"The next day, Gary, Fred, and I went for a walk down by the narrow stream that ran about two city blocks from their house. Ever since I could remember, their folks had admonished us against playing near the river ('Any nut might be hanging around there!"), and ever since I could remember, we'd always gone down to the river to play . . . returning home hours later, invariably wet, or carrying dead pollywogs in our pockets, denying vehemently that we'd been anywhere near the river.
"Since awakening that morning, I'd felt an especial closeness between Gary and me. Our 'secret' seemed vitally important, a blood-and-guts bond between us which no one-no one!-would ever know or share. It was Gary and me, all the way, against the world, forever more. Even if the lions were to attack me, the Nazis were threatening to torture me, or the Nam wanted to brainwash me. . . Gary would come to my aid, Gary would save me. We had a secret. Gary would die for me, and I for him. Children lead such simple lives when you think about it-there's either total commitment, or total disinterest. No halfway, no gray, no maybes or we'll see. It's either Gung Ho! or Drop dead. But my loyalty and devotion bubble was soon to burst. When we had reached the river bank, stretched out on the littered sand and dirt, Fred poked Gary in the ribs and they both snickered.
"Hear you two had a little party last night," Fred said, leering at me and winking at Gary.
"Needless to say, my world of chivalry collapsed instantly. I'd been betrayed. Gary had broken our pledge of secrecy. And I began to cry. Yes. Cry. That's how crushed I was. I'd been deceived, led on . . . made a fool of. And for that moment, I hated Gary so violently I could have killed him. But Fred was smart, or perhaps just the factor of his being sixteen to my thirteen was enough. He began to placate me, telling me how he'd always wanted to see my titties too but had never thought I'd let him, how he could come better than Gary because he was older, and how he knew even better tricks. He cajoled and soothed until I'd stopped crying, but I was far from over my hurt. Then Fred began asking me questions: did I have my menstrual period yet, when was my last one, did I ever feel a funny kind of tingling down between my legs, had I ever stuck anything up there, and sundry other questions which, at that age, meant little to me. Yes, a week ago, oh yes, oh no . . . I nodded or answered but saw no connection, no continuity to his line of interrogation. I'd never heard of the Rhythm Method, so I took Fred's questioning in the same way as I would have taken Gary's before he'd betrayed me. Boys were curious about girls, and vice versa. And then Fred sprang the big one on me.
"Want to see my pecker, Iris? It's a lot bigger than Gary's. And I can do something that Gary hasn't found out about yet. Want me to make you feel real good all over, take care of that funny feeling down there in your cunt? I can do that, y'know. I can make you come too, just like Gary and me can come . . . 'cept that girls don't shoot all over the place. Want to find out how it feels? And this'll be our secret, then. Just the three of us. Swear to never tell anyone, Iris, you've got to swear to that!"
"By then, of course, I was burning from curiosity and my twat was twitching maddeningly. Yes, yes, a secret! We'd be the three musketeers then, the three of us with a common bond . . . yes! That would be even better-wouldn't it?-than just Gary and I sharing a secret that had very little meaning. Fred knew how to make me come too, how to get rid of that itch in my cunt. Oh, that had to be infinitely better than the childish secret which Gary and I had shared for so little time. I nodded and swore-solemnly. Had it been up to me, we'd have cut ourselves and let our blood mix, but I didn't have the nerve to suggest it to Fred. Gary might have done it, but Fred would probably have laughed.
"Okay then, Iris, let me see your titties," Fred commanded and as I began to remove my blouse, he unzipped his fly and pulled out his penis. I marveled at its size! It was at least three times the size of Gary's, and it was still limp. What would it be like when it got hard? Thinking about it, and watching Fred toy with it in his hand, letting his other hand run across my breasts, the familiar aching feeling returned to my snatch; a lonely, hungry feeling of being incomplete and needing something-but what? Fred said he knew. And I wanted to know desperately.
"As Fred played with my tits, teasing my nipples, he told Gary to help me out of my jeans and pull down my panties. Gary readily complied, his face a mask of rapt fascination, his eyes glazed watching Fred's hand on my titties in the daylight.
"Here, Iris, feel my cock. Play with it and I'll play with your pussy and make it feel real good."
"I took hold of his member and weighed it in my small hand. In the light of day, I could see the tiny ridges all over the length of it, like little raised canals, or the veins on the backs of old people's hands. Bluish, some of them beet red, but all of them pulsing toward the large smooth knob at the other end of his shaft. The knob was almost like sponge rubber, soft yet hard, yielding yet resiliency firm. I figured out for myself that the tiny hole at the tip was where they shot their come, but it hadn't occurred to me that it was the same hole they peed through. Nor would I have cared at that moment. Fred was touching me down between my legs in a way that Gary had not; Fred was sending chills up my spine the way he touched me, played with me. Using just his fingers (unlike Gary who had grabbed me down there like a greased bowling ball) to tease my flesh. He seemed to be running just two fingers up and down the length of my cunt, pretending to be like a snake and writhing all over me down there, spreading wide the lips of my vagina and putting his forefinger only up against that part of my cunt and rubbing lightly, driving me frantic and not knowing why. I felt as if I had to pee, yet knew that I didn't have to; but the sensation was similar.
"Fred told me to stretch out and relax, to just lie there and enjoy the feeling, and to keep playing with his ever-growing cock. Gary had squatted down next to us to get the maximum view, and had already taken out his whang and was playing with it. After a few moments of just closing my eyes and giving in to the feeling of Fred's fingers on my aching snatch, I felt his fingers growing slippery and wet. I wondered about it, but I would never have broken our magic moment by asking. Then Fred began to just sort of slide around down there, and he began to pinch lightly at one spot of my cunt, up on top, and my pelvis jerked uncontrollably each time he did it.
"That's your clit, Iris, that's where you have the most feeling down there. Look here Gary, get a good look at it 'cause if you want to get a girl hot in a hurry, just play with that clit for awhile. She'll beg you to let her slip your dong up inside of her if you play with her clit long enough. Really turns 'em on!"
"Is that where you stick it?" Gary asked in an awed voice.
"Hell no!" Fred answered. "There's no hole there. That's just to make 'em hot, just to give them a hard on like we get. Here, feel it. See how hard it's getting? Just like a baby penis."
"I felt Gary's hand upon my clitoris, his touch rougher than Fred's. But nonetheless my body responded and I couldn't help bucking at this incredible sensation, a feeling of boiling oil surging through my body.
"She's sure all slimy down there," Gary said softly, as if I were a dying patient and he the doctor in conference with my surgeon. 'It wasn't like that last night."
"Dummy, did you play with her? Did you get her all hot down there? What do you know anyway," Fred summarized curtly and then I felt him changing positions, taking his huge cock out of my hand. I glanced down and saw how he was placing himself between my legs, stretching out his body so that his prick was poking at my cunt impatiently. 'I'm going to take care of that itch for you, Iris, and you'll know how good it can be to get fucked. I've got a man's cock and I know how to fuck girls real good. You'll like this, Iris, you really will."
"With that, Fred lowered his head and began to kiss my nipples, his cock pushing at my snatch and driving me almost insane. My body just wouldn't hold still. I pushed my titties hard against his face, feeling his tongue on first one and then the other, and his burning rod pressing and poking at my snatch. I couldn't stand it, it was so intense a feeling. Instinctively, I raised my legs up and locked my ankles across Fred's waist. This brought his throbbing cock into a position where I could rub my entire cunt up and down on it, feeling my clit riding along it, and then I felt the head of his prick captured down toward my ass, felt the heat of it burning against my hole.
"That's it, Iris, that's it, baby! Fred's going to fuck Cousin Iris real nice, fuck her real good. Put it inside of you, Iris, take Fred's whang and stick it up inside of you-that's the way to get rid of that itch of yours!"
"I almost didn't have to be told. I'd already reached down to capture his cock in my hand and tried to push it up inside of my hole. All in all, Fred was being very gentle-but of course, I had no basis of comparison then. I felt the head of it penetrate my vaginal canal, spreading me open deliriously until I felt it hit something like a wall, and that hurt.
"That's just your hymen, Iris," Fred reassured me, his breath coming fast and rasping, his face blanketed in sweat. "We've got to push my big cock past your hymen, and that'll hurt for just a few seconds. You might even bleed a little, but no more so than you do with your period. And after that, Iris, after that you'll be in heaven. Are you ready?"
"I remember whimpering and nodding at the same time. I wasn't worried about a little pain . . . all I knew was that his stiff prick inside of me felt like something out of this world, that I wanted it all the way inside of me, filling me up to compensate for that hollow feeling I'd known for so many months, that feeling of being incomplete. If I'd only known about sticking something up inside of me before . . . oh my God! how delicious it was! Even with Gary's heavy breathing almost in my ear, knowing that he was jacking himself off, I was experiencing the most exquisite sensations ever imagined. And then Fred lurched into me. One quick, piercing lurch. I began to scream but Fred quickly covered my mouth with his, sticking his tongue into my mouth, kissing me until I quieted down. He didn't move his cock once he'd broken my hymen. He'd pushed it all the way up inside of me, and he'd left it there, letting me adjust to the size of it, to the feeling of a throbbing prick inside my burning hole. As he kissed me, his hands playing with my titties, I began to enjoy the feeling of his big dong up inside of me, the feeling of the head of it resting snugly almost into my belly, and I began to move my hips slowly, began to rotate them to feel his cock better. I had so little hair on my snatch that Fred's pubic hairs were tickling me and making me hotter, his bulging balls slapping against my asshole gently. And I could feel my clit as it rested against the base of his big shaft. I felt as if every inch of me were vibrating and afire; even the soles of my feet were burning. I'd never dreamed that anything could ever feel so good!
"And then Fred began to withdraw slowly. I whimpered again, but this time for a different reason. I wanted him back up inside of me, snug and captured, giving me that exquisite feeling of fullness and completeness. I didn't want him to pull out of me. I began to worry that he'd come already. Somehow in my ignorance, I wondered if a boy came by breaking a girl's hymen, and that this was something that one did over and over again . . . but then, I remembered that Gary had come without even going inside of me. So then I worried that I'd only come if I got my hymen broken. But then Fred began to ride me. Long, lingering, slow strokes as he filled my cunt with his cock, then slowly withdrew. And I recalled that when Gary had come, his thing had gone all limp again. So, obviously, Fred had not come. He was still in there, hard and strong as a steel rod! I heard Gary's mumbled 'Oh wow!" over and over as Fred rode up inside of me, back and forth, in and out, over and over again, turning my insides into liquid fire, making me squirm with pleasure and wanting more and more of his cock. I humped at Fred, my hands grabbing at his back, my nails raking into his flesh, wanting to shove him all the way up into me, feeling my hot sticky snatch clutching at his cock as it rode in and out. It became more and more difficult to breathe, and the feeling in my hole was driving me insane. My body writhed and twisted under Fred's, his mouth alternately kissing my hard little nipples and sucking on my tongue. And then, as if Fred knew what I was going through, he began to fuck me faster . . . and faster . . . harder, and harder. In and out, in and out, pistoning, pushing, pumping, humping, our bodies met and fought in a battle to culminate in supremacy, ecstasy . . . two animals threatening to devour one another with fulfillment. And then . . . and then-I can still remember it-the bursting, the lightheadedness, the screaming pulsating pushing throbbing blissful explosion of my first orgasm!
"We both fell into a limp heap, panting for air, and I was aware of Fred's prick shriveling up inside of me; slipping, slipping from within me. With an almost audible sigh, I felt it fall from my hole, that hot hole still pulsing with its recent release. I didn't know what to say, or even if anything was supposed to have been said. I felt tears running down my cheeks, but I didn't know why. I wasn't really crying, why were there tears? I felt too good to be crying, too grateful. Yet the tears ran freely down my face and onto the earth beneath me.
"You sure that was your first time?" Fred asked, rolling off from me and zipping himself up again. He noticed the blood on his cock, nodded to himself, and then, grinning at me, he patted my belly. 'Well, you're a damned good lay, Iris, I'll tell you that. You're going to make a very good wife someday!" Then he stretched, glanced over at the drooping Gary, and exclaimed, 'Come on, let's go get something to eat . . . I'm hungry as all hell."
"And that was that. That was my introduction. Most girls look forward to their first kiss, then to maybe letting their steady feel their breasts-but I'd had the whole ball of wax in one brief afternoon on the edge of a dirty river . . . with my cousin."
There are only sixteen states in the Union that do not have laws against marriage between first cousins. In all other states, the laws against incest include cousins, and the penalties for incestuous coitus range from one year's imprisonment to a maximum of fifty years.
In other words, if such august personalities as Queen Victoria and her consort, Prince Albert, had lived in our country, they would have been picked up after their wedding as felons. Albert and Victoria, needless to say, were first cousins.
Incest is the crime of sexual intercourse between two people who are either related by blood or by marriage within the degrees dictated by society in which marriage between these two people is prohibited.
The Mosaic Law from which we derive our abhorrence for incest was very specific concerning the degrees of relationship within which all sexual relations were forbidden. These degrees are, to a certain extent, incorporated in most of the felony statutes of our fifty states.
In Leviticus 18:6-18 we can read:
None of you shall approach any one near of kin to him to uncover nakedness. I am Yah-weh. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your father, which is the nakedness of your mother; she is your mother, you shall not uncover her nakedness. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your father's wife; it is your father's nakedness. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your sister, the daughter of your father or the daughter of your mother, whether born at home or born abroad. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your son's daughter or of your daughter's daughter, for their nakedness is your own nakedness. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your father's wife's daughter, begotten by your father, since she is your sister. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your father's sister; she is your father's near kinswoman. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your father's brother, that is, you shall not approach his wife; she is your aunt. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your daughter-in-law; she is your son's wife, you shall not uncover her nakedness. You shall not uncover the nakedness of your brother's wife; she is your brother's nakedness. You shall not uncover the nakedness of a woman and of her daughter, and you shall not take her son's daughter or her daughter's daughter to uncover her nakedness; they are your near kinswoman; it is wickedness. And you shall not take a woman as a rival wife to her sister, uncovering her nakedness while her sister is yet alive.
The Biblical penalties varied according to the closeness of the incest. It was either burning to death or being stoned to death or being banished into the desert without any means of support. When viewed in that light, today's laws against incest are positively mild. In addition to the penalties of imprisonment, the incestuous marriages are regarded as void and the offspring as illegitimate.
However, if viewed against the standards of many other crimes and their punishments, the laws against incestuous intercourse are extremely harsh and the inclusion of first cousins is positively ridiculous. There is absolutely no scientific evidence that incestuous marriages are degenerative, bringing out the worst traits of both husband and wife. A marriage between close relatives may result in the strengthening of bad traits as well as the good ones. Laws against first-cousin marriages are based on emotion, myth and superstition, rather than on hard facts and scientific proof.
In his book, Sexual Behavior and the Laiv, Samuel Kling states:
The most plausible of all explanations is that allowance of incestuous relations between mother and son, father and daughter, and brother and sister, would disrupt the unity of the family, and on these grounds, and on these alone, there is logic for the present condemnatory attitudes. But there is no logic for nearly two-thirds of the states to condemn first-cousin marriages and one third to allow them, especially when all the scientific evidence available indicates that first-cousin marriages do not produce any more degenerative diseases than marriages between non-related couples.
We do not know where the many prohibitions against incest which have existed in many societies throughout the ages come from. At least, we do not, in our scientific age, understand the logic and the rationale. Religious injunctions, superstitions and myths are singularly devoid of logic, and most customs and morals are a trial-by-error method, designed to keep peace in the family.
Biologically speaking, man is an animal. Physically, we share many traits with our fellow mammals. From experience we know that some of our finest cattle, our best race horses, our super-specialized "best friend of man," the dog, are the result of inbreeding-incest, if you will.
We must look, therefore, not for a biological reason, but for a cultural one. And culture, by definition, is an invention of man's mind. Some backward and primitive societies have incredibly complicated rules against incest. The Australian aborigines of Arnhem Land, for instance, recognize over seventy different degrees of kinship-some of them so intricate that we do not have a word for it in the English language-where any form of touch, let alone sexual intercourse, is strictly forbidden. One taboo even extends to the younger sister of a mother-in-law who is forbidden to look upon the cousin from the father's side of her sister's son-in-law. Under those circumstances one can only marvel there are any Australian aborigines at all.
However, we must not forget that the Australian blackman believes his taboo as much to belong to the "natural order of things" as most people here are firmly convinced that breaking laws against incest of their state is tantamount to going against the Laws of Nature formulated though they are by man.
Richard Lewinsohn, in A History of Sexual Customs, writes:
Alexander the Great's successors, the Ptolemies (a Greek dynasty), practiced marriage between brother and sister for three hundred years without noticeably bad physical effects. This practice has been derived from religious roots, in particular from the cult of the divine pair, Isis and Osiris, whose generative power survived death. But many religions know precedents of this kind, and they have not given birth to political institutions. Any family tree, divine or human, that traces its origin back to a pair of first ancestors, must assume incest between parents and children or between brothers and sisters. Cain and Abel had no other way of reproducing their kind.
Clearly, we have here an exact reversal of the incest taboo. Not only the Egyptian royal families practiced incest, but the Incas of Peru had a similar brother-sister marriage system. Many of the most noble families of Europe practice incest, especially through first-cousin marriages. The rationale behind this practice is one of keeping as much property as possible within a family or clan.
A point of view which is relatively recent, and thus still hotly debated, is that the most important drive in all animals-including human beings-is the acquisition of territory. In Nature, only those male animals are ready and capable to mate that have acquired a certain territory which they will defend against any other intruder, except females of their own species. The females, in turn, will only accept coupling from those males who are clearly and visibly "property owners." The male animals who are not strong enough, or not old enough, to conquer and hold their own territory may be very willing to mate, but they are not given a chance. Either the females ignore them, or the stronger males will chase them away. It follows therefore that, although many young animals have different mothers, in effect they share the same father. Yet, once grown up, they mate amongst each other. Since these animal groups usually live all their lives within "walking distance" from their respective birth places, it follows that most future matings will be between half-brothers and half-sisters. Nature itself, by selective breeding (i.e., inbreeding) practices incest on a grand scale.
The theory can therefore be offered that primitive man led lives similar to that of his nearest kin, the great apes of Africa and Indonesia. One strong male had several wives. The wives had babies, male and female. The male youngsters, though they may have had intense sexual drives and a willingness to copulate with the nearest female in heat-their mothers and aunts -did not have a ghost of a chance. First, they had no territory of their own, and second, the strongest male of the group-their father-brooked no infringement of his property. Consequently, upon having reached adulthood, the young males would go out on their own to establish their territory so that they could attract females. On occasion it happened that they abducted a young female-their sister or half-sister-from the original clan.
It is not too far-fetched to assume that a similar condition existed in pre-historic man up to the time that thought began to take precedence over instinct. It was probably at that moment that the impulse of instinct had to be rationalized. This must also have been the moment that religion had to be invented in order to give divine sanction to the rules and regulations, the taboos and exhortations, the various rites, customs and morals that kept a society together.
Although we now believe to be in a position where we can rationalize, criticize and freely discuss those matters which, a mere generation ago, were strictly taboo, we must recognize the fact that a majority still clings to the old taboos. The taboos themselves have not changed. The moral justification for having them has changed with our religion. And even those who do not profess a religion are still bound by the religious morals and customs that permeate their society. Our society happens to be strongly influenced by the Judaic religion, of which Christianity is an-albeit very large-offshoot. The taboo against incest is so strong in our society that anyone who engages in a sexual relationship with a person next of kin cannot help but have strong guilt feelings.
As has already been stated, the crime of incest carries heavy penalties in all states of the Union. But we are not discussing, in the five case histories that follow, the penalties imposed by the law. We shall see that in almost all cases the persons under discussion punish themselves. The guilt, engendered by the incestuous relationships, inflicts the most cruel penalty of them all: mental anguish.
Even if the partners are only first cousins.
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
A Cloud of Drummers
"I breathed in the tangy salt scent of the ocean and the sand and turned my head to look at him again. It still seemed hardly possible.
"At the moment he was watching a pair of teenagers ride a surfboard to the shore, and his hazel eyes studied them critically.
"I smiled. 'That's right. The last time I saw you, Billy, you were trying to get Uncle Bill to buy you a surfboard in the worst possible way."
"His handsome, disconcerting adult face broke into a grin. 'I got it, too, and the idiot thing became my entire existence for the next five years. Five years! You were the reason I got it, too. I think they felt guilty about splitting us up, so they gave me the board."
"My arms began to feel uncomfortably warm. I sat up slowly, reached to the suntan lotion and began rubbing my shoulders and arms-with the sun heated cream. 'I don't think I'm flattered." We smiled at each other, both of us still a little overwhelmed at being together after eleven years!
"Looking up at me, his face serious now, Billy started to say something, then hesitated. 'Missy.. . . ' He tried another smile. 'My dear Melissa.. . . If you only knew. . . . ' He shook his head, as if to dispel all eleven years.
"Suddenly a cool breeze seemed to go right through me, and I had an urgent need to reverse the conversation, to get it back to its former bubbly lightness. I didn't want to think of what it was that made me feel that way, but I'd never forgotten, not really.
"From the time I was three and Billy was five our two families had shared a duplex in a small town outside New York City. Aunt Lorrie and Uncle Bill were as much a part of my life as my own parents, and their son Billy was my friend, brother, hero and first sergeant all rolled into one, aside from being my cousin. Mom and Aunt Lorrie got along fairly well for sisters, just as I got on okay with Beverly, my little sister, but the relationship between Billy and myself was a whole other thing. We formed a universe of our own, one shared only with the creatures and manifestations of nature itself, the woods, the sea, the earth and the sky, and, of course, all the noises, movements and imagery of each that might or might not be threats from which only Billy could protect me. We were happy together.
"I don't know when we began discovering that we were different-that Billy was a boy and I was a girl. At first, though, the information that we were supposed to be natural enemies confused us. Then, under pressure from our peers, we went through a miserable period of pretending to grow apart.
"We'd spend long, boring hours with our classmates, Billy feigning interest in knocking a ball around a field with the other boys while I mimicked the girls I was with and dressed and undressed a stupid doll who patiently regarded me with unblinking eyes. Then, when we felt we'd satisfied the others at last, we'd find some excuse to sneak off and be together. Once our time alone became stolen and secretive, each moment became even more precious.
"As soon as we could, we pretended to enter that pre-teen 'mature' stage where you suddenly are aware of the other sex again. All we cared about was being together, and slowly we found ourselves dropping our new relationships and taking up where we left off, not giving much of a damn how anyone felt about it. We'd dip into the woods for hours of exploration, whooping it up as joyous Indians one day, a pair of white explorers the next, and perhaps as a young couple the third, looking to clear the land and set up a log cabin. Once we spent three whole days pretending we were lost on an island, and we
'found' our own food and created our own world. The game started as soon as we set foot into the woods and ended when we left at night for home.
"The beach was our second favorite place, and we nagged our parents to take us until they were as glad as we were when we were finally old enough to get there on our own. We'd spread our blanket as far from the crowds as we could, plaster each other with lotion, and slow-bake after a quick dip in the rolling waters. Then we'd stuff ourselves with sandwiches, pickles, cookies and warm soda, all seasoned with sand and gooey lotion. Afterwards, tightly side by side, we'd blink up at the brilliant sky and explore the clouds together, eager to see what wonderful stories the universe had to tell us that day.
"It was a great life, and I loved every minute of it. I wanted my childhood to go on and on, and I didn't think, deep down, that we'd ever really grow up or change. We were the Peter Pans of the world, and for such as we the clouds, the sea, the earth and the woods would always perform.. . .
"I suppose I was almost eleven when I felt the very first fluttering of sexual awareness. Oh, I was as aware of sex itself as any kid of the day. I'd seen graphic instructions and such plastered on walls, I'd heard the other kids talk about it, I'd seen my folks naked from time to time, I'd done my share of sneaking around and reading so-called dirty books. Several years before, Billy had been given some pictures by another boy and he'd showed them to me. They were of a couple, and while I don't suppose there was much they missed in the way of sexual acts, it was their hopelessly out-of-date hairstyles, the woman's choice of makeup and the fact that the man always wore his shoes and socks-white!-that got to us more than what they were doing to each other. We laughed so hard I thought I'd hurt something in my left side, and Billy wasn't in much better shape, either. But the sex itself seemed kind of, well, dumb and meaningless, as if they were funny old-fashioned dolls being pushed into uncomfortable-looking positions. It had nothing at all to do with what I began to feel within myself when I was nearly eleven.
"At first these strange sensations didn't have anything to do with my beloved cousin. He was thirteen, and much more interested in finding the right type of branch from which to make the perfect slingshot. But then I began to notice Billy in a slightly altered way. When we went to the beach, for instance, I found myself glancing sideways at his firm young body which was already losing a little of its boyishness. Or when he'd pick me up or carry me someplace I'd find that I regretted it when he released me, that my flesh was wonderfully warmed by his. There were other things, too, and they began to disturb me more and more, mostly because, for the first time in our relationship, I felt a sense of secretiveness that was apart from all the shared ones. I didn't even know if I was happy or sad.
"I suspect Billy began to go through some sexual self-awareness the very next year, when he was fourteen. At twelve I had already developed a cute little set of breasts, and my string bean hips were taking on a little padding. My long carroty brown hair tended to get oily more quickly now, so I washed it and brushed it out a lot, and it was beginning to take on a luster that was something like the magnificent coat of Billy's favorite horse at the stable. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, it suddenly hit me that Billy was spending a lot of time just looking at me, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing, or couldn't believe he was liking to look at me all that much. For a few days it put a new strain on us, but we soon got used to enjoying each other in this odd-duck way.
"Sometimes, especially after a long day with Billy, I'd go home and feel sort of achy all over, as if invisible hands were stroking me very, very gently. My little nipples would feel sore and tingly, and the insides of my young thighs would feel an urge to clamp together every so often. I didn't really understand what I was feeling, but part of me liked it, anyway.
"The girls at school would talk about boys all the time, and they'd compare this boy to that one, this teen-aged singer to another one. Some of the girls would try to get me to put in a good word for them with Billy.
"I think he's the cutest boy in town, Missy. He's got the sexiest eyes. And those muscles! Mmmmmm! Too bad he's your cousin!"
"What . . . what do you mean?" I asked, confused, my mind lingering on Billy's muscles and eyes, a little annoyed that Joyce, a stranger, practically, should have noticed, my Billy's eyes and muscles.
"Joyce laughed, 'I mean here you get to spend so much time with the cutest boy around, and he's your very own cousin! That's like having Elvis as a brother or something. Fat lot of good it would do you."
"I wasn't so totally out of it that I didn't know what my pretty blonde classmate was talking about. Billy was okay as a friend even though he was my cousin, but that was all. I mean, cousins couldn't be lovers or anything like that. They couldn't even marry each other. It was a big no-no. I walked away from Joyce feeling more miserable than I'd felt in ages, and I didn't even know why!
"The next day Billy picked me up early and we took off for the beach. It wasn't officially summer yet, but it was a school holiday and there was a good chance the beach would be swarming with people later in the day. We decided to find a particularly isolated spot somewhere, so we could pretend we'd just been washed up on a distant shore, forced now to fend for ourselves or starve, our very favorite game through the years, a game for which we had countless variations.
"We walked along the beach for miles that day, heading out away from the populated area into the rocky inlets until we finally found a cove that was perfect. It would take an energetic couple as young and determined as us to reach it, since arriving at the small beach of very white sand involved a difficult climb from the next beach. The rocks above were so steep we couldn't even be seen from the main road.
"We felt as if we had indeed been washed ashore by the time we dropped our picnic bags to the sand and spread out our blanket and towels. It was still early but already the sun was hot. Eagerly we got out of our jeans and shirts, stripping to our bathing suits in a race to see who would be the first to hit the water. We were both good swimmers, and we raced through the water like a pair of dolphins, exploding with giggles as we broke for the shore and our towels.
"I was wearing my brand-new bathing suit, a real bikini. Actually, the suit was a compromise between my mother and myself. I was holding out for one of those French bikinis, the ones with the little strip on top and the G-string around the hips. Mom wanted me to get one of those two-piece jobs that went out with the Stone Age, so we compromised on this one, a suit she'd never allowed me to get if I hadn't started out crying about being the only kid around who wasn't allowed to swim practically stark, staring naked.
"My bathing cap was too tight, so I was busy attempting to peel it off without removing half of my hair from my scalp. But once I had the thing off and was shaking my hair freely around my shoulders and down my back, I suddenly became aware of Billy's undeniably hot eyes on my body. The suit was a vaguely Hawaiian pattern in shocking pink, a knockout, I'd figured, when my skin darkened with the summer sun. It obviously didn't look too bad now, the little top encasing my bouncy small breasts with their pouty tips, the bottom outlining my hips and the cup of my sex more than covering them up. I'd wanted to look good that day-all the more so because of Joyce's oddly disturbing remarks-and Billy's eyes told me I looked damn good. Pleased, I pretended not to notice and turned my attention on getting together a midday snack without including a cup full of sand in the menu.
"All the while we ate, I noticed Billy's preoccupation with my body, and I could actually feel my young body ripening and responding to his grave interest. Somehow, on some level I didn't understand consciously, I sensed this was a special day, and that everything we were doing at each moment was, in a special way, setting the scene. All thoughts of playing stranded castaways were gone now, even though we'd gone to such elaborate lengths to set our stage for it. I also sensed that, for once, I was the more knowing of the two of us, I was the elder, and I had an absurd desire to take Billy's hand and pat it, as if to reassure him that everything would be fine. I found myself humming and glowing as I worked cream over my pale limbs. Then I fell to my back on our blanket, shaded my eyes with one hand, and settled down to soak up the sun's warm rays while I waited for whatever it was to happen.
"Billy was restless next to me, his strong body tensing wherever it touched my flesh. Presently he pointed to a patch of whipped clouds high above us. 'A horse. A pretty white horse." He gestured with the pointed finger. 'See? The long neck. The swishy tail. Darker. Sort of silver colored." As he gestured his elbow grazed my soft breast. He dropped his arm as if it had been burned.
"I see the horse, but it looks more like a woman to me. The silver part is her hair. It's streaked."
"He nodded mutely. Then a slow grin returned to his face. 'She's not as pretty as you, Missy."
"A terrific excitement gripped me at his unexpected words. I stared straight up into the cloud-horse-woman. 'Really? Do you think I'm pretty, Billy? Do you really? As pretty as the other girls in school?"
"Them pigs?" he asked, outraged. 'Are you kidding? You're the best looking girl in that whole school! You must have rocks in your head, thinking any of them others are as pretty as you, Missy. Rocks. Boulders. Like those." He pointed now to a wall of chunky clouds, and I giggled, because they looked exactly like an avalanche of boulders, caught and stopped by some heavenly camera just to prove Billy's point.
"Much more relaxed now, we continued naming clouds, playing an old, safe game while our healthy young bodies secretly thrilled to every casual touch of flesh against flesh, and I knew that not even the sun warmed as brilliantly as the heat of my cousin's body. I grew to enjoy the oily, trembling feeling in my belly and between my legs, and I just hoped my little nipples looked good, all stiff and hard under my suit's bra, because there didn't seem to be a thing I could do about getting them soft again. I happened to glance down once at Billy's loose trunks, and I couldn't help noticing the big bulge which hadn't been there before. Then I'd looked away while my heart skipped another beat or two.
"His voice seemed to come from a long way away. 'Like a what?" I mumbled, so lost in sensation now that I was completely out of tune with the mundane sounds of speech.
"A cloud of drummers," he repeated, nodding up at some bunched clouds riding low in the sky.
"For some reason that struck me funny. I turned my head to him and giggled. 'A cloud of drummers? A cloud of drummers? What's that?" It felt good to giggle, sort of like pushing all the goose-bumps in my body together in one visceral hiccup.
"Billy turned on his side, facing me. His sheepish smile faded then brightened as he stared down at my bare tummy. His fingers slowly began to dance on the smooth flesh. 'Drummers. Dum dum dum dum dum . . . dum.. . . '
"I gasped suddenly, and my hand caught and held his in a gesture so automatic and urgent I didn't stop to think I'd brought his drumming to a stop flatly against my stomach. The pleasant, warm, itchy teasing was over . . . and I didn't know what had come in its wake.
"Billy felt the same. His breathing was all wrong and his hand was sweaty hot. I don't know when he moved or even, really, if it was he or I who moved first. But we were kissing and touching, and even the sun seemed to draw a deep breath and hold it. Neither of us had any experience, yet there was none of the nose bumping confusion of a first kiss. We'd been building to this for a very long time.
"His arms were strong around me and my suit top slipped down almost on its own. There's no way to neatly stack what happened in order; everything just tumbled together so that in one lucid moment we were almost kissing and in the next he had one hand cupping a breast, the other inside the panties of my suit and inside the tight little slit between my legs, and I was feverishly returning his passionate kiss while my small fist was snugly encasing his pumping hard cock. Then I was being flooded with the sudden eruption of his loins, my hand and belly drenched with what might have been his first ejaculation, for all I knew. Or cared, because at the first impact of his orgasm Billy shoved a finger farther up my slick cunt and everything went white-hot for an earth-shaking split second while I groaningly spasmed with what was most certainly my very first come.. . .
"The rest of that day was a hazy yet crystal clear dream, an endless, unforgettable day, marred only by the inner knowledge that not only would we force ourselves to 'forget' it after all, but that it would, in spite of us, end all too soon. With a tact only children and fools seem to have, we silently agreed to call this day a time, out from reality, so that in spite of knowing that what we were doing was taboo, we would do it anyway, now that we'd begun. But only for now, only for this one, bright and joyous, golden day.. . .
"We touched each other in the water, entering the slapping sea hand in hand. I explored him very thoroughly, allowing him the freedom to do the same with me. On the beach again we kissed while I worked the loose skin back and forth over Billy's swollen cock-head, this time milking the come from him, already aware enough to sense the whys as well as the hows. He used the towel to wipe the sticky cream from my fist. Then his fingers returned to my inner thighs, prying apart the smooth, lightly haired little lips. He'd already discovered that I reacted strongest of all when he'd accidentally touched the little organ above my vagina. Centering his attention there, he rubbed and tickled, fondled and tugged on the stiff thumbnail of hot flesh until once again I was moaning and shivering, plunging over some intangible wall, happily tumbling into inner space.
"We napped a little, but not too much, then feasted as if we hadn't eaten in months. Then we napped a little more, and when we woke up we were pressed so tightly together it was only natural that his cock, hard again, should be firmly wedged between my legs, nesting in the slick furrow there. Again on a nonverbal level we'd somehow agreed not to commit ourselves irrevocably -he made no attempt to penetrate my virginal slit. Yet it was impossible to believe that could feel any better than what we were doing, and as he humped me I tightened my thighs as much as possible, and his every stroke rubbed my clitoris and brought me closer to that wall again. This time we reached it together, and his hot cream spit all over my firm, round bottom and dripped slowly into the warm sands beneath us.
"Then the day was over. We had to dress quickly after a fast dip in the water, and it was almost dark before we'd finished our long climb back to civilization. Hesitating before sinking into the throngs of tourists deserting the darkening beach, we looked deeply into each other's eyes for a last time, silently promising to forget, while, on a much deeper level, we also promised to remember this day forever. Then we started home."
Melissa D. had strong feelings of guilt and sought professional help. It was not till the fifth interview that she finally began to talk about her childhood years. Even though she knew that neither the state of New York, not the state of California included marriage between first cousins in their laws against incest, she could not shake the feeling that what she and her husband had done was terribly wrong.
She had an intense desire to become the mother to the children of the man she had so deeply loved and cherished ever since she was a little girl. But, like so many other--even well-educated--people she was convinced that those children would have horrible birth defects, either mental or physical.
Though on the surface the marriage seemed a happy one, nagging doubts about inferior offspring ultimately prevented her from enjoying sexual intercourse. Her husband-and cousin-began to cast about for other women who "would be like
Missy when she was younger," clearly stand-ins.
It was at this point that she sought help.
Alfred Adler, in Understanding Human Nature wrote:
. . . boundaries to the love life may be set in early childhood. After a brutal education in which all tenderness is dammed up and repressed, a child withdraws from the circle of his environment, and loses, little by little, contacts which are of utmost importance to his soul. Sometimes a single person in the environment offers an opportunity of concord; when this happens the child joins himself to his friend in a very deep relation. This accounts for the individuals who grow up with social relationships directed to but a single person, whose social tendencies can never be stretched to include more than one other human being.
Even though neither the parents of Melissa, nor those of her cousin Bill, were overtly brutal to their children in a physical sense, it becomes quite apparent that we can consider both children to be neglected on an emotional level.
Beautiful though the relationship may seem at first glance between Bill and Melissa, it should be pointed out that neither was able to form any other relationships with playmates outside of their self-chosen little circle of two.
Even the onset of puberty when girls become interested in boys, and vice versa, was not capable of breaking the tight bond these children had formed. In a sense, the children were lucky to be of opposite gender. The fact that they were also cousins is rather immaterial at this point.
It does not make much difference, at least not to children, whether parental neglect or parental brutality is real or imaginary. If a child believes that he is either neglected or brutalized, he will react to it as if it were an actuality. And, consequently, he will seek a person who will pay attention and show tenderness.
Yearly, thousands upon thousands of youngsters, some in their pre-teens, run away from home, firmly believing that they are not wanted, that they are maltreated, and that they are severely misunderstood. Many of them have a good reason to believe this because such a situation exists in fact. Most, however, only think that this situation exists while in reality nothing could be farther from the truth. The problem is to convince them that they are mistaken, and that a reconciliation could easily be effected by a third party. Unfortunately, in most instances there are not enough third parties to go around. Thus can be explained the tremendous success of the hippie movement of the middle and late sixties when the kids banded together in their own subculture.
Melissa and Bill experimented sexually, even though they did not have actual sexual intercourse. Though heavily frowned upon by society, almost all children, when given the opportunity, experiment sexually in one way or another. They do this partly out of curiosity, partly because of their intensifying sexual drive. "Puppy love," the first emotional involvement is the next step, and from then on the period of dating sets in.
Normally, however, these steps in sexual development involve a variety of partners. How far the children go depends largely upon the limits set by the peer group.
Again, Bill and Melissa did not follow this rather normal pattern. They had only each other.
Consequently, when the families broke up, and when the children were forcibly separated, they both-after an initial search for each other-began to look for a companion who resembled their childhood partner as much as possible. As Melissa readily admits, she did not love her first husband. He performed sexually very well, he provided more than adequately for her, and she "liked him." She liked him especially because he reminded her of her cousin. This was the only reason she consented to marry him. Her reaction to his death was one of regret, regret that she had not been nicer to him.
Bill faced a similar problem. In all his years of marriage he kept making a "Freudian slip." During intercourse, and in his sleep, he called his wife by his cousin's nickname: Missy.
It is no wonder, then, that the old flame was rekindled the instant they met again. They met as old friends, as ex-"almost"-lovers, and neither one of the two had any intention of being separated again.
"Nothing more was ever said about that day, and on the surface our friendship was the same as ever. Only it wasn't, really, not for either of us. My body ached for the touch of his, and I went ice-cold when I saw another girl approach Billy. I suspected his reactions were pretty much the same toward me, and I don't know what would have happened if we hadn't been forced into different paths so soon afterwards.
"I don't remember, if I ever actually knew, what our parents started their fight over, but after so many years of friendship, everything blew apart. The house was put up for sale, we kids were forbidden to have anything to do with each other, and my dad transferred to the Los Angeles plant. It all happened so suddenly, there was no time for rebelling or secret plans. If there had been, we probably would have run away or something. As it was, I was dragged off to a relative's house in the Bronx where we stayed until we got on a plane for California. The last time I saw Billy was when we drove off towards the Bronx. He was standing in the window of his room. When he saw me, he lifted his arm as if in a wave, then his face dissolved into tears. I was crying so hard I couldn't even stop when it was long obvious that tears were pointless. . . .
"I'd hated California more because of my intense desire for Billy than for any other reason. My need for him dulled in time, of course, and the years passed. I finished high school, went to college, got a part-time job, and eventually married Jon.
"Sometimes I wondered if it was the slight resemblance to my cousin Billy that attracted me to Jon in the first place. I'd long ago given up on finding Billy again. I had no idea where his family had moved, and the one of two ideas I'd had panned out to be failures. I honestly thought I loved Jon when we married, but the entire relationship was like a car engine that never quite turned over. We went through all the normal motions of making love, going out, seeing friends, shopping, planning on a baby some day, but the truth was that ours was a sad excuse for a marriage. Both of us were sorry, and neither of us wanted to come right out and label it such, so we sat through three years. We might have sat through fifty, if fate hadn't stepped in. Jon was killed on a busy New Year's eve, attempting to drive to the all-night market for more ice cubes, while I stayed home and entertained our guests. In spite of the lack of depth in our marriage, I grieved for Jon and experienced real pain that I hadn't been able to make his young, short life happier. I vowed then that I'd never marry again unless I had something deep and meaningful to bring to the relationship. So, a widow at twenty-four, I felt many times older and wiser.
"I went back to work at the bank, began accepting dates after a few months, rounded out my life with hobbies and friends, and moved to an attractive apartment house with a pool in the North Hollywood area. Whenever I met a man who attracted me sexually, I allowed the relationship to grow. I was not a prude, and I needed sex as much as any woman my age. Sometimes, just once in a great while when conditions were just right and something in the air had a special tang to it, when that final push into bliss carried a certain extra something, my mind would tiptoe back over impossible cliffs to a long-ago day, a forbidden day, and the scent of salt and the sea would fill my nostrils for a brief, wonderful second.. . .
"Then, with the marvelous mystery of real life, something no story can improve upon, Billy walked into my life again, with no warning or introduction.
"I was at the bank, greeting customers with that somewhat frozen, glossy smile a teller gets toward the end of a long day. I'd just handed some old lady her bankbook and was sorting her bills when I gave the same automatic greeting to my next customer, without quite looking up.
"Hello, Missy," said a voice made even less familiar by the use of a nickname I'd not used for years.
"The next few seconds, when I recognized Billy yet could barely piece him with my faded memories of a young boy, were ecstatic and tearful. Then I remembered where we were. Fortunately the bank was about to close. I excused myself, found a friend, told her about my eleven years-lost favorite cousin reappearing, and she was happy to finish my work so I could take off a little early. I grabbed my purse and sweater with one hand, Billy with the other, and we took off.
"Billy had come by cab, so we used my car, went out for dinner, and made some attempt to catch up. He told me quickly that he had moved to
Fort Worth with his family, had attempted to run away from home six times, had once made it as far as New Mexico, had gotten into some trouble in Fort Worth, and finally ended up in the army where he became interested in mechanics as a career. He also told me that he was married, divorced, and had a son, four, whom he rarely saw since his ex-wife had remarried. I gave him as sketchy a rundown of the eleven years from my side. For the most part we just marveled at being together, accepting the strangeness of the situation. Billy had worked hard and now owned two garages back East. He was out here, he said, partly on business and partly to try to find me, following a tip given him by a friend of a friend that included my married name. He beamed with pleasure that he had, after so many years, tracked me down.
"After dinner Billy had to see some people on business, and didn't expect to get back to his hotel until late. We agreed to meet in the morning. We would, for old time's sake, go to the beach.
"I went home overwhelmed with happiness at seeing Billy again. The happiness lasted while I got ready for bed. But once I got into bed my mood changed. I mentally pictured the Billy I used to know, and wondered at this new, strange, handsome man who had reentered my life so suddenly. Why had he come? And why had we agreed to go to the beach? Was it because he wanted to swim, or was it because he, too, remembered that day? Somehow the idea that seemed so right an hour or two earlier now seemed threatening. Why had Billy come looking for me after all these years?
"The sheets felt uncomfortably tight around my body, and I kicked them off. Still too warm, I slipped out of my gown. Naked and very much alone in the dark, I began stroking my body almost before I realized what I was doing. Then I was ashamed and confused. Sighing, I turned over, closed my eyes, and willed sleep to come.
"With all this on my mind, it was no wonder I reacted to so lightly personal a remark as Billy saying, 'If you only knew. . . . " I had to get a grip on myself or admit . . . admit that, after all these years, I was feeling something I knew I shouldn't be feeling.. . . Instead I breathed in more of the salt air and let the sand trickle through my fingers.
"You look wonderful, Missy. All grown up now, yet still the same. More beautiful. God, I've missed you, honey." His hazel eyes were bright.
"I tried to smile, to keep it light. 'You didn't turn out half bad yourself, Billy. Now let's see . . . who can I introduce you to? I can't let an unmarried cousin go to waste when there are all kinds of girls out there." I couldn't meet his eyes.
"His hand touched my wrist. 'Missy.. . . Hell.. . nothing's changed. That's why I came to see you. That's why I'm here. Either we go on playing games, or we talk. Really talk."
"The most insane part of it was that I knew exactly what he meant. My eyes burned with tears of confusion.
"His voice was very gentle. 'Look at those clouds," he whispered close to my ear. 'A cloud of drummers. And his strong fingers drummed a moment on my bare belly and, again, I reacted.
"After all those years my fingers closed around his and a helpless gasp eased from my throat. Billy grinned, took my hand and led me to the car. We drove to my apartment in silence. Even my mind refused to work.
"Once inside, Billy pulled me into his arms. His kiss was scented with the sea and suntan oil. His fingers peeled my suit from my weak, shivering body. All eleven years peeled away with the suit.
"He carried me to the bed. 'We're not kids anymore, honey. We're responsible for our actions, every one of them. You were the reason my marriage didn't work. I know it was different for you. Your husband died. But one look at you in that bank and I knew nothing had changed." His mouth closed gently over my lips.
"In that moment my whole lifetime shattered and began to take on new form. As quickly as that. This was my Billy in my arms again. He loved me. And I loved him. I always had. And would. I'd spent most of my life waiting for this moment. I returned his kiss with a fullness that answered his.
"Oh, Missy!" He looked down at my body. Then he bent over and sucked a ripe nipple into his mouth. His other hand cupped my other breast. Once more it was like that day on the beach. Only this time we had a knowingness to bring to each other. It easily replaced our long lost innocence.
"I parted my legs smoothly while Billy fitted his face between my thighs. Gently his hand pried the little lips apart, just as they had years before. Only this time it was his tongue which found my slit and hard, waiting clitoris. I arched my back and moaned as my cousin began to lick my pussy, lovingly running his tongue all over the tender flesh. Other men had done this to me. Jon had been particularly good at it, but never had anyone made me feel like this. I wrapped my legs around his neck and held on. Shock after shock of pleasure hit me, amplified by the added ecstasy of glancing down every so often to find Billy, my Billy, after all these years.
"I remained perfectly still while he slowly licked a fine trail up over my flesh. He kissed my breasts and returned to my thighs, breathing feathery kisses everywhere. I came in a delirium of happiness and, frantic to return his loving, I slid around on the bed. My mouth found his hard crotch. Pressing my parted lips to the bulge in his suit, I blew hot air against his throbbing flesh. When he moaned and began to struggle against my face I relented and worked his suit off his slim hips. The man-sized cock that greeted me was startling, reminding me again that what I'd left behind was, after all, just a boy. This Billy was more a man than I'd expected. Not that I was complaining, not in the least.
"I opened my mouth eagerly, working my tongue up, over and around his prick. A drop of pearly cream eased from the dimpled top and I savored it slowly, wondering idly with that small part of me that could still think and question-just how far that 'flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood' bit went, anyway. It was so strange, but now that I was fully embarked on what seemed to be my destiny with my cousin, I ceased to wonder about the so-called sinfulness of the whole thing. Or to give a damn about it, either. What I cared about at the moment was taking every last inch of his swollen man-flesh in my mouth and sucking it so magnificently that if we were to part again, he'd have something to remember for another eleven years. I got busy doing just that.
"Billy groaned and thrust his hips at my mouth as I began to slip down on him, fitting my mouth cave-like over him, glove tight, hot and wet, intent on sucking him dry.
"I nearly gagged before I was able to finally hide him inside me. But the hugeness of him felt wonderful, too wonderful, too sexy. I forgot about drawing the act out, applying all the oral artistry I'd learned from various lovers. I just began to move up and down on that wonderful, sexy prong, supercharged with desire from being with Billy. How many of the faceless men in my dreams were Billy, I wondered? And how, even for a moment, had I been able to share my flesh with any other lover?
"I was rewarded for my efforts in seconds, swallowing hugely in order to keep from gagging on his thick come. When Billy was finally emptied, I licked and sucked him until he became shriveled and so sensitive he couldn't take more of my loving. Then he pulled away and forced me to his side.
"That was . . . , ' he struggled for a word, then gave up. Shrugging, Billy settled for a long, sweet kiss instead. Our naked bodies met in a kiss of their own, and I knew it wouldn't take much to get me going again. I pulled away slightly, thinking this might be a good time to talk, to work things out, to find out if we had found each other again only to separate once more.
"But Billy was in no mood to talk. He pressed me back into the mattress and reached down for my still-pulsating vagina. He fitted one finger into me, then added a second one. He moved slowly, touching every inch of my slippery inner flesh, probing and exploring, teasing and exciting me until I began to whimper helplessly into my pillow.
"Don't, Billy.. . Don't, darling.. . Ooh . . . that feels so . . . so . . . good. . . . ' My hips began rising and falling, following the impossibly slow, studied pace of his fingers, and a little piece of my mind felt a sense of rage that he must have learned this magic from another woman's loins. 'Stop that, Billy. . . . Stop that before I come all over your hand. . . . " I sighed.
"He grinned over me. 'How many times can you come in one night, Missy, honey? Ever find out? Let's find out, okay?" He worked his fingers in and out of me a shade faster.
"My nipples, having softened, began to swell up again. Billy sucked and tongued one, then began to chew gently on the other. The hot, syrupy feeling began .to drip through my veins. I was actually gasping and jerking my hips like crazy before he took pity and added his thumb to his actions, bumping my clitoris with every stroke into my womb. Now I was completely covered. I humped the fingers, accepted the wonderfully strong prodding of his thumb against my throbbing clit, and could only arch my back to offer Billy as much of my sore titties as he cared to chew and suck. I came hard, moaning and twitching, and it wasn't until I completely finished spasming before he allowed me to go free.
"This time his kiss was passionate and demanding. 'I love the way you move," he whispered against my mouth, 'I used to dream about the way you moved for me that day on the beach. And in every dream I cursed myself for being such a fool. I should have shoved my cock into you on the spot. I should have forced you to take it, made the decision for you instead of settling for game-playing. Do you realize that every woman I've fucked, all these years, has been you? Do you know that one of the reasons my wife left me was that she just couldn't take my calling her by your name night after night?" His voice was tender, without bitterness. But I felt his pain with an answering wrench from my own long denied desire for him.
"We moved our tongues together silently. Then, as he continued to whisper, I shot my tongue in and out of his ear in a sudden frenzy of desire to not break contact with each other on one level or another. 'I can't talk when you do that, baby.. . . But that feels so good . . . so good . . . I'm going to fuck your now. You know that, don't you? I'm going to push my big cock into you all the way and keep it there forever. Forever, baby.. . . Spread for me, Missy. Spread for me the way I've dreamed of you opening up for me all these lonely years.. . . '
"I sighed and held him tightly as I obeyed, my legs opening like silky robots, as if I were a doll he had to command instead of a mature adult who needed that prick of his inside her at least as badly as he needed to put it there.
"He waited until I was opened as wide as I could get. Then he bent over, bringing his mouth to my crotch. With one long, sucking kiss he drew my entire clitoris into his mouth. 'Oh, my God!" I cried out from the intensity of the unexpected contact, 'My God!"
"Instead of pulling away from my pussy, Billy bent even lower, shot his tongue into my juicing hole, withdrew it, then plunged it fully into my pouty little anus, the last thing in the world I'd expected. It was a new sensation for me, and it happened so quickly he was already gone before I could realize just what he had done. 'That felt wonderful," I told him once he was back licking my pussy. 'Would you . . . would you do that to me again, Billy? One more time?, ' Now I was hot all over, deliciously vibrating with ecstasy.
"He complied willingly, turning his talented tongue to my virgin bottom, reaming it out until it was as wet and almost as open and hot as my cunt itself. I was too worked up to be able to take it when he planted another sucking kiss on my clit -I came as soon as he began to suck on it. I squirmed against his face like a desperate animal but somehow he held on, forcing me to take his sucking while I spasmed wildly. I was weak by the time he quit.
"Billy got to his knees over me, and wiped his wet face on a corner of the sheet. Then he reached down and held out his big cock for me to see.
"Although I was still weak from the last spasming, I was fascinated by the hard tool I knew was about to be buried into me. I suspected that all that had happened so far was just a buildup to this fuck, and that this was to be the fucking of my dreams, the fucking Billy had silently promised me on that beach and was finally about to give me. All the tiredness left my limbs as I reached down for his meat. In some unspoken way I suddenly knew I would have to make the first move, that I would have to impale myself on his cock first. Then he could fuck me, ride me until I was sore and begging for relief. But first I would take the lead and, in so doing, show him I was totally his, completely his. We changed places effortlessly.
"I looked down at my cousin, my lover, my love, as I got to my knees on either side of his hips, raising myself as high as I could until I'd placed his shaft directly below my oozing hole. Then I began to sink down on it.
"There's no way, no words to describe the achingly marvelous sensation of sinking down on Billy's thick cock. I'd been fucked many times before, by several sensitive and loving men, but nothing had ever felt like this. Even when it began to hurt, even when I began to fear I might be split in half by his prick, I still continued to lower my rump to his belly, loving it in spite of hearing my own groans turn into moans of mixed pleasure and pain. Just when I thought I couldn't take any more I was grinding my cunt against his balls and belly. I rested for a moment, faint with the ache and fullness of him, dizzy with the ecstasy of sitting on my cousin's monstrous cock.
"Billy allowed me that moment, but that was all. Holding me tightly so that as little of him as possible slipped out of me, he rolled over on my belly. Then he began to ride my cunt, and I was lost to a whole new world of sensation once more. He stroked and shoved, moved slowly, then rammed himself into me. His cock speared me, soothed me, threatened and rewarded me, and I no sooner got used to his plunges when his hips began to spin in wide circles, fucking me crazily, fucking me like no one else had ever dreamed of fucking me. He bucked and prodded, then, finally, settled down to a system of complicated strokes which I was helpless to do anything more than appreciate. I came only a moment before he did, so that my cunt was a sucking, toothless mouth, milking the come out of his balls in a way that had him crying out with ecstasy. Then, at long last, we slept.
"I didn't question Billy when he moved into my apartment that night, and I didn't question him when he moved me back to his home town. When we had to lie to the judge about our relationship to each other so we could be married, I didn't question him either. In fact, the only question I had was why he made us wait eleven years. . . . "
Melissa and Bill D. are both undergoing group therapy. It must be stated again that both were sufficiently well educated to rapidly understand that there was no scientific proof that marriages between first cousins produced deficient offspring. Statistically, the only thing that has been established so far is that first-cousin marriages are slightly more fertile.
The problem for which they are seeking help is that they cannot relate emotionally to anyone else but their partner. Since it is, in such a case, not too farfetched to assume that children born out of their union may become as neglected as they were, Melissa and Bill decided to join a sensitivity group.
CHAPTER TWO
Thicker Than Water
"If you've ever lived in a small town then you'll know what I'm talking about-otherwise you might not realize just what the true impact of what I'm about to relate is. You see, there is something about the life in a small town that is so far removed from city or big city life that it is beyond the belief of city dwellers. Only after they had experienced it could they conceive of what goes on in dinky little burgs they didn't even know existed.
"Take M-, Indiana, for instance. That's my home-town. It's smaller than South Bend-which isn't that big itself. Of course, we have Chicago just a few hours drive by toll way from our little tree-lined-or infested-jerkwater town. We have a movie house and one going up, so I heard, two fairly good restaurants, a night club for the tourists-mostly salesmen from Chicago or Cleveland or Indianapolis.
"M is a quiet little town of a few thousand population. Mostly we have tree-lined streets and stone-faced houses and buildings--mosquitoes. It's really lovely there, so don't get me wrong. It's just that some of my very worst, as well as some of my very best, memories are from there. I'm not really bitter about having been raised in a small town-not so's it would show, at least.
"After all, I am a fairly well-off businessman now and my wife, Alicia, and my four kids live the simple, relaxed life of the nouveau riche. And I own my own construction business now that my brother has decided to pull out and retire. He always wanted to retire before he was forty, and he did it-for now at least. So, I bought him out and now I'm sole owner of the company.
"My kids go to private schools and have everything they want-and mainly they want to become hippies and go to Los Angeles and New York and live 'the good life." They think that we middle-class bums who worked hard for a living are too fucking materialistic and capitalistic for their blood. They have everything they want while they bitch about their petty little problems. And they probably smoke marijuana and take acid for all I know.
"Not like in my day. Not when I was a kid. Back in good old M--. Those were the days. Father was the boss and Mother ran him. And all the relatives lived within one square mile of each other. It wasn't that we were terribly clannish or anything like that-it was just that M-wasn't much larger than that and we had to live close or we'd be in the next town.
"Mainly, I guess we all lived in the same town -except for the few relatives who had left for New York City or Chicago or Los Angeles-because the older generation owned everything in partnership-like my brother Marshall and me. It was closeness and convenience. How better to watch out for your own interests than to live right there? So each brother and sister and aunt and uncle watched each other, making sure that no one got more than their rightful share of anything.
"Small towns! Shit, what a pack of rats! Always at each other's throat. Always bickering and butting in where they weren't wanted. I can remember my aunts walking into our house without so much as knocking or ringing the doorbell. They just barged right in and yelled out for my mother. She took it in stride because she did the very same thing at their houses. No one locked their doors--what was there to be stolen if a crook should come to town?
"My aunts told my mother how to raise me and my brother and sisters--and she, in turn, told them how to raise theirs. Everyone butted in. But everyone was really close. And, I do mean close. Rumors and gossip ran rampant through our family about the members who were playing around with each other.
"Auntie Ruth actually got caught in bed with
Uncle Andrew-she was one of my mother's sisters and he was one of my father's brothers. And they were married to two entirely different people. That really gave everyone something juicy to talk about for a long time.
"Then there was Auntie Margaret. She stirred the town up something awful when she went out to Reno and got herself a divorce from Uncle Phillip so she could marry his brother, Harold, Jr. They always called him Harold Junior, rather than either Harold or Junior. Phillip didn't know whether to thank or kill Harold Junior for doing it -marrying up with Auntie Margaret. But Uncle Phillip showed them both up good and proper-he insisted that Auntie Margaret have custody of their five brats, and then he ran off with one of the bleached-blonde dancers from the local nightclub.
"Auntie Margaret nearly died since she had expected her ex-husband to pine away from a broken heart or something. He really showed her--and gave the family something else to talk about for the longest time. We never did find out if he got married to that dancer. But he refused to visit us or return or anything. Just stayed in New York and made himself a good living-so some said. Others said he was starving in Greenwich Village. Who knows? Better yet, who cares?
"Maybe I better explain how the family system worked in our town so you can get a better idea of what was going on. You see, there were really only three families involved, more or less. Since I was told that this would all be anonymous-and it damn well better be-I'll use fictitious names so you can get a better grasp. I mean, you swore you wouldn't print our real last names and only the most common of the first names so no one could be recognized.
"All right, so I'll say that there are the Joneses, the Smiths and the Johnsons. One family is really hardly worth mentioning, I'll call them the Nothings. Okay? Well, as you know, I'm a Jones-from the largest and best group in town. My wife is a Johnson. My brother married a Johnson, too. My younger sister married a Smith and my older sister married a Nothing.
"Got the picture? Brothers and sisters married brothers and sisters from other families so that brothers-in-law were also brothers and sisters-in-laws were also sisters. It was all kind of crazy. But it kept everything in the family-all the shops and plants and businesses.
"And, shit, did we have a lot of cousins! Blood cousins on both sides of the family. The older generations had done the very same thing. Brothers from one family had married sisters from another and vice versa.
"So, my first cousins were first cousins from both my mother's and my father's side mainly. Really blood relatives. And we were always in each other's house, living almost like brothers and sisters, we were so close. One evening my mother would have her own four kids at the table plus three or four cousins as well. The next night we'd all be over at some other house. We roamed in gangs that way and protected the frailer ones from the rest of the town through sheer numbers and relations.
"Well, there was one Smith girl, who turned me on but good. Her name was Melissa and she was the most gorgeous female I had ever laid my eyes on. When we were really little, she was always the prettiest-at least to me she was. Her long blonde curls and her china blue eyes nearly drove me out of my mind.
"My brother Marshall also had a crush on one of our cousins-Esther. Marsh and I would sit and talk about those two girls, undressing them and pretending with words that we were doing all kinds of things to them. Our greatest dream in the whole world was to make it with those two girls.
"Since we cousins were almost always together, it was very easy for Marsh and me to get close to our dream girls. We'd brush up against them and feel their warm, soft flesh. We'd purposely follow too closely behind them so we could get our nose into their long hair and smell all that perfume. It got to the point where all Marsh and me ever talked about was Melissa and Esther.
"I even had wet dreams over my adorable Melissa! And Marsh admitted to me that he had had wet dreams over Esther. Wow! If my wife ever found out what had been going on between Melissa and me-that would be the end! Alicia, being from one of the four intermarried families of
M-, knew Melissa very well-they were first cousins, too.
"Marsh was smart and married a city girl from Chicago, so he never had any trouble that way. The only trouble he had was getting the family to accept her. You see, he had married Alicia's sister, Gertrude, when they were both just barely eighteen, and Trudy as we all called her, had drowned in the river the first year they were married. So, Marsh stayed a widower until he left M-for the big city.
"But that doesn't have anything to do with Melissa and Esther. One night, when I was fifteen, the family had one of their big get-togethers with all of the sisters and brothers. All the children came too, so there was quite a crowd. We kids were playing all over the place-inside, outside, upstairs and downstairs. As long as we stayed out of the adults' way, they didn't pay attention. So I grabbed Melissa by the hand and pulled her outside.
"Her tits started to blossom two years before, she really had nice bulges there. I pushed her against the outside wall of the house and kissed her right smack on the lips. She kissed me back--shit, did she ever kiss me back-and after our lips finally parted, she smiled so knowingly that it almost scared me.
"I've been waiting for you to do that for the longest time," she whispered huskily, tightening her arms around my neck.
"I kissed her again and pressed one of her large tits with my eagerly perspiring hand. She moved her body so that I could get at that beautiful mound of flesh better. Her lips pressed against mine even harder than before.
"Let's go to your house," I suggested as I pulled reluctantly away from her for a moment.
"Okay," she replied, looking as though she could faint at any moment.
"She was even more eager to get to her house than I was, obviously, since she nearly dragged me through the backyard and down the street the two blocks to her folks' place.
"The door was unlocked, as usual, so we just walked right in and made sure the shades were pulled down in the living room. Then we plopped ourselves down onto the big, wide couch and began necking like crazy.
"Our lips kissed and stayed together for the longest time. Melissa held me so tightly to her that I could hardly get my hand up to feel her luscious tit. But when she finally felt me trying to get to her sexy flesh, she loosened up her grip on me so that I could cup her sensuously rounded breast in my hand.
"My poor prick was growing on me, getting stiff and hard from feeling her firm tit. Her lips were so soft and delicious; her breast so soft and warm. I slipped my hand under her sweater after a while and started to undo her bra. Melissa just kept kissing me passionately as I fumbled with the hooks.
"Penally the damn thing came apart in back and I moved my hand slowly to the front of her chest, feeling her beautiful soft skin as my hand crept along until it met the bulge of her magnificent tit. She began breathing heavier as I molded and squeezed that wonderful jellylike handful of young feminine breast.
"Melissa moaned softly, and I moaned a little louder, and we sat there like a couple of lovesick cows-moaning and sucking on each other's lips. Suddenly, she broke our kiss and reached down with her hands to the bottom of her sweater. As she pulled it upward, past her bra and then up to her chin, I felt as though my very prayers were being answered for me. My lovely Melissa was there before me, baring her naked flesh and offering her lovely breasts for me to touch and squeeze!
"She removed her sweater completely, and then her bra followed close behind. Then she leaned back against the back of the couch, showing off her luscious tits to me-inviting me to take her.
"Oh, Melissa," I rasped, barely able to speak, 'you're making all my dreams come true! I wake up every morning with a hard on, dreaming about playing with your beautiful tits and kissing you and sucking on your firm, red nipples until you squirm."
"Me, too," she said breathlessly, looking deep into my eyes with an expression of helplessness. 'I've had a crush on you, Charley, for the longest time. I was wondering if we would ever get together like this. I've been dreaming of having you touch me and suck on me and kiss me. But, I was never quite sure if you really wanted me. I hoped, but I thought that maybe you were just playing around with me. I've wanted to have you touch me for the longest time." She sighed and smiled again. 'I love it when you touch me, Charley. Touch me some more. Please, Charley?"
"Without a moment's hesitation I pressed both hands on her lovely white breasts and leaned in, kissing her luscious mouth longingly, passionately, sucking so hard it almost hurt. She twisted her head, shifting her mouth around so that we touched every corner of each other's lips, sucking and licking with our tongues.
"I unzipped my fly and pulled out my throbbing prick, which was stiff as a pipe by now. We were lost in that relentless tide of consuming lust for each other's flesh. Her soft warm body was magical, to say the least. Each movement of her wet lips, each touch of my hand on her smooth skin, sent new shivers of sexual passion racing through me.
"I gently took her hand and placed it on my swollen prick, wondering how she would react. I was afraid that she would not like this sudden thrusting of my prick onto her like this. But she grabbed hold of my prick and squeezed and jerked that thing like a trooper. She moaned louder and longer as her soft gentle hand gripped my prick with love and desperation.
"Her hot hand sent waves of delight into my prick and my swirling gut. As I squeezed her sweet tit I had the sudden urge to take the nipple of one of her tits into my mouth. As I sucked on her lips the urge built to an irresistible desire, and I left her mouth quickly to suck in a tiny hard nipple, which felt so velvety and sexy that I almost bit it with joy.
"Melissa squirmed and moaned in ecstasy as my mouth worked its way around the areola and over the nipple, licking and sucking it like a delicious piece of candy.
"Oh, Jesus," she whimpered, as her little body quivered in my hands, 'that feels so good, Charley. Oh, God does that feel good . . . oh, shit.. . oh suck me, suck me!"
"I encircled her waist with my left hand as my right hand shoved up her skirt. Her lithe body felt so good in my hands; I had the feeling of power over her, like I was a god and she was my slave to do my bidding. And everything I had wanted her to do was happening.
"My hand slid under her skirt, caressing both thighs, which were milk white and soft as her tits. She spread her legs open, inviting my hand to explore further. She was indeed mine now, and I felt glorious. My fingers found their way up to the little patch of sparse hair and fleshy pussy lips. I pushed my hand forward and felt the wetness of those two folds surround the tips of my fingers, which sent more thrills of ecstasy surging through my body.
"Oh, Charley," she moaned, her body writhing in passion, 'your hands feel so good. Oh, Charley . . . don't stop . . . please don't stop, honey. Put your finger all the way in. Please . . . put it all the way in. Oh, my God are you making me hot! Don't stop . . . keep going . . . keep going!"
"And I kept going! I put my finger into her pussy hole. She was soaking wet down there. I pushed my finger into her hole as she opened her legs further, allowing easier access of my whole hand into her pussy area. She moved and jerked her body as I continued to suck on that sweet nipple and finger fuck her hole. Melissa never released her grip from my stiff prick, constantly squeezing and pumping it. Her fondling of my cock made me feel so wonderfully accepted and loved by her. And the fact that she was letting me do all the things to her body that I dreamt about made me feel even more in tune with this lovely thing . . . my gorgeous cousin.
"I sucked on her tit with abandon as my finger flew in and out of her dripping wet pussy. I noticed that her hips were rising off the couch little by little, which made it unnecessary for me to push as deep into her pussy as at the beginning. She was coming up to meet my finger, higher and higher.
"I didn't realize it then, but she was on her way, climbing to an orgasm, and as she reached the summit-jerking and screaming-I also shot my load as she pumped my prick like a machine. My sperm shot all over her legs and thighs, spurt after spurt plopping down on her white skin. That was sure better than jacking off!"
Charles F., who consented to the interviews concerning his sexual childhood experiences, did not come to seek professional help because of personal sexual problems. He came to seek advice because he genuinely did not understand his own children. They wanted to leave their comfortable home in Chicago, drop out of the exclusive school they attended in order to live in New York's Greenwich Village or in the Los Angeles-Hollywood area.
While reminiscing, the interviewer was struck by the fact that Mr. F. not only was married to a first cousin, but that his first heavy date-with petting and sexual intercourse-had also been a first cousin.
Most amazing of all was the fact that Mr. F, a successful businessman and college graduate, was dumbfounded when he was told that all throughout his active sex life, including his marriage, he had committed enough felonies to be put behind-bars in a state prison for the rest of his natural life.
Sexual intercourse with a first cousin and marriage to a cousin is illegal in both the state of Indiana and the state of Illinois. In the latter state the penalty is from 1 to 10 years, while the former state demands from 6 months up to 21 years imprisonment for the crime of incest, which includes marrying one's first cousin.
When this was pointed out to Mr. F., his attitudes -needless to say-quickly changed. Originally, he had made it quite plain that in his opinion what this country needed was more stringent laws on a variety of subjects to maintain law and order, and to curb the rise in crime.
Aside from the fact that his sexual activities are illegal in his home state, as well as in the state where he now resides, Mr. F."s childhood experiences were well within the limits of what is considered normal. Had he lived in another state, Mr. F. would not have been a felon.
In Chapter 10 of his book Sexual Behavior and the Law, Samuel Kling lists the following states where sexual intercourse in marriage between first cousins is regarded as legal. They are: Arizona, California, Connecticut, District of Columbia, Florida,. Georgia, Kentucky, Maine, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, South Dakota, Texas, Vermont and Virginia.
Mr. F. is one of the undoubtedly millions of American parents who cannot understand today's younger generation. He is a product of the 1920s, a decade characterized by sexual upheaval throughout the United States.
Vance Packard, in The Sexual Wilderness, writes:
Some contend that any changes since then, the 1920s, ed.j have been primarily changes of attitudes catching up with the shock waves of behavioral, changes that occurred in that era, with perhaps some slight behavioral changes, too.
It has been difficult to speak authoritatively on what really has been happening in recent decades, if anything, as far as the general public is concerned, because the last systematic sampling, the Kinsey group's, was completed before 1950. (Kinsey's principal associates were Wardell B. Pomeroy, Clyde E. Martin, and Paul H. Gebhard.) Many of even the younger people interviewed by Alfred Kinsey and his associates are now grandmothers and grandfathers.
Mr. F."s problem, it seemed, was primarily one of the so-called "generation gap."
"Looking back on that experience, I can say without any doubt that it is one of the sweetest memories of my life, bar none. Except, of course for the other experiences I had with Melissa. But that first sexual encounter had to be the most joyous occasion of my young life up to that point.
"Here I had been dreaming, both wet dreaming and daydreaming, about playing with her body and I finally got to do just that. My goodness! That has to be the high point of a boy's life.
"I guess I figured it was okay to screw around with Melissa because my older brother was farting around with another cousin of mine-Elizabeth. Elizabeth was older than I, and had the biggest pair of tits I ever saw on a girl her age. My brother used to tell me how he and she would pretend they were doing their homework in her bedroom, but they were actually feeling each other on the bed. My brother would tell me how big and fat Elizabeth's tits were, and I'd sit there listening to his stories of how she would remove her dress down to the waist and let him suck on her fat tits. My prick would start to get stiff and hard just imagining her in the nude. Elizabeth was a year and a half older than I, so I knew there was no chance of me and her ever getting together. She hung around with the older cousins.
"But Melissa was my age, so I would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of playing with her soft skin, rubbing my hands over her ass and tits. I had a couple of other cousins that turned me on, but Melissa was the cutest and sexiest of them all.
"There were times when several of us cousins would play hide-and-seek or one of the other games that kids play, and when I had a chance I would sneak a feel of a breast. The usual response was outrage or giggling, depending on the girls' mood that day. There was a lot of pinching and feeling going on between us cousins, but nothing that ever developed into any kind of real petting session. We were all operating on guilt, I suppose, so there wasn't too much tweaking going on.
"But after that first get-together with Melissa we really had an affair going-like any other boy and girl who dig each other. We got together as often as possible without arousing suspicion from the adults. Sometimes we just had time to kiss a little and feel through our clothes, but whatever there was the opportunity for, we took it. We had an understanding and a trust in each other. After that first evening together we knew there was no sense in playing coy, or other foolish games that kids our age usually indulged in when there was an attraction.
"So long as no one was within listening or viewing range, we made love to each other as often as we could. Sometimes, when our folks were visiting another's house, we would go into my bedroom or her bedroom-depending on whose house we were at-and fool around. If the folks were playing cards, we knew that they would be occupied for a hell of a long time and we planned our lovemaking accordingly. At other times we knew that we would only be alone for a few minutes, and would just kiss and feel a little-as much as possible.
"Once, when a group of us kids went to a movie together, Melissa and I maneuvered ourselves so that we got to sit next to each other. All through the show I had my hand draped over her shoulder resting on her breast. I spent the whole afternoon at the movie feeling her tit. She put her hand on my lap and kept rubbing my thigh until my prick grew long and stiff. Then she moved her hand up onto my hard on and played with it slowly through my pants until I came.
"Melissa is the middle child in her family. She has a brother who is two years older and a sister who is five years younger, so when her parents went out she would have to baby-sit many times. To my great surprise and enjoyment, it was during one of these baby-sitting evenings that we got around to actually screwing.
"It was Friday, and her older brother had a date, so he didn't have to be home early. Her folks went to a party at some friends, which left Melissa alone to take care of her younger sister. I called Melissa on the phone and she told me that she would be alone for the evening-after she got her baby sister off to bed, that is. So I got the folks' permission to come home a little later, seeing as it was Friday night. They usually let us stay out a couple hours later on weekends.
"I arrived at Melissa's about nine o'clock so I wouldn't have to wait too long for her sister Sherry to be put to bed. We played cards for a while and then watched some TV. Melissa told Sherry to hit the sack and we watched TV for another forty-five minutes until we knew Sherry was asleep.
"We went into the living room, turned down the TV, and promptly Melissa took my hand and led me into her bedroom on the opposite side of the house. She plopped herself down on the bed, arms outstretched to me, looking so beautiful with her long black hair against the pillow.
"I lowered myself and lay on top of her. She spread her legs to accommodate my body between them and I snuggled up so our lips were almost touching. She threw her slender arms around my shoulders and drew me to her, our lips touching ever so gently. I slipped my tongue into her mouth and she sucked it lovingly as my hard on grew and grew.
"I could feel her hot breasts pressing into my chest. I moved my chest in a circular direction, massaging her tits against me. She began to moan in a low voice. This got me hotter, and I found myself dry fucking her-grinding my prick against her-grinding my prick against her crotch as we lay there fully clothed. She reciprocated by pushing her hips up at me, moving them in circles. We seemed to want the same things at the same time . . . it was always like this when we got together.
"We both were breathing very hard, inhaling noisily, exhaling with moans and groans from our mounting excitation.
"I could love you so easily, Charley," she said, after we had parted our lips to catch a little breath. Her eyes were misty and beautiful. I didn't quite know how to answer this, except that I would be very disappointed if I hadn't heard those words sometime this evening. I, on the other hand, found it impossible to answer in like terms. I could only express my feelings of the moment.
"I'm going to fuck you tonight, Melissa . . . I won't be satisfied until I do," I said with determination. I kissed her hard on the mouth, then bit her cheek lightly.
"She looked at me with such pleading feminine eyes that I almost melted. God, was she pretty . . . prettier when she was sexually excited.
"Melissa spoke quietly, 'I don't care what you do, Charley. You can do anything to my body you want. You can have me . . . do whatever you like to me . . . I love being made love to by your hands. You can fuck me if you like."
"Has anyone ever fucked you?" I asked, hoping to hear a 'No."
"Melissa was unbuttoning her blouse, now, revealing her smooth firm tits which made my head reel.
"No," she whispered. 'But I don't have a cherry anyway. I took care of that myself a long time ago, so you won't have any trouble getting inside me. Oh . . . I can't wait for you to get inside me. . . . "
"She removed her blouse as I watched those full tits come into view. Melissa then shoved her skirt down and I reached to pull it off. As the thin garment slid further downward from her hips to her ankles, I drank in the luscious sight of her beautifully shaped thighs and legs. I threw the skirt on the floor and gazed down at her milky white skin. My prick was throbbing and poking to get out of my pants and into her hot nest.
"I removed my clothes in a hurry and sat down on the bed next to her. I could hardly believe that I was going to fuck my cousin Melissa. She had such a fantastically well shaped body from top to bottom. I admired her round breasts, small waist and curvaceous hips. I could feel the sex surging through my gut as my prick jumped and bobbed up and down.
"Melissa motioned me to her. 'Play with my tits for a while," she whispered softly, taking my hands and placing them on her spongy breasts. I sank down onto her, squeezing both lovely globes in my hands tenderly. My mouth nibbled on the areola of one tit and slowly sucked in the silky smooth flesh of that sensuous tit. She moaned softly, and I licked the nipple lightly over and over until it rose high and stiff like a hard on.
"Melissa began to squirm beneath me, breathing heavier, as my lips tripped over that ripe nipple again and again, tasting the sweetness of the pink stiff flesh. Then I sucked the whole hardened little mound into my wet mouth and licked it with my rough tongue. She squirmed more, making whimpering noises as though she were crying, but I knew they were the wonderful sounds of a girl in ecstasy and it urged me on to caress her lovely body further before the final act.
"She had her hands about my head, pressing me into her breast with great strength, encouraging my sucking and pulling of her sweet tit. I squeezed the round breast hard, making the nipple poke straight upward into my mouth, and sucked in a large amount of her flesh-nipple, areola, and the white surrounding surface which had a texture so indescribably delicate and smooth.
"Oh, Charley," she cooed, 'suck my tit, honey . . . suck it good . . . that's right--suck it hard, honey . . . oh, baby does that feel good . . . yes, yes, yes . . . suck it with your warm mouth . . . that's good . . . oh, Jesus is that good, honey . . don't stop . . . please don't stop . . . yes, that's right, don't stop . . . oh, God it's burning me up . . . oh, shit is it goooood!"
"I couldn't wait any longer to feel her warm pussy again. Melissa's sex talk and moaning made me impatient as hell to get down to the good part!
"With my other hand I reached between her lovely legs and felt my way along to the slit at the top of her lovely full thighs. My hand rested on the patch of hair and sank into the slit of wetness. As I rubbed several fingers up and down her sopping pussy opening, I continued to suck hungrily on the deep red nipple. Her legs spread wide apart giving my hand comfortable room to move all around her hot pussy.
"I caressed her pussy lips, which were absolutely drenched with sex fluid, and her hips began to sway and shift from side to side, responding to my touch. She was practically all over the bed with her twitching and jerking. My God, was she hot. But I was going to hold out as long as I could, making sure that Melissa was really worked up to a feverish pitch before giving her my prong. I wanted to make sure she wanted it as bad as I did.
"She bent her head down and bit me on the tip of the ear. 'Kiss me," she pleaded, 'kiss me, Charley. Let me feel your mouth on mine again."
"I stopped sucking her tit and raised my mouth to hers as she plunged her lips onto mine with a hunger that made my prick jump with fiery passion. She kissed me over and over again, sucking first my lower lip, then my upper lip, kissing each individually. Each time it sent a shock of lustful heat right down to my iron-stiff cock.
"Charley," she gasped, 'rub your prick up and down in my pussy opening. Let me feel it on the outside first. Rub it up and down there."
"I mounted her and let my prick slide into her wet opening. As soon as my prick touched her delicate flesh she began to move her hips up and down, bucking and swaying, making my stiff prick move in all directions. Her hot wet flesh was rubbing the head of my cock and it felt like it was on fire with sexual passion.
"She kept this up for several minutes, driving me wild with the intense heat sensation that came from the tip of my prick. Suddenly she lay still for a moment and I let my prick slip down until I felt it being swallowed up. The heat from her body became warmer as my prick slid along and into the very opening of her pussy . . . that tube which was to give me heaven on earth.
"Melissa gasped as my prick entered and passed the slightly tight opening ring which allowed me to penetrate further into her mysterious body. The tender flesh seemed to kiss my prick as it passed further and further into her body, burying itself into the moist depths of my sexy wanton cousin.
"Oh my God!" Melissa gasped. I feel like screaming! Oh my Go-o-d! Oh my God! Oh my God! Jesus! Oh, it's so beautiful! It's so beautiful! Oh, Jesus Christ are you beautiful!"
"I felt the same way, as her young body swallowed my erect prick into her fleshy depths. It was the most fantastic sex feeling in the world. I moved my hard prick out a ways and then shoved it back in again as Melissa clung to me for dear life.
"'Oh, Charley, it's so good! Oh, honey it's so fantastic! Please don't ever stop! Don't stop! Please keep doing it!"
"And I kept doing it . . . I couldn't help from pushing and pulling my long prick in and out of her tight pussy. I was so overwhelmed by the complete physical enthrallment of her body that I was unaware of anything else except Melissa's pussy and the soft hips I pounded into time and time again. I lunged to get my prick deeper and deeper into that hot wanton flesh.
"Melissa suddenly, and surprisingly, flung her legs around my back, drawing her pussy up to me and holding my body to hers like a vise. She was squeezing so hard that I could barely move my hips back enough to get my prick to slide out far enough for satisfaction on the in-stroke. She kept squeezing me with her limbs, as though they were arms, embracing my body snuggly and warmly.
"Oh, Charley," she whined softly, her head rolling back and forth in a cradle of her long lovely hair. 'It's so good . . . so good. Hold me too, honey. Hold me tight."
"I rebalanced myself from my elbows and wrapped my arms around her waist. This brought her pelvic bone even closer to mine, pressing in tighter. The feel of her warm soft body in my arms, my prick sliding in and out of her hot pussy, and those sweet legs wrapped around my body was enough to let me know that if there was anything in this world worth waiting for it was a good fuck.
"My sweaty chest was pressing against hers as we clung to each other desperately in a love embrace. We were no longer face to face, but that didn't matter-practically every square inch of our sensitive bodies was in contact, giving the other its warmth and love, sending whirling shocks of joy through each other's body, giving love and intense sexual satisfaction beyond words.
"And then Melissa began pumping her hips against me vigorously, almost painfully, as she undoubtedly rose to her climax with ferocity. She just had time to cry, 'I'm coming!" and mash her lips to mine, struggling for contact. . . . Her body thrashed about in my arms.
"This, naturally, was more than I could stand and I promptly gushed my jizz into her snug hole, pouring what seemed like my whole insides into her twitching body. We nearly squeezed each other to death, so hard did we both cling during our climaxes. We sailed and soared into the heavens, spilling our fluids and riding on high crescent waves of joyful fulfillment, rocking and swaying in our love embrace and excruciating lust for each other.
"How we had waited so long for something as beautiful as this seemed almost absurd. We were so close and loved each other so much at that moment. It was something that neither of us ever wanted to end. We just remained where we were, clinging to each other and enjoying the ecstasy of love and sexual fulfillment.
"After that first time, Melissa and I could hardly wait to sneak off somewhere to enjoy the passion and love of sex. It was as though we could never get enough of each other. And when Marshall told me that he and Esther were going at it pretty strong, too, we decided to make it a double affair. We double dated a lot, although it just appeared to the rest of the family that four cousins were just enjoying each other's company. It all seemed so natural to everyone else, thank God. If Esther or Melissa's parents ever found out what Marshall and I had been doing with and to their daughters, we'd have been hung by our balls in the public square.
"It was Marshall who first decided that we had been a bit lax and had taken a lot of chances with getting the girls pregnant. He put it to them that they both might get knocked up and then we would all pay for it. The girls loved us just as much as we loved them, and they didn't want anything to happen to us-as well as to themselves.
"I was never really sure if Marshall planned it that way on purpose or if he was just being super-protective, but he and I got more blow jobs than we knew what to do with. We only fucked the girls when it was the 'right' time of the month. Sort of the Rhythm System.
"But that fucking old fox, Marshall, actually outsmarted himself. He had Esther right where he wanted her, and she would have done anything for him. She was crazy about him. But Esther just wasn't enough for that dumb cocksman. He had to have another cousin. He picked my present wife's younger sister to fuck. As if he didn't have enough pussy with his Esther.
"Well, I'm sure you can guess what happened. Trudy, my wife's sister, got knocked up as a result of one of Marshall's forays, and as a result a quick marriage was arranged just as soon as Trudy realized that she was pregnant. Dumb Marshall! He broke Esther's heart and he broke the family's heart and he really fucked up everything. It was just as well that he moved to the big city and got away from everyone. They were ready to fry his balls when Trudy drowned in the river. They were never sure that it hadn't been suicide or murder. They had never forgiven Marsh for having knocked her up to begin with and every member of the family knew about it.
"I learned my lesson quick, after seeing what happened to Marsh. Melissa and I both decided that it would be smarter if we dated other people. That way, if she did get pregnant, no one could point a finger at me. Smart on Melissa's part-up to a point. If Melissa hadn't decided on us dating others, I never would have found out what a wonderful girl Alicia was. And I would never have been married to her. So, if it hadn't been for Marshall's bad judgment all those years ago, I would not now be happily married to the most wonderful gal alive-my dearest cousin Alicia.
"By the way, in the state where we got married it was perfectly legal for cousins to marry. And, in the big city, who needs to know?"
Mr. F. was kind enough to give permission to include parts of his taped interview in this volume. He did not display any of the problems encountered by the others who came to seek professional counsel. It may well be pointed out here, that those problems were not engendered by the first-cousin incest per se but by the guilt feelings of having broken a taboo. In most of the cases, the psychosexual problems were not related to the inter=familial intercourse at all. The advice given to Mr. F. was to seek legal counsel because even though there had never been a legal problem and even though there is, to this interviewer's knowledge, no law enforcement agency that actively seeks out cases of first-cousin incest, the law was clearly broken, and the state would have to prosecute in the-most unlikely but possible-case of a complaint.
CHAPTER THREE
When Kissing Cousins Grow Up
"I always had a big thing for my cousin, Maggie, ever since we were little kids. Went through all that 'kissing cousin' crap when I first realized I had a cock and she had a cunt, but that was all pubescent fantasy. Then things really changed. Took a few years to get to that point, something beyond my wildest fantasies really. Who'd have ever guessed that we'd go way beyond that kissing cliche and end up being fucking cousins? I'd have been about the last one to figure on that one.
"Like Maggie was always a real cute number. Don't know exactly how she snuck into the family really-most of us are uglier than sin. I always looked forward to my summer visits back to Indianapolis so's I'd have the chance to be around her.
She was my idea of how a girl should look. The face was the first thing, straight off the cover of a magazine. All those cute dimples set off by a shock of curly auburn hair. Never needed makeup -perfect features with a snowy complexion, touched off by apple-pink cheeks. Her eyes really got me more than anything about her. Deep green that crinkled into inverted crescents when she smiled.
"Of course Maggie never knew how I really felt about her. Below the belt at any rate. We picked up on each other pretty well about our attitudes and all, neither of us being conformists to our families' rather puritanical ethics, but out front our rebellious spirits never got into sexual connotations. We were like two tight buddies, sharing secret jibes at our elders' expense, but never delving into anything beyond an occasional cigarette as symbols of our nonconformity.
"Little did Maggie know that I often pounded my pud, visions of her dancing in my head. Sure, I was a little guilty when I thought about the fact that she was my cousin and all-I knew that incest was a dirty subject by most people's standards, but maybe that even added to my onanistic thrills. Besides, I had enough guilt from the masturbation thing, my family's views being so straight and all. Then, one has to remember that I was barely into my teens at the time. By the time I was sixteen or so and balling chicks at my school, most of that had passed.
"But I still didn't know what I'd been missing until I hooked up with Maggie again . . . and in a much more intimate manner than we had experienced during our childhood. I'd lost contact with her, in the flesh at least, since her family moved to Philadelphia when I was fourteen and she, seventeen. I received the news from my mom when she married about a year later, and remember feeling some childish loss about the fact, although the event had clashed more with my fantasy rather than reality.
"Still, she remained in my mind very close, and I still got cards from her on my birthday and Christmas, reminding me that we were still the two black sheep in the family. Time went on, and she still stayed fixed in my memory as the perfect woman--even at seventeen, she'd had the body of a mature woman, one that most other members of her sex would have envied. And then came news, during my senior year of high school that Maggie had gotten a divorce, a matter that was quickly passed over since my family didn't believe in that sort of things, however real they may be.
"I'll never forget the secret surge that went through me, though, when I found out that Maggie had moved to New York City to take a job-I'd just been accepted as a freshman at NYU, and it'd only be a few months till I'd be back there. I mean, the whole idea was a big one for me: being away from home for the first time in the big city plus the added attraction of looking forward to seeing Maggie for the first time in four years.
"So anyhow that's the way it came down-me getting back together with my cousin that is. I'd hardly set up in my dorm and registered for classes before I gave her a call. She was real friendly, glad to hear from me. Invited me over for dinner that night. Only I didn't have the slightest inkling what she had in mind for dessert.
"She was still looking good over those lamb chops and mashed potatoes . . . better even. Now being of legal age, her body still looked illegal, the kind nobody ever figured on seeing in person. After the usual about Uncle Bob and Aunt Helen and my folks, it got down to us talking over our old tricks and other shit like that.
"Before long, we were really yucking it up over a couple of martinis she'd mixed up, both of us congratulating the other on being one part of two of a kind that escaped the straight-laced rigidity of our families. But fuck, it was hard to concentrate on the subject at hand, staring at that body of hers across from me, wrapped in that tight, green mini-dress, just begging to be unwrapped. It made me flash back to the fantasies I'd had about her back when I was a kid.
"So it gets a little more involved, each of us telling other ways we've 'gone astray' since our last meeting. Quite naturally, the subject finally turns to sex . . . mainly at my cousin's insistence. Each time I turn away from the subject, she starts back in on it, berating her sex life with her ex-husband and so on. But pretty soon, I gather that she's bringing it all around at me.
"It's funny, Bud," I remember her saying, 'that you and I never did get a go at it. Of course, you were so much younger than me and I suppose your thoughts hadn't even gotten around to such things, but since you always were my very favorite relative and what with all the fun we used to have . . . well, I'll have to admit, it crossed my mind on more than just one occasion."
"Shit, I practically flipped when she dropped this rather candid confession on me. I probably was blushing as I told her that she, too, had often crossed through my sex fantasies, stopping short, of course, when it came to telling her just how far her astral presence had gone on its way to orgasm. I mean, you don't just walk up and tell Someone that they were your first masturbation fantasy . . . at least, it's not something I do.
"Well, once that was out of the bag, things got right down to the old nitty gritty. I was really surprised at some of the things Maggie told me, even boasting at what good head she gave and everything, but some of my own confessions were being drawn out in the process and I'll have to admit that the whole thing was turning me on. I mean, here was a girl, my cousin, whom I'd always imagined as an ideal ball, coming on to me, telling me her deepest secrets. It was just too fucking good to believe.
"She was making it very clear that she was in the mood for giving it a go around with me, dropping lines like we should try it out now, that we were grown up and shit like that. I felt a little hesitant at first, the way things can be when a fantasy has the chance of becoming reality, not really sure whether to believe my ears or not. But if that sense was failing me, my sight wasn't-she was flashing me generous beaver shots as we talked, using body language to its fullest advantage. I quickly realized that I'd been playing in the minor leagues, my experience being limited to some back seat ventures with the locals back home. But Maggie put me at ease, realizing that I hadn't had the opportunity to experience as much as she. Yet, she left the big decision up to me-at this point, all I had to say was yes and I realized that she'd take it from there.
"Swallowing back any nervousness, I was at least able to realize that I'd rather go on with the show and let it be known in some manner-I honestly can't remember how with the way everything was swimming around in my head from the impact of the moment-that my answer was an affirmative. I didn't have many guilt hang-ups from the incest point of view . . . not that I can recall, but I did feel nervous, afraid that I wouldn't be able to show her a very good time, being as green as I was. But somehow Maggie sensed this, wanting to test the raw power of the other black sheep, and she was able to keep me from freaking out.
"Once I'd given her the high sign, she quickly took over the controls, suggesting we go in the bedroom for a more intimate discussion. Armed with fresh martinis, she led the way into her small bedroom and had me sit on the bed and sip my drink while she went into the bathroom to slip into something 'more comfortable." I gulped the drink down, hoping it would steel my nerves . . . fuck, a dream come true, I didn't want to blow it. The formula worked fast, I was reeling in a warm fog by the time she opened the door to the bathroom. Fuck, was her idea of something comfortable something else! I'd been imagining a sexy nightgown of some kind, but this was more than I'd figured on. She'd gotten right down to it. Stark naked! Shit, I almost dropped the glass out of my hand. It certainly left little doubt-she was serious.
"She just stood there, smiling, gloating in obvious pride of her body and my reaction to it, turning a full 360 degrees to show me all of it. Not one of those skinny model types that I loathe--this was the real thing. She had a real nice set of jugs, fire plugs of about thirty-eight with big red nips that begged to be eaten. I shivered as my eyes trailed downward along her hourglass-shaped hips, noting the way her underbelly pouted out sexily underneath her navel just a bit before being lost in her tuft of pubic hair. And that ass-what a nice pair of buns. Being an ass man at even my tender age, when I caught a glimpse of those moons, I could feel my cock rising underneath my shorts and trousers in anticipation of sinking into the cleft. Her legs weren't long, but they were perfectly shaped, right down to her nicely turned ankles-in short, she was even sexier than my wildest fantasies had ever imagined.
"No need to mess about, Bud," she smiled at me. Wow, if this was her idea of something comfortable, then what was I doing sitting there in all my clothes? Hoped that she'd extend the invitation soon. The martinis had killed any opposition my youthful procrastinations may have offered, a warm buzz helped me to appreciate the visual thrills she offered. Time for us to get into more mischief together, only this time it'd be a lot better than smoking a sneak cigarette or chugging a stolen beer.
"Telling me that she'd been waiting for this a long time, she came over to the bed and took the glass from my zombie-like hand and placed it on the bedside stand in front of me. I guess she sensed my nervousness, 'cause she began to talk to me reassuringly, running her hands up around my neck to massage the tight muscles as she spoke in a sultry tone. I could feel my fucking prick swelling up fast inside my jocks, and hoped that I'd be able to hold out long enough to plant it inside her pussy. I mean, shit! At this rate I'd come from just looking.
"Now I think it's about time for you to get all nice and comfy, too," she was saying, but her words only helped weave the trance that was coming over me. I tried to tell her that I needed help, but she just told me to relax and not worry about anything that would go down, that she was feeling a few butterflies herself just at the excitement of being with me for the first time. Well, she was so soothing in the way she built up my confidence that I began to trust her and let her do the leading. She told me not to worry about anything . . . I mean she let me know that she'd been around a little while longer in these matters without making me feel embarrassed about it. Neat shit. So I just let her do anything she wanted.
"Her hands began working at the buttons of my shirt, and although I attempted to help her, my eyes dumbly affixed on her bouncing titties as they bobbed in front of me. She had my shirt stripped off by the time I realized what was happening. She looked at me with a satisfied smile of appraisal, letting out an affirmative 'Mmmmmm' before dipping her head down to take a playful bite at my nipple. Fuck, this was wild! I'd never known a broad to take the lead and Maggie was doing just that. I dug the shit out of it. I reached down and placed a series of little kisses on the side and back of her neck, while she continued to mouth at my nipples.
"But soon she broke away from this diversion and her mouth and mine were now meeting each other, plying mutual satisfaction as they explored the other cavern, tongues lashing wildly in mock combat. Her mouth was real warm, her lips and tongue soft and pliable, bringing me thrills I never knew possible from mere kissing, kissing enhanced by the way her hands ran over my nude back and neck. But we were now to become more than mere kissing cousins before this night was up, and Maggie's next action proved that.
"With a smile, she reached for my fly, and I felt a surge of blood rush to my crotch when her hand pressed down against my stiffened prick and began rolling it back and forth in a gentle massaging stroke. But she had more in mind than massaging the mule as her hands told me. Rather than make her wait, I, feeling more a part of the scene by now, edged away from her a moment so I could assist her. Zip, zip . . . a tug here and there . . . presto, my trousers, shorts, and socks are in a pile on the floor and Maggie is eyeballing my bulging cock.
"Runs in the family," I tell her modestly as she licks her lips over my eight-inch porker, repaying the compliment with my own eyes.
"And then she just dives her fucking head down there, telling me that she's too worked up to do any more preliminaries. I don't mind one bit. I practically jumped out of my fucking skin-being as that was all that was left for me to jump out of -when her soft lips touched my tender head and shaft. No broad I'd ever been with had ever gotten down to it this fast, and for chrissakes this was Maggie, the girl of my wet dreams. With a jolt in my spine as reaction to her expert suckmanship, I realized that Maggie's just as good as money in the fucking bank. She was sure to hold up my interest right up until the time of withdrawal.
"Man, she was some shit the way she worked that mouth of hers. All I could do was settle back and enjoy it, placing my hands back on the bed to support my weight while she kept giving me head, her tongue twirling around my cock expertly. After fooling around the head for a couple of crazy minutes, .she took the shaft in her hand and began to hunker down to the serious business. Her hair trailed down and tickled my belly as her face began to fuck my cock, moving up and down the shaft in rapid movements. My whole body was getting to be just an extension of my prick, each sensation becoming one. Her titties were pressing down against my thighs while she blew me, her free hand clawing at my back and ass, but it all felt like one big sensation since my mind sent all the messages to one big clearing house.
"Her mouth kept making little fuck sounds as she drooled over my prick, letting out moans and wet sighs between her gasps for air. Her hand worked hard at the base of my shaft in a jacking off motion, her mouth sometimes meeting her cupped hand as she sucked away. This was a real professional blow job, the likes of which I'd never known.
"But all too soon, she broke away from me, a thin string of saliva trailing from her lips to my cock. She had a wild look in those jade eyes of hers that told me, despite however good it had been so far, that the best was yet to come. And she soon was to prove the point.
"There's plenty more time for that later," she told me, catching her breath. 'Right now I want to feel that hunk of meat inside me."
"Well, what could I say?
"I didn't say a thing, just followed her sweet orders, waiting on hands and knees, cock throbbing somewhere in the middle of all that, while she rolled over on her back and motioned for me to get down to doing my own natural thing. I wouldn't need much instruction here, I just hoped to hell I'd be able to hold on long enough to give Maggie, the kind of ride she was accustomed to . . . or better. Fuck, I didn't want to blow this gig. Looked like a good thing in the making-to hell with all those simpering little college chicks, my cousin would put the lot to shame.
"I lowered myself over her full body and began planting kisses all over her face as she welcomed me in. Her hands seemed to be more than two the way they seemed to be everywhere at once: massaging my neck and shoulders, pinching an arm, clawing at my butt. Her soft titties felt good underneath me, giving way to the weight of my chest as I settled down atop her, my own hands trailing down her sides to do some exploration of their own.
"But there wasn't much time for any more pre-game ceremonies. Maggie was calling to me, telling me to take my cock and cram it up her pussy. That's the kind of talk I like to hear. So, with a big assist from her hand, I began guiding my prick to her pussy, rubbing it down in the depth of her thighs before positioning my weight up on my elbows for the thrust home. I tarried for a moment as I felt the head mash against the pubis, gooseflesh forming on my back as the bush tickled at it . . . then moved it down into the furrow, felt the hot wetness of her slash and drove home.
"Shit, did that stuff feel good! She had the sweetest little old snatch this boy'd ever had his business in and that's a fucking fact. The way she moved the rest of her body around didn't hurt either. She fully cooperated with my motions, complementing the ball nicely.
"I just lowered down against her and settled down for a nice introductory fuck. It was like I'd never really known my cousin at all . . . well who do you know really, until you've had your pants down together? This was something, man, the way she drove that body of hers up around my cock, and me all the time just slamming away at her hatch in a steady pushing motion-my hips arching up and down to split her pussy flesh apart. She had wrapped her legs up around my back for deeper penetration, and was undulating her hips to match my tempo, her hands clawing at my back and ass while she kissed, bit and otherwise attacked my neck.
"I was really lunging in and out good now, giving it to her full throttle now, pacing myself so as not to spill my guts too soon, and she was loving it. I lifted my head from the pillow and was pleased to see her flushed features, splotched with emotion, her teeth biting her lower lip as she thrashed her head back and forth, never missing a stroke. As I settled down, blowing a hot gust into her ear, she rolled us laterally, her arms and legs locking me, but I kept stuffing the old meat to her. Then she lunged in the other direction, a smile of pure pleasure on her face, but I stayed with it, enjoying every second of our ball myself. Once the rolling stopped, she began to moan real deep, and I could tell she was ready to come. But I kept slamming it to her, realizing from the tightness in my guts that I wouldn't be far behind. Trying as best she could to hold back the inevitable tide, she began to fight me, holding her arched hips back against the usual rhythm as if trying to expel my cock, but I had too good a hold on her.
"Then she began fucking at me at an even faster tempo, obviously coming. Her lips were mouthing unintelligible gibberish as she writhed underneath me, but I kept slamming away fast and hard until I could feel my own hot load begin to dump. As I came, I threw the old meat in there full shaft and held it, throwing forth a big volley of sperm, then back and . . . crash, hold and . . . in . . . out and hi . . . OUT AND IN. . . . I was weakened and couldn't do it anymore, just held onto her as she quivered underneath me, clasping against me like a barnacle to a ship.
"As my head went reeling off into who knows where, I realized that my cousin and I had really firmed up the beginning of what could be a regular and beautiful relationship. Luckily, it continued."
In Buddy W. we find a typical case where "forbidden sex" becomes attractive. The young man, and his cousin Maggie, are from Connecticut, where marriage between first cousins is perfectly legal. Yet, during the interview, he mentioned many times that he envisioned his cousin Maggie as the object of his masturbatory fantasies because she was his cousin. The knowledge of the taboo of incest added to his sexual thrills.
J. C. Flugel comments in his book Man, Morals and Society:
Taboos therefore, are the socialized expressions of conflicts, they are in their very nature ambivalent and imply a double attitude of desire and fear, of attraction and repulsion. It is true that the negative or prohibitory elements preponderate. But underneath each prohibition is a real or potential desire, for people do not trouble to prohibit things that no one wants to do. In its predominance of the negative aspects, taboo exhibits a special resemblance to one particular form of neurosis, the obsessional or compulsion neurosis, and Freud worked out in some detail the parallelism between these two manifestations of mental conflict, the one social and primitive, the other individual and, as we are accustomed to regard it, pathological.
Not despite but because of his puritanical background, Buddy kept referring to his masturbatory practices. He obviously intended to shock the interviewer. Masturbation is probably one of the most discussed forms of sexual activity, it is surely one of the most condemned practices and also the most universally practiced one. Moreover, the act itself is totally harmless.
Again, we find in Buddy's case that he is sexually excited by the fact that he was doing something forbidden. Buddy is typical of the many young people who have only been taught that sex is "dirty," and that it should not be discussed.
In Marriage and Morals, Bertrand Russell gives the following, tongue-in-cheek, scathing comment:
The view of the orthodox moralist on the question of sex knowledge may, I imagine, be fairly stated as follows: The sexual impulse is a very powerful one, showing itself in different stages of development. Imagining it takes the form of a desire to touch and play with certain parts of the body; in later childhood it takes the form of curiosity and love of "dirty" talk, while in adolescence it begins to take more mature forms. There is no doubt that sexual misconduct is promoted by sexual thoughts, and that the best road to virtue is to keep the young occupied in mind and body with matters wholly unconnected with sex. They must, therefore, be told nothing whatever about sex; they must as far as possible be prevented from talking about it with each other, and grown-ups must pretend that there is no such topic. It is possible by these means to keep a girl in ignorance until the night of her marriage, when it is to be expected that the facts will so shock her as to produce exactly that attitude towards sex which every . . . moralist considers desirable in women. With boys the matter is more difficult, since we cannot hope to keep them completely ignorant beyond the age of 18 or 19 at latest. The proper course with them is to tell them that masturbation invariably leads to insanity, while intercourse with prostitutes invariably leads to venereal disease. Neither of these assertions is true, but they are white lies, since they are made in the interest of morality. A boy should also be taught that in no circumstances is conversation on sexual subjects permissible, not even in marriage. This increases the likelihood that when he marries he will give his wife a disgust of sex and thus preserve her from the risk of adultery.
The Puritans and the Calvinists achieved, at the Reformation, the re-establishment of the depressive and guilt-ridden attitude as the whole source of religion. In his Sex in Hutory, G. Rattray Taylor pointed out that the Roman Catholic Church, more realistically, had held out, though rather limited, the possibility of passing through depression into a state of well-being, provided of course that this state of well-being was based on imagery approved of by the Church. But at least there was a possibility of acquiring approval, no matter how limited, instead of incurring all-out condemnation as was the case with Puritans.
Although the following quote was written regarding masturbation, one does well to keep in mind that the described attitude is prevalent with a large part of the population, as soon as the subject of sex is brought up. Unfortunately, the reaction to this attitude is quite frequently akin to that of Buddy W. and his cousin Maggie: sexual excitement and borderline perversion.
Lester Dearborn, writing on autoerotism in The Encyclopedia of Sexual Behavior, states:
The modern attitude is not a sudden change, but rather the result of a long struggle to throw off the shackles of ignorance and to view the phenomenon in the light of reason. It has emerged only after knowledge has replaced superstition, facts have taken precedence over conjecture, and understanding and information have replaced bias and prejudice. It is only fair to note that the occasional pioneers of the past who insisted that facts be the background for opinion were, in the light of recent studies, exceptionally wise in their speculations. It is also noteworthy that the superstitions regarding masturbation have not been entirely annihilated, for we find in a few of our modern writings an insistence upon classifying it under the heading of perversions. Whenever modern religious leaders feel under the obligation to discourage masturbation they are not now likely to refer to any horrible consequences but rather to consider it a religious offense. The Roman Catholic Church, for example, deals with it dogmatically and classifies it as a sin. This attitude is also held by some Orthodox groups and by certain fundamentalist Protestant bodies.
Buddy and his cousin Maggie are both victim to being sexually excited by doing the forbidden. It is quite well possible that they would only have had a short-term affair if they had not been cousins.
Though the subject proclaims to have fantastic and very satisfactory sexual experiences, he is incapable of forming an interpersonal relationship. To him, his cousin is more of an object to have sex with-a rather masturbatory attitude-than a person he loves and wants to satisfy.
Also, as will be discussed subsequently, he has begun to experiment with forms of anal stimulation. The anus is well-supplied with nerves and therefore a perfect area for erotic stimulation. However, as the reader will easily see for himself, it is again the forbidden factor which makes the act attractive for Buddy. In itself, there is nothing wrong with anal stimulation. What we to question here is the attitude towards it and the motive. Is Buddy's motive one of gratification or one of shock value? We strongly suspect that it is the latter, since anal sex is still a subject of taboo with large segments of our society.
Another facet, as we shall see, is the excessive use of mechanical stimulators used by this couple of cousins.
"Maggie cooked up a lot of gadgetry to spice things up as time went along. All kinds of fucking things I'd never even heard of before. I'd been pretty used to the back seat variety of sex, and was barely above that level of 'autoeroticism' when I hooked up with her, so I had plenty in store when it came to what she could teach me.
"Whether it was a change in locale, such as getting it on in a soapy shower, or in position-fuck if I hadn't known better, I would have sworn she'd been a gymnast-Maggie was able to vary our modes of balling to the extent that I thought we'd never run out of things to do.
"But it was the various gadgets that she exposed me to that really blew my mind. Her husband had turned her on to all kinds of mail order stuff . . . guess she'd nagged him into it since he was such a lousy lay or some such shit, and she had all kinds of items laying around to further arouse my senses. She even told me once that she was afraid her supply of dildoes was wearing out before I came along, and I had to laugh since I'd always had guilt feelings about pounding my pud. Not Maggie. She figured to get it off one way or another, and if nobody else was around, she didn't feel any embarrassment at all in breaking out the vibrator and reaming her pussy with it. She really helped my own attitude about a lot of those things, made me feel more at ease.
"I'll never forget the day she introduced me to the anal vibrator. Fuck, I never knew anything like that even existed. I'd already been introduced to some of Maggie's more conventional forms of vibrators, the ones with the shape of a cock she sometimes stuck in her pussy while I was between fucks, waiting for the old stamina to come around again. But this was very different. The day she threw it on me, I about flipped . . . I mean, the idea of having something crammed up your ass, well, to me it seemed like stuff that only queers did. But I had a lot to learn.
"We were over at her apartment one night, getting in our regular lovemaking, a ritual that had become pretty standard by that time, both of us really digging our incestuous relationship. Maggie had already introduced me to quite a variety of balling procedures. She knew that I was really picking up on tricks and eager to be shown anything new to add to my repertory. So, just after we'd stripped down and jumped in the sack, she reached over to the bedside stand where she kept all her dildoes and other goodies, and pulled this anal vibrator out of the fucking drawer. Fuck, I didn't know what it was when she shoved it under my nose, but under her expert tutelage I was soon to find out-what it was like to be vibrated.
"She reached over and dipped her mitt into a jar of Vaseline and rubbed it all over the business end of the vibrator. Thus greased and ready for action, she began explaining the situation to me. I was a little apprehensive at first, but she assured me that it's nothing like taking a full cock up the ass, a thing, by the way, which she liked to have me do from time to time-she was a nut on experimentation. If I grow to be a dirty old man, it's Maggie that I'll have to thank for it.
"Anyway she started to tell me about various oriental ways of spicing up the usual, things about the old rope trick and all, saying that it's really exciting to some guys to have something rammed up their ass while the broad's balling him up front. I was a little worried about pain and all, not to mention the potential humiliation inherent in such an operation, but she put my mind at ease about the latter, assuring me that if there's too much of the former I could simply tell her to stop.
"I felt a little better when I saw that the asshole dildo is very small in circumference, maybe about the size of my little finger. Its length was about five inches of soft and pliable plastic, hooked at about a thirty degree angle to fit the shape of the rectum. At the end of that was this flashlight looking gizmo which held the batteries, complete with a switch to turn it on and off.
"Maggie reassured me that I'd liked anal penetration so far, citing herself as an example, and I had to agree that it seemed she'd enjoyed it. Besides, she reminded me, she often worked her pinkie up my asshole during intercourse and I'd liked that. She was right, I'd really dug it. Maybe this wasn't going to be all that bad anyhow. It was just that it was so . . . up front. I mean it was all the planning that bothered me, or had bothered me at first. Now I was willing to give it a go . . . shit, I might even like it, after all.
"She decided that a nice way to break it in would be to have us go at a sixty-nine while she pumped it to my ass. Since mutual head was one of my favorite things, I rolled over on my side facing towards her toes and breathed in her sweet bush while she prepared the vibrator.
"She worked her hands around to my asshole and had the contraption set to go, then returned one hand to my front to prepare for action. My cock, having grown to near rigidity during our preparations, jumped to full stiffness as I felt her hand grip its base and her lips touch hotly against the tip. Using her lead as a cue, I ran my fingers down through her bush and found the deep gorge beneath her mound. As my fingers went deep into the moist wetness of her snatch, I felt shivers run up and down my spine as her tongue began dancing around my prick head.
"As I pushed my face down into her snatch, my fingers having singled out her clit for special attention, she spread her legs, finally resting one atop my ear once my head had settled into position, my nose buried in her pussy. She kept sucking and blowing at the tip of my cock as her other hand-the first being involved with my balls continued to wander over my hip on its way to my asshole. She prepped me for the vibrator by gently poking at my asshole with her pinkie, but so far my sphincter wasn't about to give, a hot itching sensation being its only feeling. But it would get better.
"We really got down to our sixty-nine, the mutual satisfaction of our head giving and getting took my mind off the vibrator that was about to enter my asshole. Her mouth was working its way down my shaft, pumping up and down as she sucked and blew, and my mouth and fingers were working into that wonderful pink and purple slash of hers. I first stuck my tongue into her hot pussy-hole and worked on it, then I blew some air into it, my lips pursed over the entrance. Then I'd moved to her clit and took it between my lips, letting my tongue flip at it for a while, swallowing the acrid liquid from her cunt.
"Suddenly I could sense Maggie going to work behind me. While continuing to blow me, she prodded the vibrator up against my asshole with her hand. Using her finger for a guide, she slipped the end of the gizmo into my asshole. It seemed to go in fairly easily, perhaps due to the fact that she'd already prepared the area with her pinkie. Then, too, the Vaseline she'd smeared on the vibrator helped. At first, it burned and itched, my asshole sputtering in an involuntary effort to reject it, but as soon as the ring relaxed to accommodate it, everything was okay.
"Maggie was able to keep me in control up front, even though I lunged forward a bit in an attempt to avoid the thing. I did jump a bit, unaccustomed as I was to such forms of buggery. It made a hot feeling spread through my asshole, a glow that gradually went through my entire guts, especially whenever she moved it in a little, maybe an inch at a time or so, although I have no way of knowing how much distance she covered with each plunge, since I could hardly be expected to see from my position.
"No matter how I might lunge, however, I wasn't about to go anywhere. What with Maggie's snatch wrapped around my head, and the way her face was blocking my hip's forward motion, I was trapped. Not that I wanted to escape all that badly. After the initial burning had subsided, this strange new sensation was really pretty great. I flashed back to early childhood at the first feeling, back to when my mother had given me enemas. Not that I was hung up on such shit . . . not in the least. But it was sort of an instant nostalgia trip if you pick up what I mean.
"Not that my mind had time to do much thinking after that. Maggie's head job was doing too much to melt such foolishness away. Not to mention my interest in her pussy I was faced with. Whatever . . . I just began to blend in with the ass reaming that vibrator was giving me, getting beyond the first wave of pain-one which hadn't been nearly so bad as I had imagined-and enjoy it. Probably the biggest thing I had to do was overcome the potential deballsing effect that I had feared such a thing would do . . . and now I could see that any notion I may have held previously to that effect was absolute nonsense. This was fun!
"I kept lapping away at Maggie's clit, my fingers now stuffed inside her cunt. I rolled that little fella in between my teeth and squeezed it gently, and it was all Maggie could do to control herself. She moaned out a low guttural sound that echoed off my cock and sent the message clear up to my brain, jerking the vibrator another inch or so up my butt. So intense was my head giving that her thumb tripped the switch and the batteries did their thing.
"Oh fuck, was that wild. The humming alleviated any pain I'd felt, sending shock wave upon shock wave of terrific buzzes up my spine. And it just kept on humming. I was sure I'd suck the batteries dry as I felt the hum go through my anal tissues to massage my prostate. I'd heard a lot about prostate massage before and had written it off as being a bunch of faggot bullshit, but had I ever missed the boat! Not the man in the boat, mind you, I was giving her clit a real ride, egged on by the new sensation the vibrator was giving me. But from the feeling of the humming that vibrator was giving me while we lunched each other, I knew that all my previous ideas about assholes had been wrong.
"By now, Maggie had worked the buzzing dildo all the way up, at least the working end, for I could feel the base of it buzzing against my asshole ring. It felt real nice, especially there where the batteries were closer to ground zero. From there on in, Maggie barely moved the contraption, letting its own actions speak for themselves, once in a while moving it in and out slightly for special effects. Oh brother, when she did that it felt like somebody had a string running from my guts to the outside and that they could pull them right out, shit and all!
"There still was a kind of pain, but it was a really pleasant variety. Kind of a dull ache had replaced the burning feeling, and it spread all through my insides, promoted by the consistent humming of the vibrator. I was especially amazed at the effect of the pressure against my prostate, pushing right through me to harden my cock as it never had been before. All the while, Maggie was playing it out to the fullest advantage, sucking on my cock like a brass pump, while her hand beat off my shaft, or reached down to squeeze my nuts.
"Me, I was still moving her groove, alternating between her pussy and her clit, my arms clasped tight to the butterfat of her thighs. From the way she was moaning around, adding another-pitch to the sounds of the vibrator that shocked through me, I could tell that she was coming, so I just kept my tongue in action, lapping at her clitty, working inside her snatch, pausing for great blasts of air I'd expel into her hole or over her stiff clit.
"It wasn't too long before I knew I wouldn't be able to hold on long. My cock was about to burst, holding back those hot rocks, and the way that vibrator was playing on my asshole, I knew it wouldn't be long. So I just slobbered down on that snatch and prepared to hold on with my teeth if necessary, realizing with my foggy senses that I might blow all over her face and launch myself in orbit. At least that's how strong I felt my come might be, due to the added priming my fuel was getting from the rear.
"And then, before I could even prepare myself, out it came. My cousin's sucking mouth kept taking in great gushers of goo. I just grabbed her nookie to hold on to as my body slammed through its climax, dumping the hottest load I ever had. As I was shooting one volley after another, Maggie jerked the vibrator about halfway out of my butt, causing me to feel as if I'd been unplugged by a cosmic cork. For a second there, I thought I'd be shooting off from both ends from the way my guts clenched and unclenched in a vain attempt to compensate for the sudden change in pressure.
"Somehow I managed to keep from shitting all over everything, and I relaxed into a semi-stupor as my last drops were drained from me by Maggie's continual sucking. I drifted off into a haze of wet pubic brush, smelling the sweet rains of our mouth fuck as I crashed, the humming of the vibrator weaving a hypnotic spell over us.
"Somewhere during the next turn of the clock, we revived and Maggie made herself busy by cleaning me off with a washrag and removing the vibrator. I told her that it looked like we'd be having a few repeat performances with the asshole massager and she looked pleased as she lowered herself atop me and began kissing me and running her fingers through my hair.
"I didn't know if I was up to anything after that session, but the warmth of her body was soon bringing me around again. It wouldn't be quite as dramatic, I thought, as she pressed to me, unaided by any artificial devices, but it just goes to show you how fucking wrong you can be sometimes. Shit, Maggie herself, without any artificial sweeteners, soon proved how adept she was at topping off any bill.
"And that's why I don't usually close the show. Anyway, we were soon getting all squirmy and fidgety from the friction of our bodies as we wallowed around on the bed. My lips moved all over: from her mouth to her delicate pink-tipped breasts, my hands roaming as far as they could reach to squeeze her plumpness.
"Before you knew it, my pecker was standing up nice and red, the blue veins popping out from the taut surface and ready to get back in the saddle again. The head was stretched to a polished surface, purple in its eagerness to sink into her cunt. Maggie was able to sense it was time, and when we rolled over from one of our gropes, she planted herself on my chest with a smile, looked down at me and told me she was going to fuck the shit out of me.
"I just spread out on my back and let her go to it. She jumped atop my thighs, her beautiful boobs swaying, and lowered herself down the old flagstaff. Wow, did that feel good! Pretty soon I was ball deep in pussy-she'd pushed herself down the pole clear to the shank in one motion, her weight aiding the entry. Then she just leaned back on her arms and began working around in little circular motions, her belly button doing a tantalizing dance. She was doing all the work.
"I decided to take a more active interest in my affairs, so I reached out with both hands and placed them around her hips as this was about all I could do under these circumstances. She just leaned back and smiled that silly fuck-faced grin she gets, and ground down on my cock, leaning forward often enough to get a few up and down jumps on the old pole. Then back to a gentler hip grinding that was burning the oil out of me at an incredible rate.
"But the way she was going, doing all that work, she was burning up her fuel pretty fast, too. So we decided on the more conventional role. We eased our way into it, so as not to disengage our gears, my arms helping her tilt over to her side and I made her lay beside me while my cock gripped her pussy. Once her body was down on the bed, I rolled over on top of her while she wrapped her legs up around my hips, and we resumed the pace of our fucking, my efforts now being more active.
"I began slowly, as if just awakening, and slowly but surely I drove the old joystick home until it was smacking wetly into her pussy. Her arms reached up to claw at me and my own began to explore her features as I settled down on top of her. Her lips began biting gently at my neck, sending icy pimples down my back as I gripped her buttocks to elevate them a bit higher and really stood that bitch on end, pounding home so hard that my balls slapped at her butt with each thrust. Her own hands pinched and grabbed at me, her hips grinding in a pivotal lunge to meet my every thrust, to blend with my each withdrawal. "Fuck me, Buddy! ! ' she yelled. 'Fuck me!" "I am!! I am!! ' I shouted back. "Oh, you fuck so good!"
"Maggie's way of yelling out things during our balling always turned me on, and this was no exception. I sprinted on harder, really cramming the meat to her, but she met my every motion with happy acceptance. I reached down to blow in her ear, and she began thrashing her head from side to side-that always drove her right out of her fucking mind. Her eyes opened and closed, never quite focussing as they stared out from a glazed sheen. Her face and neck bore evidence that she was near making it, red splotches appearing all over the milky white surface. But she kept coming on.
"I slowed the pace a little-damn, I'd been hosing her so heavily that I'd nearly gone and dumped my load. It had come on so fast and hot that it surprised even me. Not wanting to come too soon, I slowed the action down a bit. And then she reached down and grabbed at my balls like she does at times like that, pinching off a place near the base of my shaft that keeps you from coming. I really dig it-it makes your load build up really big, like a dam about to burst from an overflow, but you can't come until the broad lets go. Just another one of those little tricks Maggie knows that adds so much to balling.
"So I settle into a slower groove, her slippery hot pussy contorting all around my cockflesh as she begins to get her come. Sometimes I think she hooks her thumb around her clit when she ties me off like that, just to bring her around faster-I don't know for sure. Whatever her methods, the results are always terrific. She started stiffening up and her cunt was letting out these little farts, but I knew that she'd finally caught up with me . . . and passed me.
"And she floated off, flailing at me with everything she's got, letting go of my dong and balls and . . . whammo . . . that old dam let go like a bitch! Man, when I come after she's held me back like that, it seems like quarts of come. It just goes sputtering out of control. All I can do is lay there, barely able to keep up my stroke, and let it shoot up inside her snatch. Which is just what I did.
"Well, what can I say? This deal with Maggie has turned out to be a good thing, and I'm definitely planning on keeping good things going for me. Like we both figure it this way: if we are going to be called the black sheep of our family anyway, we might as well team up and make it together. It sure is a hell of a lot more fun that way."
Buddy did not come to his interviews to seek professional help. He came with the express intent to shock, boasting about his breaking of taboos. He will undoubtedly break off his relationship with his cousin, Maggie, especially since he is beginning to discover that-although his puritanical family may be greatly upset by his incestuous relationship-hardly anyone he talks to about
"making it with his own cousin" cares about it one way or the other.
Also, nobody seems to be greatly upset by his tales about his excessive masturbation (omitted from this interview in print), not even when he is using the most outlandish vernacular to describe his activities.
Once the novelty, and the shock value, of the mechanical devices is going to wear off, Buddy will undoubtedly move on to other sexual adventures that are considered to be outside the scope of normal sex.
And herein lies Buddy's difficulty. Our society, especially in the metropolitan areas, is rapidly becoming more and more permissive. Also, in a large city, relationships between people tend to become far more impersonal than those between people from small communities. Since Buddy's sexual gratification can only come from doing the forbidden, the chance is not remote that he will be arrested some day for a sex offense.
CHAPTER FOUR
It Was a True Love
"I don't know what other experiences girls have had with their families, with their cousins or uncles or anybody else. I've never wanted to talk about it with anyone. Remembering all that always upsets me. Oh, I know, I know. All sorts of studies have been written about incest-that's such an ugly word! I know there are statistics showing how common it is, and even in cases of actual rape, how it's usually committed by relatives. But that doesn't make me feel any better about it . . . any cleaner. I keep telling myself that what's done is done, but whenever I see my cousins, it all comes back.
"I think sometimes that they've forgotten all about it, or maybe they'd just like to and are pretending. But I haven't. Sometimes I gather up all my courage and I decide that I'll just not see the family again, or only see some of them-not my cousins. But what would I say? What could I use as an excuse? What would my husband think if I suddenly started telling him not to pal around with my cousins anymore, not to go to the football games or bowling with them. He'd think I was crazy! You see, when John and I married, he knew that I was a girl with strong family ties and that with me came the entire bunch of us. We all grew up together as a closely knit group, were each other's best friends, and all that. I can still hear my mother asking me why I should want to make friends with 'outsiders'-what she called anyone who wasn't a member of the family-when I had such nice cousins my own age to play with. Play with! Little did mother know. Maybe it's our Scottish ancestry or something, but we were all raised with a strong devotion for the family . . . the clan. No one could ever break us up, or cause trouble. If anyone said anything derogatory about one of us, that person was never permitted into the house again. It's the old story . . . the family can do no wrong . . . if they're family, they're perfect. Lies, all lies . . . we do have faults. But being raised like that made us feel that we were some sort of royalty, a privileged class apart from the rest of the world. It's silly, I know. But that's what it did to us. And if a member of the family said anything bad about another member of the family, it was all hushed up and that person was reminded of his loyalty and duty. We were only to love each other, never see a flaw or fault and point it out.
"Oh, I know now how hypocritical and ridiculous all that was, and is-but I seem to know it only in my head, not my guts. I've read Lucy Freeman and Robert Lindner, Joyce Brothers and Frank Caprio . . . read them and said to myself that they don't know what they're talking about! That the people they describe, the cases they cite . . . that they're devoting too much attention to the extremes, to the weirdoes-what about people like me? How many other little girls are growing up, right this minute, getting fucked by their cousins right under their parents' noses? How many other little girls are too scared to tell, or enjoying it too much to want to tell, or both-like I was. Can I tell John not to see my cousins because they've all been in my pants? That I'm scared to death one of them will tell him? John wouldn't understand that kind of thing. Oh shit! I don't understand that kind of thing. Does anyone?
"And every time I see my two daughters, at a family get-together, playing innocently with their cousins . . . I worry, and I wonder. How soon? How soon before they lose their cherries to their cousins the way I did? The psychology books tell you that a parent conveys his fears to the child, and that by doing so he can implant a fear in the child . . . or actually tempt the child into the deed by making it forbidden fruit-spoken or unspoken. But what am I supposed to do? You can't wipe out your past, or your memory of it. I can't forget my fears! And what's worse is my fears for my daughters when they're around their second cousins-my cousins.
Well? Why not? If they were so cruel as to seduce me, why shouldn't I worry that they'll rape my daughters? Isn't that what the books say? In cases of rape, it's usually a close relative? Well, in my family, we're all close relatives. And then I even begin to suspect my own father, and wonder if he did the same things as my uncles. Do all boys take advantage of the girls in their families? Are girls just supposed to shrug and forget it?
"John knew I wasn't a virgin on our wedding night, but he never said a word about it. John's the good-natured, easygoing, trusting type. On the night we became engaged he told me that he didn't want to know about my past . . . didn't want to know about any other man I might have been with. That was all in the past, he said. Well, maybe his conscience is clear-but mine isn't. And since I can't talk to John about the past . . . who can I talk with? You? Oh, yes, I suppose. Forgive me. I'm not really putting you down. All I mean is that talking to you might make me feel better for a little while, but it isn't really going to change anything, is it? You're not going to sprinkle any magic dust over my head that makes everything all right, are you? Why can't I just forget about it?
"The first time is very clear in my mind. Gary and Fred and I had gone to a matinee movie from their house. I was over, spending the weekend, which I always enjoyed doing because their parents were a lot more fun than mine-and they were always pretty generous with money, taking us all out or giving us enough to go and have a good time on our own. I guess that's because they only had sons. Girls are always raised as if they were congenital squanderers of money, incapable of saving a nickel. Boys, on the other hand, are raised to live today and have a good time, to raise a little hell while they're young. I don't mind telling you that there are some things about women's liberation that I approve of, and childhood is one of them!
"Anyway, the movie had been some swashbuckling thing with a big sea battle, flashing swords, and all that stuff, and the heroine kept hangin' around with her tits half out of her dress, breathing heavily. I remember thinking that I hoped I'd have big tits when I grew up, and sneaking a feel at my thirteen-year-old mounds. I was just beginning to develop there . . . enough for a child's bra. I'm so glad that fad seems to have passed; I think It's obscene to put a bra on a young girl! But my mother insisted, more for modesty's sake than anything else, I'm sure.
"After the movie, we all stopped and had sodas and then took the bus back to their house. And all during dinner, I couldn't get the movie star's tits out of my mind, remembering vividly how they rose and fell as the men fought over her. Her smooth milk-white skin captured tightly in the bodice of her dress, bursting to spill out. And I dearly wanted to be just like her. By that age I knew about my cunt, knew that it felt good when I rubbed myself, but I'd never had an orgasm. Mostly, I suppose, because I'd fall asleep before I'd arouse myself that much. And I wasn't the kind of kid who'd go around sneaking a feel at myself; it was just something I sort of lulled myself to sleep with. But all through dinner, I sort of played a game with myself pretending that Gary and Fred were the two men who'd be dueling over me, especially since they were both older than I was. Gary was already fourteen, and Fred was sixteen. Fred almost had enough of a beard to have to shave, and that made him pretty important. We'd been good friends all our lives, played and laughed, and sometimes when they'd get too rough with me, Fred would take me aside and soothe me. Then, of course, I thought it was because he was sorry and he loved me. It didn't occur to me until I was much, much older that he just didn't want me squealing to their folks! But I loved both the boys like brothers and as I grew older, the roughhousing stopped.
"They lived in a nice big two-story house and their folks had the front bedroom-so they could hear a burglar, they said-and the boys each had their own room. Whenever I'd come to stay, they'd fix the couch up in the downstairs den for me to sleep, and the den was beneath Fred's room. So later on, we all watched TV for awhile, and then everybody went to bed. I just couldn't get the movie out of my mind and I was having trouble falling asleep. I began to feel my small young breasts, and my hand just wandered on down to my pubic area where I was just beginning to grow some hair. I was comforting myself, lazily brushing my snatch against my fist, and beginning to doze off when I heard something.
"Iris," I heard Gary whisper, 'are you still awake?" His voice sounded strangely constricted.
"Uh-huh," I whispered back. 'What do you want?"
"I saw Gary's outline in the dark then, coming to the side of the couch. 'Iris . . . would you do something for me? A secret?"
"Well! A secret to a thirteen-year-old is irresistible! 'Sure, Gary, what?"
"A real secret, Iris . . . something you can never tell to anybody."
"I swore that my lips were sealed and practiced heaving my bosom in the dark. 'What is it, Gary?"
"You won't tell anybody?"
"I won't, I promise! What is it!"
"Then Gary pulled the blanket and sheet away from my torso and very gently placed his hand over my right breast. 'I-I've never seen a girl's tits, Iris, a-and I don't know any girls to ask. Would you show me yours? Would you let me see them? Maybe touch them?"
"I don't know what all ran through my mind at that moment, but I probably felt like a mature woman giving a kid a break. I'm sure I felt that my breasts were fully developed and that this was a big moment in Gary's life. 'Sure, Gary." I unbuttoned my nightshirt all the way down and pulled it down from my shoulders so that Gary could see my tits in the moonlight. They weren't much . . . but they were tits.
"Gary whistled softly. 'Wow, Iris. They're really something else again, aren't they? Is that it? Will they ever get any bigger than that?"
"I was a little slighted by his question, but mostly impressed with the power of having something he didn't. 'Yeah, they'll get real big, like that movie star today. Real big and soft, just like hers."
"Where'll it grow from?" "What do you mean?"
"Where's it come from? You got all that inside your ribs or what? It's gotta come from somewhere!"
"I don't know, Gary. A girl just gets tits as she gets older. I don't know where they come from. Don't they tell you that in school?"
"Not yet. Maybe they tell you in high school. But I thought you'd know, being a girl and all."
"Well, nobody's told me either. I'm younger than you are. Maybe Fred will know. Ask him, then you can tell me later. Want to feel them now?"
"Yeah. Wanna see my pecker?" "You mean your thing?" "'Yeah."
"Is it just growing too?"
"Naw. I've always had it. But I can do things with it now I couldn't do when I was a kid."
"Yeah?" I asked, overwhelmed with curiosity. I didn't want to admit it, but I'd never seen a boy's thing-not ever. 'Like what?"
"You really want to know? Want to see what I can do?"
"Well," I said, pretending I wasn't too interested, 'if it's really something worthwhile."
"Gary pulled his whang out from the fly in his pajamas and waved it at me. It wasn't much, I guess, but I'd never seen a pee-pee hose before and I was fascinated. 'So what can you do with it?" I asked naively.
"I'll show you, but you gotta help me."
"Gary told me to put my hand around it, to squeeze it a little, and see what happened. He sat down on the edge of the couch so I could get hold of it better, and while I played with his dong, he began to fondle my young breasts until the nipples were getting firm and hard. There was something terribly exciting about what we were doing, maybe because it was dark, or because we were still so young and curious . . . I don't think that I ever thought about our being cousins. And I'd certainly never heard of the word 'incest."
"I felt Gary's thing getting harder and bigger and I was so fascinated that I didn't pay much attention to the fact that he was pulling up my nightie to look at my young snatch, sticking his hand in between my legs and manually pulling my labia apart for a better look. It was silly, really. Neither of us could see very much in the dark, with only the moonlight casting its eerie shadows into the den. As I played with Gary's dong, watching it carefully, he reached over to the Morris chair and, taking the discarded newspaper, spread it on the carpet before him. I didn't know why, and I didn't think to ask him. Kids don't think these things strange or odd; if there's a tin can forty feet away, and a kid runs over and kicks it, no one thinks that's unusual behavior. So I thought nothing of the newspaper bit. When his penis became so rocklike and burning in my hand I was sure it must be very painful for Gary, he began grinding on the edge of the bed, moaning softly to himself, and then with a feeble smile he told me, 'Watch this, Iris, watch me come.. . . "
"Come? He was already there . . . where could he come to? But I soon found out. He groaned in a stifled sort of way, his hand grabbing at my cunt like a clump of grass, and his cock began to spurt out gobs and gobs of what seemed a thick white fluid. It shot like a cannon onto the spread newspaper, spreading slowly and soaking it, and the next thing I knew, Gary's prick was small, soft, and limp again. He was breathing heavily and I couldn't help wondering if he was all right.
"Did you see that?" he asked me, huffing slightly.
"How'd you do it?" I asked.
"Can't help it," Gary grinned. 'When it gets hard like that, gets stiff, and I pump on it, that's what happens."
"Can you do it again?"
"Not for a while. My thing is very sensitive afterwards, not really sore, but almost. It sure takes a lot out of a guy!"
"I remember clearly how Gary and I giggled about his statement-it had taken a lot out of him, and it was all over the newspaper. It seemed an uproariously funny thing to say. Anyway, shortly thereafter, Gary went back up to his room. He'd thanked me for letting him look at my titties, hoped I'd enjoyed watching him come, and that was that. All very proper and well-mannered. But after he left, my twat was driving me frantic with a need to be touched, to be fondled. His playing with me down there had felt good, only it left me with a kind of hunger I'd never known before. Not knowing quite what to do about it, I stuck my fist between my legs and eventually fell into a troubled sleep.
"The next day, Gary, Fred, and I went for a walk down by the narrow stream that ran about two city blocks from their house. Ever since I could remember, their folks had admonished us against playing near the river ('Any nut might be hanging around there!"), and ever since I could remember, we'd always gone down to the river to play . . . returning home hours later, invariably wet, or carrying dead pollywogs in our pockets, denying vehemently that we'd been anywhere near the river.
"Since awakening that morning, I'd felt an especial closeness between Gary and me. Our 'secret' seemed vitally important, a blood-and-guts bond between us which no one-no one!-would ever know or share. It was Gary and me, all the way, against the world, forever more. Even if the lions were to attack me, the Nazis were threatening to torture me, or the Nam wanted to brainwash me.. . Gary would come to my aid, Gary would save me. We had a secret. Gary would die for me, and I for him. Children lead such simple lives when you think about it-there's either total commitment, or total disinterest. No halfway, no gray, no maybes or we'll see. It's either Gung Ho! or Drop dead. But my loyalty and devotion bubble was soon to burst. When we had reached the river bank, stretched out on the littered sand and dirt, Fred poked Gary in the ribs and they both snickered.
"Hear you two had a little party last night," Fred said, leering at me and winking at Gary.
"Needless to say, my world of chivalry collapsed instantly. I'd been betrayed. Gary had broken our pledge of secrecy. And I began to cry. Yes. Cry. That's how crushed I was. I'd been deceived, led on . . . made a fool of. And for that moment, I hated Gary so violently I could have killed him. But Fred was smart, or perhaps just the factor of his being sixteen to my thirteen was enough. He began to placate me, telling me how he'd always wanted to see my titties too but had never thought I'd let him, how he could come better than Gary because he was older, and how he knew even better tricks. He cajoled and soothed until I'd stopped crying, but I was far from over my hurt. Then Fred began asking me questions: did I have my menstrual period yet, when was my last one, did I ever feel a funny kind of tingling down between my legs, had I ever stuck anything up there, and sundry other questions which, at that age, meant little to me. Yes, a week ago, oh yes, oh no . . . I nodded or answered but saw no connection, no continuity to his line of interrogation. I'd never heard of the Rhythm Method, so I took Fred's questioning in the same way as I would have taken Gary's before he'd betrayed me. Boys were curious about girls, and vice versa. And then Fred sprang the big one on me.
"Want to see my pecker, Iris? It's a lot bigger than Gary's. And I can do something that Gary hasn't found out about yet. Want me to make you feel real good all over, take care of that funny feeling down there in your cunt? I can do that, y'know. I can make you come too, just like Gary and me can come . . . 'cept that girls don't shoot all over the place. Want to find out how it feels? And this'll be our secret, then. Just the three of us. Swear to never tell anyone, Iris, you've got to swear to that!"
"By then, of course, I was burning from curiosity and my twat was twitching maddeningly. Yes, yes, a secret! We'd be the three musketeers then, the three of us with a common bond . . . yes! That would be even better-wouldn't it?-than just Gary and I sharing a secret that had very little meaning. Fred knew how to make me come too, how to get rid of that itch in my cunt. Oh, that had to be infinitely better than the childish secret which Gary and I had shared for so little a time. I nodded and swore-solemnly. Had it been up to me, we'd have cut ourselves and let our blood mix, but I didn't have the nerve to suggest it to Fred. Gary might have done it, but Fred would probably have laughed.
"Okay then, Iris, let me see your titties," Fred commanded and as I began to remove my blouse, he unzipped his fly and pulled out his penis. I marveled at its size! It was at least three times the size of Gary's, and it was still limp. What would it be like when it got hard? Thinking about it, and watching Fred toy with it in his hand, letting his other hand run across my breasts, the familiar aching feeling returned to my snatch; a lonely, hungry feeling of being incomplete and needing something-but what? Fred said he knew. And I wanted to know desperately.
"As Fred played with my tits, teasing my nipples, he told Gary to help me out of my jeans and pull down my panties. Gary readily complied, his face a mask of rapt fascination, his eyes glazed watching Fred's hand on my titties in the daylight.
"Here, Iris, feel my cock. Play with it and I'll play with your pussy and make it feel real good."
"I took hold of his member and weighed it in my small hand. In the light of day, I could see the tiny ridges all over the length of it, like little raised canals, or the veins on the backs of old people's hands. Bluish, some of them beet red, but all of them pulsing toward the large smooth knob at the other end of his shaft. The knob was almost like sponge rubber, soft yet hard, yielding yet resiliency firm. I figured out for myself that the tiny hole at the tip was where they shot their come, but it hadn't occurred to me that it was the same hole they peed through. Nor would I have cared at that moment. Fred was touching me down between my legs in a way that Gary had not; Fred was sending chills up my spine the way he touched me, played with me. Using just his fingers (unlike Gary who had grabbed me down there like a greased bowling ball) to tease my flesh. He seemed to be running just two fingers up and down the length of my cunt, pretending to be like a snake and writhing all over me down there, spreading wide the lips of my vagina and putting his forefinger onlyup against that part of my cunt and rubbing lightly, driving me frantic and not knowing why. I felt as if I had to pee, yet knew that I didn't have to; but the sensation was similar.
"Fred told me to stretch out and relax, to just lie there and enjoy the feeling, and to keep playing with his ever-growing cock. Gary had squatted down next to us to get the maximum view, and had already taken out his whang and was playing with it. After a few moments of just closing my eyes and giving in to the feeling of Fred's fingers on my aching snatch, I felt his fingers growing slippery and wet. I wondered about it, but I would never have broken our magic moment by asking. Then Fred began to just sort of slide around down there, and he began to pinch lightly at one spot of my cunt, up on top, and my pelvis jerked uncontrollably each time he did it.
"That's your clit, Iris, that's where you have the most feeling down there. Look here, Gary, get a good look at it 'cause if you want to get a girl hot in a hurry, just play with that clit for awhile. She'll beg you to let her slip your dong up inside of her if you play with her clit long enough. Really turns 'em on!"
"Is that where you stick it?" Gary asked in an awed voice.
"'Hell no!" Fred answered. 'There's no hole there. That's just to make 'em hot, just to give them a hard on like we get. Here, feel it. See how hard it's getting? Just like a baby penis."
"I felt Gary's hand upon my clitoris, his touch rougher than Fred's. But nonetheless my body responded and I couldn't help bucking at this incredible sensation, a feeling of boiling oil surging through my body.
"She's sure all slimy down there," Gary said softly, as if I were a dying patient and he the doctor in conference with my surgeon. 'It wasn't like that last night."
"Dummy, did you play with her? Did you get her all hot down there? What do you know anyway," Fred summarized curtly and then I felt him changing positions, taking his huge cock out of my hand. I glanced down and saw how he was placing himself between my legs, stretching out his body so that his prick was poking at my cunt impatiently. 'I'm going to take care of that itch for you, Iris, and you'll know how good it can be to get fucked. I've got a man's cock and I know how to fuck girls real good. You'll like this, Iris, you really will."
"With that, Fred lowered his head and began to kiss my nipples, his cock pushing at my snatch and driving me almost insane. My body just wouldn't hold still. I pushed my titties hard against his face, feeling his tongue on first one and then the other, and his burning rod pressing and poking at my snatch. I couldn't stand it, it was so intense a feeling. Instinctively, I raised my legs up and locked my ankles across Fred's waist. This brought his throbbing cock into a position where I could rub my entire cunt up and down on it, feeling my clit riding along it, and then I felt the head of his prick captured down toward my ass, felt the heat of it burning against my hole.
"That's it, Iris, that's it, baby! Fred's going to fuck Cousin Iris real nice, fuck her real good. Put it inside of you, Iris, take Fred's whang and stick it up inside of you-that's the way to get rid of that itch of yours!"
"I almost didn't have to be told. I'd already reached down to capture his cock in my hand and tried to push it up inside of my hole. All in all, Fred was being very gentle-but of course, I had no basis of comparison then. I felt the head of it penetrate my vaginal canal, spreading me open deliriously until I felt it hit something like a wall, and that hurt.
"That's just your hymen, Iris," Fred reassured me, his breath coming fast and rasping, his face blanketed in sweat. 'We've got to push my big cock past your hymen, and that'll hurt for just a few seconds. You might even bleed a little, but no more so than you do with your period. And after that, Iris, after that you'll be in heaven. Are you ready?"
"I remember whimpering and nodding at the same time. I wasn't worried about a little pain . . . all I knew was that his stiff prick inside of me felt like something out of this world, that I wanted it all the way inside of me, filling me up to compensate for that hollow feeling I'd known for so many months, that feeling of being incomplete. If I'd only known about sticking something up inside of me before . . . oh my God! how delicious it was! Even with Gary's heavy breathing almost in my ear, knowing that he was jacking himself off, I was experiencing the most exquisite sensations ever imagined. And then Fred lurched into me. One quick, piercing lurch. I began to scream but Fred quickly covered my mouth with his, sticking his tongue into my mouth, kissing me until I quieted down. He didn't move his cock once he'd broken my hymen. He'd pushed it all the way up inside of me, and he'd left it there, letting me adjust to the size of it, to the feeling of a throbbing prick inside my burning hole. As he kissed me, his hands playing with my titties, I began to enjoy the feeling of his big dong up inside of me, the feeling of the head of it resting snugly almost into my belly, and I began to move my hips slowly, began to rotate them to feel his cock better. I had so little hair on my snatch that Fred's pubic hairs were tickling me and making me hotter, his bulging balls slapping against my asshole gently. And I could feel my clit as it rested against the base of his big shaft. I felt as if every inch of me were vibrating and afire; even the soles of my feet were burning. I'd never dreamed that anything could ever feel so good!
"And then Fred began to withdraw slowly. I whimpered again, but this time for a different reason. I wanted him back up inside of me, snug and captured, giving me that exquisite feeling of fullness and completeness. I didn't want him to pull out of me. I began to worry that he'd come already. Somehow in my ignorance, I wondered if a boy came by breaking a girl's hymen, and that this was something that one did over and over again . . . but then, I remembered that Gary had come without even going inside of me. So then I worried that I'd only come if I got my hymen broken. But then
Fred began to ride me. Long, lingering, slow strokes as he filled my cunt with his cock, then slowly withdrew. And I recalled that when Gary had come, his thing had gone all limp again. So, obviously, Fred had not come. He was still in there, hard and strong as a steel rod! I heard Gary's mumbled 'Oh wow!" over and over as Fred rode up inside of me, back and forth, in and out, over and over again, turning my insides into liquid fire, making me squirm with pleasure and wanting more and more of his cock. I humped at Fred, my hands grabbing at his back, my nails raking into his flesh, wanting to shove him all the way up into me, feeling my hot sticky snatch clutching at his cock as it rode in and out. It became more and more difficult to breathe, and the feeling in my hole was driving me insane. My body writhed and twisted under Fred's, his mouth alternately kissing my hard little nipples and sucking on my tongue. And then, as if Fred knew what I was going through, he began to fuck me faster . . . and faster . . . harder, and harder. In and out, in and out, pistoning, pushing, pumping, humping, our bodies met and fought in a battle to culminate in supremacy, ecstasy . . . two animals threatening to devour one another with fulfillment. And then . . . and then-I can still remember it-the bursting, the lightheadedness, the screaming pulsating pushing throbbing blissful explosion of my first orgasm!
"We both fell into a limp heap, panting for air, and I was aware of Fred's prick shriveling up inside of me; slipping, slipping from within me. With an almost audible, sigh, I felt it fall from my hole, that hot hole still pulsing with its recent release. I didn't know what to say, or even if anything was supposed to have been said. I felt tears running down my cheeks, but I didn't know why. I wasn't really crying, why were there tears? I felt too good to be crying, too grateful. Yet the tears ran freely down my face and onto the earth beneath me.
"You sure that was your first time?" Fred asked, rolling off from me and zipping himself up again. He noticed the blood on his cock, nodded to himself, and then, grinning at me, he patted my belly. 'Well, you're a damned good lay, Iris, I'll tell you that. You're going to make a very good wife someday!" Then he stretched, glanced over at the drooping Gary, and exclaimed, 'Come on, let's go get something to eat . . . I'm hungry as all hell."
"And that was that. That was my introduction. Most girls look forward to their first kiss, then to maybe letting their steady feel their breasts-but I'd had the whole ball of wax in one brief afternoon on the edge of a dirty river . . . with my cousin."
The case of Iris N. is a very complicated one, and she has been referred to a psychiatrist. Again, it is not so much that she had her first sexual experience with her cousin which brought her in trouble. As we have seen, there are many cases of cousins who experiment sexually with each other as children and there are at least 1/3 of the states in the union where the sexual act between two cousins is not considered incestuous.
It is the needless acquiescence to family ties, it is the moral blackmail and the excessive masculine aggression from which this subject has suffered.
Iris N. is an attractive, young housewife, approximately twenty-five years old. She has an average intelligence, is married, and has two children, both girls. For several years now, Iris has been contemplating either a divorce from John N., or suicide.
She is tremendously insecure and believes herself to be worthless. This inferiority complex was greatly reinforced by her traumatic experiences with her cousin Fred.
All children, to a certain extent, experiment sexually. This experimentation is usually done with playmates and siblings. In an extraordinary close and clannish family, it is obvious that this experimentation will be done with cousins.
Although proper sex education could have prevented the entire first episode between Iris and her cousin Gary, there was actually no harm done when the two children, out of curiosity, explored each other's body. The parents made a glaring mistake, namely to let two boys and a girl of sub-teen age sleep unsupervised. Even the most unimaginative parent could have guessed that the children were curious and would seize any opportunity to satisfy that curiosity.
The family ties were extraordinarily close. Even after several years of marriage to John, Iris was incapable of breaking away from her family. She imagined herself to be a very bad wife, sexually speaking, though she had never talked about this with her husband. She actually believed her cousin Fred when he told her that she was nothing but a "whore and a cocksucker." Of all people, Iris should have known that these allegations were absolutely false.
She was also convinced that her husband did not truly love her, a conviction which apparently arose from her ingrained mistrust of anyone who is not "family."
Walter Stokes, in The Encyclopedia of Sexual Behavior, writes about the devastating effects guilt and conflict have in relation to sex. He says:
When contemplating any definition of guilt it is important to discriminate between guilt that is conscious and guilt that is unconscious but active in stimulating compulsive defenses against its conscious acknowledgement. Conscious guilt, such as over masturbation, may be very disturbing. But the most damaging guilt is often altogether unconscious, as in the more severe cases of sexual impotence or frigidity or as manifested through phobias or sexual deviations. Whatever the type and nature of sex guilt, it serves to make its victim feel isolated from his fellows and mistrustful of them. Warm, loving enjoyment of sex is possible only when men and women approach each other with a high degree of confidence in themselves and in each other. Feelings of guilt make the affectionate and satisfying enjoyment of sex impossible or impose a damaging handicap.
As has been stated, Iris was incapable of breaking away from the extremely close family ties and never trusted her husband completely. Many young husbands, as a sign of confidence, will tell their wives that they do not have to feel compelled to tell every single youthful indiscretion. But what a vast difference between a youthful indiscretion such as the loss of her virginity to cousin Fred and the mass gang rape a couple of years later which, aside from several cousins, included three of her uncles.
If anybody could have committed moral blackmail, it could have been Iris herself, and not her cousin Fred who, throughout her early teens, dominated and possessed her sexually, only to serve her up as the victim of that family orgy the day he left for the Army.
The interview was the very first occasion that had ever presented itself to Iris where she could talk about her traumatic experience, where she could express her fears and anxiety about what was going to happen to her daughters. Aside from the fact that she truly believed herself to be a very immoral woman-whereas, in effect, she was the victim of the crime of rape-she had apparently never taken any steps to protect her daughters from a similar fate.
Iris felt extremely guilty, in retrospect, not so much about her first experience as such, but that her first experience in sex was with her own cousin. Sex, as a matter of education and enlightenment, had never been discussed in her family. It was not 'til! she reached her mid-teens that Iris became aware of the crime of incest. Although she was unable to break away from her cousins' aggressive dominance-she never dated any other boys but Fred and Gary-she felt extremely guilty about her committing incest. It never occurred to her that, in that case, Fred and Gary were equally as guilty of the same crime and therefore equally as "worthless."
Paul Gebhard et al., in Sex Offenders, state that incestuous behavior is commonest with first cousins and least common with mothers. The researchers state that they have included coitus between first cousins in their report because most states prohibit first-cousin marriages. They go on to say, however, that except for first-cousin incest, incest is such a minority phenomenon that any generalizations are reduced to the status of near speculation.
With regards to incest in general, the abovementioned researches observe:
Many a father who would rather commit suicide than have sexual contact with his daughter has guiltily repressed incestuous thoughts that come unbidden to his mind. It is hard to recognize sexual attractiveness without being sexually attracted.
At the extreme one sometimes finds cases that bring to mind the primate families or European peasant families of the past, where the wife and nubile daughters were regarded as the personal property of the male to do with as he pleased. Even today in some nations incest is looked upon as a family problem rather than a matter calling for legal action by society. In these cases the male's basic attitude is a simple and not illogical one: "I've reared them, fed them, and protected them for years; by rights I should have sexual access to them in recompense." Vestiges of this old pattern remain in some of our culturally "backward" communities and urban slums. These vestiges are not only recognized but expected by the persons involved-"Pop's drinking again tonight, Sis; you'd better go over and stay with Aunt Jenny." Such a situation, accepted as one of life's hazards by the participants, is enough to send the college-educated social worker running for the nearest policeman.
Iris has been suffering mental anguish almost half of her life. Stripped of all the dramatic details, her suffering was greatly unnecessary. All she initially lacked was sexual education from her parents. Especially in a family where such extremely close ties existed, proper sexual education of the children would have been the easiest thing to accomplish. As it was, the girl learned the basic facts from her slightly older male cousins, who were basically as ill-informed as she was. Though in her later years she became obsessed with guilt because she had been in love with her cousin, and the belated knowledge that this was incestuous and therefore illegal and immoral, it did not dawn on her to feel guilty because she had had premarital coitus, which in itself is a criminal offense in over 30 states of the Union.
Fortunately, only a minority of girls suffer from being raped by several members of her family. But if Iris had had sexual education, this whole affair would probably not have happened to her. And if it had happened, she would have been better prepared to cope with it.
"In one weekend, unexpectedly, I had become a woman. I had lost something before I even knew I had it-my cherry. And in those early years of my teens, of budding into physical maturity, I never realized what impact there would be later in life, when the full truth of what we'd done, and continued to do, sunk in. I don't blame Gary for that furtive moonlight fumbling . . . he was only a year older than I and had no intention of fucking me.
But later I came to realize that Fred knew full well what he was doing, and with whom. Fred was old enough to know what taking a girl's cherry would mean to her later on, not to mention fucking his own cousin. Many dictionaries don't specify exactly what relatives comprise an incestuous act . . . most of them merely say 'close relatives." Well, surely that includes emotional closeness! Not just blood. Good God, for that matter, incest should include any trusted and closely allied person . . . when a child trusts someone, never thinks of that person in a sexual way, and that person introduces the sexual act, surely that too should be classified as incest. I should think that incest would have an emotional definition as well as a purely formal bloodline characteristic.
"Well, anyway, that was just the beginning. I felt no guilt then. I felt a great closeness, an even greater warmth toward both my cousins, Fred and Gary. Our 'secret' rose above any other consideration. And it became a regular pattern, too. Whenever I saw one or both of my cousins, we found a way to sneak off and fuck together. In that following year, I blossomed out into a lovely young woman with fully developed breasts, rounded hips, and strong sturdy legs with trim ankles. My body developed, and my hunger for sexual intercourse grew and intensified. Whenever either Gary's or Fred's name was introduced into a conversation, whenever I saw them, it was a matter of instant hot pants. Having been properly fucked taught me how to masturbate, of course, and whenever there were long periods-several weeks-of not seeing my cousins, I'd have to resort to taking care of myself. But I'd always envision Fred as my lover whenever I indulged in this desperate act to relieve my tensions. Fred had become my hero, my idol, everything I could possibly want. I began to spend time at the public library after school, reading all sorts of books about incest, and noticing that nowadays it was not too uncommon for cousins to marry and have a family. The taboo seems to be more religious than genetic, and by the time I was in the tenth grade, I'd become quite a little expert on the subject. I pined, and mooned, dreaming of my cousin Fred, waiting to see him, hinting at romance, marriage, anything to find out what his thoughts were of me. I knew he thought I was a terrific lay, but that knowledge recognized that the only way he could know it would be from considerable experience with other girls. Oh yes, certainly, I screwed with Gary too . . . but it was never the same thing. That was more of a share and share-alike act, sort of a throwaway bonus for being Fred's kid brother. No. It was Fred who filled my life-completely.
The day I heard the news that Fred had been drafted into the Army, I nearly went into a swoon from shock. My parents knew, of course, how devoted I was to Fred but they thought that it was because I held him in an older brother regard. They hadn't figured out that I was in love with Fred as only a fifteen-year-old girl can be in love. And the poor foolish things decided that what I needed to make me feel better was a party. So they decided to have a big family get-together, to invite all the relatives to a huge picnic and give my beloved Fred a happy send-off. Before the day of the big picnic, I spent endless hours phrasing my parting words to Fred, telling him in my fantasy how
I would wait for him forever, and that even if he came back from the war a cripple, missing his arms and legs, I would still be his-forevermore.
"It's funny to you, I suppose. The adolescent ramblings of a confused young girl, I suppose, are funny to everyone-but the young girl. But I had given Fred everything a girl can give, and it was only logical to me that we would get married. When the big day came, I went to great lengths to look my best for Fred. No longer a tall scrawny girl, but now a filled-out voluptuous creature who knew the pleasures of her own body and how to give pleasure to her man. Her 'man." Fred! My God, you should see him now . . . his bald spot that he tries to cover up with some kind of dye, his paunch that no amount of bowling will ever make firm again. But I'm getting away from the point.
"My parents spared no expense for the gala event, and relatives poured in from all over the state-even some I'd never even met before. I suppose it was as good an excuse as any to finally get us all together. . . . The backyard was festive with Chinese lanterns, streamers of red, white and blue, miniature paper American flags, and even the paper tablecloths and napkins had a patriotic motif to them. My dad had set up the tape recorder out on the patio-unfortunately most of the tapes were of music he and Mom had enjoyed when they were kids . . . cornball swing stuff that the old folks could still manage to dance to-and where our backyard ended, the woods began. The woods. Now, of course, the entire area has become just mile after mile of housing projects, but ten years ago, we still had woods. Our nearest neighbor was three miles away, the nearest shopping center was a thirty-five minute drive, and I took the rural school bus every day for the long five-mile drive. I didn't get my own car until the following year--mostly because of my despondency after that day.
"Everyone shouted and laughed loudly, hailing each other, giggling like children, swilling down the whiskey punch my dad had prepared, and paying next to no attention to us kids. My eyes never left Fred's body no matter who he was talking to, or where he was standing-acting very grown-up, talking impressively to the older men of the family about the role of U.S. in Vietnam. Oh, I was impressed . . . very impressed. My Fred was off to the wars, and I would sit home and write to him every day, send parcels, be faithful to him until his return to me. But I didn't know very much about my darling Fred . . . I wasn't prepared for what happened that afternoon, for what Fred did to me. Had he sent me out to whore for him, it wouldn't have been nearly so disastrous as what he did to me that day.
"All the grown-ups were pretty snockered by four or five in the afternoon, the sun was low and only visible through the foliage of the trees. Everyone was dancing or snacking at the rather disheveled picnic tables where relatives had gulped down food and left the remains to dry and cake on the plates, attracting flies. When no one had been looking, I helped myself to the punch and with Gary at my side, talked to my many cousins and second cousins and even third cousins. It seemed after a while that the entire world was populated by my relatives! But I'd seen precious little of my Fred, so busy being a man, talking only to men and only the prettiest of my female cousins. I was becoming immobilized with jealousy, and booze; Fred never smiled at me that way, Fred never bowed his head like that to me . . . on and on and on. Gary kept telling me I was making a big thing out of nothing, that Fred had a surprise he was working on for me, and all sorts of other things to calm me down. Although I'd never told Gary about my passion for Fred, I think he sensed it. He knew that he could fuck me, too, but he never once attempted to lay a hand on me unless Fred was around. I belonged to Fred, and if there were any crumbs left over after Fred was finished with me, then Gary could have them. But not before Fred had had his fill.
"Finally, Fred came over to us and conspiratorially told me that he'd been rigging a surprise for me, one that I'd enjoy enormously. All my jealousy disappeared instantly, and I followed him toward the woods. Fred had brought a plastic container with an ample supply of Dad's punch, and we'd take long slugs of it as we walked deeper and deeper into the darkened woods. Gary, of course, trotting along directly behind us. The three musketeers off to another adventure. Finally Fred halted and spread an old blanket out on the ground, dropping to his knees and holding out his hand to me. The invitation, and his intent, were unmistakable. I'd removed my halter top even before I'd stretched out on the blanket next to him. My body ached for him to love me, to touch me, to fuck me. I assumed that his 'surprise' was that we'd find a moment to fuck in that frantic family get-together party where everyone seemed to be monopolizing his time-everyone but me.
"I too had something a little extra for Fred to remember me by, and as soon as he had dropped his pants and shorts, I took his beautiful member in my hand and brought it to my anxious mouth. I kissed it tenderly, feeling it twitch at the touch of my lips, and then began to lick at it lovingly.
"When did you become a cocksucker, Iris?" Fred asked me, his expression both amused and surprised, but pleasantly so.
"I heard one of the girls at school talking about it, and I thought.. . . " But Fred cut me off.
"I don't really give a shit about all that crap. Just suck me if you're going to!"
"And I knew that Fred hadn't meant to seem so cold, so cruel. He was going to the war; time was precious. Taking his penis in one hand, I cupped his gorgeous balls with the other and squeezed them lightly as I ran my tongue up and down, over and around his rapidly hardening cock. That lovely cock that belonged to me! I would kiss it, and suck it so that he'd never want any other woman to contaminate it, so that he'd keep it pure and clean just for me. I showered his growing penis with hundreds of tiny kisses, then tongued him, rolling my tongue lazily around the ridge of his glans, nibbling at the flesh, wrapping my wet blade around his prick, then lapping it in long steady strokes. Perhaps it was the liquor, or just the fact that it was Fred's precious cock, but I was getting turned on something terrific. And I couldn't get over how smooth the tip of his cock was to my mouth, my lips, my tongue. Finally, when I felt how full his shaft was, how hard, how proud, I began to push the head of it into my mouth, covering my teeth with my lips and keeping my mouth closed tightly enough so that it would feel like a virgin's cunt to his prick.
"Fred moaned as his cock slipped into my mouth. 'You know something, Iris? For a kid who's never done this before, you're damned good at it. You're a natural, Iris!"
"I wanted to tell him that it was because I loved him so much, that only for him was I good at sucking or a good lay. That he could ask Gary if he wanted to, that Gary never thought I was a good lay-just for Fred, my Fred, my very own darling Fred. But I knew better than to say anything right then, better than to take his cock out of my mouth just to tell him something that I could just as easily tell him later. Besides, I was so enjoying the taste of his cock, the feel of it inside my mouth, the way the head stretched out my cheeks even the way it stretched out my vagina when it was inside of me. Sucking Fred's cock like that made me feel totally his, and that he was totally mine. I could feel my cunt burning against my panties, screaming to be loved too, but I could wait. First I would bring Fred to orgasm, and then he would take me after he'd rested for a bit . . . maybe even suck my cunt! By then Fred was humping my face, shoving his cock deeper and deeper into my throat, almost choking me; his hands grabbed the back of my head and pushed and pushed, helping me to fuck his cock with my hot wet mouth, and then I felt his engorged penis begin its eruption, felt his burning sperm shoot against my throat in wave after wave of intense ejaculation. I swallowed it, of course, what else could I have done? It was my joy, my pleasure, to take everything of Fred's into my mouth and keep it with me.
"When he'd finished, I let his limp penis slip from my lips and kissed it over and over until Fred shoved me away. 'Now it's time for your surprise," he said with a look I'd never seen in his eyes before. He pulled up his pants, turned in an easterly direction, and waved. Waved? To whom? Who was out there? What was this all about? And then I saw. Saw them! Four of the cousins I'd met that very day, and two of my uncles emerged from the woods from behind the trees. All of them had seen us. Had seen me sucking Fred's cock! Frantic, I didn't know what to do or where to go. How could Fred be doing this to me . . . and why? It was our secret! It had always been our secret! And as they came closer I saw the looks on their faces, the mean brutal glaze to their eyes. And I knew. I knew! I screamed and tried to make a break for it, to run-anywhere, just to run and get away. But Fred caught my leg and brought me down to the blanket, pinioning me there with the weight of his body.
"What's the matter, cousin dear? What's good for me has always been good for Gary, too . . . why not a few more? An old whore like you must've been putting out for every guy in school, you must've been fuckin' any guy walking . . . and now that I know you're a cocksucker too . . . well, shit, Iris, share the wealth!"
"I struggled to get away, tried to scream but Fred signalled Gary to shut me up. He put a gag on my mouth, a dirty old handkerchief. I couldn't say a word. I couldn't tell Fred that I loved him, that I'd never gone to bed with anybody but him, that I'd never suck anybody but him . . . except Gary, of course, but Gary didn't count. My head was pounding with panic, with the blood rushing behind my eyes as I saw the others come up to me, already fumbling with their pants, standing in a circle around me to see who'd go first. Gary and Fred held my arms and my cousin Jim came toward me, and laughing, he ripped my panties from my body exposing my sopping wet cunt . . . but it was wet for Fred, not for anyone else!
"One by one, they fucked me . . . they pawed my breasts and stuck their pricks into me and fucked and fucked and fucked until I could no longer struggle. I passed out finally. Passed out. Six of them fucked me. By the time the first one had finished and the last one, the first one was ready again. I don't know how often they ravaged my body, these dear sweet cousins and uncles of mine. I suppose Gary must have gotten his, too; maybe even Fred got inside of me a couple of times. I don't know. But I've never gotten over that day. Never. I don't think I ever will. All I'd ever meant to Fred was an easy fuck. That's all. I'd never been anything more to Fred than a quick lay
. . . and I would have died for him-willingly.
"Fortunately for me, I suppose, Fred reenlisted after his two year hitch. I didn't see him during his brief visit home. I didn't want to see him. Not ever. But of course, in a family like mine, it was inevitable that we'd see each other again. Pretend to be just loving cousins and nothing more. Pretend that he'd never set me up for a gang rape by my own relatives.
"I've tried to 'pretend" all these years. I pretended when John came into my life-dear, sweet, quiet John who trusts me, who believes in me so completely. He hasn't found out yet about Fred or Gary or.. . the others. But he will. And then what will I do? How can I ever explain it to him? That it was just foolish, adolescent puppy love? No. He'll see through that. He'll see the real me! A tramp. A worthless harlot. And what's worse, he'll be so hurt . . . I've always been a rotten lay for John. What else could I do? If he knew what real feelings I had inside of me, he'd have guessed that I'm nothing more than a cheap whore. Fred was right on that awful, day, just an old whore. But John thinks I'm a model wife, and he doesn't object to my being a rotten bed partner . . . I think he believes that shows my purity. But John will find out one of these days . . . and then what?"
Iris went to see a psychiatrist. It was recognized that she was a suicidal personality. Some reasonable doubt existed about the veracity of the gang-rape she was submitted to. Whether or not it actually happened is immaterial, however, because as far as Iris was concerned, it was the gospel truth. And as such, she suffered from the consequences to the point where she had decided that she could no longer live with it.
However, her continued indecision, her inability to resolve her feelings of inferiority, are likely to bring Iris to a nervous breakdown long before she actually attempts suicide or asks for a divorce. Neither of these two drastic decisions would alter, much less improve, her basic problem.
CHAPTER FIVE
That Was No Lady, That Was My Cousin
"The telephone started ringing right in the middle of the fuck I was having with Janet. And Janet was a damned good fuck. She lived downstairs from me in the same apartment house, and she sure was a frosty son-of-a-gun. I mean, when I saw her around the place, all she'd say was 'Hello' and that was it. Damned near a snob. But then every once in a while old Janet would make up her mind that she was in the mood for some good fucking, so she'd sneak up the stairs and knock real lightly on my door. I'd know it was her just from the sound she made at the door.
"But anyway, there I was, plowing my cock up into both of Janet's holes. She was a little freaky and liked to get both her cunt and her asshole fucked. Which is alright with me, because I'm sort of on the freaky side myself.
"I'd ram it up her ass then pull out and shove it up her cunt. That's a great way to fuck, believe me. 'Cause when you fuck up the asshole, that makes the cunt tighten up and when you fuck the cunt, the asshole tends to tighten up. So all the while you're fucking it's like the first time you've put it in her hole every time you put it in. A gal never gets sloppy when she likes to get fucked the way Janet likes to.
"But like I was saying, right in the middle of all the festivities, the telephone rings. Now I guess most guys, being tied up like I was, wouldn't have given a shit about that phone. But you see, I'm in sort of different circumstances from most guys. I live by that telephone.
"I'm an actor, or more truthfully, I'd like to be an actor, but nobody will give me a chance. But every time that phone rings, it just might be that 'chance' I'm looking for. So I always answer the damned thing, even when I'm in the middle of fucking Janet.
"And that's what I did. I answered the phone and left Janet's hot cunt and her hotter asshole sticking up in the air just begging to be filled with prick.
"Fuck me. Fuck me hard!" she kept yelling all the while I was heading for the phone and all the while I was talking. I'm sure that Gus, my agent, heard her screaming in the background, but that doesn't really make any. difference. Gus would fuck a dead skunk if he could get one to cooperate.
"I got somethin' for you, Danny," Gus said, and my goddamned heart did a flip-flop. It was always like that. As soon as I'd find out about the possibility of a job, I'd get so nervous I just about wanted to die.
"Let me tell you one thing before I get along with this story. Gus up to that point hadn't made me a cent. Sure, he'd sent me on a lot of stuff, but it was mostly crap that didn't mean a thing.
"In fact, I spent most of my free time cussing Gus out. Mainly because when he first got to be my agent, he gave me glowing reports about what he was going to do for me. So what happens? I spend two years waiting tables and driving cabs, waiting for the son-of-a-bitch to come through for me.
"Well, anyway, he told me he had something.. "
"What?" I asked him.
"It pays well," Gus said, and I had an inkling that what he had for me wasn't exactly something I'd write home to Mom about.
"So what is it?" I asked. And again Gus hesitated.
"Kid," he said finally. 'Can you get a hard on in front of people."
"What difference does it make if I can or not?" I asked. 'What's the job?"
"That's the job," he answered. 'A fuck film. But they're legal now. A new outfit is making a "quality" skin flick, and I think you're just what they're looking for."
"Shit, Gus," I said. 'I don't want to be in a goddamned fuck film. I want legit work."
"It pays seven hundred bucks for three days," Gus said, and suddenly the prospect of being in a fuck film wasn't so bad at all.
"I agreed to go to the audition. 'You got thirty minutes to get there," Gus said, 'so get your ass in gear. You'll have to strip for the producers."
"That was the end of my conversation with Gus, but before I could go to that audition, I had a big problem in front of me . . . Janet.
"She was still on her knees, her face buried in the pillows, waving her ass around, wanting something to fuck it. But right now I didn't have time for Janet, and I most especially didn't want to shoot off. Those producers I was supposed to strip in front of might want to see a little preliminary action. Just so they'd know I could handle the role.
"I've got an audition in a half hour, baby," I told her. 'You'll have to beat it now. We can pick up where we left off later."
"Christ, you would have thought I was stealing her last cent. Janet called me every name in the book. And a couple that aren't listed yet. She screamed and moaned and begged, but finally I just told her right out that there was no way she was going to get any more of my cock. I needed it.
"Janet was so pissed, she threw on her clothes and stormed out of the apartment and down the steps. She wasn't even quiet about it. She told me right before she left that it would be a goddamned cold day in hell before she ever came back. But she'd be back. I knew that. Hell, I'm too good a fucker for her not to.
"I headed for the shower and washed off all of Janet's cunt and asshole juice. My cock was still hot and half hard, which I guessed would be good for the interview. I dried and put some clothes on that made me look good. A couple of swipes with the hair brush and I was ready to conquer the world.
"I hopped into my beat-up old Ford and headed for the address Gus had given me. I expected the place to be run-down and seedy, with a lot of weird looking creeps running around. But I was wrong. The offices for the production company were in a brand-new building, and when I got off the elevator, there was carpeting on the floor, soft music coming out of the ceiling, and a receptionist to ask me what the hell I wanted.
"Of course, there were a lot of creeps running around, but at least the locale seemed legit. I guess fuck films are becoming big business.
"I was asked to go to reception room three, 'down the hall, third door on the left." I walked down the hall and went in. Would you believe it, there were three other guys already there.
"Reception room three was a little like an auditorium. Only real small. There were a couple of rows of seats, and a small stage in the front of the room. Us four guys were sitting in comfortable chairs that lined one wall.
"We all nodded at each other but nobody said anything. We just sat there and waited for the big shots. It seemed sort of weird, waiting in such normal surroundings to audition for a fuck film.
"Finally, the producers came in. Typical group.
Greasy but prosperous looking. They'd sell their mothers to the white slave business if they could make a buck, "A secretary was with them. She did the talking.
"Gentlemen," she started out, 'there is only one role available. Your respective agents have sent you over as being generally the type we're looking for. What we ask you to do is this: when your name is called, walk up to the platform, remove all your clothes, then turn slowly all the way around. When you are again facing this way, please state your name, address and telephone number into the microphone. We already have that information, but we'd like to hear the sound of your voice."
"You mean this flick's got sound?" the guy sitting two down from me asked. And from the cold look on the secretary's face, you could tell that the guy had just cut his own throat. I figured out that this group of bigwigs was touchy about the kind of film they were doing.
"One by one, us guys along the wall were called. Everybody did what the official-looking broad told us to do. I was the last one called.
"I walked up to the platform and stripped off my duds. Just threw them into a pile. Then slowly I turned around. I didn't pay any attention to anything in the room; I tried to concentrate on fucking. Fucking the most gorgeous cunt in the world. And sure enough, it worked. My good old prick started to climb.
"I was the only one of the guys that the secretary said anything to, as she ogled my crotch.
"Are you able to become aroused," she asked, 'while working in front of a camera and crew?"
"I think so," I answered and sort of nodded at my cock. It was big and hard by this time.
"You can get dressed now," the secretary said. 'And thank you, gentlemen."
"I put my clothes back on and was just leaving the room when one of the producers tapped me on the shoulder.
"Stay around a few minutes, will ya?" he said, and I knew for sure that I had the part.
"I waited more than a 'few minutes." I waited an hour and a half, but finally I was called into the big shot's office. He offered me a seat.
"What we'd like to do," he said, 'is try you in front of a camera, just to make sure you can function. And we'll pay you fifty bucks for a half hour's work, just so you don't think we're trying to get some wild footage for nothing. Is that alright?"
"It was fine with me. So they wanted me to fuck in front of a camera. Great. And I'd get paid for it. Also great. Hell, I'd been fucking so long for nothing that this seemed like a dream come true.
"I followed the guy to a building behind the building where the offices were. It was a sound stage and pretty damned well-equipped. This sure as hell wasn't a fly-by-night operation.
"We went on to one set and the guy pointed out a dressing room for me. 'Go in there," he said, 'and strip down. Then come back here and park your ass on the bed."
"I did what I was told. The only bad thing about the whole setup was they had plastic sheets on the bed that were cold as hell. But I warmed them up fast.
"The big shot had been replaced by one of those creeps that had been running around the office building. This particular creep was a director.
"Okay, Sam," he started. I told him my name was Dan. But that didn't make any difference to him. He called me Sam all the while I was there.
"Okay, Sam," he repeated. 'The broad comes in and you like her. Got that? Then you fuck her. Got that?"
"I nodded. The guy must have thought I was an idiot. But he wasn't through yet. 'We want a little mouth action from you, a little mouth action from her and then a cunt fuck. This is a straight fuck film. Got that?" He seemed bored as hell.
"I nodded again. Jesus, I had never hated anybody so hard so fast before in my life. That guy was a real asshole.
"Okay," he yelled at somebody unseen, 'bring on the broad."
"I settled back with my hands behind my head. I had to work myself up for this bit. I was going to fuck so goddamned good that they'd beg me to take the role.
"I heard the slight slap of bare feet on the floor of the set, and I knew that my 'co-star' was arriving. I didn't want to take her in all at once. I wanted to dwell on her. I glanced over, taking in only her feet first. Good looking feet. Well-shaped and smooth. That was a good start. And they looked like young feet. Which was likewise good.
"The calves were good. Trim and smooth, athletic looking but not muscular. And then the good stuff started. I sort of skipped over the thighs, just noticing that they were nice and trim and that they led to the most important part of her.
"Nestled between those legs was a little bush of gorgeous light brown pussy hair. Jesus, I damned near shot off just looking at that. How in the hell could a guy not get a hard on, being paid to fuck a pussy as good-looking as that? I should have been paying them!
"The belly had a slight little curve to it, just the way I like bellies. And then the tits. Oh, my, brother! ! Now there was a set. Not overly big, just firm and great looking. They stood up all by themselves. And the light brown nipples were large and already halfway aroused. This was going to be some fuck session.
"Then I got to the face. I was hoping like hell that she'd be sporting one that wouldn't stop a clock. But I didn't find out. When I looked up at her, I really got a shock. She had a goddamned mask on! All over her head. I couldn't even see her hair, except for a few strands that were sticking out of the bottom of the hood. She could have had a face like a goddamned mule for all I knew. Or cared at that time.
"The director got his two-cents in at that point. 'If you're wondering about the mask," he said. 'Don't. It's part of the script. The audience, and to all extent and purposes you, don't see her face until the very end of the movie. That's the plot.
"It didn't sound like too great a plot to me, but who was I to tell the asshole that? I just nodded and figured I'd have no problem at all of fucking that cunt all day.
"The gal was led up to the bed. She couldn't see at all. There weren't even eye-holes in the hood. Just a place for her to breathe and suck through.
"The director walked up to us. 'I guess you two should meet each other," he said, then laughed. 'Okay, shake hands and come out fucking." Christ, he was an asshole.
"I felt the girl's hand and said something to the effect that we should throw our whole heart and soul into the fuck scene. She nodded. 'It might lead to something good," I said, and she nodded again.
"The director then gave us a little story outline and we started. 'Okay, camera is rolling," he shouted and I started doing my bit. In the movie the girl would be led into my room by two guys who then leave. She's hooded and I take it from there. So that's what we did.
"The camera rolled and the girl stood by the door as though she had just been delivered. I got off the bed, slow-like, my cock already starting to arch up, which I thought was great. I walked over to her and slowly ran my hands down from her neck over her tits. Jesus, they were soft and nice. And the gal was responding to me. Where before her nipples were half-hard, after I played around with them for just a second or two, and after I leaned down and ran my tongue over them just once, they were standing out at a full-hard. This was going to be fun, even if it were for free.
"With one hand on one of her tits, I let my other hand trace down her belly. Real light. Teasing, sort of torturing her. She squirmed a little. She liked it. And then as fast as I could, as soon as I got down to her pussy hair, I stiffened my finger and shot it right up into her pussy. Hard and all the way in on the first shove. The girl let out a gasp and damned near came right then and there. That was the secret of my fucking success, you see. Surprises.
"I finger fucked her for a while, and she kept moving her legs farther apart to let me get at her easier. In no time at all, I had two fingers up her cunt, and then three; She wasn't big or anything-I mean sloppy-it was just that she was liking what I was doing one hell of a lot and she was making her pussy relax.
"I had her bent over in an arch now, with her box stuck out at me and at the camera. But I figured I'd get her to do some of the work now.
"I took hold of her hand and brought it to my cock. At first she seemed hesitant, but when she got hold of that big mother-fucker she started to really like her work. And she had a great touch. Not too light and not too hard. She'd grasp my prick in her palm and jack it lightly a couple of times, and then open her hand and let her fingers trace down the whole length of it. She had that cock of mine lurching around in no time.
"All this was still going on while we were standing to the side of the set. We hadn't even gotten to the bed yet.
"I got to my knees and shoved my head between her legs. The asshole director had said he wanted mouth action, and I didn't mind one bit. I settled my tongue right on her pussy lips and licked them the whole length. Christ, that gal even tasted good! And she let out another gasp.
"I was in a rotten position to do any real cunt licking and invited the broad, by putting my hands on her shoulders and pushing her down, to return the mouth favor. With a little urging she did it. She got down on her knees and after a few tries, and a little encouragement from me, she managed to get the whole length of my prick down her throat. Which is a damned rare thing, let me tell you.
"To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten all about the camera and the assholes on the crew. But then the director broke things up a little. 'That's good," he yelled, 'but this is only gonna be a ninety-minute film."
"What he wanted, I guessed, was for us to start making the scene on the bed. So, reluctantly I pulled my cock out of the girl's mouth and helped her to her feet. I picked her up-she wasn't heavy at all-and carried her over to the bed. I laid her out full length and immediately got on top of her. I let her feel my full weight. Women like that; it lets them know who's boss right off.
"She opened her legs a little and let my cock slide down between her thighs. Then she tightened. I liked that. I started to dry hump her a little, but then that goddamned director's voice came through again. 'Let's see some wild stuff," he said.
So I got up off her and started in with the tongue. On her tits, up around her neck, down her belly, to her cunt. I pushed her legs far apart and then settled down for some real pussy licking.
"She was all hot by this time and she grabbed for my cock. I moved over to get my prick right up against her face. She took it. I could feel my cock sliding against the leather of her hood and then right into her mouth and down her throat.
"Our sixty-nine lasted just about a minute, and then the director did his job again. 'Okay, fuck!" he yelled, and his voice cracked. I think he was turned on by our little sex scene.
"I scrambled around into position and aimed my cock at that gorgeous pussy. With one shove, I lodged the whole damn thing in her. She came then. Bigger than shit she came. Moaning and groaning and bucking around on the bed. And that N made me even hotter. I was just like a goddamned teen-ager. I couldn't hold off my come. I fucked her hard for about thirty seconds and then started shooting my stuff up into her pussy. Again and again I spurted. It was the greatest feeling in the world.
"Cut," the director yelled, and I slumped down on the bed, pulling away from the girl a little.
"The director told us we'd been great and then walked away. The girl sat up on the bed. 'Will you help me out of this," she said, reaching up to the hood. I helped her. And while I was doing it, she whispered to me, 'I hope you're not ugly."
"I didn't have any worry on that score, but what I got after we got the hood off her and she turned around was the biggest shock of my life. The broad I'd been sucking and licking and fucking all that while, the broad who had been fucked and who had licked and sucked me was nobody other than my own goddamned relative.
"I'd had wild sex with my cousin Rachel!"
When we start considering the case of Danny B., and the relationships with the two girls he mentioned in his interview-his cousin Rachel, and his girl friend Janet-it is readily apparent that the subject is not at all sure of his masculinity.
His doubts are manifested by his desire to exhibit himself sexually, by his impersonal sexual contact with his neighbor, Janet, and finally by his openly flaunting of taboos, viz. his living together with his cousin Rachel.
Even though Danny claims that he is an actor, and that he is financially forced to take his job in a pornographic film because there are no other acting jobs available, it is quite obvious that this is a meager excuse. Thousands upon thousands of healthy young men are equally incapable of finding suitable jobs, yet none of them would think of, or consent to, taking a few hundred dollars for performing sexually in a sexually explicit film.
At this particular moment, there is very little research done on the rather recent phenomenon of actors in motion pictures in which the sexual act is fully performed. However, one can easily surmise that a person who performs in such movies has an intense desire to exhibit himself.
In Sex Offenders, Paul Gebhard and his associates define exhibitionists as "adult males who have deliberately exposed their genitalia to females in situations where exposure was inappropriate." He, and his research team were attempting to define those cases which had come in contact with the law and had been sentenced to imprisonment for violating the law. They write:
Just as with voyeurism, there is a bit of the exhibitionist in nearly all males and in many females as well. All adult humans want to be physically and sexually attractive; it is psychologically important to them. Society expects and encourages a certain display of physical charms. Except .that they do not expose their genitalia, many a male and female on a public beach could be called exhibitionists: they receive some sexual gratification from displaying their anatomy. In numerous instances the display is not a form of solicitation-they are not seeking sexual activity, but wish to enjoy the knowledge that they are sexually desirable.
Taking the above quotation into consideration, it becomes at once apparent that Danny, as an actor in a pornographic movie, far exceeds Gebhard et al's description of the degree of exhibitionism one can expect in the normal average male.
One of the findings of the research team was that, although in general exhibitionists were found in the central portions of the rank-orders, hi cent ii a u ft Con .s iv s they occupied an intermediate position of 53 per cent as far as postpubertal homosexuality was concerned. The researchers also found that they were in complete agreement with some psychiatric concepts. They write:
Certainly some exhibition is largely an affirmation of masculinity, a cry of, "Look, here is proof I am a man!" This is the response of the insecure male who has suffered some ego-shattering sexual rejection or corrosive longtime sexual stress. Also important is the element of sexual solicitation which many exhibitionists consciously recognize although their hopes are almost never realized. Thirdly, and perhaps less common, is exhibition as an expression of hostility or sadism: a desire to frighten and shock. Very few of these people consciously feel such hostility, and on the whole the exhibitionists are to be pitied rather than feared. .
Danny admits to, what he prefers to call, being somewhat of a freak, by wanting anal intercourse with Janet. Again, it is not a matter of obliging someone he deeply loves. It is most likely that Janet has been rejected by many potential boyfriends because of her intense desire to be assaulted anally. The point is that Danny is more than willing to oblige her.
Contrary to popular belief, anal intercourse, when the partners are of opposite gender, is not a homosexual activity. There are no homosexual activities, sexual or otherwise, per se. A sexual act is homosexual only, if and when the partners are of the same sex. By this definition, as one can see, it is impossible for a man to commit a homosexual act with a woman. However, Danny's desire to have anal intercourse with a woman, points to his unconscious fear of women.
Even though many authorities claim that there is no such thing as a basic posture for sexual intercourse, we cannot but view anal intercourse, with penis entry from the rear, as a sophisticated variation, prompted by curiosity and a desire to experiment.
Virtually all our sexual signals and erogenous zones are on the front of our bodies. When a man enters a woman from the rear, he cannot see the expression on her face, he cannot see her breasts and nipples, he cannot see the genitals. In other words, with rear-entry copulation, the male is not rewarded with any of the incoming sexual signals from the female, and none of the identity signals from his partner. In other words, face-to-face sex is personal sex, rear-entry sex can therefore be called impersonal.
It is obvious that Danny prefers to keep his sex with Janet on an impersonal level. The way he talks about her, in rather derogatory terms, supports this assumption. Again, although this is not a homosexual trait, it is clear that Danny's masculinity is subconsciously being questioned by Danny himself. We will not go so far as to proclaim Danny a latent homosexual. This is impossible to ascertain from the interviews so far, since
Danny has not made any statement in which he expresses any desire for sexual contact with males. Nor has he expressed any particular dislike for homosexuals. Usually, when this opinion is not expressly solicited by an interviewer, such protests indicate the possibility of latent homosexuality.
However, Danny has not mentioned any other girl friends than Janet. Maybe the expression "girl friend" does not adequately express his relationship with his neighbor. They are sex partners in the strictest sense of the word. It is the only reason Janet visits him. They do not seem to mix socially.
In Hollywood everything seems to be possible. Even, or so it seems, meeting one's own cousin as a partner and co-star in a pornographic film. The chances are not so remote as it seems. Both Danny and his cousin Rachel were in search of acting jobs and neither one of them had been very successful in the legitimate field. Under those circumstances it is very well possible that both of them would be contacted by the same person to work for the same producer in the same movie.
Rachel is shocked and outraged to discover that she has, unwittingly, committed incest. Danny, however, admits that the whole idea excited him tremendously and he takes his cousin home with him for the express purpose of resuming sexual relations with her. This bears out the statement that a person such as Danny is delighted to frighten and shock. He is also contemplating to introduce his cousin to anal intercourse.
As we have stated throughout the book, it is difficult to treat the crime of incest, where it involves cousins, as a sexual deviation. Repeatedly we have pointed out that in one-third of the states this type of incest is not even a crime. However, Danny himself points out that he and Rachel have practically grown up as brother and sister. It is with this familiar figure that Danny dares to set up a more or less permanent relationship. We refer to Alfred Adler's comments made earlier in this volume.
"It was all Rachel could do to keep from going crackers even before we got out of the production company's offices. She was really upset. I got her to my Ford and as soon as she was in that area of even limited privacy, she broke down and bawled like a baby.
"I felt so sad and so awful, I wanted to lay down and die. Rachel and I were more than just two cousins. We'd been raised together, gone to school together, double-dated, the whole smear. She was more like a sister to me than a cousin. And that's one reason I should have recognized her. Even with that goddamned hood on.
"All I kept saying was, 'I'm sorry, Rachel. Please don't cry." But that was like farting in the wind. She was damned near hysterical. 'My God," she kept sighing. 'What I did was bad enough, but to have you involved. For you to know, and for us to have done those things . . . and I enjoyed it so much . . . '
"Then she'd start crying like hell again. I tell you, that trip back to my apartment was the worst car ride I'd ever had. There just wasn't anything I could do or say to help matters the least bit.
"But we did have an excuse for not recognizing each other, even a better one than the hood. You see, since I'd seen Rachel last, she'd lost about fifteen pounds, and dyed her hair-even if I hadn't seen it-and she . .well, she just sort of looked different. And the truth of the matter was that after we'd come out to Hollywood together-to get 'discovered'-we'd drifted apart. Rachel went to live with this guy who for some reason didn't like me one bit. I wasn't welcome around there, despite what Rachel kept saying, so I didn't go.
"So it had been a year since I'd seen her.
"And now for another bit of truth. Well, I told you earlier that I was a little on the freaky side. Right? Well, fucking my cousin Rachel was the freakiest thing I'd ever done, and I have to admit that I was so turned on by the idea-and by herthat I couldn't wait for a repeat performance.
"But I wasn't about to tell her that yet. She was having too good a time putting on the crybaby routine.
"It's pretty hard on a guy's mind to feel sorry about what he's done on the one hand, and to want to do it again on the other. I was one mixed-up guy on that trip home.
"I got her inside my apartment and really started to comfort her. Head on the shoulder, a light kiss here and there to let her know I cared. Things like that. And while all this lighter stuff was taking place, I managed to cop a couple of good feels on her tits. Let me tell you, my cock was hard as a rock the whole time, and I kept pressing that prick of mine up against her belly. And she didn't make any move to get away from it either. I tell you, I was one confused character.
"What I really wanted to do was fuck her right there. On the bed, on the floor, on the couch-anywhere. But I didn't have the guts to start anything. You see, she wasn't protesting the little things I was doing to her, but at the same time she wasn't exactly cooperating either.
"After I got her calmed down a little, I started asking her about that asshole she'd been living with.
"We're not together anymore," she answered, and then goddamn it, she started crying again. 'I had to leave him," she said. 'He wanted to do such weird things that I just couldn't put up with him."
"I figured today wasn't a good day to be asking about those 'weird' things, but I sure as hell intended to find out later.
"Then I got one of the brightest ideas of my life. 'You must be exhausted," I said in my most sympathetic voice. 'Why don't you take a little nap? Then I'll buy you dinner and a couple of drinks. That'll make you feel better."
"She nodded miserably and stood up. She went into the bedroom and I was just about ready to follow her in when she shut the door. Damn it.
"I let her stay in there by herself for about ten minutes, or just long enough to get her clothes off that gorgeous body of hers, then I stripped down myself. I was ready to head for the bedroom-and at least get a nap, if nothing else happened-when the doorbell rang.
"I silently cursed and started to head for the door. That had to be Charlie. I owed him money and he'd been bugging me every day for two weeks. Every time I walked into the apartment he'd come to the door with his hand out.
"I swung the door open, not even paying any attention to the fact that I had a roaring hard on, ready to give Charlie that time-worn excuse, 'Tomorrow."
"But it wasn't Charlie. Son-of-a-gun, it was Janet. All decked out and ready to continue with our interrupted fuck. I could tell by the look in her eyes that that's what she wanted.
"She was in the apartment and had her hand on my cock even before I could say anything about having a guest in the bedroom. She damned near tackled me to the floor. She had her suit off and was as naked as I was in no time at all.
"For some reason, after only a couple of seconds of her sucking on my cock, I was willing to let her go ahead. Even with Rachel in the bedroom. Hell, my cousin was asleep by this time anyway, so why not get my rocks off with Janet? That way I wouldn't be so hot to trot with Rachel, and maybe get into trouble with her.
"I knew what Janet wanted and it wasn't to suck on my cock. She wanted to be fucked, and fucked royally. In both holes. So I pulled her head off my cock and swung her around. I pulled her ass up in the air and made her put her face down on the rug. She was a perfect target now.
"I spit in my hand and rubbed it on my cock. I aimed my prick first at her asshole. Aimed it and shoved. It slid into that hole just as easy as you please.
"Janet let out a moan that would have raised the dead, but I wasn't concentrating on noise right now. I pulled my cock out of her asshole and shoved hard into her pussy. She moaned again. Christ, she was wild. She was swinging that cunt and asshole around like a pendulum, damned near milking the come out of me.
"Sometimes she'd be moving so much I'd have trouble finding the hole I was after. But somehow I always found it in the end. That's a pun. Sorry about that.
"Anyway, it was great. In, out, in the ass, out. And all the time Janet's having a case of the fuck fits.
"Then all of a sudden in the back of my mind I hear this voice. I think it said something like, 'Danny, my God. What are you doing?"
"Now if the truth be known, that was sort of a dumb question, and I didn't feel like answering it. I just sort of turned around to find where the voice came from, and standing there, in the doorway to the bedroom, was none other that Rachel. I guess all the noise Janet had been making woke her up.
"Her eyes were wide as saucers. And her hand, while I was looking at her, slipped down her belly and started to play with her pussy. I don't think she did it consciously.
"But I wasn't about to be interrupted in fucking Janet a second time. The lot of archangels could have been standing there playing with themselves, and I wouldn't have stopped.
"This time Rachel screamed at me. 'Danny! That's perverted!"
"Do you know what? When she yelled that at me, it turned me on so much that I started coming in mid-stroke. I had to jam my cock up Janet's asshole while it was spurting off. Then I rode that ass good.
"I knew Janet would be mad as hell when we were finished. She didn't like me to come up her ass. She wanted the juice in her cunt. Come in the asshole, she had told me, is too messy.
"Anyway, as soon as I was finished shooting and pulling out of Janet, I was embarrassed as hell. Rachel was standing there still staring at me. She looked like she was in shock. Then when I started to say something to her, she turned and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door.
"And who, may I ask, is that?" Janet yelled at me from the other side of their room. She was on her feet now and putting on her bikini. I just stood there and shook my head. Everybody was screaming at me.
"I repeat," Janet said. 'Who was that?"
"When I told her Rachel was my cousin, Janet went into peals of hysterical laughter. And she continued laughing all the way out the door and down the steps. But I was glad to see her get out of there before she found out I'd come in her asshole. Right now she didn't know. That girl could never tell her asshole from her cunt.
"Well, things were getting better. There was only one broad in the house now. And I wasn't completely horny anymore. I mean, I could talk to Rachel without having visions of fucking her flit through my mind.
"I walked over and knocked on the bedroom door. No answer. I knocked again. Tried the doorknob. It was locked. 'Hey, Rachel," I yelled through the door. 'Open up. I've got to use the John."
"After a short wait, the latch on the door clicked and Rachel threw the door open. 'I should hope you'd clean that thing up very well after what you've been doing," she said. She looked down at my still half-hard cock. 'That was the worst exhibition I've ever seen in my life."
"I felt like saying something like, 'Fuck off," but I didn't have the guts. In Rachel's frame of mind she would have probably killed me if I had.
"I went into the John, took a leak and cleaned up. When I came back, Rachel was dressed, but still there. Which surprised me.
"I was going to walk out," she said haughtily when I looked at her with a question mark in my eyeballs. 'But you know we've been offered those roles in that awful movie. And we have to decide which of us is going to take it."
"I sat down next to her.
"Put some clothes on, for heavens' sake," she said really nasty. 'I can't talk to you with that thing waving in my face."
"For some reason that last comment really made me mad. 'Fuck you," I said. 'I'm not gonna put clothes on. And I'm not gonna give up seven hundred bucks just because you've got 'cousin' scruples. Hell, if you don't want to fuck with me, then drop out. I don't give a shit."
"I guess my tone of voice chastened her a little bit, because a new expression came to her face. She looked like she was going to cry again. Which was all I needed.
"Danny," she sobbed, 'I can't give up that role. I need the money. Desperately. And they're paying me a thousand, not seven hundred."
"So what's the problem?" I asked her. 'Let me fuck you a couple of times and you'll be a thousand ahead. Nobody'll be the wiser about us being cousins."
"She thought a minute. 'Do you do that to girls a lot?" she asked finally. "What?"
"Have sex with them . . . in the back?" she stammered. I couldn't help but laugh. That was what was on her mind. Not the movie. She was fascinated by Janet's taking it up the ass.
"You know," she added. 'That's what Art wanted me to do. And I wouldn't."
"Art was the creep she had been living with.
"Listen, Rachel," I said in my most persuasive tone, 'the only reason I fuck Janet in the ass is because she likes it. She asked me to. You wouldn't have to worry about me doing it to you. Unless the script called for it and you were willing."
"Are you sure?" she asked. I nodded. I was starting to like her again. And my cock was starting to get hard again. She noticed.
"Now wait a minute, Don Juan. I might go along with doing things in the movie, but don't get any ideas about extra-curricular activities. We are cousins, you know. And besides being immoral and perverted, even though nice, it's also illegal."
"Not here in California," I said, 'only back home." Then I asked, 'Are you going to do the movie or not?"
"She again thought for a long while. 'I need the money too bad not to," she said finally. 'So I guess for three days, we're not cousins. I'd die if anybody found out."
"On not telling anybody I agreed with her. After all, it was nobody's business but our own. We agreed to both do the movie and to keep the relationship in front of the camera just business. Do what was asked and no more. I think Rachel was still worried about getting a surprise cock up the ass.
"I drove her home and agreed to pick her up the next morning. Our first day of shooting. Right before she headed into her apartment, she kissed me good-bye. And let me tell you, it wasn't a cousinly kiss.
"The next day, when we got to the sound stage, the place was like a snake pit. Crazy people, some naked, were running around all over the place. You find out real quick that when you work in fuck films, there's no such thing as modesty. You strip when you get there-boys and girls-and you stay naked all day. Even at lunch.
"First thing that morning, we had a cast meeting. Everybody in the room except Rachel was a guy. 'Jesus," I whispered to her, 'are you going to take all these guys on?"
"I don't know," she whispered back. 'I hope not."
"I sure hoped not either, for Rachel's sake.
There were seven naked guys in that room, ranging from a real dirty old man type to a big black stud who had a twanger down to his ankles. If Rachel got fucked by that cock she'd have to find an elephant for future romantic entanglements.
"Creep director was back and he took us through the day's shooting. Most of the dialogue was strictly extemporaneous. I was relieved to hear that Rachel only would get fucked by myself and by one other guy in the room, and luckily he wasn't the one who tripped over his own prick. They were hiring an old blowsy hooker to. take on the dirty old man and the stud, but she'd only be in for the third day. Actually, they had the thing pretty well arranged.
"I guess you can believe that the movie started off with a fuck scene. Between Rachel and myself. Actually, it was the last fuck in the movie, but they were doing it first because . . . ah shit, I don't remember why. I just know it was first.
"Just before we were set to start, the director came over to me. 'There's one little thing I'd like to add to this scene if we can," he said, and it was the first time he had talked to me like I was a human being.
"I looked at him and asked him what. He hesitated. 'Well," he said finally. 'The girl doesn't know it, but if you manage to get her hot enough in this scene, I'm gonna throw that big black mother in and see if she can take him. Even if she can't, it'll look great on screen."
"She won't like it," I told him.
"I know," the guy said. 'But it's worth an extra hundred and fifty bucks to you if you get her hot enough that she will."
"Boy, now I was really torn. I didn't know whether to tell Rachel or not. After all, she was my cousin and that big stud might just rip her apart. But on the other hand, I sure could use that hundred and fifty extra bucks. So I tucked my conscience away for a while and decided to see how things developed.
"In this scene, Rachel didn't have a mask on. It was the last sex scene in the picture, and the bit was that Rachel has decided she loves me and she sneaks into my apartment while I'm asleep and starts to make me. I guess they figured they could throw the black into the action because in the movie he's my roommate.
"Complicated, ain't it?
"Anyway, we finally got started. I'm on the bed, stark naked, and sound asleep. The door opens and in walks Rachel. She stands by the door and takes about fifteen minutes to get her clothes off. Then she walks over to the bed. She makes a grab for my cock with her mouth and starts sucking up a storm. But I still don't wake up. Right? Nan, I sleep through the whole thing, just like anybody else would do.
"I only wake up when Rachel's got my cock roaring hard and she's sitting on it. And bouncing around like hell. Then I wake up, just like any corpse would.
"Boy, then we start making out. We suck and lick and bite and chew and suck some more, and fuck. Oh Christ, it was great. I was really turned on, and I knew that Rachel was in the same condition.
"I guess the director sensed that the scene was pretty realistic, because all of a sudden Rachel and me had a visitor. Six-foot-four, all black, all muscles, and with at least a twenty-two inch dick. Christ, that guy was enough to scare the hell out of me, and he wasn't even going to try to do anything to me.
"The money won out over my conscience, and I let the big stud grab Rachel from the back. She was right in position for him to stick that cock of his into her pussy. And he tried to. The whole thing in one shove. Jesus, you should have heard Rachel yelp. Even with my cock in her mouth she yelped like she was being fucked by a fence post. Which wasn't far from the truth.
"Then I got into the act. Not into the fucking act, but something entirely new. Somehow, seeing that guy hurting Rachel so bad, and knowing she was so helpless to get away from the big goof, I suddenly saw red. I really got pissed. So I jumped off the bed and started throwing all of my one hundred and fifty pounds at the guy, trying to get him off Rachel's back. It was like moving the China Wall.
"The guy took enough time out of his fucking to turn towards me. 'What the hell you doing?" he asked.
"You're hurting her," I screamed at him. 'You're hurting her and I love her."
"He stopped fucking immediately and pulled out of Rachel. 'You mean that?" he asked. I nodded, miserable. All that money down the drain. Shit.. .
"Rachel and I are living together now. At least we've got each other. And that's something worthwhile. Anyhow, we keep telling ourselves it is."
The subject was referred to this counselor after his cousin Rachel broke off her relationship with him. She went back to her former love . . . Danny expressing his resentment primarily by referring to this young man as a "creep."
Since Danny is on a conscious level convinced that he is God's gift to women, there is hardly any hope that he will accept counseling. He cannot see that he shares many of his sexual qualities with Don Juan, the famous latent homosexual of legend who seduced one woman after another, who delighted in exhibiting himself (although on a strictly verbal level), and whose memoirs abound with examples of anal intercourse.
Danny will probably go on enjoying himself in this hedonistic manner till time invariably will make it impossible for him to go from one conquest to another. Danny will simply wear out physically to the point where one conquest per day becomes impossible. So far, he has been very proud of the fact that he can maintain his erections, even after repeated intercourse. This usually indicates that true satisfaction has not been found. Danny's age, at this point, is in his favor. Sexual potency is strongest in young males from the age of fifteen till about the age of thirty. Thereafter, potency wanes rapidly.
And since Danny seems incapable of forming a true bond with a member of the opposite sex, other than on a sexual level, we foresee that he will enter his middle age a terribly lonely man. Unless he consults with a qualified psychoanalyst, there is little hope for him to escape his lonely life.
CONCLUSION
The difficulties experienced by Paul Gebhard and his associates while compiling the records for Sex Offenders was in finding an appropriate definition as to exactly when incest was criminal. They write:
From the point of view of society as well as of sociology, psychology, psychiatry, anthropology, and still other scientific disciplines, incest-that is sexual activity between close relatives-is set apart from other sorts of sexual activity; consequently we have made of it another . . . category.
. . . we have also limited incest to father-daughter (or surrogate-daughter) relationships. Again, this was for pragmatic reasons: mother-son and brother-sister cases were too few, and we did not wish to dilute our father-daughter cases with a miscellany of incestuous relationships among cousins. Indeed many of the cousin cases and even some nephew-aunt cases were only technically incest-there was no history of close proximity and emotional linkage as there is within a nuclear family of parents and offspring.
In all fairness, it must be noted that the re-arch was conducted among convicted offenders. There were not enough cases, other than father-daughter incest to come to any particular conclusions.
We can indicate, however, that the researchers are pointing out "close proximity and emotional linkage." We have seen this linkage in almost all the cases described here, and we can well speak of substitute brother-sister incest. In our society, mobile as it is, a considerable part of the population is not even remotely acquainted with all cousins. It is, therefore, quite well possible that there are cousins married to one another who discover the fact of their relationship long after first sexual intercourse has taken place.
If Gebhard and his colleagues were, so to speak, complaining about not having enough cases they could study to warrant drawing any general conclusions, we surely cannot generalize after having read excerpts from interviews of only five cases. It is remarkable, however, that none of these cases have any people who have a fulfilling sexual relationship. In the one case where we can speak of a sexually normal happy marriage, the partners were not even aware of their incestuous relationship and, to put it mildly, extremely shocked to find out that they had violated a criminal law in their state.
Three cases .suffer from inordinate guilt, although in one of the cases, the incest factor is negligible. The person had had the traumatic experience of a gang rape, committed by not only cousins, but also by three of her uncles.
There are two cases which we might consider substitute brother-sister relationships. The participants had known each other from early inimagine, they had grown up together on a day-to-day basis and were, in fact, as close as brother and sister. In one of those cases, the only two we might consider true incest in a moral sense, the partners were separated for eleven years. They joyously returned into each other's arms, but the relationship was soured by their fear of getting abnormal offspring. In the other case, only one of the partners found a perverted pleasure in the relationship, the other partner soon felt too guilty to continue. And, it is remarkable to note, in neither of the cases was the relationship one of criminal incest, since the states where the relationship occurred did not include cousins in their incest laws.
In Totem and Taboo, Freud wrote about the incest taboo, that we are "ignorant of the origin and cannot even tell in what direction to look for it. None of the solutions of the enigma that have been proposed seems satisfactory."
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Adler, Alfred, Understanding Human Nature, New York, N.Y.: Fawcett World Library, 1959.
Ellis, A. and Arbarbanel, A., The Encyclopedia of Sexual Behavior, New York, N.Y.: Hawthorn Books, Inc., 1961.
Flugel, J. C., Man, Morals and Society, New York, N.Y.: International Universities Press, 1970.
Gebhard, Paul H. et al., Sex Offenders, New York, N.Y.: Bantam Books, Inc., 1967.
Kling, Samuel, Sexual Behavior and the Law, New York, N.Y.: Pocket Books, 1965.
Lewinsohn, Richard, A History of Sexual Customs, New York, N.Y.: Fawcett World Library, 1961.
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