"The omnipresent process of sex, as it is woven into the whole texture of our man's or woman's body, is the pattern of all the process of life," proclaimed eminent sexologist Havelock Ellis.
No enlightened person would deny the extremely critical role that sexual activity plays in the life of modern man. Led by the early psychological studies of Sigmund Freud, today's psychologists and psychiatrists are delving ever deeper into the sexual side of man's nature. As a result of current investigation into the intimate behavior of man, it becomes evident that certain events in our personal sex histories often exert enormous influence on our psychological well-being and on our overall functions in the realm of social development among other members of our society.
One of the most important of these events, in terms of predicating later sexual associations, has been found to be the circumstance of one's initial sexual experience-that event which would be referred to as the first time. It is now generally agreed upon by the most prominent behaviorial scientists of our day that one's introduction to the mysteries and sensual delights of inter-personal sex invariably figures prominently in subsequent emotional health.
As an example, the Yankowski Report on Premarital Sex, demonstrates a high positive correlation between extramarital sex and premarital sex. It was found that among those individuals who had participated in sexual intercourse before marriage, no less than 98% of the males and 96% of the females went on to engage in extramarital sex after they were married. The study revealed the ages of first premarital intercourse. Among males, 3.5% first indulged in coitus at age 10 or younger; 15% at 11 to 13; 22% at 14 to 16; 47.5% at 17 to 19; 12% at 20 or older. Among females, 4% first engaged in intercourse at 10 or younger; 13% at 11 to 13; 23% at 14 to 16; 29% at 17 to 19; 31% at 20 or older.
In the following case histories, special attention has been given to the initial sex experiences of the individuals interviewed. These interviews have been obtained from the files of psychologists, psychiatrists, and social case workers all across the country. At this point, a word of explanation is in order as to exactly what constitutes one's first sexual experience. For the purpose of our study, we are concerned only with individuals who engage in genital sexual stimulation to the point of orgasm. We have not included information about one's first masturbatory experience, for example, nor about one's first non-consummated sexual desire. We are interested here exclusively in those cases in which an individual participated in actual sexual intercourse with another partner.
It is necessary, of course, to take into consideration an extremely variable sample of partners. Although the most common partner for one's initial sex experience might be a human being of the opposite sex, who is approximately the same age as the participant, many exceptions regularly occur. For that reason, we have included the case histories of persons whose initial intercourse took place with partners who differed widely from the participant in all the areas mentioned. Some are homosexual experiences, some are experiences involving partners many years older than the individual participating in sex for the first time, and one case history even involves a non-human partner. It is only through examination of every possible kind of initial sex experience that we will be able to gain any insight into the phenomenon as a whole.
What, in the last analysis, do we hope to gain from the examination of case histories such as these? There are many answers. One benefit of paramount importance is that we will be able to decide, on the basis of the individual's subsequent psychological health, whether the circumstances of the initial intercourse has any direct bearing on their later lives. Since all of our case histories involve information secured a considerable number of years after the occurance of the first time, we are in the position of being able to utilize hindsight in the assessment of any emotional problems that might exist at the time of the interview.
In addition, we hope to gain insight into the motivations and thought processes of the individuals involved. Are the activities and situations related in these interviews "normal" or do they represent a statistically abnormal sample which would not be applicable to society as a whole?
Finally, let us approach these case histories with a view towards assimilating the information presented here for our own edification. Only an enlightened society can respond with intelligence and understanding to the personal and social problems inevitable in a time of such explosive and demanding dilemmas as those which we find ourselves facing today.
Keeping in mind the overwhelming importance of one's initial sexual experience as-potentially at least-a sort of prognosticate of future emotional health, let us now examine the feelings and drives of a widely differing group of persons as they experience that all-important incident-the first time.
CHAPTER ONE
The Eager Virgin
After her divorce proceedings, Millicent C. was awarded custody of her four-year-old son. In spite of retaining possession of her young son, Millicent was not happy. Eight months after the divorce, she sought psychiatric aid to find out why she had been unable to achieve fulfillment in her marriage.
It soon became evident that Millicent-or Millie, as she preferred to be called-had been unhappy in marriage because of sexual incompatibility with her husband. The five years of her marriage had grown progressively worse until there appeared no other course but to end the relationship completely.
"I don't think I was any more demanding of my husband than any other woman of my age-sexually, I mean. And, after all, sex was my real problem. I mean our problem," she added.
At 24, Millie was an especially attractive young woman. Her youthful appearance made it seem unlikely that she could have looked much different when she had been married at the age of 19. Millie had naturally blond hair which she wore quite long, and her figure was extremely well-proportioned.
"It wasn't that I didn't get enough ... enough sex. I did. But it just seemed that it didn't mean what it used to. There wasn't the kind of ... of feeling I needed."
Millie became rather nervous when she was told she would have to supply more information about her earlier sex life, but she was eventually able to cooperate by providing the full details. After learning of her premarital sex experiences, one period of her life emerged as an exceptionally relevant time. When Millie had been a junior in high school she had been emotionally involved with a young man who was a football star at a local college.
"Tim was a sophomore in college when I met him-he was 20 and I was just 16. Maybe it was having an older guy interested in me that made me get so involved as quickly as I did. But I'm getting ahead of myself. See, I'd heard a lot about Tim before I ever even saw him.
"I was always pretty good in school, and I had one advanced math class that had mostly seniors in it. A couple of girls, Pam and Cindy, were two of the most popular senior girls in school. They were always talking about their boyfriends in class, and I sat right next to them. When I heard them mention Tim, I couldn't believe my ears. He was being written up in all the papers as one of the best football players in the state because he made the first team while he was still only a sophomore.
"I'd seen his picture in the paper. He seemed almost like a god to me. He had real black, curly hair and he usually had a grin on his face that really made him look devilish ... I found out more about that grin before long. It turned out that the reason Pam and Cindy were always talking about Tim was because Cindy was his cousin. And Pam was always badgering Cindy to introduce her to him.
"Cindy would always say, 'Are you kidding? Why would Tim want to meet you when he has his pick of all those sexy college girls?' And Pam, who had quite a reputation around our school, would always answer, 'Those college girls don't know so much. If you'll just fix me up with Tim, I'll do anything for him they can do. And you can tell him I said so if you want to, Cindy!' Finally Cindy arranged for Pam to go out with Tim. I began to think about him a lot myself. I'd been dating guys my age for a couple of years, but I'd never let any of them go all the way. The most I'd ever done was let a boy named Roger play with my breasts. When he wanted to ... to put his mouth there I wouldn't let him. And I'd never let any boy even touch me between my legs for a second.
"Well, to make a long story short, Pam was absent from class the day she was supposed to have an evening movie date with Tim. Cindy said she had come in at three in the morning with liquor on her breath and her parents were punishing her by not letting her go out for a whole month. Pam had gotten mad and dashed away in her parents' car and run into the curb. It didn't hurt the car much, but it had broken Pam's ankle. So she was home in bed and couldn't possibly go out with Tim.
"Cindy was pretty blue because she'd really worked to get Pam the date and she knew Tim would be plenty sore if he was stood up-no matter what the reason. I knew this was my big chance. I asked Cindy to let me substitute for Pam. At first she just laughed. But then I reminded her that Tim had never seen Pam ... that he'd never know the difference. I was wearing a pretty revealing sweater to school that day, so Cindy could see that I was built as good as any senior. I almost had her convinced it could work, but then she remembered how much she'd told Tim about Pam. In order to get Tim to go out with her, Cindy had more or less guaranteed him that Pam would ... well, that she'd match the college girls and then some!
"I told Cindy not to worry, that I wouldn't disappoint Tim. I was kind of scared to commit myself so much, but I was dying to go out with Tim. Finally Cindy said, 'Well, okay, but don't say I didn't warn you.' Then she leaned closer to me so that the teacher wouldn't hear us talking and asked, 'Have you done it before with a boy, Millie? I mean, with all your clothes off and everything? Tim's going to want action, you know. There can't be any little girl stuff with him.' I started turning red, but then I caught myself and I whispered so loud the teacher almost heard me, 'I've done as much as you have, Cindy. Just because I'm a sophomore doesn't mean I'm that dumb!' I was lying through my teeth, but it convinced Cindy. She told me to be ready at eight that night."
At this point in Millie's story, she became noticeably flushed. She was getting to the more intimate portion of her story, and she was somewhat reticent to discuss this part of herself even with a psychologist. She was assured that in order for him to help her, she should tell him exactly what she did with Tim, how she felt about it, and that she should use her own words and not worry about "dressing it up." Intent on finding what had gone wrong with her marriage, Millie agreed to go on with her story....
"I started getting ready for that date almost as soon as I got home from school. Of course I always showered every morning and night, but this time I went all out. I took an hour-long bath in the tub. I made the water real hot, and just lay there soaking in it till I was pink. I remember looking down and noticing that my nipples were red as beets. Lying there imagining what it would be like with Tim made me feel so excited that I kind of went into a day dream and before I knew it I was beginning to touch myself-"
Again Millie became extremely flustered in the presence of the interviewing psychologist, but when enjoined to continue, she went on. "I was kind of rubbing myself between the legs, but my mother rattled the door knob and told me to hurry up, that I was taking too long in the bathroom, so I jumped out of the tub and dried myself off.
"When I went to my room to dress for my date I took my time and made sure Tim would like what he saw. I don't know what came over me. I'd never even let a boy get near my ... my sex organs. And yet here I was about to practically throw myself onto someone! Before I started putting my underclothes on, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror of my dresser. When I stretched my arms up, it made my breasts stick out even more. My fanny was hard and round, and right between my legs was something that I had a good idea was going to interest Tim quite a bit. My pubic hair was as blond as the hair on my head, so I knew that if Tim came on with the old joke about whether I was a 'real blond' or not, I had a good answer for him.
"As I slipped my panties on I made sure that my legs was real smooth by rubbing some of my mother's body powder on them. I also rubbed it all over my stomach and my breasts, so that I was as smooth as a baby. Then I put perfume on-I worked it into my skin all around down between my legs. I almost embarrassed myself as I did that, because for a few seconds I had the mental picture of Tim's face being right down there where I was rubbing the perfume. I had sneaked out and bought a pair of panties that my mother would have killed me for wearing if she'd known I had them. They were real wispy, bikini-type panties. Then I put my brassiere on. It was the 'net' kind. The kind that really lets a girl show herself off if she has anything to show.
"I started to wear panty hose, then changed my mind, and decided to wear flats and to go bare-legged. I'd been getting a lot of sun all summer and I had a terrific tan. I slipped on my skirt and blouse-a white one with four buttons down the front. It was five minutes to eight. When I heard a car horn out front, I didn't wait a minute. I dashed right out the door. I knew my parents would be mad that I hadn't waited for my date to come inside, but I didn't care. As I went down the front walk I even unbuttoned the top button of my blouse, in order to let a little cleavage show.
"I guess Tim saw me do it, because as soon as he opened the door for me he said 'you a little hot tonight, Pam?' I had to remember to answer to Pam's name. I said, 'You might say I'm a little warm,' and just let him think whatever he wanted to.
"He was even better-looking than his picture. As we flashed down the street in his convertible, I was determined that I'd be just as sophisticated as any college girl. Right away I said, 'We are going to a drive-in movie, aren't we, Tim?'
"Tim looked over with a big grin. 'Sure we are, baby,' he said. Then I looked him right in the eye and said, 'That's good, because I'm always a lot more comfortable at drive-ins.' I couldn't believe I was being so forward. But when I saw Tim's eyes on my legs I knew he was really getting turned on. And that's what I wanted.
"Suddenly Tim turned off the main road and said, 'Look, kitten, I know a place that's much more comfortable than the drive-in. We're going to my uncle's hunting cabin. That is, if you're as hot as my cousin Cindy says you are.' I was a little scared, but I didn't show it. I said, "That sounds groovy to me,' and let my skirt higher up my legs. Tim gawked at my thighs and almost went off the road.
"'Listen, darling,' he told me, 'I want to see if you can find anything to amuse yourself with while I'm driving.' He grabbed me and pulled me over closer to him. When his hand touched my shoulder it made chills run down my back.
"I told him that if he meant something for me to 'play with,' I believed I could find something. My heart was beating a hundred times a minute as I reached right into his lap and started to unzip his zipper. Before I pulled it, though, I felt something move inside his pants like a little animal. I think my voice shook as I said it, but I hoped he'd think it was because of hot pants instead of inexperience. I said to him, 'You're a little hot tonight yourself, aren't you, Tim?'
"He turned to me with that grin and said, 'Wait 'til we get to the cabin and you'll find out how hot I and' Then I did it. I jerked his zipper down and went right for his penis. For the first time in my life, I was playing with a boy's penis. And I liked it! It made me so hot between the legs that I wanted him to touch me there, but I knew that was ridiculous while he was driving. Just then we turned onto the cabin driveway. Tim barely waited for the car to stop before he turned and grabbed me tight around the waist. One of his hands went around my buttocks and the other grabbed my neck, kind of hard. I could feel my breasts tight up against his hard chest and I thought for sure that he could feel my heart beat. As he slipped his tongue between my teeth I thought I would explode. I started moving my hand faster and faster up and down the shaft of his penis.
"Then he stopped me. He said, 'Not so fast, little one. Do you want me to shoot off right here in the car?' I turned red, because I still wasn't used to words like that. Tim didn't see me, though. He was too busy yanking me out of the car and into the cabin. As we went into the cabin, I suddenly had a terrible thought. Tim would know I was a virgin. I knew I was bound to bleed, since it was my first time. And then he'd know I hadn't been around as much as I had been pretending. I decided to put my virginity to my own advantage by telling him a whopper. As soon as we were inside the cabin I asked Tim if it would give him a swelled head if he knew he was about to be my first lover.
"Then I quickly added that I'd planed it that way on purpose. I told him that it was my birthday, and that I'd just turned eighteen. I had to think fast to remember I was supposed to be Pam, not myself. I told him I'd done everything there was to do except having my pussy-and I used that word, to impress him-penetrated by a boy's cock. I told him I'd always promised myself that I'd wait until I was eighteen before I let a guy go all the way. And that I was ready.
"I don't know if he believed me or not. I guess it really didn't make much difference to him. Anyway, he ripped his shirt off and I stood beside the bed with one leg resting on the edge.
"Tim was looking right at me, just taking it all in. I looked him right in the eye as I raised my skirt above one thigh. I said, 'Tim, you know what I was playing with back there in the car? Well, I want you to slip that thing right here underneath my panties.' I was well-pleased with my act, because this caused Tim to take a deep breath. 'You're going to have it there, baby. But I want it to go somewhere else first. Come over here.'
"I got off the bed and went to where he was standing. He told me to remove his penis from his pants. When I did, it was all red and throbbing. 'Did you like playing with that rod while we were in the car?' he asked. I answered him by standing up on my tip toes and kissing him on the mouth while I manipulated his penis with my hand. Suddenly he shouted, 'Down on your knees!' I was scared and fascinated at the same time. It was a strange feeling. On one hand, I felt Tim was being harsh with me-that he was demeaning me, making me do something I didn't want to. On the other hand, I felt that I was entirely in his power, that I needed to be forced to do anything and everything he demanded of me. I know I never felt like that again in my life."
At this point in the interview, the psychologist jotted down several quick notes on a pad and asked her to continue. It was noted that Millie seemed to be very sexually aroused as she continued to relate her story. She shifted uneasily in her seat and perspiration could be seen on her upper lip.
"I did what he wanted," she went on, her voice rising. "I had to. I got down on my knees in front of him. He was looking down the front of my dress as he spoke. I knew that from where he was standing he could almost see my nipples, and knowing this was somehow very exciting to me-physically, I mean. Then Tim looked down at me and spoke very softly to me. He said, 'Pam, I want you to take my cock into your mouth and I want you to suck it for all you're worth. But before you do that, I want you to slip off your blouse. Because while you're sucking my cock, I want to see those titties of yours bounce around down there.' Suddenly he slipped his hand down my blouse and touched one of my nipples. He squeezed it hard between his fingers, but it didn't hurt me-it just made me get even hotter between the legs. 'Titties like these shouldn't have anything over them while a girl is sucking a guy off. You ought to know that.'
"I jerked my blouse off so fast that I snapped one of the buttons off. Then I put my hand behind my back and undid the hook on my bra. When my breasts were freed Tim's eyes got big and he shouted, 'Suck, baby, suck!' I took the head of his penis into my mouth and sucked on it as hard as I could. While I had my mouth on him, Tim was playing with my nipples with both hands. Then he stopped me. He commanded me to go and get on the bed.
"By then I only had on my skirt, shoes and panties. Tim told me to throw my shoes into the corner. Then he quickly took off all of his clothes. When I saw him naked I knew why he was such a good football player. He was perfectly proportioned, and the hard lines of his body made me want him touching me again. 'You may as well take your skirt off, too,' he told me. I slipped it down over my feet and lay on the bed with nothing on but my bikini panties.
"Tim said 'Let me see what you have for me, now.' He pointed to my panties, and then asked, "What's underneath those black panties?' When started to pull them off and show him-I was so hot then that I would have done anything he said-he shouted, 'Wait a minute! I want you to tell me what it is you've got for me under there!' I knew then that he wanted to hear me say the words, so I shouted right back to him, and I said, 'My pussy-that's what I've got for you under my panties! My pussy!'
"By now Tim was really getting hot and I knew that I wasn't going to be a virgin much longer. I didn't care how much it hurt-I just wanted to have that penis I'd been sucking between my legs instead of in my mouth. From then on it was kind of a dream. I remember feeling him suck my nipples and playing between my legs with his fingers. I felt myself getting all wet there, and I had a new feeling down there, too. I felt something hot and heavy slowly caressing my upper thighs. I was beginning to really fly. I felt a rhythm inside myself that I hadn't even known existed before. After a while I needed him inside me so badly that I begged him for it.
"For a few minutes Tim would only tease me with it. I thought my ears were going to pop and that something was about to explode. Tim asked me, 'What is it you want? What do you need from me?' I could hardly stand it. I said, 'You know what I want,' but Tim shouted, 'You've got to tell me, baby. What is it?' By this time I was really needing it bad, even if I was a virgin, so I yelled out as loud as I could, 'I want your cock, your cock! I want your cock in my pussy and I want you to fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!'
"Then I almost blacked out, I guess, because I just remember a little pain together with an unbelievably good feeling all over my entire body, but especially between my legs. And mixed up with it all was a hard, solid pumping action that Tim kept doing to me right up until I heard him yell and felt something hot spurt between my legs. Then his whole body shook like he was having a spasm and he lay down on me and was still.
"The funny thing is that I never again saw him after he took me home that night, because he transferred to a distant college to take advantage of a scholorship there. I dated a few guys after him until I graduated from high school, then a year later I met my husband. Or, my ex-husband, that is," Millie corrected herself.
PSYCHIATRIST'S SUMMARY
Since Millie's first lover had been especially demanding, she had acquired an emotional need to be handled strongly and to be commanded and coerced during sexual intercourse. Whether such an introduction to sex would invariably result in a similar desire on the part of the participant is a moot point. The fact is that Millie, because of her particular emotional make-up, had been affected in that manner.
She was advised that there was nothing morally wrong with this somewhat masochistic behavior, and that she should simply accept her feelings and seek a marriage partner who would treat her accordingly. Once Millie's problem had been presented to her in this fashion, she was able to see herself in a new perspective. She remarked to me that she could readily accept my interpretation of her case, because she believed that her ex-husband, while willing to engage in sex as often as she wished, had not responded to her with the strength and dominance that her first lover had made her need.
My files indicate that Millie met and married a man with whom she was completely compatible about one year after consulting me. In her case, then, one might say that her first sex experience presented her with certain emotional problems later in life, but that with proper treatment these problems proved less than insurmountable.
CHAPTER TWO
Boy Learns From Man
Gary M. is a young man of 22 who was directed by the courts to undergo psychiatric counseling after being arrested on charges of disturbing the peace and committing an act of indecent exposure. Gary's legal situation is seen in a somewhat different light, however, when the circumstances of his arrest are made known.
At the time of Gary's arrest, 19 other individuals-all mate-were also taken into custody. Gary was only one member of the "party" that was going on at the apartment of a friend who lived in one of the Southern California beach communities. Police answered the call of neighbors who reported that groups of young men were "running up and down the street without a stitch of clothes on, and going in and out of an apartment where the music is so loud no one around here can get any sleep."
Police had arrived to find several people extremely intoxicated, some of whom were entirely nude. In addition, police had confiscated a quantity of illegal drugs at the residence. Although drugs and liquor were apparently being used with great abandon, the common bond that appeared to hold the party guests together was the fact that all were men-in other words, a homosexual orgy had been taking place, and the liquor and drugs were only a secondary interest.
Gary M. agreed to an in-depth psychiatric interview, he stated, for two reasons. One was to have his homosexual feelings examined by a qualified professional person in the hope of gaining a useful insight into his own personality. The other reason was that he felt, rightly or wrongly, that he might fare better at his trial if he demonstrated cooperation with authorities.
Gary M. is a clean-cut young man with coal black hair and a muscular build. He does not affect "feminine mannerisms" nor does he wear feminine attire. In this respect he must not be taken to represent only a small percentage of the homosexual population, however, because it has been established that the majority of practicing homosexuals do not appear any different from their heterosexual brothers. The difference lies rather in their erotic desires and in their preferences of sexual partners.
Gary reported that he believes his childhood was not radically different from that of most heterosexual men. At the age of 14, however, he had his first sexual climax with another person-and this person was not a young teen-aged girlfriend, but instead, a 28-year-old man.
Gary was assured that he should have no compunction about giving every detail of his early sex life that he could recall. When he understood that this was necessary, he began his story.
"Like I said," Gary began, "I didn't have sex with another person 'til I was 14. But I sure did think a lot about it before then, I can tell you!
"When I was about 10 I used to play around with a little girl who lived next door. Once when no one was home at her house, she told me to come on over and we could do anything we wanted. I didn't quite know what she meant, but I went on over, anyway. When I got there she was sitting on the bed in her room wearing the kind of short little dress that most girls of her age wear.
"Right away she asked me, 'Do you know what your mom and dad do when they're in their bedroom where you can't see them?' I'd never thought much about it before, so I told her that I didn't know what they did. She said, 'Well I know what mine do because I saw them doing it when they didn't know I could see them. And I bet yours do the same thing.'
"Her eyes were drilling into mine then, and she said to me 'I'll show you what it is if you're not afraid. We can do it ourselves.' When she mentioned the possibility that I might be afraid, it kind of made me sore. I was curious about what she was talking about, but I didn't want any part of it if she was going to be so smart about it. I told her so. She jumped up and told me to get out of her house if I wouldn't do what she wanted. And as I went out the door she yelled 'you'll be sorry!' I didn't know what she meant until the next day.
"She told her parents that I had come over and tried to get her to take her panties off while they were gone. They were furious. When they told my parents about it, I got the beating of my life. What was so bad about it was that I was completely innocent. But I couldn't make my parents believe me.
At this point Gary seemed very bitter as he said, "Maybe that's when I started being leery of girls. I don't know. But I do know that ever since then I've had the feeling that I was bound to get into some kind of trouble if I had anything to do with them." Gary seemed almost openly hostile then, as he shouted, "You can't trust them. You can't trust them at all. I know I'll never trust a woman as long as I live!"
"Until I was about 14," Gary went on, "I was pretty much afraid of anything that involved sex. Sometimes in the morning I'd wake up with a hard on, but whenever it happened I was very embarrassed and confused. It felt kind of good, but it made me feel guilty and bad. I always lay in bed until my penis got soft again, because I imagined that if my parents knew about it, I'd be in for big trouble.
"Then, when I was 14, my parents sent me to camp for the first time. None of my schoolmates went to the same camp, so I felt free and began to have a really good time hiking, horseback riding and swimming. It was during my swimming class that I first met Doug. Right away he insisted that I-as well as everybody else-should call him by his first name. He was very friendly and put all the guys at ease whenever he was with us.
"Another thing that made me feel very good being at camp was the fact that it was a boys' camp. There were no girls anywhere except for a few old women who worked in the kitchen. It was great."
When Gary began to speak of his activities at camp, his conversation seemed to wander. He was reminded that what was needed from him were the details of his sexual experience, not the routine details of his everyday life at camp.
"Well, I've already mentioned Doug, my swimming teacher, and how nice he was. He was a kind of hero around camp because he was so nice to us kids, and because everyone knew about all the big swimming prizes he had won. I think he had been some kind of Olympic champion or something. And he really looked the part. He was 28-years-old and was in terrific shape. He used to run a lot and every morning we'd see him doing exercises out in front of his cabin.
"In addition to being swimming counselor, Doug was also the leader of a group of campers. Each counselor was in charge of about 15 boys-sort of a scoutmaster. All the new boys were assigned to one of the groups after being in the camp one week. When I found out I had been assigned to Doug's group, I was really happy about it. I was told to move all my belongings into a cabin in Doug's area of the camp, and that my cabin-mates would be two boys my age named Cliff and Harold.
"My first night in the new cabin was a night I'll never forget. I was lying in bed about to go to sleep when I heard my new cabin-mates come in. Cliff and Harold had both been on an evening hike and I'd been told to just go ahead and go to sleep, that I'd be introduced to them in the morning. When I heard the door open I knew they must have returned earlier than they had planned. I started to get up and meet them, but then I heard one of them say, 'I hope the new guy's asleep, Cliff. He might not be in on our scene yet'
"I couldn't imagine what kind of 'scene' they were talking about, but I thought I'd best pretend I was sleeping in order to find out what was going on. Then I heard the other boy coming over to my bed, so I kept my eyes closed and even started breathing deeper so they would be sure to think I was asleep. The other boy came right up to the head of my bed and bent down over me.
"Then he whispered, 'It's okay, Harold. He's sleeping like a log.' Harold whispered back excitedly, 'Well, what are you waiting for, then. Come on over and let's get in bed.' But Cliff said, 'Come over here if you want to see some thing. This new kid forgot to cover himself up.' I squinted one eye open slightly so they couldn't tell I was awake and saw that Cliff had a flashlight shining on me. And the beam was focused right on my shorts. Then Harold came over to my bed and stood beside Cliff. They were both staring at the bulge in my shorts.
"Harold said, 'Yeah, he might be hung pretty well. Too bad his peter isn't out where we can see it.' I remember that I was both embarrassed and kind of scared to hear them talk like this, because I'd never been around any boys before who acted like they were acting. Cliff said, 'Don't worry, Harold ,if he's around here long we'll get to see what it looks like. But leave him alone for now. If it's peters you're interested in, you can see mine right now. He's asleep. He'll never know it if we play our little game.' Then they both went over to one of the beds and sat down on it They had turned off the flashlight, so they couldn't see me anymore, but the moon was shining right through a window over Harold's bed, so I could see them easily.
"I was becoming more amazed by the minute. I had no idea what kind of game they had been referring to, but they were apparently going to go on with it right before my eyes if I kept quiet enough. I raised up on my elbow in the dark to get a better view. Harold was lying down with his shorts down around his knees and Cliff was sitting on the bed facing him. I could hear them talking in low voices, but not well enough to understand what they were saying. Once in a while they would giggle. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw what happened next. Cliff reached over and started touching Harold's penis with his hand. He seemed to be kind of teasing Harold, because he would rub Harold's penis for a little while, then he would stop and they would start whispering to each other.
"Next I saw Harold reach up and start pulling Cliff's shorts down. As he did this I saw that Cliff's penis had swollen up like Harold's was. Both their penises were straight and hard, like mine had been some mornings when I woke up at home. As I watched them I saw that Harold was beginning to work his hand up and down Cliff's penis faster and faster, and that Cliff was doing the same thing to Harold. I was fascinated. I had never seen anything like it. Then I began to notice something else. My own penis was getting hard like theirs! It felt good for it to get hard, but it also made me feel ashamed, like it had when I used to wake up at home with a hard penis and be afraid that my parents would find out and punish me.
"Soon Harold and Cliff were rubbing each other's penis like mad, going faster and faster. In just a little while I heard Cliff's voice clearly. He gasped, 'I'm coming Harold, I'm coming. Do it faster, oh, do it faster!' He had been trying to keep his voice down to keep from waking me up, but I guess he was so excited that he had completely lost control. I looked down into my own shorts and saw that my penis was red and hard, and as I looked back onto their bed, my penis actually began to throb. Cliff had made a little noise in his throat and was lying beside Harold. All his attention seemed to be riveted on Harold's penis. He was jerking his hand up and down on Harold's penis as fast as he could, and Harold seemed to be in ecstasy. I couldn't make out what Harold was saying, but finally he made a whimpering sound and I saw some white liquid shoot out of his penis and go off the bed and onto the floor.
"Then they whispered together a little more, and finally Cliff got up and went to his own bed. It seemed like their little game was over, but I stayed awake for a long time unable to go to sleep. I kept thinking about what Harold and Cliff had been doing until I finally drifted off into sleep. But I had dreams all night about seeing Cliff's hand jerking up and down around Harold's penis.
"The next morning when we woke up, we introduced ourselves and Cliff said, 'Say, Harold and I didn't wake you up last night when we came in, did we?' And I quickly said, 'Oh no, no-I'm a pretty heavy sleeper.' They exchanged glances. Harold said, 'Doug told us to have you report over to his cabin right after breakfast. He wants to welcome you to his section of the camp.' I was pleased that I was going to get to meet Doug, the swimming teacher, and actually get to talk to him. I stammered, 'Oh, okay ... thanks! I'll be sure to be there!' Then Harold and Cliff went off to do early morning chores.
"All during breakfast I was full of excitement. Part of it was because I was getting to have a personal meeting with Doug, and part of it was because of what I'd seen Harold and Cliff doing in bed. After I'd finished eating I combed my hair, brushed my teeth, and went straight to Doug's cabin. He was out in front doing his exercises, just as I'd seen him do so often before. When I approached, he quit doing push-ups and walked over to meet me.
"'You must be Gary,' he said to me, smiling. 'Come on into my cabin so we can get to know each other.' I walked in and he asked me to sit down. We had some small talk, then Doug said that since my parents had sent me to camp to make me healthy, he was going to do his best to see that they got their money's worth. I was busy looking all around Doug's cabin. There were pictures everywhere of men who seemed to be body-building champions and muscle men. There were lots of pictures of men in bathing suits, some with autographs, and there was a shelf full of swimming trophies Doug had won.
"Doug noticed my interest in the pictures and asked, 'Would you like to have a body like that when you grow up, Gary?' I said, 'Sure I would. But I don't think I could ever build myself up that well.' Doug grinned and said, 'Oh, you might be surprised! When I was your age, I was built about like you are.' He took hold of my arm above the elbow and squeezed it. 'You've got a pretty good start there for a fellow your age. How old are you, Gary?' When I told him I was 14 he said I was at just the right age to begin taking good care of my body.
"He told me he always made a physical examination of all his boys when they first came to his camp section, and then he asked me to take off my shirt and turn around. When I did this Doug felt my back and my buttocks. He rubbed his hands all over my buttocks and said that I had a nice shape. Then he asked me to turn around and face him. When I had turned around he told me to sit down, that he wanted to have a talk with me. 'Gary,' he said to me, 'if you want to be as healthy as possible, there's a certain part of your body that you should take special care of. Do you know what part I'm referring to?' When I said I didn't, he paused and looked at me with a very fatherly expression.
"Then he continued, 'If s your sexual organs that I'm speaking of, Gary. Your sexual organs are a very important part of your body, you know.' When I began to turn a little red in the face, he smiled and said, 'Maybe you aren't accustomed to discussing sex, Gary. Don't feel bad about it, though. In my job as counselor here to boys your age, I've found that many of you aren't very well informed about sexual matters. But you don't have to worry. That's part of my job. If you ever have any questions about sex, just go right ahead and ask me. I'll tell you anything you want to know.'
"I thought immediately of what I'd seen Harold and Cliff doing in their bed, but I was afraid to bring up the subject. But I was beginning to feel more and more at ease with Doug all the time. I had the feeling that I could trust him. I told him that I guessed I didn't have any questions at the moment.
"Doug clasped my arm and pulled me forward toward him. "Then I'll continue with the examination,' he said. 'The next thing I need to check, Gary, are your sex organs. Now pull down your pants.' I was kind of bashful about doing this, but Doug had said it was very important to have a thorough physical, so I allowed him to do as he wanted. I slowly pulled my pants down until they were around my knees.
"'You can sit back on the chair, there,' Doug indicated. Doug was looking at my shorts and was beginning to talk kind of nervously. He put his hand forward and touched my penis through my shorts. When he felt it grow a little hard as he touched it, he looked me right in the eye and said, 'Don't be embarrassed if your penis sometimes hardens when it's touched, Gary. That's perfectly normal. Now let me pull down your shorts here and examine your penis better.'
"As he slipped my shorts down to my knees he slowly handled my penis in his fingers until it grew very hard. Seeing that I was embarrassed in spite of what he had told me, Doug then said, 'Gary, just to prove to you that it's perfectly normal for a male's penis to get hard when it's handled by someone, I'm going to show you my own.' He was wearing a pair of khaki pants. 'Don't be afraid, now,' he told me. 'Just go ahead and unzip my fly and you'll see that my penis gets hard when you touch it just like yours did when I touched it.' Then he added, 'I'm doing this to show you how a male's sex organs work. I don't want you to think there's anything wrong with you just because your penis becomes erect.'
"I was a little scared to do as he asked, but I was feeling more and more at ease all the time, so I reached forward and unzipped the fly to Doug's pants. When I'd done that. I could see his penis, which was just as hard as he had said it would be.
"'Go ahead and touch it, Gary. I want you to feel my hard penis,' Doug told me. Then he looked at me and said, 'See, nothing happens except exactly what happened to your penis when I touched it with my hand, right?' I nodded in agreement to what he said. Then Doug continued to examine my sex organs. He gently lifted my testicles and said, 'In these is where the sperm is kept that can make a female pregnant, Gary. Of course, when a boy gets a girl pregnant, he gets into a lot of trouble.'
"My hand was still on Doug's penis and I was getting a very funny feeling that I wanted to keep holding it. It seemed like some kind of electricity was running through both our bodies, and at our hands and penises it was creating a kind of very pleasant heat. I thought of what Cliff and Harold had been doing and wondered if they felt the same way. I felt like I should remove my hand from Doug's penis, but something made me keep holding it. Doug seemed to know how I felt. He looked at me, and said, 'If you find yourself wanting to hold my penis, just go right ahead and do it. There's not a thing wrong with it.'
"Then he began to slip his fingers along the head of my penis. 'This part is called the 'glans' or 'head' of the penis. It's the most sensitive part. Do you feel a warm feeling when I touch you there?' I was beginning to feel very warm. And I found myself wanting him to do it more and more. I began to squirm around in the chair. Doug said, 'Gary, you seem especially sensitive. Tell me, do you know how to relieve yourself when you feel sexual pressure building up?'
"I didn't know what he meant. I was looking down at the floor as I answered him, 'N-n-no, no, I don't know what you mean,' I finally managed to get out. Doug seemed to be more excited. 'Well, then,' said Doug, 'it's time a boy of your age learned how to relieve himself.' Doug's penis was still very hard and I could feel it begin to throb much like my own penis had done when I had been watching Cliff and Harold. Then Doug lifted my hand off his penis and placed it on my own penis. He clasped my fingers around my penis and started working my hand up and down on my penis, using his hand as a guide. It didn't take long before I began to feel so good that I couldn't imagine why I had never done this for myself.
"Then I realized why I had never discovered the pleasurable act for myself. It was because I was afraid my parents would disapprove if they ever found out, and that I might be severely punished as I had been the time the neighbor girl had told her big lie."
At this point the interviewing psychiatrist made an entry into the notebook on his lap and then asked Gary to continue.
"I was getting so sexually aroused by this time that Doug asked me if I wanted to take off my pants and shorts and lie down on his bed. I thought he meant that he would discontinue rubbing my penis, so I was about to answer negatively. Doug saw the misunderstanding in my eyes and smiled. 'Don't worry,' he said, 'I'll keep doing this for you.' I quickly slipped off my pants and shorts and lay down on his bed. 'What I'm doing for you is showing you how to masturbate yourself, Gary. Have you ever heard of "masturbation" before?'
"I told him I had not. Then Doug said, as he continued playing with my penis. 'A long time ago people used to say that masturbation was harmful, but everyone knows better now. Nowadays even doctors know that every young man gets sexual feelings that make him require relief. And that's what I'm showing you how to do.' As I lay down on Doug's bed with my pants off, he continued to slip his hand up and down my penis. He had already removed my own hand from my penis and said it would be good for me if he masturbated me for a while.
"Then Doug asked, as he continued slowly to rub his fingers up and down my penis, whether I had ever examined a grown man's penis before. I told him that I'd seen my father's a few times, and that I'd seen other men's penises in public rest rooms, but that I'd never got to hold one before. When Doug heard me say I'd never got to hold one before, he said, 'Then you do enjoy handling my own penis, as you were doing a little while ago?' When I told him that I did enjoy it, he seemed very pleased.
"He said to me, 'Gary, I haven't been relieved for a while myself. Do you want to relieve me while I'm relieving you? This is essentially what happens when a man puts his penis in a woman's sex organ, you know, but there's no reason to wait for a woman when we can get the same feeling for ourselves, is there?' By this time my 14-year-old penis was feeling better than it ever had before. I would have done anything Doug asked me to do.
"Doug saw me looking at his penis. It was very long, with a big bush of blond hair all around it. I didn't have too much hair around my own penis yet, but Doug said someday I'd have just as big a penis as his. I was embarrassed to ask, but I wanted to know, so I said, 'How big is your penis, Doug?' Doug said, 'My penis happens to be nine inches long. That's a pretty good-size one, but I think yours may get that big, because it looks like it's about five inches long already. You're a lucky boy to have a fine healthy cock like that.' Then he got up on the bed with me.
"'Now I'm going to get up here so we can both really get satisfaction out of what we're doing, Gary,' he said as he lay down beside me. Then he worked himself around behind me and said, 'Now just do as I show you, Gary, and you're going to shoot off like a champ!'
"Then I could feel his hard penis at the entrance of my ass. He was directly behind me and we were both on our sides, so I could feel his body touching me all up and down my back. He really made me start to go wild, then. He put both hands around in front of me and began to caress my balls with one hand and to increase the speed of his fingers on my penis with his other hand. At the same time I could feel the hot head of his penis beginning to enter the crack of my ass. By that time we were both beginning to get very sweaty and slippery, so it was easy for him to get his penis head into my ass.
"I would have been afraid of what he was doing to me any other time, but he was making me feel so good in front that I thought the least I could do was to allow him to do as he wanted to my back. Besides, I was beginning to get pleasure out of feeling his hard penis pushing into my ass.
"We were both so hot by then that it gives me goose bumps to think about it. It was my very first time, remember. Before long Doug was pumping his penis into my ass and yelling,-What a tight little asshole you've got, boy! Just the way I like them! Now hang on and I'm going to make you shoot your wad.' He began to jack his hand up and down the shaft of my penis with terrific speed. Then I felt it-a very full, tight feeling at the root of my penis that made me pant and I began to move my hips in time to Doug's hand movements. Doug yelled, 'You're coming now, boy, you're going to shoot your wad!' We were both so frantic that I could hardly understand him. He kept jamming his penis into my ass, and together with what his hand was doing, I thought I would explode. Then it happened ... my first climax. I thought the roof was coming off the cabin. I saw a stream of whitish, thick fluid shoot out from the head of my penis. At the same time, I felt something hot and liquid flood my asshole. Doug had done the same thing into my ass that I'd seen myself do in front of me.
"When Doug heard me yell at the point of my climax, he let his penis slip out of my ass and dove around in front of me. Then he grabbed the head of my penis in his mouth and started sucking on it! I was flabbergasted at this new development, but it felt so good I wasn't about to object! As I watched, I saw Doug lick all around the head of my penis with his tongue. He was getting every bit of the white fluid that he could. He got me so excited doing that that he made me shoot off again and this time he received it all right into his mouth and swallowed it. Then he rolled over on his back and said, 'Well, Gary, now you know how to relieve yourself properly. Sometimes it's nice to do it together, but from now on you can masturbate yourself anytime you feel the need to.'
"Doug's phone rang, then, and he said he had to go and get ready for his first swim class. We put our clothes on and left together. All the rest of the summer, I had sex with Doug periodically, and I also began to have sex with my cabin-mates, Harold and Cliff. The three of us did every sex act we could think of all the rest of the summer."
Gary seemed to feel emotional relief at having recounted the details of his sexual initiation. He breathed deeply and said, "I guess from then on you could say that I was a confirmed homosexual. I never felt much desire for a woman any time afterwards." Gary then relaxed, to all appearances in a much better emotional state than when he first began recounting his story.
PSYCHOLOGIST'S SUMMARY
At Gary's trial, he received a light sentence because it was his first offense. At a consultation that took place in my office two weeks later, I advised Gary that his case history revealed to me that his situation was not unlike that of many other homosexuals. I explained to Gary that, because of his strong preferences for a male sex partner, the chances were high that he would never be able to respond satisfactorily to a female sex partner.
I further indicated that the decision was up to Gary himself-that if he wanted to be "cured" of his homosexual desires, I would accept him as a patient and probe deeper into his psyche with the use of drugs or hypnosis, in an attempt to discover whether there was any chance for him to enjoy heterosexual intercourse and to marry and settle down. After much thought, Gary replied that what he really wanted was to continue his life as a homosexual, hopefully without a recurrence of any such incidents as the one which brought him to my office. (He had been sent to me by the courts.)
I informed Gary that if he had made that decision, he should simply take steps to insure he would never again make a public display as he had done when he had been arrested with the other young men. I reminded him that most of society still regards his kind of sexual inclinations as being not only illegal, but immoral as well. I emphasized that he should take pains to conduct himself accordingly in the future. It is impossible to say for certain whether Gary would be a homosexual today if he had not met Doug, his camp counselor, but his seduction was definitely instrumental in the boy's subsequent sexual inclinations.
CHAPTER THREE
She Wanted An Audience
Perhaps one of the more unusual initial sex experiences comes from the files of a New York social worker whose job it is to conduct interviews on the basis of which welfare decisions are made. Now that welfare funds are coming under attack from many segments of our society, it is necessary to accumulate more detailed information about the recipients of these funds.
Although sexual activity is ordinarily entirely outside the province of such interviews, the following record was maintained by a social worker whose assigned area was in a predominantly Puerto Rican section of New York City. While conducting interviews in a household in which the eldest member was a 24-year-old girl, it was learned that she had supported herself and two younger sisters and a brother by working as a prostitute for the three years immediately preceding.
Because of the aid rendered to her as a direct result of having been contacted by the social worker, the girl, Carlotta S., was extremely grateful. Consequently, she was moved to offer very detailed information about herself when informed that her experiences would be important to colleagues of the social worker who were engaged in psycho-sexual research.
"My family was very religious," she began. "We never had much money even when both my parents were alive, but at least we lived a very moral life. Too moral, in a way. Maybe that's why I changed so much after my mother died, I don't know," Carlotta sighed. "Anyway, that's the way it happened. My father had been killed in an accident at the docks-he was a stevedore-when I was 15. If us kids ever had to toe the line before, it was really bad after Dad was killed!
"Mother seemed to think God was mad at us for some reason, and that he had taken Dad away from us because of something we had done. Later on I found out that it was really my mother who felt guilty for something she had done, but she took it out on us-on me and my sisters and brother. Of course, we had always gone to Mass every Sunday even when Dad was alive, but after he was buried, Mother made us get out our rosaries and pray with her every night. And she kept wearing black for months and months afterwards. Most everyone in our neighborhood was Catholic, but I'll bet my mother was the most religious person of all of them.
"After Mother died, when I was 20, my little brother told me something he said he'd always been afraid to mention while Mom had been alive. He said one night when he had been the only one home with Mom, he had heard something through his bedroom wall. Dad had taken the rest of us kids to our grandmother's for an overnight visit, but my brother was sick, so my mother had stayed home to take care of him. The mumps were going around and my parents were afraid he might be getting them.
"He said that right after we all left, a stranger came to the door and my mother had let him in right away. Mom thought my brother was asleep, so she didn't worry about being overheard. From the snatches of conversation that my brother got through the partly-open door, he found out that the man was someone our mother had known before she married our dad. They were talking about when they used to go out together, and Mom was giggling. The man pulled out a bottle of wine from his pocket and got Mom to drink some. Pretty soon they were both loaded and talking even louder. They had forgotten all about my brother even being around.
"Then they went into the bedroom and in a little while there was the sound of lots of thrashing around on the bed. Of course, now I'm old enough to know what was happening, but my little brother was too young at the time to know what they were doing. He heard Mom say, after a little while, 'Hell no, I'm not putting that thing in my mouth. I don't even do that for my husband.' She was slurring her words so badly that my brother could barely understand her."
Carlotta seemed to be revolted as she described the actions of her mother. She said disdainfully, "The guy was wanting Mom to suck him off, that's all! And she finally did because as the guy went out the door, my brother heard him say, 'You suck a mean dick, baby, even if you do claim you don't know nothin' about it.' Maybe my little brother didn't know what the hell they were talking about, but I ought to know ... I've sucked enough pricks myself since I started selling my ass!
"It was the next week ... just a few days later, as a matter-of-fact ... when my dad was killed at work on the docks. I always will think that Mom thought God was punishing her for ... for putting her mouth on that guy's prick and sucking it for him. At least, that was when she started getting so religious. It was just hell around our house. In addition to praying all the time, my mother became a real nut about anything to do with sex. She made sure that my little brother never saw me or my sisters unless we were fully dressed. And boy do I mean dressed! All three of us girls had to wear every stitch of clothes around the house that we wore when we went out. And that included long, ugly, cotton stockings and a full-length slip, summer or winter. I was 15, so at least I'd known what it was to have pretty, frilly things to wear. But I felt sorry for my sisters. One was 12 and the other was only 10.
"Mom made them both wear brassieres, even though they barely had any titties. And whenever we got ready to go to bed at night, Mom always made us slip on our nightgowns-heavy, long cotton ones-before we removed our underwear. She said this was so that we wouldn't have to be 'disgusted by the sight of our nakedness.' And once when she caught our little brother in our room, she smacked him until he was blue and made him promise never to set foot in our room again. The silly thing about it was that none of us girls were even in there, so he couldn't have seen any of us naked or anything, even if he had tried. But I think you get the picture of how our mom felt about sex from what I've told you so far.
"Well, the five years between when my dad died and when my mom died were like a nightmare to us kids. We were watched like hawks. I never had one date all during high school. I got real nervous because of it, too. All my friends at school were always telling me about what they were doing on dates, but I had to just dream about it. Sometimes at night when I thought of stuff they told me about, I'd begin to get a ticklish feeling in between my legs, but I didn't dare touch myself there. I was afraid that my mother might rush in and catch me-it would have been just about like her to do something like that. My mother had us all so much under her thumb that we were afraid of our own shadows.
"Maybe you can understand, then, how relieved we all were when Mom died. Oh sure, we all cried and felt bad about it in a way-but our main feeling was just plain old relief! An uncle of ours took the three younger kids to live with him, but he was just working as a part-time barber, so he couldn't really support them. Since I was the oldest-I told you I was 20 when all this happened-we agreed that I would live by myself, but that I'd get a job and contribute money each week to help my uncle. That was fine with me, because it meant that I would be completely free at last.
"I didn't have any trouble at all getting a job. The third day I went looking for one, I was hired by a movie theater to work at the candy concession. I was really pleased, I got to wear a uniform and everything. And I found a place to live that I could afford and still have enough money left to buy myself a few things after I'd sent money to my uncle. The first thing I did was to run out and get myself a bunch of frilly underwear. I remember modeling it on myself in front of the big mirror on the inside of my closet door.
"I had almost forgotten what I looked like naked. First I threw all my packages down on the bed and ran into the bathroom. I ran a tub full of hot water, then slipped out of my clothes and settled myself down into the tub. After I was clean I hopped out of the tub and toweled off. While I was rubbing the towel over my body, I happened to glance across the room to the mirror in my closet door, and when I did I stopped cold.
"What I saw really pleased me. I was looking at a girl with coal-black hair, black eyes and a sort of olive complexion. I turned around then and let the towel drop. I was almost nervous, looking at myself so shamelessly. I guess I was thinking about what my mother would have said if she had been there. But the more I looked at myself, the better I began to feel. I was glad to see that I wasn't bad-looking at all. I had a slender shape, with my waist coming in and making my breasts appear bigger than they actually were. No that they were so small! I playfully turned my torso and made them jiggle. My nipples bobbed on the ends of my breasts like little grapes. I turned sideways and saw how my breasts stuck out nicely in front of me without sagging down like some girls'.
"Then I let my eyes wander down below and I saw a flat tummy that was smooth and wet from the bath. Below that I saw a little patch of thick, curly hair that was as black as the hair on my head. As I looked there a couple of drops of water ran through that little mound of hair and down my legs, which were long and slim-I remember thinking that I'd seen plenty of cheerleaders' legs at school that weren't half as nice. Of course my mother would never have let me even so much as try out for the cheerleader squad!
"Looking at myself in the mirror that night seemed to give me confidence in myself-confidence that I could live the life of any other normal girl, even if I had got a late start because of my mom. I guess maybe you could say that right then was the exact moment that I made a sort of decision to live life to its fullest."
The social worker quickly wrote down some brief notes in the notebook she was using to record Carlotta's story, then asked her to continue.
"As soon as I had looked at myself nude for a while, I started putting on the new underwear I'd bought. First I sat down on the side of my bed and started slipping on the sheer, black panty hose. When I had both stockings up to about my knees, I rolled backwards and lay on my back with my feet sticking as straight up in the air as the curve of my legs would allow. Then I pulled the hose up until the panty top fit snugly across my crotch and over my hips. Next I jumped up and grabbed my new brassiere. It was the thin, filmy net style that makes you look like you aren't even wearing a brassiere, you know? As I reached behind me to fix the catch, I saw my breasts surge forward from the strain and it looked like my nipples would burst right through the fabric. For the finishing touch, I put on my black mini-slip with the laced hem and the frothy lace across the top. I walked forward to the mirror and looked down the front of my slip-it was perfect. Just enough cleavage showed from down inside my brassiere to make me proud of my breasts, but not enough to make me have to take special care whenever I bent down for something.
"I was feeling almost giddy by then. I removed my slip, unhooked my bra and applied powder all over my upper body, rubbing it in until I was smooth as silk all over. I even pulled my panty top away from my stomach and rubbed powder in there too. I had already shaved under my arms until not a trace of hair was left, so I applied some deodorant and topped the whole thing off by spraying my new perfume all over my body. Then I hooked my bra again, put my mini-slip back on and couldn't help slinking across the room like a jungle cat, I felt so sexy. Sexy! I had to laugh at myself. The closest I had ever come to sex was seeing a movie on TV-and Mom always made us turn it off if she thought it was too sexy.
"I sat down on the bed and started feeling kind of lonesome. After all, here I was all dressed up, yet I wasn't even going anywhere! I was due to start my new job the next day, but as for that . night, what was there to do but just stay in my room and feel sorry for myself. Then I got a bright idea-why not go somewhere? I was my own boss. No one was around any more to tell me what to do.
"I dressed in a mini-skirt and a white blouse, pulled on a pair of black, patent leather shoes, and I was ready. I combed my hair straight back and let it fall around my shoulders. I glanced at myself as I went out the door and was pleased with what I saw. But as I walked down the stairs of the building where I lived, I became a little scared. I began to be afraid that I looked like something I wasn't, if you know what I mean. But the feeling didn't last long. As soon as I was out on the street, I began to get into a much better mood.
"There weren't too many people on the street, but I got plenty of looks from the ones who were ... from the men, at least. And from a lot of the women, too. But I think the reason they looked was because they thought my skirt was too short! I had only gone a little way-a couple of blocks or so-when a big black car slowed up beside me and the guy driving slid across the seat and rolled down his window. He asked me if he could give me a ride, and the way he said it made it sound like he meant to take me straight to his apartment-if I would go with him. I was kind of thrilled and flustered at the same time. I stopped and started to say something to him, then I got all mixed up and mumbled 'Oh, no, I can't ... I'm ... I have to ... ' Then I just turned and ran into a little coffee shop without even looking back, I had to admit to myself that I was still pretty inexperienced in spite of my new freedom, and that I wasn't as sure of myself as I would have liked to be.
"I decided to calm myself by having a cup of coffee. I sat down at a booth and was glad to find that the place was almost deserted. Except for the waitress who came to take my order, the only person in sight was a harmless old man sitting back in the corner booth having a beer. I began to feel a little better. While waiting for my coffee I leaned back against the seat and crossed my legs, feeling the smoothness of the sheer hose I was wearing as my calf slid across the thigh of my other leg.
"When my coffee came I drank a few swallows and then almost dropped my cup as I happened to glance toward the rear booth. The old man I had seen as I came in was leaning over sideways in his seat and was staring underneath the table so he could see right up underneath my skirt. And that's not all-he had his pants unzipped and his prick in his hand, and while I stared in amazement, he was really going to town jerking his hand up and down on it. I guess he had really been getting an eyeful because of the way my legs were crossed and the short length of my skirt. I'm sure he saw more than the lace on my mini-slip, and if I hadn't been wearing my new panty hose, he would have probably been able to see my pussy hair if the crotch of my panties had been slipped sideways a little bit.
"Well, I jumped up and started to call the waitress or yell something at the old bastard, but then I decided, to hell with it, and I turned on my heels to dash for the door. I tossed a quarter on the table and picked up my purse as I turned around, and I saw that the old creep had jerked his prick so furiously that he was shooting a big load of come right out on the floor in front of him. I was disgusted. I tore out of the coffee shop and never looked back. I hope the waitress saw him and had him arrested, but I'll never know what happened because I never set foot in the place again.
"I went straight back to my apartment and got right into bed after carefully hanging my new clothes up and putting my new undies away in the special drawer where I kept all my other things. I had a little trouble going to sleep-I kept thinking about the guy who tried to pick me up in the car, all the guys who ogled me on the street, and the old creep who was playing with himself in the coffee shop.
"When I finally went to sleep I tossed and turned all night and had the strangest dream. I dreamed that I was sitting in the bedroom of the house where I had lived with my mother, with nothing on but my brassiere and panties. And outside in the street, parked in a big car with the door open, was the guy who had tried to pick me up. He was able to see me inside my bedroom, I realized, and he had his prick in his hand and was playing with himself just like the old man in the coffee shop.
"It was a very strange feeling-instead of being afraid, or trying to cover myself, I seemed to be fascinated by what he was doing to himself. In fact, I began to get a hot, delicious feeling between my own legs. Then in my dream my mother suddenly appeared outside the guy's carand before I knew what was happening,, she was on her knees in front of him and was grabbing his prick right out of his hands. Then she socked his organ right into her mouth and began sucking on it like it was a fruit popsicle. My dream ended with the guy falling slowly backward and my mother climbing after him trying to stuff more of his prick into her mouth."
Carlotta was interrupted by the social worker in order to clarify an important point. She was asked whether she had ever had intercourse at any time prior to the night she had just been describing.
Carlotta laughed. "Hell, no," she replied, "my mother had watched me so close that I had never even seen a man's prick, much less felt one between my legs. I didn't get turned on to sex until I started working at the movie. Can you believe it? Here I was, 20 years old and ... well, a pretty sexy-looking chick, if I say so myself ... yet I had never done it at all. In fact, I didn't have the foggiest notion what it was all about. It didn't take me long to learn, though. I lost my cherry the second week I started working at the movie. Want me to tell you about it?"
The social worker informed Carlotta that her first sexual experience would be of vital importance to the research of her colleagues, and asked her to continue.
"The people at the movie where I worked were real nice to work with. It was a pretty easy job, and whenever there wasn't much business-which was pretty often-the girl I worked with at the concession stand had plenty of time to chat with me. Her name was Rita, and she was of Latin descent, like me. She was also dark-haired. She didn't have as good a complexion as I did-she was always complimenting me on my smooth complexion-but she was really stacked, to make up for it.
"Later, when I got to know her better, I found out that she wore a size 40D brassiere, even though she was only one inch taller than me. After I had been working there for a few days we became pretty good friends and I felt close enough to her to tell her something about myself. When she found out about how strict my mother had been with us kids, and that I was still a virgin, she was really surprised. I told her the truth-I said, 'Rita, I know most girls my age have already ... been with a guy. But you just can't imagine how different my life has been from most girls. I just never had the chance to be around guys all that much, and now I feel shy around them, even though what I really want is ... is to ... '
"Rita wasn't one to mince words. She broke in and said, 'You mean you'd be interested in a little action if the guy would be gentle with you, right? You're feeling a need for the old dick, aren't you, honey?' I felt relieved that she had spoken for me, because even though I knew her pretty well by this time, I still felt pretty embarrassed to talk about sex the way we were beginning to.
"Rita put her hand on my shoulder and said, 'Listen, Carlotta, you just leave everything to me. It just happens that you've come to the right place to get started.' Then she began telling me about the behind-the-scene activities at the theater where we worked. She said the place was owned by a real rich guy named Bart, and that he owned a whole chain of theaters. The one where we worked was the largest one in the chain, and he'd had a special room installed upstairs for a very special reason. He called it the 'Beaver Room' and as Rita told me the name, she playfully grabbed me between the legs through my skirt in order to demonstrate why it was given the name 'Beaver Room.' She laughed and said, 'Bart calls it that in honor of all the little "beavers" that he likes to keep in the room to play with-just like this little "beaver" you've got right there,' as she pinched me again in my crotch. Rita was like that, always joking and kidding about everything.
"What Rita told me next made me get hot pants right there behind the counter at work. She had worked at the movie for over two years. She hadn't been a virgin when she came there, like I was, but she didn't have nearly as much experience as she had received during the two years since she had begun her job there, either. After she had been there about a month, she was cleaning up one night after the place had closed up. She was bending way over trying to reach some spilled popcorn when she heard someone come up behind her. It was one of the ushers, a guy named Tom. When she turned around he was standing there licking his chops and leering at her. He had seen plenty as he had looked up underneath her dress and he wasn't trying to conceal it at all. In fact, he seemed to want her to know he had been grooving on her panty-covered asshole and the backs of her thighs. At first she was mad as hell at him. She asked him if he had gotten a good look.
"Tom just said, 'Yeah, but not nearly as good a look as I'd like to get' Rita said that Tom's answer kind of left her speechless, because she had thought he would be embarrassed that she had caught him doing it. But she didn't embarrass him at all. All he did was ask her if she wanted to see a special movie for 'employees only.' Rita wasn't like me-she had already had a few dicks inside her panties before, so she wasn't scared of him at all. She didn't know what he was talking about when he mentioned the movie, but her feeling was, 'What have I got to lose?' Besides, Tom was a pretty good-looking fellow-a tall guy with broad shoulders and dark brown hair.
"As soon as she was through cleaning up, Tom took her up the stairs to the projection booth and introduced her to the projection man. He was a blond guy named Bob who looked her up and down and said he had been wondering when he was going to get to meet the new candy stand girl. Tom asked Bob if he had any of those 'employees only' movies around and Bob said just to sit tight and he would oblige them. Tom remarked that now that Rita was a full-fledged employee, she should get to enjoy all the benefits.
"The movie was shown to Tom and Rita in a small room between the projection room and the Beaver Room, which Rita hadn't yet seen and didn't know anything about yet. It was this part of what Rita told me that got me all hot and bothered. The movie was unlike any movie Rita had ever seen in her life. She told me she hadn't even known there were any movies like this before. The whole thing was in color, and showed guys and girls getting screwed right and left. You could see everything. Girls taking their clothes off and then playing with themselves with their fingers, guys running in with hard dicks and leaping into bed with them, the whole works.
"Rita said that during one sequence where a guy was down on his knees taking a girl's panties off and slipping his tongue in between the girl's legs, it was just about more than she could stand. She was getting hot as a firecracker, and she started perspiring freely. She was so interested in what was going on on the screen that she almost forgot about Tom being with her, so she started rubbing her thighs together underneath her dress to give herself some relief.
"In a second she felt a hot hand between her legs and realized that Tom knew how hot she was. She didn't even make any pretense when Tom said, 'Baby, you want to feel what that chick on the screen is feeling?' She just threw her legs wide open and pulled her skirt up past her thighs. Tom didn't need a bit of prodding. He slid onto the floor in front of her and in a few seconds he was sliding her panties down past her knees and burying his face in her muff. While he was sucking her pussy, she heard someone behind them. It was Bob, the projection man.
"He said, 'Have a heart, kids, let me in on the action!' Rita was feeling so good from having Bob's head squeezed between her legs that she would have said 'Yes!' to anything, so when Bob started unbuttoning her blouse, she was all for it. Without any prompting, she reached around and unhooked her brassiere. First Bob started sucking on her tits, then both guys lifted her up and carried her over to a couch in the corner of the room where they each fucked her twice, taking turns, and then she sucked them both off. The action on the screen had been over for a long time when the three of them finished getting their kicks, Rita said. When it was all over and they were putting on their clothes, Bob remarked to Tom that, 'The boss would be interested in meeting this hot little chick.' Rita later found out they were referring to Bart, the theater's owner.
"After Rita finished telling me about her experience, I asked her what that had to do with me. Rita told me that there were regular parties held in the Beaver Room every week or so, and that it was the perfect place for me to lose my cherry. She said the guys would be especially gentle with me when I told them I'd never done it before. And she said that they'd be especially glad to get into the pants of a girl who was still cherry. But I had misgivings about the idea. There was one thing in particular that bothered me. I couldn't understand how she could allow herself to have sex with more than one guy at the same time. Rita explained that when Tom and Bob had both been with her in the private projection room, it was the first time she had ever done it with more than one person at the same time, but she said it was groovy, and that after you got used to it, it was 'the only way to fly.' I still wasn't entirely convinced, but I was gradually getting more interested. I told her I would like to attend one of the get-togethers in the Beaver Room, but that I was afraid I'd be very scared and shy. After all, I'd never been with a guy before at all, so this seemed like a very big step!
"Rita said not to worry about a thing, that she would be right there with me, to keep an eye on me. Then she said something that made me feel very funny. She said, 'You know, Carlotta, I'll enjoy keeping an eye on you. You're a damned good-looking girl. It'll be a pleasure to see what you look like with your clothes off. I'll bet you've got a lot to offer'. I kind of blushed at the compliment, but the idea that Rita was interested in seeing my nude body made me sort of scared and excited at the same time. I told her I guessed it would be okay to tell Tom, Bob and Bart that I'd join them the next time they had one of their little parties. But I told her I wanted to make sure I could leave any time I wanted to. Rita laughed and pinched my cheek, and said, 'Don't worry little cherry-girl, you won't want to leave once you get in on a little of the action.'
"A few nights later, Rita told me that she had made all the arrangements, and that the party was to be the next night. When Tom passed by the concession stand that night, he was really giving me the eye. I smiled at him, sort of nervous-like, and he walked over and said, 'I hear you're coming to our little party tomorrow night, Carlotta.' When I nodded my head that I was coming, he said, 'Swell-I know you're going to enjoy it!' That made me feel a little better, because he didn't leer at me the way I thought he might-the way the old creep who had been playing with himself in the coffee shop had done. Tom just seemed really pleased that I was coming to the party, just as though it was going to be a PTA tea party or something. I guess he acted that way on purpose to make me feel better about the whole thing, but it still' made me feel more relaxed and confident.
"The next night I wore my sexiest undies again, took a long hot bath and doused myself with perfume. I could hardly wait until the last show had ended so that the party could begin. As soon as the show was over, Rita took me upstairs and into the Beaver Room. Tom and Bob were already there sitting down in two of the plush, leather chairs that were placed all around the room. There was a giant bed, thick drapes, a big bar, and a huge fireplace. Besides Bob and Tom, there were two new people there I had never met before. One, of course, was Bart, the manager. He was an extremely good-looking man in his early forties who wore a small black goatee and had gray sprinkled all through his black hair. With him was a petite girl in her late twenties wearing a leather mini-skirt, a bright red scarf stuffed into her silk blouse, and a pair of long black boots that reached halfway up her thighs. Her name was Gloria and she had blond hair that hung down to her waist and a sexy smile that showed off her white teeth.
"When I entered the room, Bart walked over and took my hand. Then he bowed and kissed it, just like in the European movies. He asked Gloria and Rita to sit down near Bob and Tom, then introduced me. He said, 'We have someone special among us tonight, friends and lovers. This little lady is here for a very special reason. Her name is Carlotta and if you'll all just take a good look at her, I don't think I'll need to add much more.'
"Then Bart turned to me and said, 'Do you want to tell everyone what you're doing here, dear?' I didn't have any idea I would be so much in the spotlight, so I was a little embarrassed. I opened my mouth and started to speak, but nothing would come out. Then Rita said, 'It's okay, honey. You're among friends. Tell them why you're here.'
"That made me feel a little better, so I said, 'Well, I'm 20-years-old, but I've never ... uh ... I haven't ever ... I mean, I'm-'
"Gloria interrupted me then and said, 'Don't be nervous, darling. What Rita said is true. Every one here is your friend. You have nothing to worry about. Now, are you trying to tell us that you've never had sex before ... that you're still a virgin? Is that it?'
"I nodded and mumbled that she was right. Then Bob, Tom, Gloria, Rita and Bart all smiled at each other and looked at me with warm, loving expressions.
"Gloria spoke again. 'You're going to be glad you came here tonight, Carlotta. For the moment, just have a seat and enjoy yourself-right, Bart?'
"Bart answered, 'Right. Sit right down here by me-and you and I will just let the others entertain us.' Then he turned to the others and said, 'Okay, kids, make yourselves at home and do whatever you feel like doing. If you don't mind, Carlotta and I are going to just sit here and watch you. But first let's all have a drink!'
"Everyone had a quick drink. I don't know what was in mine, but I can tell you that it made me relax in no time flat. And as soon as I finished, Bart put another one into my hand. Then I settled back in my chair beside Bart as Gloria and Rita joined Bob and Tom. The girls went over and sat on their laps, putting their arms around them and giving them big hugs.
"Bart called out, 'Don't be bashful, kids. The bed's big enough for all of you to relax on, if you feel like being more comfortable.'
"Rita said, 'I don't know about the rest of you, but I feel like I have too many clothes on. What about it, gang?'
"Tom said, 'That's no problem, honey. Just lie back on this bed and I'll undress you. I'm sure you'll feel more comfortable when those big tits of yours get some air!'
"Everyone laughed and Gloria said, 'She's right, you know. I'd feel much better if I was down to my undies, at least. Think you can help me out there, Bob?'
"Bob looked at the svelte figure on his lap, encased in leather and net stockings, and fairly bursting with sex appeal, for a half of a second before yelling, 'You bet I can help you out, baby. And I can do more than get you down to your skivvies, too.' With that he picked Gloria up and lay her down on the bed beside Tom and Rita, who were already at work removing their clothing. Rita's big breasts were bouncing around as she turned on her side to allow Tom's hands to find her skirt zipper. Her bra was already off and had been flung into the corner, and Tom was wasting no time getting into her panties. I was surprised at how big the bed was. Although both couples were lying there together on the same bed, they were at least four feet apart and still had plenty of room to move around in.
"All this time Bart had been just sitting beside me not saying a word. He was watching the others with a big smile on his face and a bright light in his eyes that told me he must have done the same thing to both girls in the past that was going on in front of him right then. I began to feel very warm toward him, partly because of the drinks, I guess, but mainly because of the fact that he hadn't yet made any moves toward me. I'd gathered by this time that I had been slated to be 'his girl' and that he must be the one who was going to have sex with me, so I thought it was especially nice that he was being so considerate.
"I even began to feel so good that I felt like being more sociable, so I said, 'This sure is a swell place you have here. Is it made especially to ... especially for the parties you have here?'
"Bart was obviously pleased that I had opened a conversation with him. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's exactly right, Carlotta. I had this room especially built to provide the right kind of background so my friends and I could come and have a little fun with no prying eyes to interfere.'
"When I smiled at him he must have taken that for a 'go-ahead' signal, and to tell you the truth I guess that's the way I meant it to be. Anyway, Bart casually draped his arm around me and asked me if I wanted another drink. I told him that I didn't and added that there was something I would like to tell him if I only knew him a little better.
"His eyes brightened and he asked me to go ahead and confide in him. He said he would like to consider himself close to me even if he hadn't known me very long. By this time I was really getting bold, what with the drinks and the way the others were feeling each other up and everything, so I said to Bart, 'Let me whisper it in your ear.'
"He was more than willing, of course, to bend down and get closer to me so I could put my lips near his ear. When he did, I said in a low whisper, 'I may be a virgin, Bart, but what they're doing on the bed there is making me feel very strange. I feel kind of warm all over, and I'm having other feelings I don't even want to tell you about!' When I said that, Bart was suave as could be.
"Keeping his head close to mine, he then whispered into my ear as I had done to him. He said, 'You don't know how glad I am that you told me that little secret, baby. Now let me see if I can't make you feel a little better about that strange way you feel. Maybe the first thing you and I ought to do is to find out a little more about the way you feel. For instance, if you feel warm, like you said, don't you think you'd feel cooler if we opened up your blouse a little bit, like this?'
"As he was talking to me he began slowly to unbutton the pearl buttons on my blouse, going from the top down. I just went ahead and let him do it, but I kind of turned my head away so I wouldn't have to look him in the eyes. Then I leaned farther back into the chair and answered, 'I guess that would be okay.' I could feel the air across the cleavage of my breasts and I knew that he was seeing what I had seen in the mirror-a tight bra with lace across the top, fairly bursting with two soft, smooth mounds of flesh. I could almost feel the heat of his hot stare down into my bra as he unbuttoned the last button on my blouse, and I could definitely feel the current of his hot breath as he breathed onto my breasts.
"When he had my blouse open all the way he said, 'Now let's see if we can't discover some more about those feelings you have. Could one of those feelings you don't even want to tell me about be centered right about here on your body?' And he let his hand fall down into my lap, ever so slowly, like he didn't want to scare me. He just let it lie motionless in my lap, but I could feel the heat from it all the way through my skirt and my panties which, after all, were very wispy and thin.
"I was beginning to feel pretty saucy by this time. He had won my confidence and made me feel free with him. So I answered, 'How did you ever know what I was talking about, Bart? That's exactly the place where I'm beginning to have a feeling that I'm embarrassed to tell you about.' I guess that sounded kind of coy to Bart, but I was telling him the truth. He turned his hand over in my lap and allowed his fingers to begin a slow, caressing motion through my skirt that set me on fire. I made no bones about the fact that I was getting enjoyment out of it. I couldn't help myself-I was beginning to turn and twist my body against his hand.
"With his other hand, Bart pointed to the bed where the others were lying pressed together. I had almost forgotten about them because of my increasing excitement, even though they were right in front of us. Bart said, 'Looks like a couple of other girls in this room are having some nice feelings, too, doesn't it?'
"By this time both couples had most of their clothes off. Rita was down to her panties, and Tom had nothing on but his pants. I guess he had his undershorts on too-I couldn't see that well. But the few clothes he had on weren't enough to keep Rita from finding his big prick and dragging it out into the open where she could go to work on it. She was rubbing it with both hands and every once in a while she would bend down and take a quick mouthful of it. Tom had his arms tight around her lower back and was sucking for dear life on one of her giant tits. They were both beginning to rock slowly back and forth in a gentle, swaying motion.
"Right beside them, Bob and Gloria were apparently getting each other hot as hell. Gloria still had her bra on, but it seemed just to be a tease, because Bob was reaching inside it caressing one of her nipples in spite of the fact that she hadn't taken it off. As I watched them my eyes became riveted on the mat of blond hair between Gloria's legs. Bob was playing with her there, and I could see his fingers nestling deep among the hair and slowly stroking her pussy. As Bart and I watched, we saw the soft, red lips of her pussy grow wet and inflamed with blood red color. Bart had already started slipping his hand into my skirt at the waist and I offered no resistance, so he soon had my skirt unzipped and lying down on the floor encircling my feet.
"Then, as I continued to watch the couples on the bed, Bart's head dropped to my lap, and with a groan he started doing the same thing to me that Bob was doing to Gloria. It was the most incredibly good feeling I had ever experienced in my life. I couldn't get enough of it. I began to move around thrashing my hips all over the place. Just then Bart's lips separated from my wet pussy long enough to call out, 'Move over, kids, Carlotta and I need room on the bed. I think it's finally time for this girl to have her cherry split!'
"The next few minutes were such a wild orgy that I'm surprised I was able to join in, considering I was a virgin and everything. But Bart had gotten me so hot I guess I was ready for anything. The first thing I knew, all my clothes were off and I was feeling Bart's prick at the threshold of my virgin pussy. And both Bob and Tom were working me over at the top. Each one had a mouthful of one of my breasts. I could see that Rita and Gloria weren't being lazy, though. They were going down on Tom and Bob, and the sound of them sucking the pricks of the two guys who were mouthing my breasts made me hotter and hotter. I reached over and did something I had never felt any desire to do before. I started playing with the girls' pussies with my hands, one on each side. This made them so happy that they both twisted around and began to cover my face with kisses while Bart continued to pump away inside my pussy and both Tom and Bob kept sucking my tits.
"I felt like I was in heaven, and from all the sounds the others were making, I know they were feeling the same way. I was so far gone that I hadn't felt any pain at all when my cherry busted and sent a trickle of blood down my leg. Then, in a few minutes after we were all connected, all six began to come at the same time. We were all moaning and groaning like you wouldn't believe. Finally, at one magic moment, we all hit our peaks at once. I felt a gush of hot fluid fill my pussy and felt Tom's and Bob's teeth on my nipples as they both shot their loads into the sucking mouths of Rita and Gloria. And both my hands were wet with their pussy juice as I felt the rapid little movements that told me they were both getting their cookies.
"Well, we were all so exhausted it took us a while before any of us were rested enough to stir from the bed. Needless to say, I had sex with them again very often after that in the room at the theater. After a few months I began to sell my body on the streets, because I could make more money and have more satisfaction at the same time. I sent money each month to take care of my brother and sisters. Of course, I never mentioned a thing about the way I was making it. So that's how I've been supporting them for the last three years. I don't know how long I'll keep it up-as long as men think I'm desirable enough to pay for my body, I guess. I feel that I owe it to my brother and sisters to give them as much as I can, and so far I think I can say that they're better off than they would be if my parents had lived. I'm thankful that my mother's insane sex ideas won't be forced on them, and that they will have the chance to have a healthy interest in sex."
PSYCHOLOGIST'S SUMMARY
The social worker who was assigned to Carlotta's district had adequately handled the financial and social problems of Carlotta's case. It remained for the social worker's colleagues, of whom I was one, to comment on Carlotta's personal and sexual behavior. When presented with the facts, it seemed to us that the religious mania of her mother was very instrumental in determining Carlotta's eventual activity as a prostitute.
Her mother's unhealthy attitudes toward sex obviously resulted from guilt feelings arising from the circumstances of her husband's death. It is clear that she felt-unconsciously, of course-the responsibility for his death. Further, this guilt feeling seems directly related to her performance of what she regarded as an unnatural sex act with the man who visited her in the absence of her husband. Her biological drive was sufficiently strong to overcome her initial objections to performing the act of fellatio, even though, in her own words, "I don't even do that for my husband." This same drive, however, was not strong enough to forestall serious guilt feelings after she had indulged in the act.
These feelings were intensified at the time of her husband's accidental death. It is not surprising, then, that she attributed his untimely death to her own "immoral" behavior, and readily accepted it as divine "punishment" when it occurred. The most unfortunate thing is that she carried these unwarranted feelings one step further, and unconsciously implemented them in the bringing up of her family. As for Carlotta herself, it was simply a case of finally being able to sample the "forbidden," once her mother was no longer present to stop her. Sexual deprivation is biologically unacceptable to the human organism if continued too long after puberty, as it was in Carlotta's case. When this situation does occur-especially in a person possessing inherently strong libidinal feelings, such as Carlotta-the results often produce an extremely strong desire to perform those acts of which the person feels she has been deprived. If this experience then proves favorable, as with Carlotta, it is not unusual to find that a basic life style may develop around the activities which satisfy the libidinal drive of the participant. In Carlotta's case, of course, this instinct manifested itself in her career as a practicing prostitute.
CHAPTER FOUR
"She Showed Me The Ropes!"
"I still couldn't believe it after it happened. A grown girl ... well, a woman, I guess ... letting a guy my age see everything she had. And the things she did to me and showed me how to do to her was better than any of the stuff I'd talked about with my buddies. She really 'showed me the ropes I'"
The preceding comment was made by Jamie C. when he was 13 years of age. It was reported in a study of the sexual habits of male teen-agers conducted in a five-state area of the eastern United States. What is unusual about Jamie's comment-at least in terms of statistical incidence is the fact that the young lady to whom Jamie refers was 26 years old at the time of their relationship.
The following case history reproduces in full Jamie's own version of how this relationship came to be, the manner in which it was carried out, and the emotional impact that this relationship produced in Jamie's contemporary and subsequent sexual behavioral patterns.
"None of the guys believed me, and I promised her I wouldn't tell her brother because he's my age and she might get into trouble with their family, but when Sheila came back to live with her parents that summer, it sure was a lucky break for me.
"After school was out, my neighbor, Billy, left for summer camp. I didn't go anywhere, so I was just moping around the house not doing much of anything. Once in a while I would get a lawn mowing job to keep my parents happy, but outside of that I was pretty bored. That was before Sheila got there. I had heard Billy mention his sister before, but I never paid much attention to it. Sometimes he'd mention that his family had gotten a card or a letter from her, but that's about all. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and Billy's sister Sheila was so old-geez, she was 26-that it was just the same as if he didn't have any brothers or sisters either. After she had come back home, I heard my mom tell my dad that she was there, and that she guessed her parents were real glad to see her because she worked in New York and hadn't been home in a long time. My mom said that she bet Sheila would be bored, because the town we lived in was just a little place, and she said Sheila was probably used to living in New York and getting to do the stuff that big city people do.
"One day I was throwing a tennis ball up against our garage wall and catching it when it bounced back, when I saw a big beach umbrella set up in Billy's back yard. See, our yards set next to each other at the back, and you could see across from one to the other except for the garages and a few trees that grew along the fence between our property. I walked over a little closer and looked through the trees at the umbrella, and I saw that somebody was lying underneath the umbrella. It was a woman wearing a bathing suit. I guessed it must be Sheila, Billy's sister. She was propped up on her elbows reading some magazine, and she had a glass full of something with ice in it beside her. She was lying on her stomach with her legs stretched out behind her. What got my attention, though, was that the straps to the top of her bathing suit were untied and were just lying on either side of her, leaving her back completely uncovered. I don't think I'd ever before seen a woman so near naked. Her bathing suit was blue, and it didn't cover very much of her even at the bottom where her hips were. I was looking at her from behind, so I couldn't see her face, but she had real black hair that she wore about even with her shoulders. Just then I realized that I had kind of been staring at her and I was afraid that she might turn and see me, so I went back and started throwing my tennis ball against the garage wall again for a while.
"That night when I went to sleep, I had a dream about her. I dreamed that I was watching just like I had been doing earlier, but that I was seeing her from the front instead of from behind. And I dreamed that I could see the top of her ... I mean her chest, the part where her bathing suit was supposed to cover. It gave me a real funny feeling."
Further questioning at a later date disclosed the fact that Jamie had experienced his first nocturnal emission during this dream. He had been too embarrassed to go into detail about this facet of his dream at the time this part of the interview had been conducted.
"The next day I was in the back yard again. I looked over to see if the umbrella was there, but it hadn't been set up, so I went on playing ball against the wall of our garage. In just a few minutes, another tennis ball came whizzing over the fence and hit the ground right beside me. I picked it up and before I could figure out where it had come from I heard a voice calling, 'Hello, hello ... anybody over there? It was coming from the direction of Billy's house, so I went over toward the fence and there was this woman standing there holding a tennis racket and dressed in a white tennis outfit with a real short skirt.
"She asked me if I'd seen a ball come into my yard and I said yes, and gave it back to her. When I went up to hand it across the fence to her, I saw her up close for the first time. She was really pretty-her face and hair and her long legs made her really look nice. I was kind of embarrassed to be talking to her, but when she asked me if my name was Jamie, I was surprised that she knew. She told me her mother had mentioned that one of Billy's friends lived just beyond the back yard fence. Then she noticed the tennis ball in my hand.
"She asked me if I played tennis and I told her I did, but that it was a long way to the tennis courts and I didn't have any way to get there. She said, 'I always play tennis a lot every summer, but I've been away from this town for years so I don't know anybody. If you'd like to be my tennis partner occasionally, I could drive us to the courts in my car. Do you really like to play?'
"I was glad she had asked me, because for my age I was a pretty good player. I told her I guessed I'd like to do that, but I'd have to ask my mother. I kind of felt silly saying that,' because it made me sound like a little kid, but Sheila didn't say anything about it, so I felt much better. I told her I'd see her the next day and tell her what my mother had said, if she was going to be out in the yard again. She said she probably would, because she had been either batting the tennis ball around or sunbathing almost every day since she had been home. She said, 'Haven't you noticed me out here before?'
"The first thought that leaped to my mind was how I saw her while she was wearing her bathing suit and had her straps off. I think I got kind of red in the face. Anyway, I stammered a little bit and finally told her that I hadn't seen her out there before. I don't know why I told her a lie ... I guess I thought she'd be mad if she knew I'd been watching her when she didn't have any clothes on. While we were talking at the fence I began to feel sort of nervous, because she was standing close enough that I could smell her perfume. And since I'm tall for my age, I could look right down the top of her low-cut white blouse. But I got self-conscious about it and turned my head so I couldn't see her there.
"My mom said I could go with Sheila to play tennis. She even said she thought it was real nice of Sheila to ask me, and said that Billy must have a nice sister. The next day I got ready and Sheila and I got into her car and we were off. As soon as I was inside the car I noticed that Sheila wasn't wearing her tennis outfit. She was wearing a mini-dress that wasn't much longer than her tennis skirt, though. The blue dress she wore was eight or ten inches above her knees and underneath she had on green tights. Since I was wearing my tennis shorts and was all set to play, I asked why she wasn't wearing her tennis clothes and she seemed surprised.
"She asked, 'Isn't there some place to change clothes at the tennis courts we're going to?'
"I guess she was used to stuff like that back in New York City, but a town the size of ours was lucky to have concrete courts to play on, much less a place to change your clothes when you got there. I told her that and she didn't seem a bit ruffled. I thought maybe she would want to turn around and go back home where she could change, but she just shrugged her shoulders and said, 'Don't worry, I'm sure I can find some place to change.' While we were driving along she looked and asked me how old I was. I thought she probably knew already from Billy's mother, so I wondered why she asked.
"I told her I was 13 and she said, 'You're pretty good-sized for 13, aren't you? My brother Billy is quite a bit smaller than you, as I remember. Of course, I've been away so much during the past few years that I can't keep very good track of how big he is.'
"I told her that I was a little bigger than Billy and that I guessed I was pretty big for my age. Just then we passed over a small bridge and past a thicket of trees by the creek running under it. The tennis courts we were going to were out at the edge of town, so there weren't many houses around. Sheila pulled over to the side of the road and said, 'This looks like a good place to change my clothes.'
"In a flash, she was out of the car and pulling a little flight bag out of the back seat that had her tennis outfit inside. She was reaching past me to get it, and I couldn't help noticing her big breasts moving around inside her dress every time she would stretch her arms over the seat. As she started to walk away from the car, she turned to me and grinned, saying, 'Don't peek, now, Jamie. You might see something you're not supposed to.'
"My face turned red and I mumbled something She seemed to think it was funny for me to get flustered over thinking about the possibility of seeing her with some of her clothes off. As she closed the car door and started to walk away, she playfully ran her hand through my hair and mussed it up a little. As she walked down the hill toward the creek, she yelled, 'I'll just be a minute!' I sat waiting for her to come back, but while I did I watched her until I couldn't see her anymore because of the trees and underbrush. In a few minutes she was back in the same tennis outfit I'd seen her in the back yard of her house.
"When she slid into the car she said, 'You didn't peek, did you?' By this time I was beginning to get used to her joking with me a little bit, so I told her I hadn't peeked and let it go at that. After we got to the courts and played a while,, we stopped to rest for a few minutes.
"'You're pretty good, you know,' she said to me.
"It made me feel good to hear her say that, but it's a wonder I had been any good at all. While we were playing I couldn't concentrate on the game very well. I was too busy looking at Sheila as she dashed all around over the court. Lots of times when she would bend over I could see all the way up between her legs to the place where her tennis pants made a red line from being a little too tight.
"I didn't talk much, so she kept trying to draw me out more. I couldn't figure why she was paying me so much attention. Then she began to ask me stuff about school and what I did on weekends. Before I answered her she said, 'Don't worry about me being Billy's sister. I won't tell anything you tell me.' I didn't know what she was driving at because I couldn't think of anything I'd be afraid of her telling Billy. For a minute I thought of telling her about the time me and some more boys had-shot out two windows of old Mr. Tucker's house with our BB guns, but I didn't think that would interest her very much so I skipped over it Then Sheila asked about girls. She said, 'Don't you have any girlfriends yet? I thought most boys were dating by the time they were your age.'
"Actually I'd never been any place with a girl in my life, but I didn't want to tell her that if she thought I was old enough to be dating girls. So I said, 'Oh, sure ... I have a couple of girlfriends. But their mothers say they can't date any boy until they're 15, so they can't go any place with me.' I don't know what made me tell such a whopper. Maybe I should have just gone ahead and told her I didn't have any girls because I hadn't been much interested in them, but I didn't.
"Sheila said, 'I'd think that a good-looking boy like you would have girls chasing him all around. Don't you know any girls that are old enough to date?'
"I told her that all the older girls liked guys that were older than they were. Then, while we were talking, it began to get cloudy. In a little while big drops started to fall from the sky. Sheila yelled, 'Hurry, let's get into the car or we're going to be drenched!' We both ran and headed for the car. On the way there Sheila slipped and slid into me when she came to a spot of ground that was already wet from the rain. When she put her arms around me to keep her balance I got a feeling I'd never had before. I felt her breasts all spongy and bouncy pressing into me for a few seconds. Boy, it really felt good! When we got into the car I was still thinking about the way they felt against my shoulder and arm.
"After we were sitting in the front seat of the car she turned around so that she was facing me.
She had a big smile on her face. What she said next really flipped me out
"'Well, well, you got a little feel out there when I slipped and ran into you, didn't you, Jamie?" She saw that I was getting red in the face, so she kept grinning and put her hands on my shoulders as she spoke to me.
"She looked me right in the eye and said, 'Hey, you don't have to be embarrassed because you touched me. It was an accident but even if it hadn't been an accident it's okay. Let me ask you a question. These girl friends you have-have you ever kissed them and hugged them? Have you?'
"I didn't feel like putting up a front anymore so I told her that I hadn't. She kept her hands on my shoulders like she was my big sister, but that made her breasts stand up right in front of me so she didn't seem exactly like a sister to me.
"She said, 'Jamie, I'm going to do something for you, if you want me to. I'm going to show you something about girls, so that when you go out on a date you'll know what to do. Would you like that?"
"I didn't know exactly what she meant, but the sound of it was terrific. I was dying for her to go ahead and show me what she was talking about. I said, 'Sure I would. What do you mean?'
"'Well, for one thing, Jamie, I think you should know what a girl looks like. Have you ever seen a girl-really seen her, I mean? Have you ever caught a glimpse even, of what a girl is like underneath her clothes?'
"I mumbled, 'N-n-no.'
"Sheila said, 'Well then, you're going to find out right now. At least you're going to find out part of it. No one can see inside this car, Jamie. It's raining hard now, so the windows are dripping with water. I'm not going to take off all my clothes here in the car, because it's too much trouble-'
"I was beginning to lose the hope that had been building up inside me.
"'But I am going to show you what a woman looks like from the waist up. Do you want to see me with the top of my dress down?'
"Hope rushed back to my mind as quickly as it had left. I couldn't answer fast enough. 'Gollee, yes!' I said to her. 'Will you? Will you let me see?'
"'Just watch,' she said with a smile on her face.
"Then she took her hands from my shoulders and started unbuttoning the top of her dress. She turned her legs up in the seat and I could see a long ways up her thighs, which were covered with the green tights. Except I thought they were just thick green stockings. I didn't know much about women's clothes, and so as far as I knew, her tights just went up around her thighs and were held on with garters. I didn't know then that they went all the way up and included built-in panties. While I was sneaking a look up her dress she saw me.
"She said, 'Oh, you're interested in what's down there, too, aren't you? Well, you aren't going to get to see anything below my waist. Not today, anyway. If you're a good boy, maybe I'll show you what's down there later. But just maybe,' she teased.
"She had already unbuttoned her two top dress buttons. I could see the top of her brassiere. It was one of those that look real white and pretty, with stitching around the top of it. Having her do this for me made me get dry in the mouth and made me hear blood pounding in my ears. It was so loud I almost wondered if she could hear the noise.
"Sheila was still smiling at me. She went ahead and unbuttoned the top five buttons on her dress, so that now I could see her whole brassiere. Then she reached up and pulled her dress-top down around her shoulders. I could see the upper parts of her breasts straining against the top of her brassiere like they might burst out at any minute. I just stared at her, not knowing what to do.
"Sheila said, 'Want to see what's under my brassiere? That's just cloth you're looking at, you know.' I wanted that, but I also wanted something else. Sheila seemed to know what it was without me asking for it.
"'Jamie, what are you thinking about? Come on, you can tell me. Are you thinking about how it would feel to touch me here?' She pointed to her breasts.
"I was too nervous to talk. I just nodded.
"Then she said to me, 'Go ahead, then. I won't bite you. You can touch me there.' I put my hand forward slowly, letting my fingers finally light on her chest just below her collar bone. I couldn't bring myself to touch her lower. My hands were already shaking just from doing what I had done so far. Her skin as smooth as a blown-up balloon, and it was warm to my touch. I could feel heat coming from her body now that she had removed her clothing.
"Finally I got up the nerve to let my hands fall to the top of her brassiere. When I did this she grinned and said, "That's the idea. Don't be afraid to touch my body. After all, I'm letting you do it'
"Once my hands had touched her brassiere and felt the mounds beneath it, I began to feel a tremendous pleasure growing between my legs. It was a feeling like the dream I had had the night after I had seen her lying under the umbrella. She reached behind her and made some motion with both her hands that made her brassiere suddenly go limp.
"'Now, Jamie, you can take it all the way off. I told you I was going to show you what a woman looks like. Go ahead ... remove my bra. I've already unfastened the catch behind, so you should be able to do the rest all by yourself.'
"I lifted her brassiere up and her big round, white breasts came tumbling out from under them. It was the first time I'd ever really seen a woman's breasts, and it just about took my breath away. From there on it was automatic. My hands went right for her two big knockers like it was the most natural thing in the world. I grabbed a big handful of each one but she stopped me by putting her hand on my shoulder again.
"'Wait a minute, Jamie,' she said, 'there's something you need to know about the way girls feel. You're grabbing my breasts too hard. Now, I told you I'd show you something about girls so you'd know what to do when you go out on a date. Well, this is part of what I meant. No girl wants her breasts handled as rough as you were doing right now. Oh, I know, you were all hot because it it something new to you, so that's okay. But what you should do, if you want the girl to like what you're doing, is to touch the breasts more lightly, especially around the nipples. See, like this.' She took my hands at the wrists and guided them lightly over both her nipples. 'Any girl will like it if you do it like this,' she told me.
"I didn't need any encouragment to keep doing what she had showed me. I kept rubbing her nipples and the dark area around them, which she told me was called the areola. I guess she could see that doing this was making me have that feeling between my legs.
"She asked, 'Is something happening to you down there between your legs, Jamie? What's wrong?' I could tell she was joking with me again. She knew exactly what was wrong, if you could call it that.
"I said, 'I have this ... well, my-' but she interrupted.
"'Do you mean your peter is getting hard? Is that what you mean? Or is that what you call it? Do you call it your penis or your peter, or what? Am I right?' She put her hand onto my lap so she was able to feel my hard little penis through my pants.
"I nodded my head up and down. 'Yeah,' I said, 'yeah, that's what it's doing. I don't know what I call it,' I told Sheila. 'I don't guess I call it anything.'
"'Well, I guess we'll call it your little peter for now,' she said. 'And when you grow up, who knows? You might have a peter so big that the girls will call it a horse cock!'
"Then she pulled her brassiere back on and fastened it in back again, covering her breasts. My peter was still hard as a rock, even if it wasn't so big yet. As she started buttoning her blouse back up, she said, 'That'll do for today's lesson. If you can keep this a secret, maybe we can do more of this.'
"I assured her I wouldn't tell a soul, and asked her when we could do something again.
"She laughed and said, 'You must have liked that quite a bit, huh? Well, I don't know just when it'll be. We'll see. Remember, I just live right across the fence from you.'
"As soon as she had buttoned her dress back, she turned on the ignition key and started the motor. In a few minutes we were back home. She let me out in front of my house and said she'd see me some time. As I got out of the car, she reached and gave my crotch a quick pat and told me, with a big grin, to be good.
"For the next few days I didn't see Sheila. The longer I went without seeing her the more I wanted to. I got so that I would go out and climb on our garage in hopes of maybe seeing her through one of the windows in her house, but I never did. And at night, I made a new discovery about myself. Just from thinking about Sheila with her brassiere off, I found that my peter, as she liked to call it, would get hard as a rock. And I also discovered that it felt very good for me to rub up and down on it. When I did this I would always think of how Sheila had touched it through my pants when we had been sitting in the rain, and about how she had patted me there as I got out of the car. Every night after I went to bed I would think of her and slide my hand up and down the shaft of my hard peter until it would begin to feel so good I could hardly stand it. One night I did it so much that I had a wild, explosion in my peter that made me shake all over. And in few seconds I felt warm, thick fluid shooting out from the head of my peter. After this happened it suddenly dawned on me that this was what I'd overheard some of the older guys at my school refer to as 'jacking off.' I got up out of bed and ran to the bathroom so I could get some water to wash the fluid off my bed. I didn't want my mother to find it.
"About a week later, there was a knock on our front door and when my mother answered it, there stood Sheila. She came in and introduced herself to my mother, and said that her mother wanted to borrow some black thread. She had been sewing something, Sheila said, and had run out of thread right in the middle of her work. My mother gave her the thread, but before Sheila left she told my mother that she was glad I knew how to play tennis, that I had played well and helped her to while away a few hours the previous week. When I heard her mention my name, I went into the room where my mother and Sheila had been talking.
"Sheila and I said 'Hi' to one another, and Sheila remarked to my mother that she and her mother needed their yard mowed. She told my mother it hadn't been cut since Billy had gone to camp, and that they would pay me three dollars for the job if I would do it.
"I spoke up right away-'Sure, I'll do it for you.' I asked when they wanted it done and Sheila said, 'Any time tomorrow after 10 in the morning." I told her I'd be there. After Sheila left, my mother mentioned how nice it was of her to offer me the job. I agreed with her, but I had a different reason. I was thinking of how I might get to play around some more with Sheila. I couldn't be sure about it, but it looked like Sheila winked at me as she went out our front door. I hoped she was planning to give me some more 'lessons' on what to do with girls on dates, but I couldn't be certain that's what would happen.
"The next morning I was at Sheila's house five minutes early knocking on the door. When her mother came to the door she said to come on in and left me sitting in the front room while she went into another room for a second. When she came back she told me that she had to leave, but that Sheila would show me what needed to be done and where the lawn-cutting tools were. She said she was going to a club meeting and would be gone all day, but that Sheila would be down shortly. Then she dashed out the door and left me sitting in their living room waiting for Sheila. As I watched her mother's car pull out of the driveway and start down the street I heard Sheila's voice. She was calling me from upstairs.
"'Where are you?' I called back.
"'Upstairs,' she shouted, 'Come on up.'
"I went up the stairs and walked to Billy's bedroom. I knew where it was because during the school year we often worked on model airplanes there. As I came to his door, I heard Sheila's voice come from farther down the hall.
" 'On down here,' she called to me. 'I'm down at this end of the hall.'
"As I approached the room from which her voice came I wondered why she just kept yelling to me and never had come downstairs like her mother had said she would. When I got to Sheila's door, I knew the answer. Sheila was still in bed. She hadn't gotten up yet for the day, and was still lying in her bed. She had the covers pulled up to her chin.
"When I walked into the room, she raised up just enough to let the cover slip down a few inches and pointed toward the foot of the bed.
"'Have a seat,' she offered. I sat down on the foot of her bed.
"'Don't worry about the lawn,' she told me. "The work we need done will take you about an hour. Mother's going to be gone all day, so you have plenty of time for that'
"My hopes were rising that I was going to get to see her again ... to see her body again with no clothes on. At least I might get to see her breasts again, I thought to myself-and maybe more. My mind raced.
"She lay back with her head on the pillow and her hair was fanned out around it. She had her big smile on again, and this time I smiled back. This seemed to amuse her.
"She said, 'I don't feel like getting up yet. I knew you'd be here at 10, so I just thought I'd call you up here when you came. I knew my mother was leaving as soon you got here.'
"'Good,' I said. 'I hoped I could see you today. I didn't know for sure if you'd even be home or not. But I was hoping you would be.'
"'Oh, you were, were you?' she kidded me. 'Now why would that be?' she asked.
"I began to get a little red in the face, so I turned my head.
"'Tell me a secret about yourself, will you, Jamie?' she asked.
"I didn't know what she wanted to ask. I said, 'I guess. What is it you want to know?'
"'I want to know,' she said, 'whether you've been thinking any about what I showed you the other day?'
"I told her that I had. Then she wanted to know where I had been and what I had been doing when I thought about her.
"'It was mostly in bed,' I answered her, 'before I went to sleep at night.'
"'That's when I thought it might be,' she said to me. 'And how did it make you feel to think about my breasts while you were in your bed?'
"I realized that somehow she seemed to be driving at what I'd been doing to myself in bed. I couldn't imagine how she could possibly know, but that's how the conversation seemed to be headed. Then she became more direct.
"'Jamie, tell me the truth. Do you get a good feeling in your peter when you think of my breasts being naked like they were last week in the car?'
"I hung my head. 'Yes,' I finally said. I knew I was talking so low that she could barely hear me, but I felt embarrassed to be talking about the subject. 'Yes, it makes it all hard and throbbing when I think of that,' I said.
"'There's no reason to be bashful when you're telling me about it,' she said. 'Don't you know that it gives me pleasure to think that the sight of my body makes your peter hard?'
"The thought of Sheila getting pleasure from me was something I hadn't considered. It was a nice thought. 'Oh,' I said, a little more at ease, 'no, I didn't know.'
"'If thinking of me made your peter hard, I'll bet you did something about it, didn't you?' she asked.
"I couldn't look at her as I answered. And I didn't say anything-I just nodded my head.
"'Do you know how I know about what you do when you have a hard peter?' she asked.
"I shook my head.
"'Because everybody does it,' she said, 'even girls.'
"I was amazed. I didn't understand what she meant. She saw my confusion.
"'I don't mean that girls play with themselves exactly like boys,' Sheila laughed, 'but we still rub ourselves between our legs if we feel sexy enough.'
"I had a vague understanding of what she must mean. While I was considering what she had said, she wanted to know how my peter felt right then. I told her it was very hard. She patted the bed and motioned for me to come nearer to her.
"'Come on down here to the head of the bed,' she said, 'and let me see how hard it is.'
"I moved to the spot she had pointed out. She reached out and touched the bulge my penis was making in my pants. As she did this, some more cover slipped down and I could see part of one breast. That made my peter that much harder still.
"Then she slowly took hold of the zipper to my fly and said, 'Let's examine this peter a little better. You don't mind if I get it out here in the light where I can see it, do you?' She zipped down my fly and said, 'let's examine this peter a little betinside and came out with my peter. It felt so good for her to touch it.
"As she held it and slowly skinned it back, she said, 'You've told me a secret, so now I'll tell you one. I'm lying here without a thing on underneath this cover. Would you like to see?' The thought of seeing her whole body naked was almost more than I could handle. I swallowed hard and nodded my head.
"'Then go down to the foot of the bed and strip off all your clothes,' she commanded. I did as she said, even though I felt a little cold and a lot more bashful than cold. But the thought of getting to see her naked was enough to get me to do almost anything.
"'Now raise the very bottom of the bedcovers,' she told, 'and crawl up underneath. You can see me with no clothes, but you'll have to see me in the dark.'
"I climbed underneath and immediately smelled a kind of sweet musky smell that I associated with Sheila. My peter was very hard. It was all dark and I couldn't see a thing at first, but I could feel. Sheila put her hand down to where I was and pressed my fingers around her ankle.
"'Maybe you'd better start there,' she said, 'and just see what all you can find.' Touching her ankle made me warm all over my body. Her leg was smooth as glass as far as I could reach. When I got just past her knee, she stopped my hand and asked me a question.
"'You do want to learn what girls like, right?' I said that I did. 'Well,' she went on, 'then I'm going to teach you something now that most girls like more than just about anything.' I was anxious to know what it was.
"'You wanted to feel higher up my leg just now, didn't you?'
"From down underneath the covers I answered, 'Yes!' in a muffled voice.
"'Well, I'm going to show you how to feel me in a very special way. To do it you'll need to use more of your body than just your hands, though. You'll need to use your mouth, too. Will you do what I say for you to do with your mouth?'
"Already I was getting so hot from feeling her leg and ankle that I was wanting to kiss her there. I said, 'Yes, what do you want me to do?'
"She raised the top of the covers up near her head so that for the first time there was enough light underneath the covers for me to be able to see her body. She was looking down between her legs at me. I could see that she had been telling me the truth when she told me her 'secret.' She didn't have a thing on. I could not only see her two big mounds of breasts, I could also see the thick bush of hair between her legs that I knew concealed the part of a woman's body that I had never seen before. My head was about two feet away from the bush of hair which grew up from a beautiful low mound of flesh at the bottom of her stomach. Then she spoke to me again.
"'See that hair between my legs? I want you to play a little game of hide and seek. There's something in that hair that you'll like a lot, I think, when you find it. And when you find it, I'll tell you what to do next. Now bring your head up between my legs and I'll spread my legs so you can get a better look.'
"I crawled forward feeling my hard peter touch her leg until my head was right up between her legs looking down into that thick hairy spot.
"She giggled, 'It's all right. You can touch it. If you don't touch it, how will you ever find what I've got hidden there?'
"I began to slowly brush my fingers through the hair and she reached down and took my hand in hers to guide it for me. She began to move my hand so that my fingers made a stroking motion straight up between her legs, beginning near her ass and ending below her navel. My fingers were getting wet from the juice that had begun to come out of her. In a few minutes she said that I was doing fine at rubbing her there and that I didn't need any help from her to guide me. So she moved her hand off mine and, by raising up a little off her back, she was able to reach my peter.
"As she began to rub it, she said, 'See, Jamie, how you make me wet between the legs when you play with me. It's feeling so good to me that I want you to feel good, too, so that's why I'm giving your peter some more attention.'
"'Is this the part that girls all like so much?' I asked her.
"She smiled and said, 'That's only the beginning of it. What I want you to do now, Jamie, to give me satisfaction, is to put your face right down as close as you can get it in between my legs. I want to show you what a grown woman's pussy looks like.'
"I did as she said. I felt like I wanted to ram my nose as far up between her legs as I could. She saw the reaction it had on me and gave me more instructions.
"'Now put your mouth on it, Jamie.' Her voice was getting kind of quakey and shakey. 'Put your lips right down on the red slit you see there and lick it with your tongue. Especially that little nub at the top of the slit!' She was beginning to breath hard. I did just as she said and felt her move her fingers faster and faster up and down my peter. I looked up from sucking her to see her face, and it was all contorted and animal-like. But she shoved my face back down between her legs, which was fine with me, because I was beginning to like the taste of her almost as well as the smell of her.
"'Not yet,' she said. 'Wait 'til I tell you and then you can slip your little hard peter in there where your tongue is!' I kept sucking away at her. Finally she slipped her other hand over my ass and started pulling me up higher toward her head.
"'Hurry, now, Jamie!' she cried. 'Hurry and slam your little dick into my pussy. I needed you to get me hot enough first with your mouth, because you're going to shoot your load in a hurry since this is your first time!'
"As she guided my peter into her hot, waiting pussy I felt my whole body shudder with excitement and I began to ram her pussy like a piston. I felt a slow fire creeping up the shaft of my peter that seemed bound to explode any minute. She now had both of her hands on my ass and was grinding her pussy against me every time I moved my ass.
"'Keep it up, sweet boy, keep fucking me for all you're worth!' she yelled. When she saw that I was sweating heavy and breathing fast, she started to move her pussy against me even faster and grabbed me around the head as she yelled, 'Now, honey, now. Pump it to me. Now!'
"Just then I felt the most wonderful feeling I had ever felt in my life. My peter let loose a stream of hot fluid and I grabbed two handfuls of her tits as I felt the breath go out of my body. Then I felt her go still underneath me and I fell down on her, exhausted by the intense pleasure I had just experienced for the first time.
"Even after it was over she still let me play around with her some more under the covers as she told me more about what girls like and showed me what she meant. When I left to mow the lawn before her mother got back, she even put her mouth on my peter and sucked and sucked it until I shot another 'load of come,' as she called it, right into her mouth. After we were dressed she warned me never to mention what we'd done to anybody, especially to her brother or mother. I told her she didn't have to worry and I guess she believed me because she let me screw her a lot more before the summer was over. When I went back to school that fall, I felt like I was an expert, and I went right to work, doing what Sheila had shown me, to some of my girlfriends.
"I've thought about it a lot since, and I still don't know why she decided to let a kid as young as me get a piece of her pussy-maybe it was because there were hardly any guys her own age in town that summer, or maybe it was because she honestly wanted to teach me about sex. Whatever the reason, I sure was glad she let me do it."
PSYCHIATRIST'S SUMMARY
Jamie's initial sex experience is worthy of consideration for several reasons. First, his case represents the small minority of males who underwent their first sexual intercourse not with a girl who was of a similar age, but instead with a girl who was considerably older. In Jamie's case this age difference was 13 years. In fact, sex studies have shown that less than 3% of American females have indulged in coitus with partners who were more than five years younger than themselves. Jamie's experience, then, reveals a rather marked deviation from the statistical norm.
Another factor which renders Jamie's case of more than passing significance is the "instructional" nature of his sexual relationship with Sheila. Since Jamie's interview took place four years after the occurrence of his initial sex experience it was possible to view his subsequent sexual activity as an extension of this first sexual contact. It was noted that Jamie had enjoyed a greater number of sex partners during that period than had most males of his age. Further, these relationships exhibited a more pronounced absence of mental and emotional conflict than the relationships of males comparable to Jamie in both age and economic environment.
To the extent that we may accept Jamie's subjective feeling about his sex life from the time of his first encounter with Sheila to the time the interview was conducted, we must conclude that Sheila was actually instrumental in providing Jamie with a better-than-average emotional outlook from which to enter into adult sexual relationships. It was not possible, of course, to determine her motives in initiating the sex acts which Jamie experienced with her. It is nevertheless true that if her objective was to provide sex instruction for the young man, she succeeded well. Whether or not her own sexual drive was of paramount importance in the relationship, the effect appears to be that Jamie profited from it emotionally.
The next step in researching this relationship would be to conduct an in-depth interview with Jamie at a much later date, preferably after his marriage. In this way, the ultimate effect of his unusual first sex experience could be more readily assessed. Unfortunately, because Jamie is only 17 at the time of this writing, such a comparison is impossible.
CHAPTER FIVE
Older Girls Are Grateful
Margy P. represents a small group of women who are often overlooked-women such as Margy have not only been ignored by the community of scientific research, but, even more sadly, by individuals in their own lives whose aid they have sorely needed. Although mentally quite bright, and physically very attractive, Margy remained unmarried at the age of 28. This fact, in itself, would hardly merit our attention here. Many modern young ladies do not marry until that age or later for many reasons. One might almost say that the concept of the "old maid" is growing more and more inappropriate as a description of any contemporary American female.
But the exchanging of marital vows was not the only thing that Margy, at the age of 28, had not experienced. Something far more vital was lacking in Margy's life. For all of her 28 years, Margy had never had sexual intercourse. Margy was as much a virgin at that age as she had been when she was a school child. Her hymen remained intact, and she had not once participated in an act of coitus. Like the woman whose story was told in a recent motion picture, Margy, at 28, was a woman who had simply never had a sex life. Her story came to light only after her eventual marriage at the age of 30. Her husband, who recognized the uniqueness of her sexual history, mentioned the fact to a friend who was employed as a psychology teacher at a nearby university. From there, she was contacted and interviewed in depth by a mutual colleague who made the following account available for inclusion in this study.
Margy recounted her experience in the presence of a tape recorder, and after being assured she would have complete anonymity, she permitted the inclusion of her story in this study of initial sex experiences. An exact transcript of that record, told in Margy's own words, follows.
I am Margy (surname deleted to insure anonymity) , and I agree to record my sexual history for the purpose of the psychological research you've told me about, Doctor. I'm 30 years of age, I'm Caucasion, and I'm five feet six inches tall and weigh 125 pounds. You said it was very important that I tell you as many details about myself as possible, so I guess you mean for me to give a basic description of myself first. Well, I have auburn-I guess some would call it redhair. My complexion is fair-when I was a little girl they called it peaches and cream. And my measurements are 36-23-37. I don't exactly look like I did when I was a teen-ager, but I haven't gained much weight since then. Ron, my husband, says my figure is very pleasing to him.
I've only been married a few months, now, as you know. I understand that your main interest is in my earlier sex life ... before I was married. It's kind of embarrassing for me to talk about it, Doctor, but I had problems that made me ... well, of course, you already know about it ... I never had sex with a man until I was 28 years old. In other words I was a virgin for the first 28 years of my life. Oh, I wanted to, Doctor. It wasn't that I didn't want to. You've already helped me enough so that I can admit that fact to myself. For most of my life I wasn't even able to do that much ... to admit that I wanted sex, I mean.
I guess I'd need to start at the beginning for this to make any sense. Well, I was one of two children. I had an older sister who was killed in an automobile accident when I was nine. My sister was 17 at the time. She was riding in a car with her boyfriend and another couple. One of the other boys was hurt pretty bad, but my sister was the only one killed. Her boyfriend was drinking at the time, everyone said, but it was hushed up to keep him out of trouble with the law. They said enough damage had been done already, and that there was no reason to make it any worse if it could be avoided.
But my parents always felt real bad about it. From then on, they hardly let me out of their sight. They were always scared to death that something was going to happen to me. Another thing I found out a lot later was that my sister had been ... sexually promiscuous, I guess you'd have to say. My parents never said anything at all about that part of it to me, but I had a cousin who was only a couple of years younger than my sister and she told me all the details after a few years had passed.
I was kind of shocked when she told me. She said my sister had acquired a reputation among the guys in her school for being a ... for always ... well, what she did was perform fellatio on almost any boy who wanted it. My cousin said my sister was once caught by a school janitor going down on a guy right in front of his hall locker. It was after school and there weren't many people around, of course. They had been practicing a play that night Word never got back to my parents about this little episode, apparently, but my cousin said there was quite a scandal about it. Instead of reporting my sister to school authorities, the janitor ran the boy away with the threat he'd be reported and get into big trouble if he didn't clear out fast. Then he ... well, my cousin says that according to the rumor going around after it happened, the janitor immediately unzipped his fly and exposed himself to my sister. And said something really lewd to her like, "If you like to eat the one-eyed worm, you little slut, I've got one right here waiting for you. You'd better blow me real good or else I'm going to tell the girls' counselor what you were doing to that kid. And if I do that, they'll toss your sweet little cunt out of this school so fast it'll make your head swim." So my sister got right down on her knees, took his old penis into her mouth and did it for him. And after that, the janitor used to make her come down to the broom closet at lunch hour and do the same thing two or three times a week.
I don't know whether that all happened or not, but I wouldn't doubt it. Even as young as I was, I sort of knew that my sister was ... well, that she was kind of "sexy." We had separate bedrooms, but I would go into hers when she was getting ready to go out on a date. It seemed very romantic to me, at the age of 9, to think about having a boyfriend and everything. I didn't have any conception of sex at the time, but it was still all very exciting to me. So I'd always go talk to my sister as she was getting dressed and ask her where she was going on her date.
So I'd always see her putting on her clothes in preparation for her date. I was always interested in sneaking looks at her breasts, because t didn't have any yet, and I always wondered what mine were going to be like. She always wore real pretty underclothes-real frilly and lacy and everything. She would always parade in front of the mirror as she got dressed and she was always making saucy little smiles to herself and standing sideways to see what her figure looked like. Sometimes she would even pull her skirt up and look at her legs. I guess when she did all this, it was to see how she looked to boys. For whatever reason she did it, it always fascinated me to watch her.
When she returned from a date, that was even more interesting to me. My parents' bedroom was at the rear of our house, so they couldn't see my sister when she was parked in front of the house with her dates. But my bedroom was in the front, so I was able to see what took place quite clearly. I'm sure that my sister was quite aware of the fact that my parents couldn't see her, or else I'm sure she would have been afraid to do what she did. At my present age, of course, such activities as I saw through the car window on those nights are more acceptable to me. But at the age of nine, what I saw had conflicting effects on me.
I thought what my sister was doing must be very bad or she would not be so secretive about it. Yet, watching her and her boyfriends seemed to produce a physical effect on me ... a very pleasurable effect, too. I suppose, Doctor, that you could say that's when I was first sexually aroused. Of course I didn't interpret what was happening to my body as anything sexual then-I didn't know anything about sex yet, intellectually. But thinking back on it, I can assure you that I was aroused. My genitals were definitely involved in the stimulation.
I know what you're thinking, Doctor. You're probably thinking that I ... well, that I masturbated myself then. I didn't though. The genital stimulation I'm speaking about was much more subtle. My vulva would become turgid and warm, and I'd get feelings there that I now realize could have been heightened by manual stimulation. But, as I say, at that age, I just never thought of doing it.
Anyway, I guess I should tell you what I saw my sister do with her boyfriend in the car. They didn't ever actually have sex there. I guess they were both afraid. Since they were sitting right in front of our house and parked right on a public street, I guess there was every reason for them to be scared. But they sure made up for not being able to perform regular intercourse!
Usually it would begin by my sister's date sliding over to the middle of the seat, away from the confines of the steering wheel. Then they would start necking. By this I mean they would kiss each other on the lips and on the ears. Eventually, the boy would always get around to playing with my sister's breasts. There was a street light, so I could see them quite well. His hands would start roaming around the front of her sweater and before long he would be kind of "milking" her breasts through her sweater. That would usually make my sister start squirming around in the seat.
I guess the boy could tell she was excited when she started doing that. He would then run his fingers up under her sweater and his hand would become lost to my sight. Sometimes, though, he would pull her sweater up after he did this and then I could actually see his fingers in contact with my sister's breasts. I could see how he would begin caressing her all around the area of her breasts, paying special attention to her nipples, and to the area I now recognize as the areola. At the time, I simply thought of the areola as the "brown place around the nipples." My own breasts, Doctor, now that I'm a mature woman, have rather prominent areolas. And when I was a girl of nine, although I hadn't a trace of breast development, I did have a couple of inches of brown around each of my little nipples. So when the boy would caress my sister's breasts, I could identify with what was going on-especially when he would be toying with her right around her nipples and areolas.
But that would only be the first stage if it was a boy my sister especially liked. Before long I would see her hand go between his legs and start rubbing him there. I thought this was especially bold of her and never tired of watching her do this. Then she would put her hand down the front of his pants and come out with the boy's penis. She never even bothered to unzip his fly-she would just dart her hand down his stomach and come out with his prick.
Doctor, you must realize that discussing something this intimate is somewhat arousing to me right now as I'm telling it. I hope that's normal. Well, I'll go on.
As soon as the boy's prick was out of his pants, he would become very excited. For one thing, of course, he'd take what she'd done for him as direct invitation to touch her vulva. I'm sure this is exactly what she had in mind, too. So they would engage in mutual masturbation a while. As soon as they had gotten each other very hot by playing around with their sex organs, their little rendezvous in the car would invariably end in the same way. At some point-now that I know more about it I think it must have been when my sister was having her climax-she would suddenly drop her head down onto his lap and close her lips on his hard penis. Then I would see her move her head up and down, increasing the speed as she went along. She would have his penis, which by this time would be so big and red that it seemed about to burst, in both hands and her mouth at the same time. Then in just a few seconds I'd see the boy raise his hips up into the air and open his mouth and close his eyes. I wasn't close enough to hear them, so I never knew whether he was saying something or just breathing hard. Anyway, that was always the end of it.
My sister would always take a Kleenex out of her purse and wipe his penis for him. I always wondered about that, because I didn't know about the male ejaculation, so I thought she must just be wiping off her own saliva from his penis and I wondered why she did it. After she had done that, they would come to the door and he'd kiss her goodnight. Seeing her do this in the car made it easy for me to believe what my cousin told me a few years later about my sister and her activities with the school janitor.
Well, in the fall, when the accident happened and my sister was killed, a great change seem to come over our family. The funeral was very sad, with a lot of kids my sister's age attending. I could tell that my parents were very broken up about it. Of course, I was too, because I'd been pretty close to my sister. In the days to come, I was to see just what effect my sister's death had on my parents. Primarily, their reaction was one of exaggerated protectiveness toward me. They seemed sure that I was in danger, no matter where I was. They even started having me call them at noon every day just to tell them I was all right. When some of my school friends noticed this they thought it was pretty weird. At first it was just a joke, but then it became worse.
Even up through junior high and high school, my father would bring me to school every morning and come and get every afternoon like clockwork. What made it so bad was the fact that he would lead me right up to the door of our school. And when he came back to get me that afternoon, I was supposed to wait at the door until he came all the way from the car to get me and lead me by the hand again. You can imagine the effect this had on all my friends. They began to think of me as being really strange. I felt so sorry for my mother and father, because I knew my sister's death was on their minds when they did these screwy things, that I never had the heart to say anything to them about it.
A secondary effect this had was on my dating life. All the boys thought I was some kind of a kook, so they never asked me out. And when they saw my father leading me right up to the school door every day, that was enough to convince them I probably couldn't go out on dates anyway. I never actually knew whether my parents would have allowed that or not, Doctor. Do you know why? Well, I'll tell you why. All during my high school, not one boy ever asked me out. Not one! Of course, in a way I couldn't blame them. After all, it did look pretty strange, the way my parents were and everything. Then, during my senior year in high school, things got even worse, if that's possible.
That spring, my mother died of pneumonia. That left only my father and me together. I want to emphasize something, Doctor. I wasn't a bad-looking girl at all. I mean, you can surely see by looking-at me right now that I have been of at least average attractiveness when I was a teenager and a young woman. You can see my legs, doctor. You can see my face and my ... well, you can at least see how my breasts look through this blouse I'm wearing, even if you can't see how they look in the flesh. I assure you that I don't wear falsies or anything. I don't even wear a girdle, Doctor. The reason I want you to notice this is so it'll be clear to you that the only reason I was never asked out by a boy was because of my parents-not because of the way I looked. For a long time, I had a considerable inferiority complex about that, sc I just want to get it off my chest.
As I said, things got even worse after mother died. My father didn't have any brothers or sisters, so he thought of our situation, I guess, as just he and his "little girl" against the world. After I graduated, my father put me to work in his jewelry shop as a counter clerk. It was decided I wouldn't go to college, I now realize it was much more my father's decision than my own, but at the time I thought it was what I, personally, wanted. I suppose you could say that my father sort of "brainwashed" me into thinking I had made up my own mind, but that wasn't really true. And the complicated thing about it is that I can't entirely blame him for doing what he did. For wanting to have me around all the time, I mean. I don't think that it was a conscious thing on his part. It was just because he was so lonely. He just needed me around for company. After all, we both had lost all the rest of our family-his wife and other daughter-my mother and sister.
Along about this time was when my father and I began to undergo a certain subtle change in our relationship. Since I had almost no friends, and since I was with him almost twenty-four hours a day, because I worked with him as well as lived in the same house with him, we grew closer together. I guess it was natural. I cooked the meals at home and did all the laundry. And I made the beds and did the things my mother had done around the house when she had been alive. This isn't to say that he was a slave driver or anything like that. He wasn't at all. I've said I worked at the jewelry shop but what it really amounted to was just kind of hanging around there. My father had other employees who actually did most of the work. So I was just there in order to relieve his anxiety about me being out of his sight, I now realize. But at the time it seemed perfectly normal.
There was more of a change than that, though. The other part of the change is what made me like ... like I am now. I mean attracted me toward older men sexually. My husband, as you know, Doctor, is 53 years old. Most women might think a 53-year-old man was too old for them at the age of 30, but not me. Ron was 51 when I first met him, you know, and I was only 27. But before I get started telling you about my husband Ron, I guess I should tell you more about my relationship with my father.
When I was home with him, I usually had a sort of routine. I would fix dinner, then after we ate and my father and I washed the dishes, we would go into the living room and just talk. As the months went by, my father and I became pretty close. I discovered him as a man, not just my father. Of course, I can't emphasize too strongly that I was still very much his daughter, and that our relationship was primarily a father-daughter closeness. But there was definitely another overtone to it, too. I'd be lying if I denied it. It was more on father's part-at first, anyway-than on my own. But it was decidedly there in the back of both our minds. I may as well say it. You already know what I'm talking about. Sex. Pure and simple sex. Well, maybe not so pure-or so simple, either, for that matter. But, ugly as it is, sex is the only word for it. Sex between father and daughter.
But here's where it gets complicated, Doctor. Because ... well, just let me tell you some things that happened after Father and I were alone in the house. During these times after dinner when Father and I would sit in the living room and talk, I began to have my whole outlook on life changed. He would read me poetry and philosophical works and he'd have me read things to him, too. Then there was our music. Although Mother hadn't particularly cared for it, Father was crazy about classical music. With Mother no longer around, Father began to play records he hadn't played in years. And I developed a love for the music, just as he had had many years before. This pleased Father to no end, and we spent many a delightful night listening to music and reading to each other.
The first time sex ever presented itself out in the open was during the holiday season about a year after mother died. We were going to have a big dinner with all the trimmings, including drinks afterwards. We had just come home from the market, and I was taking a shower before getting dressed for the evening. Father was getting an early start on celebrating by having a few drinks before we started preparing dinner. I remember being glad that he was doing it, because he had worked hard all week and I felt he de served to relax and enjoy himself. I took a long, slow shower and then stepped out onto the floor to dry off. I pulled the towel down my back, snaked it between my legs and pulled it back and forth, drying my pubic hair. I continued doing this for several minutes.
I guess it would have been a nice show for any man to see, but that thought didn't cross my mind until I heard a loud noise outside the bathroom. I walked over and opened the door, not thinking to cover myself, and found my father bending over picking up a key ring full of keys that he had apparently dropped. For a second he just stared at me in my nakedness and neither of us spoke. Then he quickly mumbled something about his key ring, picked it up and walked away.
I was still standing there when he looked back over his shoulder to see me again. Only then did I cover myself, but I did so very slowly, just drawing the towel up to where it covered my pubic area and my breasts and looking back with what I'm sure must have been a glazed-eyed look toward my father. Then we both sort of turned around at the same time. He went into the living room and I went back into the bathroom.
When I was back in the privacy of the bathroom, I remember feeling kind of strange. I knew my father must have been looking through the keyhole and watching me dry my nude body, but my reaction to that knowledge was strange. Even though I knew he had been looking at me when I had no clothes on, I just passed it off to myself-consciously, at least-as something perfectly normal. I guess I was afraid of letting myself believe what was obvious-that my father had been interested in viewing my sexual parts while my body was unclothed. I made myself believe, instead, that he must have been just concerned about my well-being-and that he had just been "looking in" on me as though I were a child.
At dinner, when I saw him again for the first time after I'd caught him looking at me in the bathroom, neither of us mentioned what had happened. But here's something that I suppose must be important psychologically, isn't it, Doctor. You see, although neither of us mentioned what had happened, it wasn't as though we were ashamed of it, or guilty or anything. It was rather that we just mutually accepted it as something completely unimportant, something not worth mentioning. Of course, this wasn't true, but that's the way we did it, anyhow.
After dinner we listened to music and had a beautiful time together. My father had continued drinking and so had I. I guess that's kind of funny, too, in retrospect. Scotch was what my father always drank, but for me, he poured wine. I suppose that he didn't yet consider me old enough to drink hard liquor. But he knew how old I really was, for sure, because he had just gotten over seeing my nude, woman's body a few hours earlier. I went to bed first that night and my father stayed up to read some. This wasn't unusual because he often did that. But I noticed as I left the living room that he didn't even have a book in his hands. He was just sitting in his easy chair sipping his scotch.
After I had taken off all my clothes, including my underwear, I had gotten into bed and was lying on my back under the covers. I suddenly decided that we must have our floor furnace turned up too high, because I was uncomfortably warm. So I kicked off the covers and was just lying there on top of my bed drifting off to sleep when I heard my father walk slowly up to the bedroom door and peer inside. It wasn't the custom of either of us to lock or even to close our bedroom doors at night because we were the only two people in the house and we always knew where the other was. So all my father had to do in order to see his darling daughter with no clothes on, was to walk up to the door and look in.
I was just drifting off to sleep, as I said, when he did this. Why I didn't get underneath the covers then, or at least roll over on my side, I'll never know. At that time, I told myself it was because I was too sleepy to care, but I suppose the real reason was that I had a trace of exhibitionism in me and I wanted my father to see me nude.
Whatever the reason, I just lay there and let him feast his eyes on me. Since he was standing in front of the light coming from the living room, I could see him well, but he couldn't tell that I could see him, because the light was off in my room and besides that I had my arm lying across my head so that my eyes weren't visible to him. There was plenty of light for him to be able to see everything I had, though. And from the way he was acting, that must have been plenty! He thought I was asleep and I just let him think it by not moving a muscle.
That's when my father did something that would probably have frightened me if I hadn't been so drunk from the wine and so sleepy. He walked into the room a few steps and watched me closely to see if I moved. When I didn't, he was sure I was asleep, so he reached down and very slowly unzipped his fly and let his penis fall out of his pants. The look on his face was one I'd never seen before. It was a look I guess my mother had seen when they were in bed together, though. Because as I watched him he started slowly slipping his hand up and down the shaft of his penis. I was fascinated, and I didn't move a muscle for fear I would scare him away. It was the first time I had seen a male's penis since those times I used to watch my sister necking with her boyfriends in the car outside our house.
As I watched, his face became red with color and he continued to slip his hand faster and faster up and down his penis. He was apparently doing the same thing to himself that I had seen my sister do to her boyfriends in the car. I must have been really naive, because I remember thinking that I'd never thought about a boy doing that to himself. Or a man or a woman. Right there, while I was watching my father masturbate, I resolved to try it myself at the first opportunity. I was amazed, even then, to think I had never thought of it in relation to myself before.
As I watched my father masturbate, he kept getting hotter and hotter, and his hand kept getting faster until finally the same white-looking fluid that came out the penis of the boy I saw with my sister, oozed out of my father's penis. I remember noticing that it ran down his penis, onto his hand and the floor, but it didn't shoot into the air like I'd seen it do with the boys my sister was with. I didn't know then what the difference was, but I understand now that it was because my father was so much older than they were.
After my father ejaculated, he left the room at once, being very careful not to make any noise. In just a few minutes, he came back with some tissue paper and wiped the floor up so I wouldn't see it the next morning. Then he gazed tenderly upon me for a few more seconds, then turned quietly and left my bedroom for the night.
I immediately started playing with myself-masturbating-as soon as he had left. I wanted to make sure he didn't see me if he returned, so I crawled back underneath the covers. I was very hot from having watched my father play with his own sex organs, so in just a few minutes of gently stroking my clitoris, I was rewarded with a strong, satisfying orgasm that left me breathless. I couldn't imagine why I had never discovered this pleasure on my own initiative.
That night, in my sleep, I experienced what was to be the first of a long series of dreams that continue right up to the present. I dreamed things that I thought were unbelievably nasty and dirty. I can more readily accept the dreams now for what they are-simply the result of the sexual repression I had undergone for so many years after my sister died. But at the time, I thought they were terrible.
I know that I should tell you about these dreams for your study, Doctor, but honestly, they're so sexy and dirty that I'm still pretty embarrassed to talk about them. Well, here goes-I'll do my best.
My dreams would always either have my father in them or else another man who was about the same age as my father, but whose identity I could never quite make out. In the dream I had the night my father masturbated in my bedroom, I saw him in the car with my dead sister and she was masturbating him just like she had done with those boys. She even sucked ... she even performed fellatio on him. But then it seemed that they saw me watching them through my bedroom window. Then I dreamed that they ran into the house and burst into my bedroom before I could get my clothes on. In my dream I was grown, with fully developed breasts and a hairy, fully rounded mons veneris just like I have now. But my sister seemed to be the same age she was when she died-17.
After bursting into my bedroom, I dreamed that my father began to lick me between the legs as I lay on my back in bed. I dreamed that my sister was removing my nightgown, my panties and my brassiere while Father was licking me there. And when she had removed all my clothes, she appeared in her coffin at the foot of the bed, looking dead as she had looked on the day of her funeral. Then it seemed like my father quit performing cunnilngus on me and ran to my sister's coffin where he stuffed his penis into her mouth. When he did this my sister seemed to come alive and she raised up from the coffin and began to suck on his penis just as she had done in the car.
Next, while I was watching my father get his penis sucked by my sister, I saw my mother rush in the door and spin my father around toward her. She then displayed her sexual organs to him, and he pulled his penis from the mouth of my sister and began to copulate with my mother about three feet in the air. They just seemed to float there, copulating like rabbits, while my sister sank back into her coffin and appeared, once more, to be dead. As soon as my father had pulled his penis from her mouth she had seemed to begin to lose color. Just before her head struck the satin coffin pillow she was once more a dark, unhealthy gray-colored corpse.
As my parents continued to copulate in the air, I became aware that another person was in the room with us. It was one of my sister's old boyfriends. He walked past where my parents were suspended in air and as he approached my bed I could see that he had a long, erect penis sticking out the fly of his pants. He walked to my bed and spoke to me, but I could not understand what he was saying. It was as though I was watching a silent movie. His lips moved but nothing came out. This was especially strange since, in my dream, I could hear everything else quite well. As an example, I was even able to hear the sloshing sound of my father's penis as it went in and out of my mother's vagina.
Then as the boy reached the side of my bed and started to lie down beside me, I saw my sister's arm begin to rise out of the coffin. It appeared she was beginnning to get out of the coffin. Just at that moment, the boy leaped up from my bed and ran to the coffin, where he proceeded to push my sister's arm back in beside her. He then began frantically closing the top of the coffin so that my sister was no longer visible.
After he had done this, he leaped up on the top of the coffin and began slamming nails into it with a large black hammer shaped like a penis. At the last stroke of the hammer on the last nail that made sure my sister could not possibly get out of the coffin, the hammer shot a stream of sperm onto the walls which made the whole room shake and made the sperm flood the floor as it slid down the walls, rising eventually to about two feet deep and appearing to threaten my parents' position in the air, where they were continuing to copulate as enthusiastically as ever.
Then the boy swam through the sperm to my bed, where he immediately leaped on top of me and started to insert his penis into my vagina. But before it every touched me, my parents fell from the air and sank below the surface of the white fluid. Just as this happened, I woke up. I was so incredibly stimulated by this mad dream that I once more masturbated to a screaming climax although I had masturbated for the first time in my life only a few hours before. Relieved at last, I fell into a sound sleep and had to be awakened by my father in the morning even though I usually woke quite easily by myself.
We went to work as usual, and nothing was mentioned by either of us about our confrontation in the bathroom nor about his being in my bedroom the previous night.
'A few years later, when father died, I was really alone. I was left enough money to take care of me handsomely, and I still had the store to run, but my sex life really suffered. It just plain wasn't any fun to stimulate myself sexually without my father watching. I was "25 and had never been kissed"-literally. Of course father's death meant something else to me, too. It meant that for the first time in my life, I was absolutely my own boss. I could do just about whatever I wanted to do. The trouble was that I had become so accustomed to my life with my father that I couldn't develop new interests for a long time.
Eventually, after several months, I started actively to seek male companionship. But I really felt lost, attempting it, because I had never had a normal relationship with any male in my life.
One of the girls who worked at the jewelry shop belonged to a bowling league. She was perceptive enough to at least realize that I seemed more lonely with my father gone. She asked me if I'd like to go bowling with her sometime and maybe meet some guys. I readily accepted.
The second time I went I met a fellow whom I allowed to take me home. I didn't play any games with him. I let him know by certain looks and motions that I was interested in him sexually. Actually, he wasn't an especially good-looking fellow, but he was nice enough, and he was sufficiently sexual in his talking to me that I thought he would be good for me. One noticeable difficulty presented itself right from the start, however. He was too young.
Oh, he was three years older than I was, but he was so much younger than my father that I thought of him as being a baby. He lacked the sedate manners of my father and, for all his quietness and ease, he seemed much too rambunctious for my tastes. But I decided I would see what could be achieved with him. After we'd arrived at the door I asked him in and gave him a drink. Then I told him-sort of playfully-that I was going into the bedroom and that if I stayed longer than he wanted me to, he should come and find me. I knew that doing this was ridiculously juvenile, but I was interested in getting right to the matter of sex without beating around the bush about it. I suppose I should have known I would make a problem for myself by handling it as I did, but I went through with it, anyway.
I simply removed all my clothes, donned my sexiest scanties, and lay down on the bed. Then I called to him, and in a very sugary voice I said, "Bet you can't find me! And if you do find you shouldn't see me like I am now."
What I was referring to was my nakedness. Everything was going fine for a few minutes. He came searching around toward the bedroom where he knew that I was, and he made a game out of it, making barking noises and sniffing as he came as though he was a dog looking for some small animal. That was perfect. He was entering into the spirit of what I was doing fine. But when he found me, he ruined it. He immediately dove into the bed where I was lying and started to yank off my panties and at the same time began to rip off his own pants. As he did this he soon displayed a big erection, but his suddenness in coming to my bed, and his apparent lack of any interest in watching me for a while before coming to me made me lose all desire that I might have had. I was sorry, but his impatience, or at least what I regarded as impatience, made me turn cool to his advances at once. You can guess what happened then, Doctor. He left only a few minutes later yelling at me, "What kind of a fucking prickteaser do you think you are anyway, you dumb fucking cunt! You must be out of your head, to turn me on like you did and then play cold-ass with me when I get there. You can take your silly games and stick them up your ass!"
For the next several months, the story was pretty much the same. I'd meet someone, bring them home and then I just wouldn't be able to react the way they seemed to think I should. Then finally, when I was 28, I met Ron. I guess I was pretty aggressive about the way I met him, but I'm glad now that I was.
He entered our shop as a customer one day and left his watch to be fixed. When he walked up to the desk, I noticed that he was carrying a couple of phonograph records under his arm. When I noticed that they were classical music, I casually complimented him on his good taste. He responded even more warmly than I thought he would. He began telling about the soloists and the orchestras on the two records, and soon we were engaged in a lively discussion about them. I'm sure he considered himself much too old for me. But before he left, he asked if I might care to go to a concert with him. I could tell that he was especially pleased when I told him I'd be delighted to go.
That was the beginning of a beautiful relationship for Ron and me. As we got out of the car, my skirt happened to ride up on my leg rather high and I knew that Ron had gotten a glimpse of my lace-bottomed slip, if not my panties. His reaction warmed me all over. He cleared his throat and turned his head away. It was exactly as my father would have done! I was overjoyed. And my feelings proved to be justified.
Before the night was over, Ron and I were making love. Actually making love! He was so shy and so reticent to see me nude that he paused a little while at the door of my bedroom and shamefacedly looked in on me, hoping that he would see me without my seeing him. That did it. I knew that here was a man I could love. Within an hour I was working on his poor old penis and getting it harder than I'm sure it had been in years. And in his eyes was not only desire, but gratitude as well. He was old enough that his potency was definitely less than it had once been. But that was exactly the kind of situation I needed, so I gently coaxed his flaccid penis to a healthy, strong erection that delighted him. A short time later, when I was 28, we were married. People can say what they please, Doctor, but I'm much happier with my 53-year-old husband than a lot of them are with their 30-year-old ones!
I guess that's all I have to say, Doctor. I think I've told you what you were interested in. Just one more thing-I realize that I'm not "normal" in my sexual life. I know now that my relationship with my father and the death of my sister and mother made me different from most girls my age. But I only hope, Doctor, that other people who have emotional hang-ups are as successful in getting them resolved as I have been.
PSYCHIATRIST'S SUMMARY
Margy P. is a member of a very small segment of the female population in terms of the age at which she first experienced coitus. The latest figures with regard to this aspect of sexual activity indicate that 89.7% of American women have engaged in coitus by the time they are 25. Moreover, of the remaining 10.3% of American women who do not have coitus until after their twentyfifth year, 7.4% never participate in the act due to infirmities, chronic spinsterhood, insanity or death. This leaves an extremely small sampleonly 2.9%-whose chronological incidence of coitus parallels the experience of Margy. But in Marges case, we have good reason not to be so concerned with her age at first coitus as with her reason for never having participated in the act earlier.
While it is obvious that her parents' excessively severe restrictions after the sister's death figured prominently in Margy's long abstention from normal sexual intercourse, her dream sheds perhaps more light on her particular emotional state than any other single factor. We must keep in mind that dream analysis is at best an extremely subjective matter, and is often impossible to carry out with any degree of assured relevance to the case in question. It is my belief, however, that Margy's dream, because of it's unusual clarity and its number of clear-cut sexual associations, lends itself particularly well to this form of consideration.
The frequent appearance of her father in Margy's dreams simply means that to Margy, her father had come to represent sex in its most simplified form. Her father's activities in her dreams point out what Margy projects upon him as her own views of sex. She is unable, for example, to associate a stranger such as her sister's boyfriend, with the act of sex, since her father, as we have said, is assigned the role of representing sex in her dreams to the exclusion of all other persons. It is for this reason that Margy saw her father haying sex with her sister in the automobile in which she was accustomed to viewing other persons in real life.
Note, however, that a transference is madeshe sees her father performing the sexual activities with her sister that were in fact performed by another person, namely, the sister's boyfriend. This is because her father, while representing sex, nevertheless carries with him the vestments of head of the family-a moral and even spiritual position not to be demeaned by the performance of self-inspired sex acts. Therefore, the father is seen to perform not sexual acts of which he is the premeditated planner, but rather the sex acts "out of the brain" of someone else-once more, her sister's boyfriend.
For the same reason, when she sees her father engaged in a coital act with her mother, his activities must remain similarly unsullied in the eyes of Margy. Her dream-vision of their "floating in air" satisfies this requirement, rendering them "above" (in a very literal sense) the idea of sex, which Margy associates with the ground, the earth, or in this particular case, with the floor.
In this way, and in this way alone, is she able to accept the fact of her father's act of intercourse with her mother.
Margy sees her sister as the symbol of unwholesome acts perpetrated by females. Because she secretly desires to perform the same act (fellatio) with her father that she has witnessed her sister carry out with him-and in real life with her boyfriend-she eventually sees the sister die and become relegated to a coffin. In Margy's eyes, this death, while real in the sense that her sister did indeed die during Margy's life, is tantamount to divine "punishment" for the commission of the "evil" sex acts with the father, which Margy surreptitiously envies.
by the same token, she must be forever restrained from repeating such acts. This is why she sees the boyfriend nail her sister into her coffin. Further, this is done at a time when the boyfriend is about to have sex with Margy herself, a situation which she greatly desired in the waking state when she was a young girl looking from her bedroom window into the parked car where her sister performed fellatio on her boyfriend. The penis-shaped hammer with which he performs the task symbolizes the force of what she sees as her father's concealed desire for her as a sex object. Although this feeling apparently actually existed in her father, this is irrelevant to the hammer's significance in the dream state. For in her dream she sees not what truly exists, but what she wishes did exist, even though this fact be concealed from her consciousness by the ruse of dream symbology.
It is not surprising then, that when "the dam breaks" (that is, when her father's sexuality is unleashed) in the form of the hammer's ejaculation, ruin is the result She not only sees her father perish because of the act, along with her mother (they must necessarily suffer the same ignominious fate, since they were participating in the same "shameful act"-and this in spite of the fact that their "sin" is somewhat diminished by being performed in the air, "away from earthly shame," as it were). She also witnesses this sinking into the sea of spermatazoa at a time before the sex act with her sister's boyfriend can be accomplished. In this way, she exculpates herself from the "sinful" act-which she nevertheless greatly desires-in time to protect herself from participating in the sexual act which is about to be offered her by the sister's boyfriend.
Ron, then, with his more advanced age and his interests similar to those of her father, is a godsend to Margy. It is inevitable that she should be strongly attracted to him, and the proof is that she seemed very happily married two years after having done so. Only one further comment is necessary here: it is only hoped that, in Margy's words, "other people who have emotional hang-ups are as successful at getting them resolved" as Margy herself was.
CHAPTER SIX
Lesbians Must Start Too
Sally R. and Linda T. are presently enrolled in two different eastern women's colleges. Their expriences are related in this study because they represent a sampling of a group not yet mentioned. Two factors make the initial sex experiences of Sally and Linda of special interest to us. First, they experienced their first sexual orgasm with each other-that is, they participated in a homosexual sex relationship. Second, they participated in this experience with neither acting in the capacity of seductress of the other-that is, neither was the "aggressor." The girls entered into the relationship by slow stages which led them to a mutual desire for erotic sexual contact with each other. Once established, this mutual erotic interest persisted for some time, as we shall see from their case histories.
Sally and Linda were, at the time of this writing, 18 and 19 respectively. Their experiences, undergone at the ages of 16 and 17, came to light as the result of Linda's consultation with a psychological counselor at the college she attends. When the counselor learned that this study of initial sex experiences was being prepared, permission was granted for inclusion of the girls' relationship when the counselor was assured that complete anonymity would be observed.
Linda had gone to the counselor for assistance when it developed that she was failing in two of her six classes. During their talks, it was learned that a former sex relationship was indirectly responsible for her ineffectiveness in her classes. When the full story was learned, the counselor gave Linda advice and assistance in pulling up her grades and thoroughly discussed all the attendant problems. The following account is told in Linda's own words, as recorded in conference with the counselor. At the time of this account, Linda's problem was "out in the open" and she was involved in a chronological recounting of the sexual confrontation which had eventually caused her problems of restlessness and inattention in class.
I first met Sally on the bus that took all of us from the train station to the camp. It was early in June. School had just ended for the year and I, along with a bunch of other city girls, was on my way to a camp in upstate New York. It was a great place to spend a vacation. We were all looking forward to swimming, horseback riding, hiking and a lot more. This wasn't a "girl scout" kind of camp-there were more sophisticated things to do that were designed to interest girls of my age, too.
When I got into the bus, the older girls were sitting toward the back and the younger ones had began occupying the front seats. All the seats were full, but this nice blond girl offered to squeeze over so there would be room for me. Her name turned out to be Sally. She noticed that I was carrying some items outside my suitcase in a little leather bag, and that there were swim fins and a plexiglass face mask among them. This seemed to make her real excited. She asked me if I dug swimming and I said "Yes!" She enthusiastically began telling me about her own interest in swimming.
"I wonder if they'll let me wear this up here at camp," she said to me, grinning and holding up her suit for me to see.
It was a black two-piece affair that looked more like it should be on the French Riviera rather than wasted on other girls at a girls' camp.
I laughed and said, "I don't know whether they'll let you or not, but if they don't, then shame on them. I'll bet it looks great on you!"
The rest of the ride to the camp was taken up by chit-chat about our families and our schools. As soon as we arrived we were told that under a new rule, we could choose our own roommates. Sally and I looked at each other.
"Hey, that's great. I thought they'd assign us alphabetically or some other weird way! You wanna be roommates?"
I said, "Sure, it'll be perfect!"
That night we moved our stuff in and had dinner, getting to know some of the other girls. When we returned from the dining hall Sally said she wanted to try on some clothes her parents had bought her for camp. She thought the hem might not be right in some of her skirts, and asked if I'd help her with the try-ons. Now, considering what happened later, you might think that we madly went after each other's bodies that night. I'm only mentioning it so you'll know that wasn't the way it was. I don't think either of us knew what was coming until it hit us.
Of course, Sally was a very attractive girl. And I was pleased and complimented when she expressed her view that I was good-looking, too. But I'm sure neither of us thought of the other in a sexual way until the day we were swimming together. But I'll get to that later.
We were about the same size, so Sally nicely suggested that I try on some of the clothing that her parents had given her. I was delighted.
When I first put on her cute sun-dress with the low front, she exclaimed, "Gee, Linda, I think that looks better on you than it does on me. Maybe it's because of your dark coloring. How long have you had your hair so long?" she asked me.
"I've only cut it once in my life," I said, "that's why it's so long. I like yours the way it is on you, though. Your blond hair looks really nice the length it is now."
"No, now I'm thinking my dress looks better on you for another reason. I think it's because of your build. I'm only 34-21-33, but I'll bet you must be larger on top, huh?"
I was a little embarrassed, because I well knew that I had nice-sized breasts for a 17-year-old-girl. I said, "Yeah, I guess I am a little larger than you. My measurements are 36-23-36. But that isn't all that counts, you know. I know some guys who like girls to have slender figures better than to ... to be stacked like I am."
Then we got into a discussion about ourselves which proved to be rather intimate. "When did your breasts start growing?" Sally asked me.
"I kind of got an early start, I guess. I started growing there," I said, indicating my breasts, "when I was about 11 years old.
"Mine didn't start getting big until I was about 13," Sally said, "and my period didn't start until a few months later.
"Yeah," I answered her, "same here."
As Sally continued trying on her clothes I got down on my knees and helped her pin the hems that she wanted taken up. I couldn't help noticing what long, slim legs she had, but I didn't mention it to her. I was beginning to think we'd talked enough about each other's bodies. But I could sure imagine that the guys would like to see those legs encased in some nice sheer stockings and crossed under the hem of a short miniskirt. Although not actually fat, by any means, my own legs looked then about like they do now-kind of more filled out.
The next few days were pretty normal, with Sally and me being together no more than any other two girls in camp. On the fourth day we were there, seven of us were taken on a long hike by one of the camp counselors. Boy, what a killer it was! By the time we got back, all of us were pretty bushed. We must have walked ten miles or more! And for young girls who aren't used to it, that's a long way.
Sally suggested we go soak in the lake for a little while. I was so tired, that sounded very good. While we put on our bathing suits to go there, it was the first time we had seen each other completely nude. Honest it was! The rest of the time we both had been sleeping in nightgowns, and there just hadn't been any occasion for us to see each other. As Sally climbed into her suit I saw that she was really trim, with lean legs, a flat stomach, and two full little breasts that looked as firm as could be.
I couldn't tell for sure, but I think she got quite an eyeful of me, too. I'm sure she was looking at my long black hair, because she had already told me she was fascinated by it because of its length. And I think she also stared at my full breasts, my ample hips and my curvy legs and back. Anyway, we soon had squirmed into our suits and were out the door on the way to the lake.
In just a few minutes we were both lying in shallow water with the low waves of the lake lapping up across our shoulders. It was almost sundown, yet it was still so warm that we were perfectly comfortable.
Sally complained, "Boy, that hike really took it out of me! I feel like I'd been through a stampede! The worst part of it isn't that I'm tired, though. It's the soreness! Are you sore, too, Linda?"
"Yeah," I admitted, "now that you mention it, my legs feel like they're about to come loose at the sockets! And even my shoulders are sore."
"Mine too," said Sally, "and my back's the same. Wow, I guess that hike really shot us down, huh? I wish my mother were here. At the beginning of volley ball season, when I used to get sore like this, she'd come to my room and rub liniment into my muscles. It really felt good!"
"Hey, you know, that would be a groovy idea," I said, "and even if we don't have any liniment, I'll bet a good rubdown would work wonders for us. I'll do you if you'll do me!"
"Swell!" Sally exclaimed. "Who's first?"
"You can be first," I told her. "Come on up here where the water is more shallow and I'll start in on you."
Sally wriggled backwards until she reached the spot I had pointed out. Then she relaxed on her stomach with her head on her forearms, and said, "I'm ready if you are."
I sat beside Sally in the water-we were only in water a couple of inches deep-and began to rub her back. I moved my hands in long, slow strokes that seemed to relax her and make her feel better.
"Oh, that's great. Thanks! And keep doing it!" Sally yelled.
After a little while she said, "Linda, could you move down to my legs, now? I think they hurt worse than anything."
"Sure," I said, allowing my hands to pass lightly over her buttocks as I worked down to her long, tanned legs that glistened in the water. And I guess that's when I first felt it. I mean I guess that's the first time I felt desire for another girl. As I let my hands roam along the backs of her legs, I found that I wanted to hug her, to enclose her in my arms and feel her sex against mine. But it was a scary feeling, too. I remember that I didn't want her to know that I Was feeling the way I did. So after only a little while of rubbing-no it's wrong to call it that-by now it was caressing, not rubbing. After a little while longer of caressing her legs I couldn't stand it any more.
I said, "Hey, isn't it about time for me to get some of this massaging action?" I was trying to sound as playful as I could, because I didn't want Sally to know how I was feeling. Just then she blew my mind by saying, "Sure, Linda. I guess it is about time for you to have your turn. You know, I guess I was kind of in a dream while you were ... rubbing me. I. mean ... I was really feeling ... strange...."
I broke in. "Sally, you mean you were feeling that way too? I was feeling strange too, but I ... I didn't want you to know. I don't know why, I just thought you would think I was silly."
"Well, the way you were rubbing me was beginning to make me feel kind of ... kind of like I've felt with a boy sometimes. I mean like I felt when he touched me ... you know, kind of ... well, kind of sexy!"
There! At last it was out in the open. I felt very relieved. "That's all right, Sally." I said. "Don't feel bad about it" I hesitated. "Now that you've told me that much, I can tell you something myself. When I was doing it to you ... I mean when I was just rubbing the backs of your legs, I began to-well, I began to feel the same way you just said. Kind of sexy! And it was just from doing the rubbing!"
We looked at each other. Sally turned over on her back and let her legs relax with her heels in the water and her toes sticking straight up. "Yeah," she mused, "yeah, that was really strange. I couldn't tell how you were feeling, but I was sure feeling good myself."
I had an idea then. I don't know how consciously I was aware of what my feelings were leading me to. Anyway, I said "Hey, Sally, I'm getting kind of chilly. Will you wait 'til we get back to the cabin before giving me my massage. I mean, if you still want to. Do you still want to massage me like I was doing you?"
"Sure!" she said quickly. "Nothing's wrong We were just making each other feel kind of sexy. I'm not afraid of it if you're not. Let's go back right now."
As soon as we got back into the cabin, things became a lot easier for us. We weren't as afraid to let ourselves picture the possible consequences of what we were doing, I guess. But we still weren't able to admit the extent of our desires. I've talked to Sally about it since then, and she says that she was wanting me physically then, but that she was too embarrassed to talk about it.
Sally suggested, "I guess the best place for you to lie while I massage your back"-she was careful to state just what she was going to massage, at this time-"would be on your bed. Okay?"
I agreed and immediately lay face down on my bed with my bathing suit still on. I told her, "My straps are beginning to hurt my back. Mind if I untie them and let them lie?" I started to reach back and untie the top of my suit, but Sally put her hands to the ties and said, "That's okay. I'll do it."
I can't describe how sexy it felt for me to feel Sally's fingers untieing my bra. I got goose bumps then when she did it and I'm getting goose bumps now from just talking about it! I didn't say anything about it though, at the time. I just let her go on untieing the straps and letting them fall beside me on the bed.
She started working my back over. Her soft hands felt very soothing. And the sexy feeling was coming back again, too. Only this time even stronger!
"Sally, you're making me feel marvelous," I told her. "Will you rub my legs, too?" Although she agreed and began to do as I had asked, I began to have the feeling that I was talking too much about what we were doing. I made up my mind right then that I wasn't going to do any more talking about it. I was just going to do it. Whatever it was!
I looked back over my shoulder at Sally and started to tell her how I felt about not talking any more while we were rubbing each other, but to my delight I found that she seemed to under stand without my saying a word to her. She just nodded her head slowly as I looked back over my shoulder and into her eyes, then she patted my shoulder and put a delicate finger to her lips to indicate quiet. It was the most beautiful feeling.
As soon as that feeling had passed between us, a new kind of closeness seemed to spring up. I knew that I was going to let Sally do anything that she wanted to do with my body, as long as it felt good. And I knew that she would do the same with me. What a secure, pleasant knowledge it was. So I turned my head back facing the bed and let Sally continue to caress my back and legs. After a little while her hands began to wander in between the backs of my legs along my knees and my thighs. That was when I began to feel the slow dawn of a warm, sensual swelling between my legs. It seemed that my ... that my sex organ was filling like a balloon with some kind of feeling I'd never experienced before. I guess I started moving a little bit when she did that, because she was able to get her hands around underneath me, where she continued gently to pass them across the front of my thighs.
Then all pretext was abandoned. She lay down beside me, and I turned over on my side to face her. I knew that this would make my breasts be right in front of her eyes, but I didn't care. I was enjoying her own body too much, now that she was lying within my reach, to be concerned about us seeing parts of our bodies that generally aren't supposed to be seen.
As we looked into each other's eyes, we slowly brought our faces closer and closer together. Sally squirmed her slim body around in the bed in order to make our heads at the same level. When she did this, I could feel her springy little breasts touch my stomach and move on up toward my own breasts. I reached my arms around her and began, as she had done for me, to untie the straps that would release her breasts to my touch. As she realized what I was doing, she sighed aloud and snuggled her head into my neck and shoulder. We were both becoming ecstatic, and we'd hardly even touched each other-compared to what we did to each other later, anyway.
When I had her bra straps loose, she lay back away from me just far enough to allow her bra to fall off between us. Then I marveled at the smooth, creamy texture of her small, full little breasts. Her nipples looked as hard and convex as two acorns. And I, like a squirrel famished for those acorns, bent my lips to them and for the first time, my mouth tasted the breasts of another girl.
I began gently to suck her little nipple in and out of my mouth. She began to move her body so as to allow her breast to enter farther into my mouth. It was plain to me that she loved what I was doing to her, and that made me all the more excited myself. As I switched over and started on her other breast, she did something that really set me on fire. She let her hand drop down between my legs and slowly, almost fearfully, she began to toy with the hairs around my vulva. As I pressed myself closer and closer to her, she could tell that I was really digging what she was doing to me. Then she took my hand and placed it between her own legs. I could feel her little mound all wet and hot when I touched her there. She was so hot between her legs that even the mat of hair covering her vulva was wet through and through. As I played with her, she suddenly found a new spot between my own legs that made me take my breath in sharply. She was gently caressing, with two of her fingers, the little raised spot at the top of my vulva. When she saw the exciting effect it was having on me, she dropped her mouth onto my breast. It was the first time she had touched my breasts with her mouth.
We lay there like two naked little animals, slowly and gently savoring each other's bodies as though we were made of strawberries and grapes. It was almost more than we could stand to be able to touch and caress each other as we were doing.
Her mouth was on my breast like a small hot flame, and her tongue stirred my senses with a thousand tiny erotic charges. As she tongued my breast, I was busy doing the same for her. Her lovely little breast was small enough to allow me to enclose it entirely with my mouth, and as I felt her nipple on the roof of my mouth, I wanted to swallow her little dough-bread breast like a plump marshmallow. The more we sucked each other, the hotter we became between our legs and the faster we moved our fingers in each other's vulvas.
As we fell into a mad rhythm of ecstasy, I felt the slow, balloon-like swelling again that I'd felt before, only this time incredibly more forceful. And Sally's deep, quick breathing told me she must be feeling the same way I was. In a final shudder of intense feeling we both moved our fingers inside each other like tiny pistons until groans came from our throats. Then, as we sucked our breasts and pushed against each other's bodies, I felt it happen. An explosive action deep inside my vagina that made me shake and quiver all over until the waves subsided and I was lying breathless and happy with Sally in my arms and both of us whimpering with greedy delight.
Sally was beaming. I knew that she had gotten the same feeling I had enjoyed, because I felt the rapid, rhythmic little quivers between her legs as I had fondled her there when I was reaching my peak. We were unable to do anything now but lie and comfort each other against the onslaught of the sexual pleasure we had just experienced together.
Without a word, Sally rose from the bed, bent over and kissed me on the lips, then walked to her own bed and flounced down onto it like a loaf of bread. I think we were both asleep in seconds.
The next day I woke with Sally's rosy little lips sucking on one of my breasts and her hands caressing my vulva again. I was so glad to feel her that I grabbed her and pulled her into bed with me where we both enjoyed a little sex before our breakfast. We sucked each other on the breasts, played with each other's vulvas and we both had another climax.
In the days that followed, we never drew attention to ourselves by hanging around too much in sight of the other girls, but as soon as we hit our cabins, we'd immediately jerk our clothes off and start fondling one another. We'd experiment with each other and did everything we could think of to each other's bodies. Sucking our breasts had been so good that it wasn't long before we discovered how good it felt to suck each other between the legs. We used to do that to each other at the same time, with our breasts bouncing against each other's stomachs as we licked and sucked as fast as we could go.
At other times we would take turns getting down on the floor burying our head in the other's lap while we played with our breasts. Our whole day became just a matter of waiting so many hours until we could be together again.
Once Sally voiced a question that I'd been wondering about for several days. "Linda, do you suppose any other girls here at the camp do what we do in bed together?" she asked.
"Gee, I don't know, but I've wondered about it too," I told her.
"I'll bet that if anybody else does, that it's Brenda and Terri," she said. "Did you ever notice how they always head for their cabin right after they eat, just like we do?"
"H-m-m-m, maybe you've got something there," I admitted to my sex partner.
"Well, I was thinking that if I knew how to go about it, I'd ask them and see," Sally said. "I'm not sure how you feel about it, but I think it would be groovy to have sex with other girls, now that we know what it's all about. What do you think?"
"The thought's occurred to me, too," I admitted, "and I don't see why I wouldn't enjoy it."
Sally brightened up. "If you would dig it, then, I think I can find out about Brenda and Terri. Okay?"
"Sure," I said, "but just make sure you don't let it out about our scene. Find out first about them. We could really get into trouble, you know, if the camp authorities found out what we do. . "Don't worry," Sally said, "I'll be careful."
A couple of nights later, Sally walked into the cabin with Brenda. I was really surprised to see them together, because I had no advance word they were coming and I'd almost forgotten about our conversation of a few days before.
"Linda, meet Brenda. Brenda, this is Linda," she said, holding out her hand as a gesture of friendship. "Brenda and I have been having a very interesting little talk," Sally said, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.
"Really," I said. "Then by all means let me in on it."
"I'll start by putting my cards on the table," said Brenda. "Sally tells you and her never had sex before with anybody until this summer here at camp. Right? Well, I've been digging other chicks since I was thirteen, and I'm the age as you are now. So if you girls can dig it, just look at what I have to offer. If you like it, you can show me what you have."
Sally was excited, "See, Linda," she said to me, "Brenda isn't a bit embarrassed about it like we were. She said she'd show herself if we'd do the same."
With that, Brenda proudly stepped forward and unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her bulging brassiere to us. She really had a pair! Although she was as slender as Sally, her breasts were at least as big as mine-maybe even bigger. She was a very good looking girl, with red hair and a cute, turned-up nose. She saw that both Sally and I were very interested in what she had to show us.
"If you'll help me, Sally, I'll show you both what's underneath this brassiere," she said. Sally needed no urging. She quickly stepped behind Brenda and unfastened her brassiere. Then we were both staring at as a luscious a pair of breasts as I could imagine. Their shape was perfect, her nipples stood out like marbles, and the skin of her plump breasts looked as smooth as glass. She had a big smile on her face.
"You have a beautiful pair, Brenda," I said to her. "Now, will you let us know you better? I'd like to know, for example, whether you're a true redhead or not."
"Okay," she answered, "if you'll take your blouse and bra off, I'll let you find out for yourself," she told me.
I did as Brenda asked and she motioned me toward the lower part of her body. She was looking now at my own breasts, which she apparently approved of with great gusto. "Go ahead and see for yourself whether I'm a true redhead or not. Those are nice breasts you have there, Linda."
Sally looked at me in envy. I was being invited by Brenda to pull down her panties and see if she was really a true redhead. She was wearing a skirt, so I boldly walked up to her and raised the skirt up to her thighs. Her full breasts jutted out at me above her slender waist as I lifted the hem of her skirt and placed my other hand on the waistband of her panties.
Sally cried, "Wait, I want to see, too!" She knelt down on the floor in front of Brenda and yelled, "Now pull them down, Linda!"
I lowered Brenda's panties past the lower part of her stomach until her pubic hair became visible. Sure enough, her hair was as coppery colored there as it was on her head. It was too much for Sally.
She said, "Linda, don't you think Brenda has been nice to show us what she has. I think she deserves a little prize, don't you?"
Before I could answer, Sally, who was still wearing all of her clothes, and was kneeling in front of Brenda all the time I had been pulling down her panties, lunged her face forward and buried it in the soft muff of copper hair between Brenda's legs. I could hear the noise made by her sucking lips and the sound of it drove me wild. My brassiere was already off, but what I really needed was to get out of my panties. I sat down on the floor and yanked off my shirt and panties. As Brenda, who was receiving an excellent sucking, placed both of her hands on Sally's head and stroked her cheeks and forehead in obvious delight at the treatment she was getting, I began to play with myself, stimulating my own pubic region with my hand.
Brenda saw me and said, "Don't do that for yourself. Come on over and let me do it for you!"
I went to her and lay down as the two of them slowly lowered themselves to the floor. This put Sally's firm little bottom right in front of my nose, so while Brenda proceeded to stick her tongue into my vagina, I quickly removed Sally's panties so that I could do the same thing for her that she was doing to Brenda and that Brenda was doing to me. The result was all three of us sucking each other and also getting sucked. And as I sucked Sally's tender little vulva, I realized that Brenda, in addition to sucking mine, was now grasping my breasts in her hands.
Sally, from her position between Brenda's legs, could see Brenda's hands on my breasts, so this inspired her to grasp Brenda's breasts in her own hands and start kneading them like gentle cat's paws. I, in turn, slipped my hands up underneath Sally's brassiere-for she was still fully dressed-and began to massage her own little breasts. Soon we were all moving like one giant, snaky ocean wave, and with a few minutes of this beautiful contact between all our vulvas, breasts, lips and hands, we all speeded into a fantastic climax that made the blood rush through my ears like a tropical gale.
That night Sally told me that Brenda's roommate, Terri, hadn't been able to visit us because she had cut her foot on a broken bottle and had to be taken to the hospital. It was doubtful, she said, that she would be able to return to camp at all, so Brenda had been especially glad to discover us and our interests.
The rest of the summer was a marvelous time of horseback riding, swimming and hiking, with all three of us joining together for love scenes whenever possible. I don't know if any of the other kids at camp were enjoying girl-love or not, but if they weren't, we three made up for it with our wild nights in the cabin.
My trouble began when I entered college. Sally lived close enough to me that we were able to see each other once in a while during my last year of high school, but when I was sent to college, I was too far away and I wasn't able to see her any more. Suddenly the world seemed pretty drab. I dated a few guys, but it wasn't too much fun. I was always thinking about sex with Sally. I probably would have let some of them have sex with me if they had tried, but I guess college freshmen are pretty backwards. At least the ones I dated were, because none of them ever tried anything with me.
I even considered trying to meet some girl at college who was interested in other girls, but I didn't quite know how to go about it and I was afraid I would get into trouble over it.
That's when my grades started suffering. I had gotten so used to having sexual relief that I really missed it. I couldn't seem to think about anything else. So the courses that were easy for me, I passed all right. I even made an "A" in one course. But I could never make myself study the courses I didn't like, so I flunked them. I think I would be a lot better off if I could have a regular sex thing again.
COLLEGE COUNSELOR'S ANALYSIS
Linda T.'s problem was much more common than she had reason to suspect. I'm sure that she would have been surprised to learn that I had five girls who were faced with a similar problem during the same semester that she reported to me.
In Kinsey's Sexual Behavior in the Human Female, it is stated that "Homosexual contacts are highly effective in bringing the female to orgasm. In spite of their relatively low incidence, they had accounted for an appreciable proportion of the total number of orgasms of the entire sample of unmarried females."
My experience as a counselor of this college bears out the validity of Dr. Kinsey's statement, for I found that a rather large number of girls had participated in homosexual activities and although the girls differed in moral and social judgements, every girl with a history of homosexuality, however slight, indicated to me that the experience had been extremely satisfying from a purely physical point of view.
Linda T. was advised to take advantage of her attractiveness to males by dating as often as possible within the limits of her study load, and to attempt to date older college men whenever possible. One particular statement of Linda's gives reason to doubt that she had become a confirmed homosexual-that is, a girl for whom men would never hold any interest. Her last recorded statement is "I think I would be a lot better off if I could have a regular sex thing again." She does not specify females in this statement-only the vague "a regular sex thing." This is only one of many factors that leads us to believe that she may develop wholesome and rewarding male companionships in the future.
When Linda is able to feel the acceptance of a new intimate relationship, the chances are high that her schoolwork will improve. In the absence of this, the only thing that can be suggested is that she take part regularly and actively in some sport that demands enough of her physical energy to at least partially overcome her sexual anxiety.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Girl and Beast
Of all the unusual cases which are being-discussed in this study of initial sexual experiences, perhaps the following one will strike the greatest number of people as being the most outlandishly bizarre. Nevertheless, it has been fully documented by trained scientific research workers of unquestionable integrity.
When a human being indulges in sexual intercourse for the first time with a member of the opposite sex, there may be cause for considerable excitement on the part of both participants. When a human being has an initial sex experience with another of the same sex, there may even be cause for a certain amount of sensationalism when the facts are put before the general public. But when a human being has the first sexual orgasm of her life in the company of a nonhuman beast, there may be justifiable cause for incredulity-especially when the human happens to be an attractive 18-year-old girl on the threshold of womanhood and the beast happens to be a hairy African male baboon!
Yet this is just what occurred in the case of a lovely missionary's daughter named Diane. Her story has been gleaned from the files of church officials by whom her father was employed, and have been substantiated by the psychiatrist who chronicled the incident in a Tanganyikan hospital where the girl had been hospitalized (not because of her contact with her non-human lover, incidentally, but because of a rather prosaic malaria attack).
The psychiatrist has supplied the following account, in the girl's own words.
My name is Diane and I am 19 years old, Caucasion, and a native-born American. I have lived in the African bush with my father, a missionary, ever since the death of mother when I was 10 years old. I had no living relatives except my father, and the church authorities permitted me to live with him as a sort of "hardship" concession to the usual rules which forbid minor children to live in the more primitive areas of the church's religious domain.
Except for dim recollections of childhood friends I once had in Baltimore, Maryland, I have no memories of any acquaintances of my own age except for a few African Negro children. As a rule, my father would not let me play with kids in the villages. He said they were heathens, that they were not fit company for his daughter, and that, mainly, they would materially harm my acceptance as a child of the Lord if I ever had anything to do with them. The only African children with whom I was ever allowed to be fairly friendly with were the few children who had been personally "saved" by my father's ministry.
Because of this, I was a very lonely child. It seems to me as I think back that I spent most of my adolescent years handing out Bibles and passing around the collection plate at whatever church my father had managed to improvise for the moment. I mention these things because I want you to take everything possible into consideration before passing judgement on my ... activities. You know, it's good for me to talk about this, though. About my life, I mean. About my unusual situation. I know you said that my experiences ... my sexual experiences ... would be important to the scientific world. Well, then I guess that my story will serve an even greater purpose than just allowing me to get it off my chest. That's good. It'll please me if that can help other people, somewhere, to understand themselves better.
I guess I'd better tell you all I think is important. The first thing I'd have to mention, then, would be my father's attitude towards sex. Because it colored my own attitude-for a long time, anyway. See, he believed in the old Hellfire-andBrimstone type of religion. God, he'd kill me if he heard me say that. But it's true. You can ask anybody within 300 miles of Tabora if Father wasn't the biggest religious nut south of the Equator and they'd all tell you "Yes." Except for a few of his congregation-but then, it doesn't do much good to ask one nut his opinion of another one, does it?
When girls my age were attending their first day of junior high and having all the boys ogle them, I was helping my father set up a tent or mashing cassava roots for our supper. I guess it should have been some consolation to me that every black man who ever saw me wanted to touch me because I was white, but my father would never let me have anything to do with them. That was a shame, too, because there were some of them that I definitely would have liked to get to know better.
Maybe if I could have gotten to know a few boys of my own age well, I wouldn't have gotten involved in the situation that I did. I'll .never know. Anyway, I don't consider what I did so bad. But everyone who hears about it seems to think it was terrible.
How should I begin? I guess I should first tell you a little about my general orientation towards sex. I wasn't any stranger to it, in spite of the way my father tried to keep me in the dark. I'd probably seen more naked men and women when I was, say 13 years old, than most American girls see in a lifetime. Most of the natives only wore loin cloths, and even when they did you could always see their penises swinging around when they moved.
And as for the women, most of them went bare-breasted all the time, so there were plenty of them to compare my own developing figure with. I must say that it compared rather well with most of the girls that I saw, if I do say so myself. And when I got my "curse," of course, it was old hat to me. A lot of the Africans made their women go into a special hut for five days when they got the curse, and at least I didn't have to do that. A lot of times I'd see my father staring at some of those nude girls. I know what he must have been thinking, but he would never admit it.
And as far as masturbation goes, that was something very familiar to me too. I'd been seeing boys and girls playing with themselves between the legs for years, and I was so used to it that I never even paid much attention. But that was before I started becoming a woman. Until I was 12 or so, I didn't think any more about a person masturbating themselves than I did about seeing them eat or drink water. It was that common, because in most of the villages where we went, if a person wanted to relieve himself sexually, he would just do it right in full view of everyone. It wasn't considered unusual or out of the ordinary at most of the places we lived.
Except by my father, of course. He made certain that I knew that everyone who did'that was going to go straight to Hell when they died ... and maybe before, to hear him tell it. I suppose that in a way, masturbation is the way I got started on my own sexual life, so I'd better tell you more about my own practices.
Even when I was a pretty little kid of 11 or 12 I had already begun to disbelieve a lot of the crap my father was always telling me about going to Hell and getting saved and all of that. You'll have to excuse me if I use any terms that you don't consider ladylike, Doctor, but I'm used to keeping it all in just because I haven't usually had anyone to talk to. So now that I'm able to speak freely, I'd like to do just that, if you don't mind. Just because I never used language like that in front of my father doesn't mean that I never knew the words-just that I knew that I'd get a two-hour lecture on how evil I was if I slipped and said "damn" or "hell." And if I had ever said "fuck" in front of my father, he would probably have smacked me senseless. I was kind of lucky on that score, though. I can give Father credit for only a few things, and I must say, he very rarely laid a hand on me. That was part of his religion, too. He didn't believe in giving kids spankings.
But back to my . .-. to when I started playing with myself. I'd seen enough kids do it so that I knew all about how it was done. All I lacked was the desire, and when I got to be 12 or so I acquired that too. The first time was when we were camped out in the jungle and I was sent to go and get some water. There were some little spider monkeys hanging around the spring where I went to get the water, and they were pulling all kind of shenanigans. I'd watched monkeys a lot before, but on this particular day I was especially interested in seeing them. I'd even seen them masturbate before. Anyone has seen them do that who has ever watched monkeys for any length of time, because that's about all they do most of the time. Even city people have seen it if they've ever been to a zoo.
As I watched them cavort around the low vines and trees near the spring, two males were hanging by their tails sniffing the bottom of a female monkey, and they were really going at it I mean their little hands were moving so fast on their penises that it was just a blur. Looking at their little penises began to sort of mesmerize me, I guess, because I sat down the water bucket and just stared at them for a long time. No one was around and I knew I was safe from being observed by anyone. I guess that same knowledge of privacy was what made me do what I did afterward.
Anyway, in a few minutes I realized that I had let my hand drop down between my legs and that I was toying with the area around my pussy. Now I don't know what I should call this when I'm talking to you, Doctor, but I think of it as just my pussy, so I don't see any reason why I should call it my "vulva," my "sexual organs" or any of that shit. A pussy is a pussy, plain and simple. Like I said, I was starting to very gingerly feel myself up as I was watching these two monkeys jacking off and I was gradually making myself feel very good. Just then one of the monkeys turned toward me and began to look at me about as hard as I was looking at them. I think he smelled me, if you want to know the truth ... he smelled my pussy juice. Even at that age I was pretty well lubricated when I got myself hot enough, I guess, even though I hadn't played with myself too much up to then.
While me and this monkey were both going to town rubbing ourselves between the legs, he even hopped down and ran over toward me a little way. I don't know why I wasn't afraid of him, but I wasn't. Of course, a spider monkey is just a small monkey about a foot and a half tall, but still, when a wild animal runs right at you jerking his prick back and forth, it seems like a lot of people would be scared. Well, I wasn't scared of him. Then, when he was about ten feet in front of me across the spring, he suddenly shot his load. When he did that, monkey-come sprayed out from him about two feet. It was funny how it sprayed. I knew enough from watching the native boys and men to know that when a man masturbates, he shoots off in a big white mass, but that wasn't the way the monkey did it.
When I saw him do this it seemed to excite me even more than I had been before, and I started working on myself faster and faster until, sure enough, I felt my pussy start having little spasms and I kind of lost control of myself and fell back on some leaves as I had my very first climax. I just lay there for a while on my back with my drawers down, still holding my pussy with my hand. I felt like I was floating in the clouds.
by this time the monkeys were already gone skittering off through the tree tops, but I didn't care. That one little monkey had somehow turned me on enough that I had got my first cookies, so I was feeling good.
That's some more words that my father doesn't know I use. I guess I learned most of the English words my father didn't teach me from listening to white hunters who sometimes came through where we held our religious meetings. I've lain in bed at night and heard them yell about "getting their cookies" with little black native girls that they had persuaded to come into their tent for trinkets or food or something.
Well, I went back to camp from the spring carrying my bucketful of water and humming a little tune, because I could tell right then that I was going to have my hands up my pussy a lot in the future. After that it didn't take much to excite me sexually. Whenever I'd see native boys jacking off in the villages, I'd sneak off away from my father to some place where I could drop my drawers down and make myself come again.
Plenty of times I'd see women doing it, too, and this seemed to get me just as excited as when the boys did it. I saw some of them sticking things into their pussies in order to pull it off, too, so I started doing that. Bananas are a joke. All the time I was in Africa I never saw even one girl stick a banana into her pussy. But I saw them play with themselves using little leather-looking affairs that they apparently had made special for the job. Once when my father wasn't around I traded a tablecloth for one of these things. When he wanted to know where the tablecloth was, I told him that one of the white hunters had swiped it. He believed that, because he didn't like them at all and was always talking about how they were all surely going to Hell.
Later on I tried using it on myself, but it seemed like a big waste to me. I always liked playing right around the front of my pussy where my little joy spot is-you know, right at the top of my pussy lips. So this thing didn't do much for me.
At night I thought a lot about having sex all during-my early adolescence. From the time I was 12 until I was 15 or 16, that's all I could think about. But my father watched me so closely that there wasn't a chance of me getting-away with anything. That didn't keep me from dreaming about it, though. And that was a funny thing. Because when I dreamed, I didn't dream of any of the natives, I didn't dream of the white hunters, and I didn't dream of anyone I'd ever met in my life. No human being, anyway.
What I dreamed of were monkeys. When I dreamed sex dreams that made me come in my sleep, it was always about monkeys. Not just the little spider monkeys I'd seen playing with themselves at the spring, though. All kinds of monkeys. Big monkeys and little monkeys and some kinds of monkeys I'd never even seen before. Apes, gorillas, chimpanzees and every kind you could imagine.
So I got to be practically grown-well I was grown physically, I guess-before I ever had sex with ... anybody. I know you already know that I let a baboon fuck me, Doctor. But you don't know how it happened, so I guess now's the time to tell you.
It was just west of Lake Tanganyika, in the spring of the year. My father and I had been camped in the jungle north of Kasanga for several months. I was out one day for a swim, and on the way back to the camp I went past the kind of hilly country that baboons like. My father let me go only because he had gotten an old native woman named Mballa to go with me. He knew she would watch me pretty close, because he had already converted her over to his religion and she had the fear of God in her something awful.
Baths aren't that easy to come by in the jungle, you know, so it was more to bathe than to swim that I went "swimming." Old Mballa and I both went into the water and it really made us feel good to get all washed up. On the way back old Mballa began having a pain in her side. In spite of all I could say, she claimed it was because she hadn't prayed before leaving for our swim. She was all excited to get back to the camp and make her peace with God. I never did know what the pain really was, but it couldn't have been very bad, because she ran like blazes to get back to camp in a hurry. I told her to go on and I'd be right behind her. In a little while I realized that I was getting a welcome treat, because I was alone, I was in good spirits, and I was a few miles away from camp.
I sat down on a rock to enjoy myself a little while before I had to return to camp, and the sun really felt great. I began to get this very warm, slow, turgid feeling all through my bones. The more I lay in the sun, the lazier and the more at ease I felt. After a while I even dozed off. It was summer, like I said, so I wasn't wearing much. Just a thin blue cotton dress, a pair of sandals and my drawers and brassiere. That's another thing that always bothered me. I never got to have any sexy undies like I knew the girls back in Baltimore were wearing.
Instead, I had plain old white cotton drawers that seemed thick as leather to me. And I had a few old white brassieres that were just hanging together by threads. They were the old-fashioned kind with circular stitching inside the cups that made my breasts look like the ends of torpedoes. But that's all I had, and ever since my father had caught me not wearing a brassiere, he added that to the list of things that could very possibly send my soul to Hell if I ever did it again. I used to be able to get away with it when I was first getting my breasts, but after I was 14 or so they moved around too much underneath my clothes if I didn't wear a brassiere, and that's when he caught me without one.
I think the real reason was because he actually wanted to get his own hands on me, and whenever I would leave my brassiere off, it just made him think more about my new little breasts bouncing around inside my clothes. I always did think he wanted to see me naked, and maybe to do something about it, too. I think he wanted to kiss me and fondle me so bad he could hardly stand it, but he never did, so that's neither here nor there.
So here I was lying on this big rock with the breeze blowing up my dress and my head heavy with a very pleasant drowsiness. I was lying on my back, with my dress blown up past my thighs when I gradually became aware that I wasn't alone on the rock. The funny thing is that I wasn't even sure how long I'd been there. It could have been only a few minutes, or it might have been more than an hour. I heard some grunting noises, looked up, and there, right on the rock, was a big male baboon. He was sitting on his ass a little way in front of me, and he was looking right up my dress. There was no mistaking that he was looking at my pussy.
Then I realized that I'd been dreaming, and that I'd had a sexy dream that had made my pussy so wet my drawers were sticky from it. You know how sometimes you won't know you've had a certain dream until something reminds you of it? Well, that's the way it was with me when I woke up on the rock. As soon as I saw the baboon, I remembered that I'd been dreaming about monkeys again. Monkeys playing with themselves, monkeys fucking each other, monkeys slipping their pricks into native girls, and a wild jumble of sexy scenes all involving monkeys.
The baboon couldn't know what I'd been dreaming about, of course, but he knew my pussy was wet because he could smell it. And that's all he cared about. I've thought of it a lot since, and I'll never know what made him bold enough to come right up to me like he did. Maybe I was so still, being asleep like I was, or maybe it was just a matter of him liking the way my pussy smelled, enough to risk a little danger in order to get closer to it. I'd like to think that's the way it was.
As soon as I sort of got my bearings and raised up a little bit, the baboon just kept looking right up my dress at my pussy, and grunting. Then I saw that he had a big hard prick on him that would have put any human prick to shame. It must have been at least 11 or 12 inches long. And it was standing straight out from his body like a bone.
It was a very strange feeling, I'll tell you, to wake up and more or less have your dream come true right in front of you. I was still kind of in a daze even after I awoke. The baboon just kept sitting there with his nose pointed toward my pussy, and he was running his hand up and down his prick while he looked. Well, Doctor, you can't imagine how excited it made me to know that that big monkey was so sexed-up because of me. When I'd been a little girl back in the forest at the spring, the little spider monkeys had been fun to watch, but this big fellow looked like he meant business.
I couldn't help myself-I started worming my way across the rock toward where the baboon was sitting with his big monster-prick in his hand. The closer I got to him-I was only about three feet away, but I was inching my way across the rock-the more he grunted and the faster his hand flew up and down his prick. Then he started coming toward me. Don't ask me why I wasn't afraid because I can't tell you. All I know is that I was 18 years old and I'd never had a man's dick up my pussy. And the prick on this baboon looked so good to me that I wasn't even concerned about the fact that he wasn't human.
I even reached down between my legs and started playing with myself through my drawers. That did it. As soon as I did that, I knew I was going to have hot baboon prick up my pussy in a matter of minutes. The big hairy thing bent over on all fours then catapulted himself right up to me. He was still sitting on the rock, and he wasn't touching me yet, but I knew it wouldn't be long. Then he reached over underneath my dress and took hold of my crotch. He yanked on the crotch of my drawers, trying to get them off of me so he could get to my pussy, but Doctor, a baboon's hands just aren't made to pull a girl's drawers off. He was having a terrible time with them. He was grunting more and rubbing his prick faster. I felt sorry for him.
So I reached down and lowered the top of my drawers for him. He got the idea real fast, and he took hold of them and ripped them off of me with one swipe of his arm. As soon as he had ripped my drawers off like that, I really began to lose control of myself. I began wanting that big old hairy baboon as though he were the handsomest movie star in the world. I showed him that I wanted him, too. I grabbed his monster-prick in my hand and started jacking him off with a great fury. Then he climbed up on top of me and nuzzled his fury face against my stomach, finally coming to rest with his mouth on my breast. When he sucked me it hurt a little, but I was too sexually excited to care. It even felt good feeling his animal teeth on my nipple. I don't know how he ever had the sense not to harm me by taking a bite out of one of my breasts, but he didn't.
He completely overpowered me. He yanked my hand off his prick and pinned both my hands beside my shoulders on the rock. Then I felt the onslaught of his beautiful monster-prick. He had me held down so tightly that I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to, but he was giving my virgin pussy such a thorough fucking that I never wanted him to stop. As soon as he made the first jab into my pussy, the blood from my bursting hymen splattered out and colored my pubic hair red. And his big monster-prick was red from it too, but that never fazed him. He just kept pumping away as hard and fast as he could, and I was loving every minute of it. There was so much blood that I never knew whether he came or not, but I sure did like a case of dynamite!
As I felt myself shooting off like a sky rocket, I yelled, "Fuck me, you big hairy son of a bitch, I need it bad!" and with that I had an explosive climax that shook my whole consciousness with all the force I could stand. I guess the baboon must have had a climax too, because when I yelled he leaped right off me and leaped off the rock to run through the jungle with his monsterprick dripping red from my virgin pussy.
I've never been sure whether he was scared away by my shouting or whether he just was accustomed to running off immediately after he'd had his fuck. But I was sure of one thing. I had a hell of a time explaining my situation to my father. It had been so long-I told you that I seemed to lose all track of time while I was with the big hairy buck-that my father and a few natives had come looking for me. I didn't have the nerve to tell them the truth, and I didn't want to get any of the natives or the white hunters into trouble, I told my father that someone had caught me and knocked me out before they raped me. I told him that I never got so much as a look at whoever did it. He was pretty shaken up to see all the blood and my torn clothes, but when he was sure that I wasn't permanently injured, he finally settled down.
He made a firm resolution then to ship me to a more civilized place-at least to a large African town, if not the States-as soon as it was possible. A few months later he sent me, along with some of his followers, to Tanga where I was to be boarded in a school. It was on that journey that I contracted malaria. My father's followers made sure that I was being taken care of properly, then returned to his camp in the western part of the country. I have been here since that time.
I had a letter from my father some weeks ago in which he said he was going to send me to the States, eventually, so that I could be properly schooled. But his letter was filled with dire references to how he thought the Lord was going to destroy the world before long, anyway, and so for that reason it didn't make much difference about his plans to ship me to the United States. His letter made me remember how crazy he was.
I don't know what will happen to me from here on, Doctor. But if Father does send me to the United States, I have only one request I just have to live in a city large enough to have a large, well-stocked zoo.
PSYCHIATRIST'S ANALYSIS
The bizarre acts which Diane recounts in this case history are so farfetched that I would seriously doubt their validity if it were not for my having spoken at great length with the natives who delivered her to the hospital. Through an interpreter, I learned that the basic circumstances of her father's mission and of her general environment are true. In questioning them thoroughly about all the aspects of her bizarre tale that can possibly be checked upon, I have not uncovered even one inconsistency. It is true, of course, that no one except the patient herself has sure knowledge that she engaged in intercourse with this non-human creature, with this ... baboon. But there is no reason to assume it is not true, when one considers the remaining facts of her unusual story.
Bestiality, or zoophilia, as this sexual perversion is sometimes referred to, is not unknown to the human race. Such acts have been a ceremonial feature of more than a few past cultures, not the least noteworthy of which was ancient Greece. As a rule, however, this form of sexual perversion is practiced by persons who have reason to suffer from sexual deprivation. A common example would be male shepherds who have had the reputation since time immemorial of practicing sodomy upon their female charges, the ewe, or female sheep. Certain nomadic tribes have also been known to practice this perversion with female goats.
The unusual facet of this particular case, however, is that the human was female and the beast was male. The most common cases occur with human males and female beasts. In The Erotic Minorities, a work by the Swedish doctor and philosopher, Dr. Lars Ullerstam, he reports: "Sexual intercourse with animals, sodomy (bestiality, zoophilia), is a common type of human behavior, not just something out of the undergrowth of ancient anecdote about Roman emperors and other historical personages." Further on in his book, Dr. Ullerstam states: " ... in certain capital cities (Cairo) the brothels provide exhibitions of coition between women and mules." He continues, "In our culture, moralists and jurists have been roused to anger by the human urge to use animals for sexual pleasure. The worst kinds of cruelty have been committed against the zoophiles. Thus some of our old rural laws punished sodomy with animals by burying the offender alive. To use animals as sexual objects is still punishable in most of the countries we regard as civilized; for instance, Norway, Germany, Holland, Austria, and Israel."
Dr. Ullerstam continues with the observation, "That members of different species copulate is quite common in the animal world, perhaps especially among the more advanced animals (National Research Council Conference on Mammalian Sex Behavior, New York, 1943). Why then regard this behavior as degenerate when it occurs in Homo sapiens? There are no biological or medical grounds whatsoever for a devaluation of this kind. Historically, the judgement is a lingering remnant of a sexual taboo which originated among a pre-scientific people, out of fear and superstition."
Dr. Ullerstam's views, then, are perhaps somewhat more liberal than many persons would agree with, but his points should be carefully examined by those who seek the truth without regard for superficial answers based on outmoded, primitive concepts.
Turning to the Bible, in Leviticus 20:15, one may read, "And if a man lie with a beast, he shall surely be put to death: and ye shall slay the beast." This is a concept with which Diane's father would have undoubtedly been in accord. His influence, of course, has a strong bearing on Diane's emotional maturity and condition. It seems clear that he was a pathetic tyrant who used his warped views of religion as a crutch for his personal inadequacies. But it is unfortunate that his strictness with his daughter should have caused her to use such deviant means to satisfy her normal sex desires.
As for the girl's prognosis, it is my belief that she stands a good chance of recovering from her tendencies toward zoophilia if she is placed in a normal environment. Isolating her from contact with beasts, would, in my opinion, enable her to forget her animal-love. Then, if provided with a plentiful number of young men of her own age from which to choose, it is highly probable that she would form lasting and meaningful love attachments. I have advised that she be sent to the United States whenever her condition permits travel ... preferably to a city which does not contain that which she fantasizes-"a large wellstocked zoo!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Gullible Twelve-Year-Old
Lorry M. is presently employed as a dancer in a ballet troupe of international renown. She shows such promise that it is not improper to suggest that she may one day reign as one of the superstars of ballet. Because she is still young-20 years old-her name is not yet known even to balletomanes, but if those who claim to know are correct, this young lady will enjoy great future success. For the purpose of this study, of course, her real name is not used.
Lorry's future has not always been so bright She has a dark past of which few persons are aware. The complete story of a certain segment of her life was contributed to this study of initial sex experiences by the psychiatrist who was consulted to examine her after a particularly traumatic episode in her life.
The facts are these. When she was 12, a 35-year-old man was arrested and charged with statutory rape, child molestation and contributing to the delinquency of a minor, all of which stem from the man's activities with Lorry at that tender age. The child was treated for shock and released from the clinic the next day after the apprehension of the man who was involved with her. Due to excellent care by the psychiatrist who contributed this report, no lasting mental or emotional harm appears to have ensued. Considerable harm might have been done to Lorry had she not received prompt and effective psychiatric assistance.
For purposes of clarity, her conversations with the doctor have been arranged in the form of a first-person narrative just as they came from her lips. This material was recorded at the time she was still 12 years old, and for this reason it may sometimes seem childish, but it is believed that this will aid the reader to a potentially greater understanding of the situation. The fact that Lorry is, at this writing, 20 years old, is disclosed only to indicate how she bears no apparent ill effects from the experience after eight years of elapsed time. Lorry's own account of her experience follows.
Doctor, thank you very much for helping me and talking to me like you have been doing. Can I say that first? I know you told me to just tell in my own words what happened between Mr. Hunter ... should I call him Jack, or Mr. Hunter? ... okay, then ... between Jack and me. You said that if I tell you all the details again, like I've been telling you on the different times when I've come to your office, that it may help other girls like me, and maybe other men like Jack, too.
I guess the first thing I should tell, then, is about dancing. Because I first met Jack through my dancing. I first started dancing when I was six-years-old, Doctor. My mother had been quite a good dancer before she married my father, so she always wanted me to become a good dancer too. My father also wanted that. When I started liking it a lot, they were both very proud of me and that made me feel very good. I couldn't wear toe shoes right at first.
My teacher said that I would have to start with different shoes and gradually develop my leg and foot muscles before I could wear the shoes. So I did just as they said, and finally I was able to wear toe shoes. It felt so good to wear them, Doctor. I was so free. Whenever I got to practice the dances in Swan Lake I felt almost like I really was a beautiful white swan.
When I was 11, I became old enough to go to another teacher who, Mother and Father said, would be very good for me. This teacher, Mrs. Svanova, was very nice to me and all the other girls. Oh, sometimes she was very strict with us, but then a ballerina's life revolves around rules, as my mother always says, so we were used to paying strict attention to Mrs. Svanova, and to doing just what she said at all times.
Besides the new steps I was learning and the new friends I was making among the girls who were my fellow students at the school, there was another part that I liked about it very much. Because it was much farther from my home, I was allowed to take a picnic lunch every day. At noon, I got to eat my lunch on the lawn under big old oak trees, along with some other girls who also lived far away and brought their lunches. It was really fun! The oldest girls there at the school were 15, and the youngest were my age. It was a very specialized school.
The garden where we ate is also the first place I ever saw Jack. Do I need to describe Jack, Doctor? Okay. He's a man with black hair and a black moustache. He has pretty blue eyes and pretty white teeth. You told me that he was 35, so I guess that's how old he is. I never thought to ask him. Jack was mowing the lawn the first time I saw him. He was the school's gardener. One of the girls who had been there longer than I had, called to him and said, "Jack! Jack! Hello! Come over here and tell us some more stories. Please!"
Jack walked over and smiled at us. I was sitting with two of my friends named Nancy and Debbie. Nancy was the one who called him over to where we were. When he got there he looked at us and said, "Sorry, little friends, but I can't stay long. I won't be able to tell you any stories today. I need to keep the lawn mowed or the grass will grow so tall that I won't be able to see you. We wouldn't want that to happen, now would we?"
We all said, "No! No!"
"Well then, I'd better get back to work. But first tell me who the new little princess is, won't you?" Then Jack looked at me. I was the newest girl in the school and he hadn't seen me before. He always called all of us dancing students "little princess." It was his special name for us.
Debbie said, "This is Lorry. She's new here."
I sprang to my feet and performed a half-mocking little curtsy. I thought that Jack was a very nice man, and I wanted to join in his way of joking with all of us. When I did my little curtsy, Jack's eyes sparkled. He said, "Well, little princesses, your new little sister-princess is a beautiful lass indeed. Why, I haven't seen such an attractive little curtsy in weeks and weeks."
This made me a little bashful, although I was very pleased. I stood with my face toward the ground and grinned. Then I sat back down.
Jack then turned to go back to his work, but before he left, Debbie said "Wait, Jack. I introduced Lorry to you, but I didn't introduce you to her." Then she turned to me and said, "Lorry, this is Jack," pointing to him with her hand opened palm up.
I was kind of embarrassed to talk to him since I had just met him. Finally I said "Hi, Jack."
The girls said afterwards that I said it in a real shy way, with my eyelashes turned down.
Doctor, do you think I have long eyelashes? Father says I do but Mother says they'll grow even more if I eat what she gives me and if I never leave anything in my plate. Thank you, Doctor.
Oh yes, about Jack. As he left us that first time I met him, he said, "'Bye, Debbie, 'bye, Nancy, 'bye, new-princess-Lorry!" Then he went on back to mowing the lawn.
I said, "He's nice, isn't he?"
Debbie and Nancy both said, "Oh yes, he's a very nice man. And he likes all of us a lot too. He can tell great stories. You'll see sometime when he has time to sit down with us and talk to us."
Many times, later, he did tell us stories, and they were always great fun. One thing he usually did was to tell us the stories we'd all heard as bedtime stories when we were younger, except he'd pretend to get all the characters mixed up. I know he knew the real stories, but he would say things like, "Hickory, dickory dock, the cow ran up the clock." Of course we would all break out and laugh a lot when he made mistakes like that.
And then he'd say things like, "Little Miss Muffett
Sat on her tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
Along came Willie Winkle
And sat down beside her and said, 'What a good boy am I.'"
And he'd ask us if we wanted him to tell the story of "Little Bo Peeping Hood," or the story of "Goldilocks and the Three Pigs." Every time he would make a mistake, we would all double up with laughter. Since he was always calling us his "little princesses" and being so much fun, I guess you could say that a lot of us had sort of a "crush" on him.
One time Debbie told me something else about him, too. She said that he liked to look up our skirts whenever he could. She said she had seen him do it a lot of times. She said he did it to her all the time. But she said she liked for him to do it to her. Debbie said to me, "Sometimes he gives me a kind of a secret smile when he does it. And sometimes I smile back, and when I do, he winks at me. Give him a chance some time and he'll do it with you too, I bet." So I kept that in mind. Debbie was my age, so I thought that if Jack wanted to look up her skirt he should be just as happy to look up mine.
I know, Doctor, you've explained to me how little girls-well, girls my age, anyway-I don't think I'm so little-shouldn't play games like that one at all. And you've said that we especially shouldn't play games like that with men who are a lot older than we are. Well, I believe you, Doctor, now that all that happened with Jack and me. But I didn't know before.
Jack had another job, too. He wasn't just a gardener. He was mainly a stagehand. In our school we had a little stage set up. It was almost as big as a real stage. And Jack was the person who turned the lights around to follow us sometimes as we danced, and the one who made the curtain go up and down. I think he liked this part of job better than the gardener part of his job. When he was there doing his stage job, he smiled a lot. And he was always watching us as we danced around in our leotards or in our short little ballet skirts.
It was once on that little stage that I played the little game with him for the first time. The teacher, Mrs. Svanova, always sat out in front. So she couldn't see what went on backstage where we waited for the time for us to go onstage.
I was waiting back there one time when Jack was standing there with his hand on the curtain rope. But he didn't have to do much once he got things set up. He spent most of his time watching us dance. When I saw him, I was the last one to be standing backstage, so I knew no one would see me. I don't know whether I would have done it or not if anyone could have seen me. I probably would have, though, because I knew that some of the other girls did it.
I saw Jack looking at me, but I didn't look directly at him I kept looking out onto the stage. But as I did this, I shifted my position and raised one foot up to a step near where I was standing. When I did this, I saw Jack bend his knees a little so that he could see up underneath my dress better. I had on my white leotards and my stiff white ballet skirt that was very short. But Doctor, he couldn't really see anything. I had my dancing panties on besides my leotards. Anyway, he stared for a long time up underneath my skirt as I stood there.
Once I was waiting backstage. I was bending over to tie my shoe. Jack came up and looked down at me. I knew where he was looking, but I kind of liked it, really. Him wanting to look at me there. He was looking down my blouse! We were doing gypsy dances that day and we were all wearing white, frilly peasant blouses. He could see plenty where he was looking, too. I know I'm still growing there, Doctor. On my chest, I mean. Well, a few months ago when all this happened I was about as big there as I am now. I don't think there was any difference at all, in fact. I don't think my ... my breasts have grown any in the past few months. Anyway, Jack could probably see the tops of them as he looked down my blouse. And it just might have been that he could see all the way down to my ... uh ... to my nipples. I don't know. Oh, I was wearing my brassiere the way I was supposed to, but there are still ways you could see all the way down to my nipples if I just happened to be standing right. Anyway, that's definitely where he was looking.
But, Doctor, I wasn't the only one! The other girls all wanted him to try to look at them that way too! I don't know for sure if they wanted him to see everything, but they sure wanted him to look, because they were always talking about it.
That's why when I saw him looking I gave him a little smile before I straightened up to where he couldn't see down there anymore. When I made it so that he couldn't see any more, he made a joking little "sad face" as though I had taken something away from him that he liked a lot. I played along with his little game by reaching out toward him and pretending to pat him on the head to console him. When I did that he nodded his head up and down real fast and got a strange smile on his face. Then it was my turn to dance again so I left him.
One day when I was eating in the yard the other girls were a little ahead of me and went inside before me. Jack came up and sat down across the yard from me. Since I was outside, I wasn't wearing my leotards, so I knew that if he looked, he could see right up to where my panties were. I had begun to have a little hair grow down there between my legs, and I remember hoping that none of it was sticking out the legs of my panties where he could see it. I still don't know if it was or not, but I do know that he was looking up my dress again, because after looking around to make sure that no one could see him, he gave a low "wolf-whistle" in my direction. I got a little red in the face, I think, but I smiled at him when he did it, too. He came over and stood beside me.
He said, "You know, I think you're getting to be about my favorite little princess, Lorry-lie."
I didn't know what to say. I felt very proud when he said that to me, because I knew that almost any girl at the school would have liked to have him say that to her. I just didn't say anything. In fact, I was half-afraid to look him in the eye while he was talking. I just knew that I would begin that silly blushing business, and I didn't want him to think that I was such a baby that I just blushed all the time.
Another reason I was sort of afraid to meet his eyes was that I knew he could see down my blouse again. And he'd just got through looking at my panties! Boy, he was getting to see a lot of me on that day! Then he spoke.
He said, "You're not just a little bit shy, are you, Lorry?"
First I didn't say anything, but then I got tickled somehow and giggled a little bit as I said, "Maybe."
Jack said, "Well, don't you worry, Lorry, about a little thing like being just a touch shy. Let me tell you a little secret. I like shy girls best of all."
I almost spoiled everything by blurting out, "You do?" But I held myself back and Jack went on talking.
He said, "You are just a little bit shy, aren't you. I mean you aren't real, real shy, are you?"
I couldn't help giggling again. I shook my head and said in a weak little voice, "I don't know."
"Well, there are some little tests we can do to see how shy you are, Lorry-lie. Do you want to do them sometime with me?"
I was getting a little more self-confident by then. I said, "We can do them now, Jack."
But Jack said, "No, there wouldn't be time to do them now. You have to go back inside very soon now, and I have to go back to work on the lawn. You do want to have a nice lawn to play on, don't you?"
"Oh yes," I said. "Yes." I looked at him for an answer, but he only looked down at me and smiled, so I asked, "When can we do the tests, then, Jack? When can we?"
"Well, the best time would be after school is out, but it would have to be a big secret. You couldn't tell anyone that we were going to play the game to see how shy you are. Not even your very best friend. Do you still want to play the game?"
"Yes," I told him. "I'd like to very much. But how can we do it?"
Jack thought a minute and looked up thoughtfully at the sky. Finally he said, "Lorry-He, don't you ever go home with any of your little princess friends after school?"
I didn't understand the connection. I said "Yes, sometimes," with a puzzled expression on my face.
"Well," explained Jack, "you could tell your mother you were going-home with one of your friends, but not really go. And I could tell you where to meet me after school."
I told him I wouldn't do that, Doctor. I really did.
But he said, "Oh, you could do that, couldn't you? It would only take a little while. Then you could just go on home. No one would know. It would be all right."
I brightened up. "I know what I can do. I can just ask my parents. And they might let me!"
Jack spoke very quickly. "No," he said. "No, Lorry, your parents wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand. You'd better not mention it to them at all." He was very emphatic.
I knew that I had to go inside in a minute, so I said, "Well, maybe, I might be able to do what you said and tell my parents I was going to be at one of my friend's house. I guess it would be okay. When do you want to do it?"
"Tomorrow." Jack said. "Tomorrow after school. And I'll show you right now where we can meet. See that blue car over there? Well you just run right over there and get into that car, and I'll be there in just a few minutes after you get in. But be sure and don't let anyone see you get into the car. Be sure of that. After all, it's our secret We don't want everyone to know our secrets, do we?"
The next afternoon after school I did exactly as we had planned. As soon as I got into Jack's car, he was there with me almost at once. It was beginning to get exciting now. I was glad I had come. He pulled away from the curb and we went for a few miles before we stopped at a small stone house in the middle of the block.
Inside his house, Jack gave me a soda pop and asked me if I was comfortable. I told him I was.
"Oh, I'll bet you're really not," he said. "I'll bet when you go home after school you take off some of your clothes, don't you?"
"Yes," I said, "but I don't have any other clothes to wear here."
"Surprise!" he shouted. "Yes you do have something to wear here."
He reached behind a chair and handed me a funny looking sort of gown. It was about my size, but it looked old and worn out, even though it was spotlessly clean. In fact, it had a few holes in it.
"No, I don't guess I had better change clothes here," I told him. "I'd better just keep on the clothes I'm wearing now."
Then he laughed and said, "Aha, then I've won the game!" I didn't understand. He saw how puzzled I looked.
"Don't you remember the game we were going to play? Well, you see, we've already started to play it. And I've won the first part. Don't you remember what kind of game it was supposed to be? It's a game to see how shy you are. And you're too shy to change your clothes here at my house, so I've already won the first part of the game!"
Suddenly I remembered the game. He was right. I had lost. He had been very clever. I hadn't understood exactly how the game was to be played, and it seemed to me that something was wrong, but Jack was always so much fun that I thought I just didn't know enough about the game to like it yet. I was still leery about changing into the gown he had given me, but I thought maybe it would be okay as long as Jack didn't see me do it.
"Oh," I said, "that's the game. I didn't know you meant-"
He interrupted me. "Well, sure," he said, "That's how we find out how shy you are!"
Of course, I thought to myself, how could I be so dumb as to not understand the game! Then, thinking that I was catching on faster than he had planned for me to, I said, "But when I change into this gown, then we'll be even again, right? You won't be ahead in the game then, will you?" I thought that would show him how smart I was.
"Oh," Jack shouted in fun, "this little Lorry-lie is going to beat me if I don't watch out!" Then he turned to me and said, "That's right. Right! If you go ahead and do what I think you're too shy to do, then you win."
I was very pleased with myself. The game was getting to be fun. I ran into an adjoining room to change into the gown and prove to him that I wasn't too shy. And I was also winning the game by doing that, I thought to myself.
When I was in the other room Jack called to me, "Well, are you changing your clothes?"
I yelled back, "Yes, but you stay in there. You can't look!"
Then Jack answered, "Oh, I'm going to stay in here. If I came in there where you are I might see something!" That tickled me and I started giggling a little.
"But we can still play the game with you in that room," he yelled.
"How?" I yelled back. Then I moved a little closer to the door so we could hear each other without yelling.
"Well, you have to tell me exactly what clothes you're taking off in there," he said, "and if you're too shy to do that then I win again."
"Oh, that's easy," I said to him through the door. "I'll win this part of the game, too." I told him about each piece of clothing as I took it off.
"Good, good," he said. "You're winning, you're winning!" I noticed that his voice sounded funny when he spoke.
"Now I've almost won the game," I told him. "I'm putting on the gown you gave me."
"No, wait," he called out, "you can't do that yet. You aren't ready. You don't have all of your clothes off. You can't put the gown on until you take all your clothes off!"
"But I do have them all off," I said. "And now I'm putting the gown on." I wasn't going to let him trick me into losing the game!
He was insistent. "No, if you don't take them off, I Win this part of the game. In order to put on the gown I gave you, you shouldn't have anything on under it."
I looked at the gown. Maybe he was right. It was a sort of sleeping gown, and you shouldn't need anything underneath a sleeping gown. But I was still too shy to say the words to Jack. "Well, all right then, I'm-I'm ta-ta-ta-king the rest of my clothes off now before putting on the gown," I stammered.
Then Jack rasped in an even shakier voice, "What are those things you're taking off now, my little princess, what are those things? You must tell me, in order to win the game! What are you taking off now?"
The game! I had come so far that I had to win it! I finally said, in a very soft voice you could hardly hear, "My panties, Jack. And my brassiere." And as I told him the names he wanted to hear, I unhooked the back of my little white brassiere and let it fall off my small breasts. I held it in one hand while I wriggled my panties off with the other. As I stepped out of them and took them in my other hand, I knew that Jack had heard me, because he said in a low husky voice, "Your panties and brassiere, Lorry-lie? Is that what you said, honey?"
"Yes, Jack." I spoke up a little louder, proud now that I was winning the game, but feeling very strange about the way Jack was acting. His voice was sounding so funny and he was breathing so hard.
I decided to end the game once and for all. There was something which I thought if I would say, Jack would just have to declare me the winner of the game. I'd gradually been catching on to how he wanted to play this game, and I decided that if it was naughty words that Jack wanted, it was naughty words he would get! I said, "Jack, I'm standing here with no clothes on and that's not all, Jack. Do you know what I see when I look down at myself?" I knew I was being terribly naughty to talk like this, but I just had to show him I wasn't shy, and end the game once and for all. Now all I heard from the other room was a low moan and a kind of gurgling noise. But I pushed on, anyway.
I said in a perfectly loud voice, yet kind of scared, I guess, "Jack, when I look down I see ... I see a little bunch of brown hair between my legs and two small titties on my chest!"
That did it. I heard Jack say a bunch of garbled words something like, "Oh you sweet little thing with your titties and your pussy hair between your legs, I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!"
Suddenly, Jack rushed into the room where I was standing naked. He had his clothes off too, and I could see that his thing ... his sex thing ... was stiff and throbbing. Somehow, I knew that he was no longer playing the game. He pushed me down onto the bed, and spread my legs, and pushed his thing into me, while he kept saying dirty things like, "I'm fucking you, Lorry-lie. I'm fucking your sweet little cunt."
It hurt me for a minute or two when he pushed it in, but he was too big for me to shove away. After a while, he pulled his thing out of me, and it was shooting out some white, sticky stuff. I felt warm inside me, where some of the stuff had gotten up into me. I felt funny-good in a way, even though I knew it was wrong. I almost wanted to say, "Put it in again, Jack."
Then there was a loud noise, and three policemen broke through the front door and rushed into the bedroom where we were. Two of them grabbed Jack off of me. One of the policemen grabbed me. He rubbed his hand kind of hard between my legs, and some of the white stuff came off on his fingers. He looked at it, and said to the other policemen, "The kid's been fucked!" He rubbed himself between his own legs, where there was a big bulge in his uniform, until the other cops looked at him funny. Then the three cops beat up on Jack, calling him names and giving him a real whipping. Jack was still naked while they were beating him, and his thing got hard again, and it shot out some more white stuff even while they were whipping him. One of the cops yelled, "The cocksucker's coming all over me!" Another cop said, "Shut up, you dumb bastard, the kid's still here."
They left off beating Jack, and one of them put a blanket around me very gently, and they carried me out to their squad car ... and took me home to my parents.
You know the rest, Doctor, how you helped my parents and me get over the shock of what had happened between me and Jack. You know how Nancy had seen me get into Jack's car with him at the school and how she told Mrs. Svanova who called the police and sent them to Jack's house after she found her records that told her where he lived. I never did understand what Jack meant when he said "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!"
PSYCHIATRIST'S ANALYSIS
Lorry's unpleasant experience resulted not from any real overt act on her part, but instead because she was of an age that is particularly conducive to the attention of a certain kind of sex deviate-the pedophiliac. Pedophilia-from Greek words meaning "child love"-is a sexual deviation characterized by the sexual attraction of an adult to a child. Although many degrees of variance within the term pedophiliac are to be found, the true pedophiliac is one who is able to obtain gratification exclusively from sexual involvement with children. Lorry's "friend" Jack was obviously a pedophiliac.
That Lorry was able to recover with no permanent emotional disability is the result of several factors. Of primary importance was the attitude of her parents. They were helpful, able to restrain themselves from undue emotional distress, and most important, were able to keep from feeling anger toward their child, who had, after all, been taken advantage of, rather than having been involved in a situation which she could control. Lorry, in other words, was the victim, not the offender-and her parents wisely recognized this fact and acted accordingly.
Dr. Lester Kirkendall, eminent American sexologist, states in an article titled Family Sex Education Program (Sexology Magazine, 1959), that " ... the anxieties created by adult reactions may lead to the very kinds of sex practices which the parents fear. Some studies have dealt with children who have been involved in some sexual offense. The evidence indicates that more damage may be expected from the horrified, panicky reaction of the adults who deal with children than from the experience itself"
Fortunately for Lorry, her parents were not among the grouppostulated by Dr. Kirkendall. An indication of Lorry's feelings toward her parents in the wake of her experience is apparent from the fact that the girl makes only a passing reference to them near the end of her story. If her parents had acted in a manner which caused Lorry any emotional anxiety, experience has revealed that she would have been almost certain to discuss her parents at great length. Yet there was no mention of any family difficulties during the aftermath of her meeting with Jack.
CHAPTER NINE
The Nurse and the 'veteran
Josie B. is a nurse in a large veteran's hospital. She engaged in her first act of coition at the age of 20, while employed at the hospital. The unique situation surrounding Josie's first sexual intercourse were revealed when a check was made on one of the patients in a ward served by Josie's workshift.
The following transcription is taken from a tape recording supplied to us by the chief staff psychiatrist, who was responsible for conducting the original investigation.
My name is Josie B. I am 20 years of age, Negro, 5 feet 7 inches tall and weigh 120 pounds. I attended college for two years before beginning my career as a nurse. I have been employed at this hospital for one year. I understand that the information that I am about to give is completely private, and that it will not be used for any purpose except scientific research, and that if the information is utilized in that manner, I am guaranteed complete anonymity. (Note: This was done-the name "Josie B." is a pseudonym).
I shall first admit to having had sexual relations with a patient of this hospital. I am aware that this was strictly against the policy of this hospital as well as against the basic precepts of nursing. I hope, however, that before any punitive action is taken I will be granted the right to tell my story from beginning to end.
Last winter a patient was assigned to the third floor, eighth ward, room seven. His name is Roger (surname deleted to protect the identity of the patient). He was at that time a member of the U.S. Army, although he has been awarded a medical discharge since that time. Roger is a Negro, age 23.
Now that I'm through rattling off the bare facts, Doctor, I'd like to get down to the real nitty-gritty of it. Then, after you hear my story, if you honestly feel that I should be dismissed from my job, I'll gladly accept your decision.
When Roger was shipped in here last winter he had just returned from an extended tour of duty in Viet Nam. He was assigned to this particular ward because of the kind of injury he had. Do you know what kind of injury Roger has, Doctor? Well he's a paraplegic. He has certain peculiarities connected with his injury that make his physical disability a little different from the average paraplegic, but I'll get into that matter later. First I want you to know about how Roger felt emotionally and mentally.
For the first week Roger was here in my ward, he did not have one word to say to anybody. He did what was asked of him. But he never initiated any conversation with either the other patients or with the staff, and he asked for no favors.
The first time I ever saw him display any emotion was one morning when he was reading the newspaper after breakfast. He held it in front of his eyes for a short period of time, then broke into tears. I knew that it might embarrass him, but I felt it was my duty to help him in any way that I could. I went to his bedside and asked if he would tell me what was wrong. He looked up at me with tired, sad eyes and said, "The war's wrong, that's what's wrong. I guess you think maybe a man like me, he's pretty bad off, huh? Well, I think so too, sometimes. Look here, you see that poor boy's picture in the paper here? This paper's from my home town, Detroit. You know why this boy have his picture in the paper? 'Cause he ain't comin' back, that's why."
I could see that Roger was very disturbed about the picture in the paper, but since he was at least talking-something he had not done any time before-I thought that it might better to just let him talk. And as I stood and watched him speak, Doctor, I'll admit that I felt a certain attraction for him. He was a good-looking man. Big, wide shoulders and regular features. I don't know whether you could have called the first attraction I felt for Roger a physical attraction or not Maybe so. I'm not denying it I'm only saying I don't know for sure.
Roger went on talking about the war. "This boy," he continued, "is a boy I know for somethin' on to eight or ten year. He two or three years younger than me. I don't know for sure. What I do know, though, that his daddy before him was killed in World War II. Now he the only man left in the family. The law say no boy go into service if he be last survivin' member of the family. But when this boy get his draft notice, he and his mammy they go up to the big office and wait about three hour just to get in an' talk to the man, you understand what I mean? Then they is told some kind of shit 'bout, 'yeah, that the way the rule generally is, but this time they some kind of exemption to the law.
"Yeah, some kind of exemption, the man says. Well, it don't make no sense, but they know they got to do what the law say, so this boy, he go straight out o' boot camp right up to the front line. Now I find out he got killed. Now you know how he got killed?"
Suddenly Roger interrupted himself and asked me, "What your name, nurse? Here I am fillin' your ear fulla this bullshit and I don't even know your name."
I told Roger my name and he nodded acknowledgment with a worn smile, then went on. "Now the way this boy got killed is, he got his head blowed off by some Viet Cong, they calls 'em. But you know who these Viet Cong is? Well, they boys been pulled out o' their house and been given a gun just like this boy here with his picture in the paper. And may be that this Viet Cong, his old man been killed in a war too, right? And his mammy, she ain't got no other men folks 'round to help her out any more than this boy's mammy in Detroit. Yet they out there shootin' at one 'nother. So this time it turn out to be the 'merican boy, next time it turn out to be the Cong boy. But they ain't no difference, you see? These boys all the same out there on the battlefield. They don't know one 'nother. They ain't got no scrap with one 'nother."
Then Roger put the paper down. "But they out there killin' each other, anyways. So I guess I don't have no beef just 'cause I never be able to walk the rest of my life. I alive, anyways. Now what more a man ought to expect than be alive, huh?"
That's the first and last time I ever heard Roger mention the war in any way. I could never even get him to tell me how he had been injured. But I'll never forget the words he had to say about the Detroit boy. During that short conversation, I think I grew to love Roger right there on the spot. I'm not ashamed to admit it. I think maybe I just fell in love with him right there. He seemed so gentle and so concerned about other people. If I had never seen him again I don't think I ever would have forgotten him But, of course I did see him again. And that's why I'm in your office now.
I guess from what I just told you about falling in love with Roger, I'd better tell you about my earlier life. Well, I grew up in the slums, but I made it out, and I got me an education and a job. Take Roger. Now, he doesn't have any education to speak of, but I don't hold that against him, because I know how hard it is to get out of the slums once you're born there. Inside, where it counts, Roger has a heart of gold. That's what counts.
I was used to rough living all my life at home. My daddy beat my momma up a lot, and we always had three or four relatives living with us. The cops were always coming around to bug us about something we never knew anything about. The doorway was always full of bill collectors and such.
When I was a girl, men were nothing but trouble. Most of them were living off their wives because they couldn't get a decent job, and all that kind of stuff. If my daddy or my brothers ever called me, I knew it was to be whipped, because that's all I ever got from them. Oh, I had a few boyfriends from time to time, but I could tell I was going to have to pick up and get out of the slums before I could ever make anything of myself.
Now, I know you think I'm getting longwinded, Doctor, but please hear me out. I swear that every thing I'm saying to you has a bearing on my case. I know about some of what you al ready heard, and I want to make sure that you hear it my way too.
They told you I had sex with a patient. Well, that's true. I'm not denying it. It was Roger. That's why I'm telling you so much about both our backgrounds. But the main thing, I guess, was Roger's injury. You know how paraplegics can be affected in different ways? Well, Roger's affliction is a fairly unusual kind of paraplegia. He can't ever expect to move his legs again, of course. But that's all that's messed up on him below the belt, Doctor, if you understand what I mean.
I'll tell you how I first found it out. You see, Roger, he never knew any difference either until we accidentally discovered it one day. I was re-making the beds in Roger's room. Well, when I rolled Roger over to make one side of his bed, I naturally had to bend down over him.
You know what happened then? Roger got a big erection on him. And him a paraplegic! It was a surprise for both of us, because afterward Roger said he thought his penis would never be any good, any more than his legs would. I would never have noticed it if it hadn't been for the way he acted. I don't want you to think that I was just standing there staring at his hard penis, because I wasn't. But as I was putting the last tuck into his bed clothes, I noticed Roger was looking down toward his waist with his eyes as big as a silver dollar.
I asked him what was the matter-I thought maybe I left a pin in his bed or something. Who knows? He looked at me like it was Christmas morning under the big tree and he said, "Ain't nothin' the matter. Everything just right!" Then I saw where he was looking and realized what had happened because his penis was still hard. It wasn't sticking out of his pajamas or anything like that, but it was big enough that I could see the outline of it through his pajamas.
I'm sure that normally Roger would have been very embarrassed about getting an erection right in front of me, Doctor, but under the circumstances, he was too happy to be embarrassed. Besides, he knew I was a nurse and everything. He knew I'd seen everything there was to see before he ever came along. He told me, "I ain't had me a hard on since way before my last operation!" Said he was so dejected about it that he never even asked the doctors who operated on him about it. Claimed he could just tell by how it felt to him that it never would be no good for him, and didn't feel like asking the doc to tell him something he already knew.
Well, it made me feel so proud-after all, I was the one that made him get his erection-that I just up and kissed on the head out of pure joy for him and I said, "you're going to be all right! You hear me, you're going to be all right. You may not ever have any use of your legs, but you got something back you didn't know you could get, now didn't you?" And I slapped him on the shoulder. Now, I want you to know, Doctor, that when I kissed him it wasn't any mad, passionate love kiss. It was just a friendly thing to do, you understand?
Every day after that Roger would call me his "angel of mercy" and joke with me about it. It really made me feel good to see him change his outlook. He was usually awfully quiet, but after that happened, he started talking a lot more. Not just to me, but to everybody. Everybody in the room noticed the change in him. Of course, there weren't many who knew the reason for it, but I figured that it was his own business.
The next thing that happened was when they opened up the new hospital wing and made that place to put all diabetics together in the same ward. It happened that all the other patients in Roger's room were diabetics so the first thing Roger knew, he had the whole room to himself.
From then on whenever I went into Roger's room, no one could see me except some other nurse who happened by. And I always knew where all of them were. I don't want you to think that I was planning anything, Doctor, because I wasn't. It was just that the situation was a lot freer. If I had wanted to plan something, I could have done it.
One night I had the late night shift and all the patients were asleep, including Roger. Once, as I went past his room, I thought I heard a groaning noise coming from there, so I stopped in to check on him. When I walked in, he was lying on his back with a big smile on his face and he was moving his lips. You know how people do when they're dreaming. He wasn't saying anything out loud, just moving his lips.
When I went over closer I could see Roger's penis sticking all the way out through his fly! I would have just gone on out, Doctor, really I would have. But then, I noticed something else. Roger was beginning to move his upper body in a kind of rhythm. Of course, he couldn't move the lower part of his body, because it was paralyzed. The more I stood there and looked at him, the sorrier I felt for him. Finally he was almost crying in his sleep for need of relief, but his lower body just refused to .cooperate. Yet his big penis-his hard on-was standing up there trying its best to make something happen. It was heartbreaking to watch a man. suffer like that, awake or asleep. That's when I knew I had to do it, Doctor. I walked out in the lobby to make sure no one was coming, then I went back into his room and walked right over and took hold of his big black penis. You may not believe this, doctor, but I don't care whether you do or not, because it's true. The fact is that I was still a virgin at 20 years old. Oh, I'd necked a lot with guys while I was growing up, but I had been sure never to let them go all the way. I wanted to save myself for the man I married.
I'd never had a man's penis in my hands before in my life. Seen them, yes-had a hold of them, no. As soon as I took Roger's penis in my hand I was afraid he might wake up, but he didn't. When I saw that he wouldn't wake up, I felt a little more confident. I started giving him the business. I slipped my hand up and down his penis. And I kept doing it until he spurted. I didn't mind cleaning it up, it was so good for me to see him relaxed and breathing easy again.
Next morning he said to me, "Angle of mercy, I had one hell of a dream last night."
I didn't say a word.
He continued, "I dreamed you and me was up on a big ferris wheel goin' roun' and roun' in the sky."
When he mentioned me and him being in the same dream, I was worried that maybe he hadn't been quite asleep when I'd been playing with his penis. But then when we said the part about the ferris wheel, I felt relieved. It was just any old dream, after all.
Then Roger said, "I dreamed we had a big box of popcorn, and I was holding it for you in my lap. You were eating out of it while we went around the bottom of the ferris wheel. Then we started on the upswing, and you started grabbing yourself more and more of that old popcorn, until you were reaching and getting it out of the box in my lap just as fast as you could."
He started laughing. "You know what I dreamed then, angel of mercy? Know what I dreamed then?" He was laughing as hard as he could. By that time I had an idea of what must have happened.
"No, I don't know," I said. I couldn't help smiling he was having such an obviously good time.
"If you don't know what happened then, angel of mercy, I can't tell you. I sure can't tell you!" he chortled out loud.
I was pleased to see him in such good spirits. I joshed him, saying, "Excuse me, but I have to go and see what kind of pills that day nurse has been giving you. Whatever they are, they're the wrong kind!"
During the day I had occasion to pass his door several times and each time he saw me he would call out some joke to me. All during the week he seemed to stay in good spirits. I asked the other nurses on other shifts, and they all said that he was behaving the same way during the time that they observed him too.
The next night shift that I had, I went past and found him asleep with a big black hard on again. I didn't even hesitate this time. I had already checked the nurses' positions on the floor, and was satisfied that they wouldn't be near his room. I started sliding my hand up and down his penis and his face started to light up again. Soon he was lying there with a big smile on his face just as he had done the first night I did it for him.
All the rest of the week I did the same thing for him every night, and the day nurses said he was chipper as could be. Finally, I began really getting bold. The next night I went in to his room, I decided I'd do something that I'd been thinking about doing for a long time. I checked the halls again to see how safe they were, then dashed into his room and lifted his penis out of his pajamas. By then I knew what a heavy sleeper he must be, so I'd already given up on him ever waking up in the middle of what I was doing for him. So I took his penis out of his pajamas and stuck it right into my mouth. Now maybe you'll say that isn't any way for a virgin to act, Doctor, but I did it anyway.
Well, before I left that night I had sucked him dry. And I think I enjoyed it as much as he did in his dreams. Although I knew it would be curtains for me if I ever got caught, I was beginning to make quite a habit of servicing him every night I had the chance. The reason, Doctor, was that I loved him, and wanted to make him happy, whether he knew about it or not. I figured a man in his position could not afford to have to think about a wife and kids, because of his disability. I thought that if we did anything in the way of discussing any kind of future, that he'd be bound to get very dejected. And I didn't want to put more troubles on him than he already had. So masturbating him and performing fella-what is that word, Doctor-well, sucking him off, anyway, whatever you call it, was the perfect way to see that my man got what he needed and at the same time to keep him from worrying.
Finally one night something I thought would never happen, did happen. I was in his room sucking him off to beat the band, when a car screeched its tires outside the hospital window and woke him up. Well, he looked down at me with my mouth around his penis and I stared back at him without ever taking my mouth off his penis. I was so surprised and shocked that I didn't know whether to jump or shit. Finally I got control enough to tear my mouth away. I guess he had been about as surprised as I was, because he didn't say a word until I started running for the door of his room.
Then he came to his senses, and he yelled, "Come back here, you beautiful angel. You're not through yet!"
I barely had time to yell as I went out the door, "Don't let it go to your head, you bastard!" and I shot down the hall thanking my stars that ho one saw or heard me. I was so embarrassed I was afraid I'd never be able to face him again.
The next day there was a box of candy on the top of my locker with a note attached. He had evidently had one of the nurses buy it for him, then he had written the note and had someone place it on my locker for me so I'd be sure to find it. All the note said was, in big printed letters, "WE WILL BOTH BE MAKING A BIG MISTAKE IF YOU DON'T COME BACK TO SEE ME." At the bottom he had scrawled his signature, and at the top of the note was, "To my sweet angel."
I thought about it for a while and decided, "Well, what the hell. What do you want for a nickel, anyway?" So I went right in to see him the very next night and I closed the door and locked it that time. I know I was getting awfully saucy, Doctor, to do something like that. But really, what would you have done? We were in love, Doctor. I couldn't just go on living my life as though he didn't exist when all I had to do was walk into a room and find him buck naked with a five-pound hard on!
Okay, so I closed the door. And I locked it. Then I laid it on the line to Roger. I told him that if he meant he loved me when he wrote that note, then that was fine, and if that wasn't what he meant, then he had some explaining to do. He just held out his hands and said, "I knew my angel of mercy would be back!" I ran over to him. I don't know what made me do such a thing, Doctor, but I started stripping off my clothes right down to the bare skin, and he just sat there and grinned. When I had thrown my stockings into the corner, I jumped right up on the bed and neither of us said a word. He had that big old black thing ready for me and I just went right ahead with it like I knew what I was doing. It sure did feel good for me to rub the end of his prick around the front of my vagina. Pretty soon I was so hot that I was all wet and steamy down there.
I reached down and found his hands already at work stuffing his prick into me. His legs might have been shot, but he sure did do good things with his hands. As soon as he was inside me I started rocking back and forth on it, and he started sucking my breasts, first one then another, like he'd never be able to get enough. When he realized he had broken my cherry, he couldn't believe it. He thought I must be sick. When I told him I had been a virgin, he almost cried with joy. I guess he didn't believe me at first. Anyway, that's the way the head nurse found us when she opened the door with the master key. I was stripped naked going up and down on top of Roger and he had a handful of my ass and a mouthful of titty.
So that's all there is to tell, Doctor. I haven't left out a thing and everything I've told you has been the truth. I'd sure like to stay on here, but if you honestly think I've committed an unpardonable sin by doing what I did with Roger, then I'm ready to start packing.
There's just one thing more I want you to know before you make up your mind one way or the other. Roger's been offered a job at an electrical plant splicing wire together. He wouldn't have to use his legs, and he could make pretty good money, considering. I've been scouting around the neighborhood and I've found an apartment we can afford only two blocks from here. And it'd be only four blocks from his work.
PSYCHIATRIST'S ANALYSIS
The very fact that Josie was still a virgin at the age of 20 is in itself rather phenomenal. The best sociological reports available at the present time would indicate odds of approximately 650 to 1 against a girl with Josie's background having remained a virgin that long.
But Josie presents many factors that might account for her virginal status. It seems clear that she is an uncommonly bright girl, and equally clear that she tends to be more candid than many people of whatever socio-economic bracket. Further, it appears that her life before moving out of the slums was so sordid that she may well have developed a reaction complex against bowing to the same fate that everywhere seemed to control the destinies of her friends and neighbors. This drive to better herself may be indirectly responsible for her never having engaged in coitus until later.
Yet, when her intellectual and emotional needs are found to exist side by side with her physical needs, in the crippled Roger, she is not the least bit awkward about taking the bull by the horns and acting in what proved to be her best interests.
Roger's own experience would make him appear to be an unlikely prospect for Josie's affection at first consideration, but he is so quickly and definitely accepted as her lover, that inherent emotional factors below the level of consciousness cannot be discounted. An early indication of possible mutual similarities is seen when Jose is held in such rapt attention by Roger's tirade against the war, and his friend from Detroit who has been killed. Both Josie and Roger seem to be preoccupied with emotional needs as well as material needs.
Statistics are once more in their favor with regard to the matter of Roger's serious malady, paraplegia. The odds are staggering against a paraplegic being able to enjoy penile erection while yet exhibiting all the other symptoms of paraplegia. Yet this is what Roger accomplished, albeit accidentally discovered after he had already given up hope.
A word is in order at this point regarding the dynamics of the couple's sexual involvement. Note that Josie sees Roger's paraplegia not primarily as a physical defect, but rather as a reason for lavishing increased attentions upon him. One gets the impression from Josie's statements that their discovery of Roger's potency was nothing more than a happy accident, and that marriage might have conceivably ensued even if the discovery had not been made ... at least from Josie's point of view. Roger's thoughts on the subject are another matter, for until Josie begins to perform sexual intimacies upon his sleeping body, Roger is extremely morose and despondent.
And the fact that the security-seeking Josie is willing to risk her job in order to participate in sexual activities with Roger is even more difficult to explain. On the one hand she desperately requires the security of her job in order to keep from having to return to the hated slums of her childhood, but on the other hand she is ready to gamble her hard-won employment on a sex episode with Roger.
As for her job being saved for her, it was up to me to decide whether to retain her services or to dispense with them. After taking all the facts into consideration-including some pretty conclusive reasons for firing her, I had little difficulty in arriving at an affirmative decision. The fact that she could have risen so far above her origins, and yet have retained many of the fundamental tenets of her earlier life in the ghetto meant to me that she possessed an uncommon amount of versatility. And that is a quality which every employer seeks. Yet it is illuminating to reflect upon the fact that all these many conjectures are based, directly or indirectly, upon the initial sexual intercourse participated in by the subject.
