, right up the valley of trembling cheeks. I screamed.
Then the monster cock popped into me, and I felt as though a bomb had exploded in my bowels.
"The fucking that followed was brutal beyond words. He yanked on my hips and slammed forward time after time, stretching me and filling me inch by inch. I was out of my senses. The torment, the pain, shot all the way to my fingers and toes. When he couldn't gain anymore of the tortured tunnel, he started long, fast strokes that took my breath away. And all the time he was preaching at me how he was driving out the Devil. Well, maybe he was. But when he came, it felt and looked and smelt more like shit coming out of my ass than any satanic demon.
"I never forgot that anal rape, which was only the first of many. Somehow, the Reverend got a strange hold over me. Maybe if I had run away from him after that first incident, I wouldn't be the kind of person I am today. But I stayed with him through town after dusty town. I suffered all the way, but I was too mixed up to do anything about it. My head was filled with crazy religion and ideas about pain and penance and suffering and redemption. Being raped in the ass had meaning to ma. After a while, I wanted him to fuck my ass because, no matter how badly it hurt when he was doing it, I actually got to the point where I felt better when he was through, even though my ass-hole was so sore that it hurt to walk or take a crap. It was very unreal and made me feel different than others. The sensation was uniquely mine.
"During that time I learned not to scream when my ass-hole was being brutalized. I knew it wouldn't do any good and the Reverend had a nasty habit of twisting and pinching the flesh of my cunt and pulling on my cunt hairs whenever I got too loud. There wasn't any redeeming satisfaction in that at all; it just plain hurt-horribly so. There was never any glow afterwards. To this day, no matter what I allow to happen to my ass, I don't want anyone messing with my cunt or my tits.
"Oddly enough, the Reverend completely ignored my tits. I had a damn attractive bundle even then, but as far as he was concerned, I could have been flat as a board. Well, all men have their quirks. I guess the Reverend couldn't figure out anything Biblical to make them significant. He was too hooked on the heaven and hell theme of my cunt and my ass-hole. Oh yes, he kept that up to the very end. He never admitted that he simply dug brutalizing my ass. He always wrapped it up with purging and the Devil.
"I shouldn't put him down as a hypocrite, though. Maybe he actually believed what he was doing. I remember, for instance, that he used to particularly go after my ass-hole on the nights when the crowd at the tent meeting would go especially wild from his preaching. When it was over, he couldn't calm down. Back in his trailer, he'd be shaking from head to toe and his mouth just couldn't stop. The way he put it, he was, 'Filled with the glory of the Lord,' and his passion wouldn't go away until he'd chased at least one more devil. Of course, the one he always chased was the one that resided about six inches up my tender ass-hole.
"I'd know exactly what was coming. He didn't have to rip my clothes off anymore. He'd tell me to go naked before God, and I'd strip down. Then he'd order me to my knees to pray. He'd do the verbalizing, of course. And while he was behind me working himself up to a fit, I'd hear him pulling off his clothes. Then he'd get down behind me. He'd be really praying. He'd slap my bare ass every time he said 'Amen' or 'Glory' or 'Hallelujah.' And the slaps came pretty fast because he could really work it up. Next thing I'd know, he'd be off sin in general and down to the devil in my ass. That's when he'd move up close and bend me over. Sometimes I'd be on the bunk, sometimes on the floor. It didn't seem to matter to him. But I knew that when he got that close, I only had a minute to really say my prayers.
"I could feel that big cock of his swelling up and getting hard as his trembling got worse and his preaching got more fiery. As I said, it only took a minute, then he'd grab and start jabbing for all he was worth. Sometimes he'd hit my ass-hole on the first thrust, other times it would take three or four stabs. But when he hit it, he didn't hesitate. He plowed it right in, stretching it horribly, not giving a damn that the flesh was being twisted and tortured. It would be hot and dry and feel like a burning stick rammed into me where there really wasn't an opening.
"I prayed a lot to be able to shit in those first moments of his fucking. Just a little drizzle of shit, I can remember wanting, so it wouldn't tear the hole and make it bleed. When he did that-rip me so I'd bleed-there was no good feeling afterwards because I'd have to use first aid cream that would sting and feel squishy all the next day. But it felt very good when he spurted his jizz up my ass. I loved the hot, wet feel of that and I still do.
"When he came, of course, he was through for the night. The second he shot his last drop, he'd pull out of my ass violently and just leave me lying where I was. Then it was like his mouth had suddenly worn out, for he wouldn't say another word. After a few minutes, he'd throw my clothes at me and push me out of the trailer. Then I'd go back to my own bunk in the equipment truck and, believe it or not, I used to sleep pretty well.
"I was nineteen when I left the Reverend, and I guess I was already something of a sex freak. Of course, it didn't show and I didn't let on to anyone. For the next couple of years, I worked my way around Texas and Oklahoma mostly as a waitress and I did a little fucking around. I had an idea about finding the right guy and getting married, but the right kind of guys didn't usually show up around the places I worked. Anyway, I was sick of the Southwest. I guess that's what you'd call my virginal period. Sure, I fucked a few of those guys I dated, but it was like there was no feeling to it-like before the Reverend. So I split and headed north to St. Louis. That's where I met a gal who changed things for me.
"I was working at the counter in a greasy downtown hamburger joint at night. This gal, who was sort of fat and flashy, came in all the time and we got to talking. I found out that she'd been in the same boat as me a couple of years before. After awhile she told me she'd get me in touch with a guy who hired young chicks for his cocktail lounges. There was good money in the bars, she said, and I wouldn't have to hassle with truck drivers and creeps. I looked around at all the grease I was wallowing in and said fine.
"Marty had three imagine bars in town. He liked my looks and finally set me up in a lounge that was a hangout for a swinging, fast crowd. There was quite a cross-section of customers-gamblers, hoods, mickey mouse playboys, young businessmen. The place had jazz trios in and out. A very busy room. I had to work my tits off, but I was bringing in more money than I'd ever dreamed possible. Some nights I'd knock down close to fifty dollars in tips.
"I was just beginning to think I'd landed in the lap of luxury when I found out that one didn't work for Marty unless she paid off. Not a kickback on tips but with sex. He specialized in hiring girls like myself, good-looking girls from the sticks who had never had much before.
He waited until you got a good taste of the money coming in and had bought a few nice clothes you'd never had before, then he'd play his trump card. Actually, more girls walked out on him than stayed around-because, you see, Marty had some strange thoughts about sex.
"When he laid it on the line for me and I agreed to spend the night at his place, I didn't know what I was getting in for. I was ready to go the whole route for him-he wasn't a bad looking guy, in his late thirties, although a little on the heavy side-but I didn't think he'd come up with anything weird. He felt me up pretty good and told me to strip, so I stripped. I even took off his clothes for him. Then he threw me the first curve. He wanted me to dance for him. He put on some wild rock music, and I bounced and frugged all over the living room while he sat on the couch and stroked his cock into an erection.
"Next he wanted me to go down on him, something I hadn't done a lot of, but I was willing enough. Except that he didn't just ask or tease me into it, he ordered me to do it. I was actually flushed and embarrassed as I knelt on the floor before his outstretched legs and ran my tongue over the hard flesh of his cock, because I sensed that he was trying to humiliate me.
"I didn't have to wait long to find out just how right I was. I took his cock into my mouth and sucked it as well as I knew how, even played with his balls and tickled his ass-hole as he told me, but then when he was close to coming off, he stood up, making me kneel in front of him. I was sucking like hell just to get it over with, and I could feel him starting to come. Then suddenly, he pulled back a few inches, his cock slipped out of my mouth-and he shot his jizz all over my face!
"His stringy juices were everywhere, in my hair, running down my nose and cheeks, dribbling off my chin. I could have crawled into a hole. All he did was laugh. It really turned him on. He made me look at myself in the bathroom mirror before he let me clean it up. Then he fucked me dog fashion on the hard floor of the bathroom, at the same time insisting that I tell him how much I liked him and how much I enjoyed everything he did to me. It was tough getting the words out, but in a perverse way he was getting to me.
"The next day at the cocktail lounge, Marty made it a point to tell me to keep my eye on the other waitresses. I hardly knew them. They hadn't said much to me, probably because they didn't like competition and I was pretty popular from the beginning. But I soon picked up that they were all dating customers. I watched their action. They were careful who they dated and how often. Once I knew what to look for, it didn't take any brains to see that they were hooking.
"I approached one of the girls I thought I could talk to and asked What the real scene was. It was very educational. Yes, they were taking guys home and fucking them-but not for money. Not cash, that is. Just little gifts-say, a present that cost about twenty bucks. Or better, they'd go out with a guy maybe five times in a month and accept a present that cost a hundred. It was whoring, and I thought it was stupid not to get cash. But I was told that Marty wouldn't have it and that he had a gentleman's agreement with the cops. No cash, no arrests, no harassment.
"If I wanted to start whoring like the other waitresses, I had to get Marty's permission-which meant another night at his apartment. This time he came on even stronger. Instead of dancing for him when we were naked, he made me do exercises. I had to twist and turn and bend into grotesque positions-positions that displayed my cunt and ass-hole in the lewdest way. Then he demanded that I play with myself on the rug in front of him. I had to squeeze my tits, pinch and slap my nipples. I had to diddle my clit and finger-fuck myself, working from one finger up to four, using one hand, then the other, and finally both hands. Then he had me bend over, my ass facing him, and he demanded that I shove a finger up my ass-hole and work it in and out.
"I'm sure he'd already come to the conclusion that I was submissive. But it was when I finger-fucked my ass that he knew what I was really like. I couldn't help myself. Nobody had rapped at my back door since I'd left the Reverend. Not that there weren't times when I didn't want someone to; it was just that nobody had tried and I couldn't bring myself to ask someone to fuck me there. It had to be forced on me, or at least, as Marty quickly discovered, I had to be forced to admit I wanted it there. When he saw me get so hot from what I was doing, he made me tell him how it felt and how badly I wanted it up the ass. It wasn't a sudden violent thing with him.
"He tantalized me by making me continue to finger my ass-hole. I was going out of my mind, begging him to fuck me there, nearly on the verge of tears. He laughed and said sure, he'd like to fuck me there if I'd only do something for him first. Anything, I told him. He replied that he wanted me to lick his ass-hole.
"I won't try to explain why I did what he asked. He had a power over me, different than the Reverend's, but just as binding and demanding. He took me into his bedroom-it was the first time I'd been in there-and showed me huge mirrors on his walls and closet doors. He put me on my back on the bed and crouched over me facing my feet. He dangled his hairy balls into my mouth and I licked them. Slowly he moved so that I was forced to lick up behind his balls, closer and closer to his hair-fringed, wrinkled ass-hole. It was like a strange eye staring at me. Then the tip of my tongue was touching it.
"I hadn't known what to expect, but I was surprised at the tightly puckered flesh being so hard and firm. My own felt so soft and tender to my finger, so I assumed everyone's was the same. I licked it tentatively at first, then he yelled at me to use more pressure. He was fairly clean there, but not perfect. I wasn't going to pull away from him in any case, for I soon realized that I wasn't displeased by either the taste or the scent.
"At that moment, the image of that shitting little boy at the picnic came back to me. A very hot, sexual surge ran through me. I felt an excitement building that was more stirring than anything that had ever happened to me earlier, except fingering my ass-hole. I pushed my lips tightly into the crevice of his ass and sunk my tongue into his rectum as far as I could force it. I worked it as a whip while he urged me to lick and suck and push it deeper. I felt better, more totally consumed about what I was doing to an ass-hole then I had ever felt when sucking a man's cock.
"The view Marty had in the mirrors hastened matters. He broke off from my ass-licking and got me up on my hands and knees. Crouched as I Was, I could watch his reflection behind me. I could see the hugeness of his cock pointed straight at my ass. It looked angry and dark purple as it sunk between my cheeks and wedged hotly against my ass-hole. I clenched my teeth and waited for the inevitable assault. like the Reverend, he wasn't using any lubrication-but all my earlier fingering had gotten my hole somewhat juicy.
"Marty surprised me. He wasn't a battering ram like the Reverend. He took his time getting it in. He stretched my hot brown ring with steady pressure, expanding it slowly over the hard head of his cock. It wasn't that it didn't hurt. Christ, it hurt plenty! But it was sexier and lewder the way Marty was doing it. I was quivering all over. I didn't want him to be nice to me and take it easy; that was no good. I wanted him rough. Finally, I couldn't take his slow penetration any more. I sucked in my breath and slammed my ass back. The head of his cock reamed into me-and I let out a great fart!
"He wasn't very gentle after that. In the mirror, I watched him attack. I could see him haul that fat cock out of my sorely used hole so that only the head remained inside. Then I watched the fierce, sweated expression on his face as he snapped his hips forward and thrust the brutal cock deep into me to the hilt. He was an ass-fucking madman, I tell you. When he got wound up, he could offer even more torment than the Reverend. At least his deliberateness made it seem that way. So did the agonized rumblings of my bowels. I had to fight with all the strength I possessed to keep from shitting. I was desperately afraid that when he came, his jizz would act like an enema and I'd splatter both him and the bed with wet shit. I felt he'd beat me within an inch of my life if that happened-or even worse, he'd get disgusted and send me away.
"Well, the worst didn't happen. I was officially one of Marty's girls and, for the time being, his favorite. Anytime he wanted me, I was on call. Other nights I was free to hustle the cocktail lounge customers. As whoring goes, it wasn't bad. Since all the guys knew the game, there was rarely any trouble. Plus, not a helluva lot was expected. They were out to get fucked, maybe sucked off. Only a few guys ever wanted to make it in my ass-hole, and they weren't rough and demanding about it the way I like. I'd let them do their thing, but I made sure I got a damn big present for it.
"There were a few guys who got their kicks from eating out my cunt, but that was okay. I'd begun to develop a liking for that. It was something that my earlier experiences hadn't included much. The sensation of a tongue lapping at my cunt and having my clitoris sucked was a kick that got bigger the more often it happened. It wasn't long before I learned how to get guys to go down on me even though they didn't have that in mind.
"Also I learned how to shift around when I was sucking their cocks so that my cunt would be in their faces, ready for a sixty-nine. And I picked up on how easy it was to talk dirty and tell a guy how much I'd like to be eaten. I even tried to get guys to lick my ass and one or two did. And if a guy would do that for me, I'd feel free to go ahead and tongue his ass-hole. It wouldn't have been smart to come on strong about my analism right at the start. Not that it mattered a whole lot, because I was getting that sweet part of my sex life from Marty."
It is quite probable that the anal masochist is more prevalent today than his or her sadistic counterpart. Un-like the subject of our case history, however, most do not incorporate elements of coprophilia into their aberration. Coprophi-lia, of course, relates to sexual gratification associated with feces or urine or the acts of defecation or urination. Hence, contrary to the opinions of some experts, it does not hold that the practitioner of anilingus (oral stimulation of the anus) is in any way a coprophiliast.
Since the anus is a distinctive erogenous zone, it is quite understandable that individuals who do not hold with the anal taboo would wish to stimulate their sex partner in this area. Among married couples who incorporate anilingus in their sexual repertoire, it is quite common to find a strong scrupulousness in the matter of anal hygiene. Certainly, coprophilia is nonexistent to them.
-likewise, among sex-swapping groups, anal eroticism in the form of intercourse or anilingus is rarely tolerated if an individual shows a perverse fascination with, or can only achieve gratification from, feces and urine. To be sure, there are a small number of bizarre groups that tolerate and encourage coprophilia (as we shall see when our subject resumes her case history), but they are not in the mainstream of the group sex phenomenon.
Vera H., on the other hand, associates her earliest sexual experience with excretion. In her case, this is of more paramount importance then her early anatomical associations of the buttocks and the anus. As Vera grew older, those early associations were more sexually significant to her than any others she encountered. It is particularly unfortunate, in her case, that her most dramatic early sexual experience took the form of anal rape.
This crystallized the girl's sexual psyche and created a strong fixation in regard to both analism and coprophilia. It should be pointed out that defecation is, after all, a very natural and necessary body function. Normal and perverted sexual acts are directed, in the main, to body and body functions.
Infants and young children have always had a fascination with feces. Rare is the child who does not play with or eat his own waste matter at one time or another. A diaper full of fecal matter may produce a warm, comforting sensation to a baby. The act of voiding body wastes may give a rather pleasant feeling. A child, in other words, has to be taught that feces and the function that produces it are "dirty." This is a learning process on the part of every human being. The repugnance toward the "dirty stuff' does not come as naturally as does the fascination with it.
Infants and very young children are by no means the only age group to harbor the natural fascination. Preadolescents are notorious in their preoccupation in this regard. This is primarily because it is one of the first, if not the first taboos they encounter. And, as everyone knows, the first effect of parentally instigated and enforced taboos generally is considerable curiosity about the taboo subject or act. The words "shit" and "piss" are spoken and scrawled by children long before they turn their attention to the sexual taboos and start to use words like "fuck" and "screw."
Fortunately, most of us outgrow this curiosity of preadolescence. But it must be remembered that it is at about this crucial time in a youngster's development that he or she is becoming interested in sex. In lieu of straightforward and enlightening sex information, it has been shown that a child may be confused about the true functions of his or her body-a confusion, for instance, about the acts of voiding body waste and sex. As with Vera, the roots of more than a few cases of coprophilia can be traced back to this period.
Vera's psychosexual upheaval, however, was grossly compounded by her anal rape. And in the wake of this trauma, the fire of her confusion was fueled by an infusion of irrational religion from an itinerant preacher. It is apparent that strong feelings of guilt in association with sex (and the anus) were forced upon the girl most strongly. Few would disagree that it was nearly inevitable that her developing masochism would center upon analism.
It should be pointed out that masochistic behavior is not always the full-blown, all-encompassing picture painted by fictional erotica. On the contrary, the totally masochistic personality-the sex slave-is rather rare. The real masochist, as opposed to his or her fictional counterpart, most often focuses on the aberration. There are identifiable types who find their gratification by being spanked. Others require to be whipped or strapped or paddled with instruments. Some find verbal abuse stimulating, others thrill to sexual humiliation. Many prefer to be used as servants or supplicants, others enthusiastically welcome restraints and bondage.
The list goes on, covering endless methods and instruments of abuse. It is true that certain masochists derive their gratification from a combination of two or more torments, sometimes even a combination of the mental and physical abuses. But it can still be said that for each masochist, there is a focus. For Vera, it was analism, rooted in coprophilia.
Before the subject continues her narrative, we shall briefly fill in a period of two years. Vera continued to work for Marty and remained his sexual victim. Their relationship stayed basically the same as she related previously. Her employer, though nominally sadistic, appeared not to be an adventurer in that regard. He did not introduce her to any refinements of humiliation and degradation. He was satisfied with merely a degree of sexual power over his stable of females (for Vera was not his only one).
In due course, Marty grew tired of her and sought her less and less, even though Vera had totally accepted him as her sexual master. Disappointed that she was no longer special to him, or at least one of his favorites, she began to annoy and nag him in the hopes he would chastise her. But his reaction was far different from what she had planned.
Marty had a circle of bizarre acquaintances unknown to Vera. One was a small, intense man in his middle thirties whom we shall call Harold. Harold compensated for his size by his sadistic nature. Though he was not physically repugnant, his stature and personality had nothing to make him attractive to women. He was a frequenter of the sexual underground but, as a single male, his involvement was limited. He needed and desired a submissive female with whom to pursue his pleasures.
So when the word reached Marty, he offered Vera. He briefed Harold explicitly on how to treat her, and ordered Vera to do Harold's bidding. She did not protest. She was, after all, prostituting herself and, furthermore, she wanted to please Marty.
She was disappointed in Harold when she first saw him, but by the end of an evening with him she was consumed with admiration for his brutal tactics. He had tormented her anus exquisitely and made other degrading demands that thrilled her. He saw her nearly every night for a week and then announced that he was going to marry her, that she was to become his sole property. Marty reinforced the scheme.
Harold and Vera were married in a civil ceremony in St. Louis and at once the bridegroom made plans to initiate her into the strange sex-swapping circles he so desired to enter. To Vera, despite her experience as a prostitute and a submissive mistress, the bizarre sex-swapping was a revelation.
It would be wrong to say that Vera entered the syndrome with unrestrained gusto or that she at all times was wildly enthusiastic. She is still confused and guilt-ridden, primarily about her future role as a female. She fluctuates between total acceptance of her present life and neurotic fears that she may be mentally ill. However, her masochistic compulsions are deeply ingrained. When Harold announces that he has arranged a sex party with another couple or more, Vera finds herself incapable of refusing to participate.
In the following narrative, the subject relates the details of one such swap meeting. She and Harold traveled to New Orleans for the session. The host in this instance (Roger) was masochistic and submissive to his wife (Nora). The New Orleans couple had practiced sadomasochism with others for six years. They were dedicated to the pursuit of their perversity and had encompassed many symbolic trappings and fetishes. Also, this was the second such sex-swapping affair in which Vera was confronted with a dominant female. On that first occasion, with four couples present, hardly any attention was paid to her-so her curiosity was highly piqued by this new and relatively strange element.
"I couldn't believe my eyes when the door was answered by a maid. It took me a moment to realize that the maid was a man-that it was Roger, all gussied up with high heels, stockings, a little costume with a frilly apron, makeup, and a woman's wig. He had been completely feminized. I wondered what kind of woman could wield such power. Then I saw Nora.
"Nora was a picture of domination. She was a tall, haughty brunette with amazing pointed breasts that threatened to push through the material of a tight black sheath gown she wore. While she was putting Roger through his paces, fetching cocktails and serving us, I could see that she was wearing a tight, braless corset underneath her gown.
"Nora completely took the play away from Harold, and I could see that he wasn't too happy about it. I sensed that it was going to be a rough night for Roger and me. And I was worried about something else, too. With a female in charge of the sex games, how much could my ass-hole expect?
"Harold ordered me out of my clothes, and Roger was-likewise ordered to remove the maid's costume and to remain in garter belt, hose, and heels. The two of us were paraded around for the others' amusement, and Nora suggested I might be tied up while she 'examined' me. At this point, I was already flushed with excitement and embarrassment. The idea of being tied up appealed to me, too. Often it's particularly thrilling to feel utterly helpless when being raped in the ass.
"Harold had already explained my anal preferences, but at that point I had no idea how Nora was going to accomplish the deed. Roger and I were taken into a master bedroom, and my arms were secured behind my back with leather straps, wrists to elbows. That forced my tits out prominently, and Nora proceeded to squeeze them and twist them harshly. That sort of thing doesn't do a lot for me except hurt, but I held back crying out. Across the room, Harold was out of his clothes. With his cock already hard, he had bent Roger over a chair and was whacking him with a wide strap furnished for the occasion.
"Now Harold truly loves this ass-hole fucking, as I can well testify. It made me jealous to see his fat hard-on because I knew he was working his way swiftly to the point where he'd be plunging it in Roger's ass.
"Meanwhile, Nora pushed me down on the bed and removed her gown. Beneath the corset, she wore no panties. The hair on her cunt was full and bushy. She walked over to where my head was lying on the edge of the bed, spread her thighs, and gave me a good look at the swollen red lips surrounding the wet inner flesh. Then she turned, spread her cheeks, and showed me her ass-hole. She asked me which one I wanted. When I told her the latter, she laughed. She had thought Harold might have exaggerated my preferences. Be that as it may, if I wanted to taste her ass-hole, I had to lick cunt first.
"She leaned against the headboard of the bed with her knees crooked and her cunt wide open. The high heels of her shoes dug into the cover, and I was made to wriggle on my belly up between her legs. It was only the second time I had ever eaten another woman's cunt, and truthfully, I had mixed emotions about it. But lick and tongue I did. I burrowed my mouth into her juicy hole and followed every lewd instruction she gave me. I sucked her clitoris for what seemed an interminable length of time. Naturally, I couldn't see anything else that was going on around me, but I knew from the wet stroking sounds and Roger's moans that he was getting a big stiff cock in his ass on the other side of the room.
"I resented what I was being forced to do. It was my ass that was important, and this bitch was ruining everything for me. She was probably so used to having men groveling in her cunt that she didn't realize how different I was. I think she must have sensed how upset I was getting because finally she pushed my mouth down and lifted her ass higher so that I could lick her smaller, sweeter hole.
"It was delicious. Some of her cunt juices had run between her legs and moistened her ass-hole. I sucked them up like they were rare champagne. Then I got my tongue deep enough into the wrinkled rectum to make her start a series of tiny farts. That really got to her. Her flesh twitched for the first time and she began breathing hard. She was also grunting as if she were trying to shit.
"The position we were in and the place were all wrong. The idea sent a wild chill through me. I'd never gone that far before. I mean, actually eating shit. As close as I'd ever come was cleaning off the mingled shit and jizz from Harold's cock after he'd fucked me in the ass. While I was thinking that, my tongue was working furiously on her ass-hole. The next thing I knew, she farted tremendously and had an orgasm. I think it surprised even her, for she momentarily had a stunned look on her face.
"Shortly after that, I saw how Nora was going to accomplish fucking my ass. I was almost sorry I'd been thinking about it. She strapped on a plastic dildo that was huge! Damn, it was bigger than most cocks I had seen, and certainly bigger than any cock that had ever been in my ass-hole. As she strapped it on, I was shaking my head in protest that I couldn't. She slapped me across the face and told me to shut up and quit my whimpering.
"I was stunned by her sudden viciousness. I was more than willing to'go along with far-out sex in order to find my particular pleasures, but I was prepared for only so much brutality. With my arms secured behind me it was difficult to move, but I struggled to raise myself and open my mouth to protest further. That's the precise moment when she grabbed me by the hair, yanked my head forward and slammed the cold, hard, plastic cock into my mouth!
"She jammed it so far down my throat, I didn't even have a chance to fight. I gagged and almost puked. I choked for breath and as I did, I realized I was actually sucking on the damn imitation cock as if it were real. Suddenly, a weird sensation came over me. In a part of my consciousness, I realized what had happened and what was happening. In another, deeper part of my mind, all I could think about was the fact that the terrible, rock-hard, smooth thing in my mouth was shortly going to be up my ass.
"Now I began to suck the tool, not as a reaction to its rough penetration, but as if it were truly live flesh and blood, a prick that was a total master over me. I hollowed my cheeks, created a suction, and pulled on the inhuman cock, causing the straps that stretched around Nora's ass to snap out from her body. Obviously, she loved it. She grabbed my tits and yanked on them. She slapped the side of my ass that she could reach. She pushed one knee up on the bed and jammed it between my thighs until I was forced over, losing contact with the plastic cock. Then she rolled me over, half on and half off the bed. My helpless ass, with my hands tied above it, was beautifully vulnerable to her next savage move.
"The steely prong of the plastic cock hit my ass like a battering ram. Never, never had I been so agonizingly entered! I thought the ring of my ass-hole had been shredded and ripped inward. I screamed-I screamed like I never had before! Prior to that assault, nothing I'd ever taken up the ass was such a rupturing torture. That's when I shit! I couldn't help it. It was like being impaled with the fattest enema stick in the world. There was no water, but my God, was there ever an insertion!
"The next moments were lost to me, but I must have angered them immensely. I had an orgasm that sent my whole mind and body spinning. When I came out of it, I was sitting on the floor, weak and dazed, and squishing in a puddle of my own wet shit. When my eyes came back in focus, I looked up to see the brown, dripping dildo poised above me. Nora screamed at me to lick it clean! This time, however, she didn't grab my hair and force it into my face. She stepped back, tantalizing me with the foul goodie.
"Hypnotized, I pulled my knees under myself and knelt upright. I moved toward her, toward that juicy, globular stick of plastic. She inched back as I crept forward, but she knew--oh, God, how she knew!
"I sucked my own shit like it was the last supper. I cleaned the huge plastic cock right down to the last tiny crevice of the simulated veins. With brown dribble running from the corners of my mouth, I begged Nora to shit on my face. She did. And so did Harold before the wild, unforgettable night was over.
"The last thing I remember was licking Harold's jizz out of Roger's ass-hole while Nora, wearing her magnificent phony cock, roared up my ass-hole one more time."
CONCLUSION
like other forms of sexual expression, analism is a distinct and viable adjunct to the total scheme of man and woman. It need not be considered a perversity or an aberration. We freely admit that the case histories presented in this volume have dealt with the extreme varieties of analism in the context of a seemingly national persuasion toward sex-swapping among married couples in all walks of life. This volume should be considered, by the knowledgeable and intelligent reader, not to be a condemnation of such practices and those individuals, but rather a guide to psychosexual problem areas which can, and may, arise in this time of relative sexual freedom.
To be bold: analism is no more a sin than alleged "normal" coitus. If one considers sex a sin and, therefore, immoral, all manners, methods, and positions of sex are immoral. No one position is any more holy than another. Since the days of Freud, we, as a rational people, have learned to respect the edict that "man is an unfathomable creature, richer for his anachronisms than his God-like strictures."
No man-all-wise, and with a philosophy all-encompassing-could fail to realize the vital impact and "mportance of sexual variety between consenting adults. Volumes have been written and more volumes will be written. The taboo is no longer sacrosanct. When we can, as we must, talk openly about sexual mores and methods, we must not fail to venture into those fields hitherto unrecorded. Analism, in conjunction with sex-swapping, is one of the more poignant.
We condemn neither analism nor sex-swapping. Nor do we recommend them. We have merely attempted to show the correlation between the two and the infusion of one into the other. By offering examples of this correlation-which, admittedly, are more intensely active than the average-we hope to spotlight the myths and misconceptions that surround and infuse this little known area of sexual reality.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Caprio, Frank S. Variations in Sexual Behavior. New York: The Citadel Press, 1955.
Karpman, Benjamin. The Sexual Offender and His Offenses. New York: Julian Press, 1954.
Kinsey, Alfred C. The Sexual Behavior of the Human Male. Philadelphia: W. B. Saunders, 1948.
Krafft-Ebing, Richard von. Psychopathia Sexu-alis. New York: Paperback Library, 1965.
Kronhausen, Phyllis and Eberhard. Pornography and the Law. New York: Ballantine Books, 1959.
Lewinsohn, R. A History of Sexual Customs. New York: Fawcett, 1958.
Masters, W. H., and Johnson, V. E. Human Sexual Inadequacy. Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1970.
