With the emphasis upon youth, notably male youth, it is to be expected that the direction of sexual desires will turn toward this segment of our growing' population. The "mod" outburst of men and boys wearing flamboyant clothes, tight pants that call attention to the buttocks and crotch, long hair that create a babyish-innocent quality, the "new freedom" of sex for the youth, all have a decisive influence on sexuality.
A growing coterie of women in their advanced years from approximately 35 up to 45 and even 55, have discovered the unusual sexual attraction for young boys between the ages of 14 to about 17. This is a form of the Lolitacomplex except that here we have older women who crave young boys. At one time, young boys were sheltered with as much care as young girls. Futhermore, a pubertal boy might secretly experiment with sex by masturbating with another boy in an isolated cabin or room; he might go further and display his erect phallus to a girl and there would be mutual fondling. There were some few and isolated circumstances in which a 13 or 14 year old boy would have a sex affair with an older woman. But these were rare.
Today, the situation has changed with the new freedom of the growing boy. He has more money. He has the use of a car. He is no longer confined to his home. With the advent of psychedelic drugs, the youth rebellion, the violence in classrooms, it is to be expected that the pubertal boy will further assert his independence by dabbling in the taboo. He seeks whatever is taboo and will sample it if only to convince his elders that he is free and independent. Forbidden fruits are always juicy sweet.
One such taboo concerns that of having sex with older women. The pubertal boy is not to be held entirely to task for this liaison. The mature women is every bit to blame, if not more so, because she has this carnal craving for boy virgins. She has a compulsion to practice a wide variety of sexual debauchery ranging from pederasty, sado-masochism, fellatio, cunnilingus, flagellation, with the sweet cherub innocence of pubertal boys. It is with innocence that sex becomes the most scintillating since it has "shock value" that is weak in experienced males. This innocence is most fetching to the depraved older woman.
This volume deals with mature women who lust for pubertal boys. The case histories presented will show that such women are not lecherous old harpies; rather, they are intelligent modern women from all walks of life who are obsessed with these abnormal cravings for smooth cheeked and virginal boys.
This volume is a scientific, documented and well-researched work on the growing problem of pedophilia and sodomy with the older woman as the dominant partner and the innocent boy as the recipient of such lascivious overtures.
The methods of sexuality are often coarse, lewd and profane. The very nature of female pedophilia is involved with the urge to practice the abnormal. The mature women and the virgin boys are not entirely to blame. The society which nutured them is to be held to task for having created such a situation. These female deviates and their adolescent perverts are creations of this society and considered a mirror-reflection of its warped attitudes of the "sexual rebellion" of youth.
CHAPTER ONE
THE FEMALE SODOMIST-PEDOPHILIAC OF YOUNG BOYS
In order to understand the composite picture of the adult female and her boy virgin conquests, let us become familiar with the basic sexual nature of this deviation, in general.
Pedophilia refers to the sexual or erotic love of children. In the field of psychosexual pathology it is used to describe that form of compulsive deviation in which an adult engages in sexual contact with a child of either sex.
There are many sex offenders who seek sexual gratification by enticing boys of various ages to participate in sexual activities involving either fellatio, pederasty, cunnilingus or fondling of the sexual organs. This calls for having the older woman mouth-stimulate the boy's erection and oral-arouse until he has his ejaculation. In other situations, the older woman will take advantage of the boy's innocence and tell him that cunnilingus (the act of his using his mouth on her vagina) is most enjoyable and that he ought to participate.
Many adult males may resist mouth-vaginal oral love because they consider it "abnormal" yet in the mind of a 13 or 14 year-young boy who is completely innocent, whatever brings satisfaction is regarded acceptable. Physical release for the pubertal boy is paramount if not EXCLUSIVE with his desires. If he finds pleasure in an act, he will perform because he has not yet "advanced" to the age of guilt feelings. This is the prime reason why females prefer young boys.
Many derive a titillating thrill out of virgin boys; the feeling of fresh innocence, unspoiled male bodies, peak-high virility often dominates the sexual compulsion.
Among the reasons noted in case histories of female pedophiles are these:
SUPER SEX POWER OF YOUNG BOYS. A 40-year old housewife would appear at the doorway, wearing a see-through negligee, as a means of enticing young delivery boys and messengers. She liked the very young because, as she put it, "They're so charged up, they can keep going on and on. I like to (vernacular for an oral act) because when a boy is about 14 or 15 and never 'had it' then he's all charged up. I just have to lick him a little and he's as hard as steel. He really (vernacular for seminal discharge) and then he can go for a second time. It's wonderful. Not like my husband. Takes him an hour to get him worked up and then he's half-limp."
PERFORM DEBAUCHERIES WITH VIRGIN BOYS. There was one neighborhood boy of about 15 who had always been spanked by his parents. He had this strange and very embarrassing desire to be play-spanked. This was discovered by one of the women on the boy's paper route and she once invited him in when it was raining. That was how they became acquainted. Their first session was a spanking foreplay episode. "I had to pull down his pants, play with him and in a minute, he was ramrod stiff, that it was a miracle he didn't 'go off.' Then I told him I would let him (vernacular for coitus) provided I could spank him. I knew it was what he wanted. I turned him over my knee and used a paddle on his bare bottom. He looked like a girl with those soft, pink buttock cheeks. Each whack made him flinch. He had a dozen whacks, turned his bottom into flame red with stripes. Then we went to the bedroom and he took me. It was his first time. A few slides and he went off. I wanted it to last longer. So next time I used a belt on his backside and told him if he went off too quick, I'd make him go down on me. Me didn't like it at all. But when it happened again the next time, I forced him to use his mouth on me. He felt so sick when I reached the top, he almost heaved up. But he had to do it or I'd punish him. He's a cute kid, about 15, with a nee face and a slim body. And boy, is he big! Never thought these kids of today would be like that! I've got a whip handy and I'll use it the next time. I don't care too much for whippings but it's kind of nice with him. I like to make him cry and beg me to stop and then he'll use his mouth on me."
PROVIDES ASSURANCE OF FEMALE APPEAL. Many older women have misgivings about their slowly declining sexual appeal. This leads them to seek out young boys who admire them since they're at the innocent stage of life and, as stated before, seek physical release from their adolescent tensions and would perform with anyone.
A middle aged divorcee who liked to drink (she was twice-divorced) felt that at the age of 39, she had "had it" and was beyond her prime. The two divorces were caused by sexual failures. This led to insidious self-doubts. She went to a resort, met several beach boys and invited the teen-agers to her cabin for a drink and sex session. She paid them plenty.
"There were two cute boys; I think they were lifeguards. About 17 or 18 or so. Nice sun-bleached blond hair. What bodies! One was like L'il Abner, with a terrific build and a cute baby face. I had both of them use their hands on me, kiss me all over, use their mouths. I think they had had a few sessions but the bashful boy who was kind of embarrassed to take off his trunks in front of his buddy, said he hadn't fooled with women. He had let some of the gay men of the resort use him. Maybe he was gay, too, but he denied it. Don't they all? Well, while one of the boys spiked me (this big boy with the baby face was as powerful as a mule!) the other one would take me from behind. I liked it this double-way. It's like nothing else! I never felt so good. When it was over, I told myself, I'm still hot stuff. What other middle-aged woman can have two boys go wild over them?"
As a means of further understanding pedophilia, we need to recognize that it often involves other types of sex activities but often turns to become restricted to older women-younger boy compulsivity. Let us look at a broader spectrum, if only for a few moments, in an understanding case history offered by a known psychiatrist, Frank S. Caprio, M.D., author of Variation In Sexual Behaviour:
Several years ago a woman patient appeared for consultation in an acute state of hysteria. She related that she had caught her husband in the act of performing cunnilingus on their 11-year-young daughter. He finally confessed that he had been having this form of sexual contact with his daughter for the past year and had schooled her never to divulge what he referred to as their "secret."
He offered no explanation for this activity. His wife's first impulse was to turn him over to the police. She decided, however, that he must be mentally ill and consulted her physician who in turn advised her to discuss the problem with a psychiatrist.
The husband refused psychiatric treatment. Thereupon the wife packed up and took her daughter with her to the West, where she made plans to divorce her husband.
There are many factors involved which explain the prevalence of this paraphilia. For one thing, the offender identifies herself with the boy child. The eroticism is derived from the knowledge that the boy child is sexually innocent and is being aroused. It represents for the female adult a psychological return to the sex life of her own childhood.
Another factor is the sexual inferiority which these women deviates harbor in relation to the opposite sex. They feel less inferior in their sexual intimacies with boy children, as less is expected of them. As a rule, they masturbate to excess.
Many women pedophiliacs respond to psychotherapy.
Before we turn to case histories taken from the drama of our modern life of sexual freedom, let us look at the situation by a male pedophiliac as concerns this problem, presented by the aforementioned psychiatrist. It will show the roots of pedophilia that may happen to males as well as to females.
A young married man in his early 30's was referred to me (the psychiatrist who treated this case) by an attorney who informed me that his client had been charged with molesting children sexually.
I agreed to examine him and later testified in court that he could be cured of his sexual affliction. The Judge decided to give him an opportunity to avail himself of psychiatric treatment and he responded favorably to psychotherapy.
His wife had originally decided to divorce him, but later changed her mind. For the sake of their two children, she agreed to give him another chance, particularly since he showed a sincere willingness to be helped.
During my (the psychiatrist) sessions with him, he submitted in writing, a detailed story of his sexual experiences.
His parents were divorced when he was 7 years of age. It was at this same age that he experienced his first sexual awakening. When you will wonder what type of pubertal boy will submit to adult women sexuality, here is the answer. This is told in his own words:
During a Noon hour at school, after the teacher had left the school completely unattended, one of the eighth grade boys got a girl of the same grade in the woodshed which had no door, where all could see.
He pulled her pants down around her knees and had intercourse standing up with her. My only feeling was curiosity. There were about twelve kids, boys and girls watching, and he kept telling us to go away. We were all told not to tell the teacher.
That same week, another boy and I pulled this same girl's dress up when she was just coming in the schoolyard to school. I don't know why we did it. I think it was to look at her underpants. She yelled at us and chased us.
That same year, this girl and I were playing at her home on a Saturday and she asked me if I wanted to go with her, together with two eighth-grade boys, up in the woods. They said I wanted to go with her, together with two so we rode up to the woods in back of her house on bicycles.
When we got there, she laid down on the ground and pulled her pants down; one of the boys put something on, which at that time, looked like a leather thumb. I guess it was a rubber. These boys were brothers. They both had intercourse with her.
One brother was the same boy who had intercourse at school in the shed with the girl.
That same day they took me to another bunch of woods. The girl laid on the ground and had intercourse with them again. Then she told me I could have a certain number of peeps between her legs and a certain number of feels while her pants were pulled down.
I did this and then said I wanted to do the other.
She said I wasn't old enough and took out my penis and fooled with it. I got no feeling at all, of course. Then she let me lay on top of her and I still remember that I had no feeling. It was time to go then and they said something awful would happen to me if I told anyone.
This boy is typical of the type who would submit to a female pedophile because this preceding incident has laid the foundation for abnormal gratification. He was unable to obtain an orgasm with this girl so he sought another form of debauchery, namely bestiality, as we see in this reported segment:
I think I was 13 years old when I had my first animal contact. I had seen cows of ours in heat, chasing each other around the pasture and jumping on their backs. It excited me.
So one time I decided to try and put my penis in the cow's privates. I stood on a stool and did this, having intercourse with the cow. I remember the cow's privates were all wet and hot and I got an ejaculation real quick.
I did this for about three or four months and then I stopped. I think the reason was that my stepmother nearly caught me one time and said she would like to know what I was doing in the barn so long by myself. This scared me from doing it any more.
Another time, I put my penis in a calf's mouth and it sucked on my penis, exciting me so that I got an ejaculation. I did this several times and one time the calf started to butt me, which discouraged my doing it anymore.
That same year, at the age of 13, I started masturbating my dog. It started when one day a female dog had been around and my dog had an erection so I decided to see if my dog could have an ejaculation like I did.
I did this for about a year at the rate of once or twice a month. I don't remember getting an erection from doing this to my dog. IT JUST SORT OF FASCINATED ME.
This last sentence shows how seduction can be performed if the boy is "fascinated." Since pubertal boys have supercharged tensions and are denied normal sexual outlets except for masturbation, it makes them vulnerable to the attention of an older women.
Why would they shun a prostitute? Many boys are afraid, embarrassed and just unable to visit a prostitute. They have the same trepidations about exploring sex with girls of their own age. They also fear failure. Futhermore, it is known that it is certainly difficult if not impossible for a pair of 13 or 14 year olds to have an assignation site. They obviously cannot go to a hotel! With an adult woman who maintains her residence, the circumstances are most favorable. There is also an element of excitement to be seduced by a "knowing" adult who will not expect boy virgins or innocent boys to be experienced. There is less of the fear of failure involved.
Many boys do so because they receive gratuities from the older women. This may put them in the classification of boy prostitutes yet this is just a conscience-excuse. They will do so because they derive a sexual emission and release from physical tensions. This far outweighs any need for monetary satisfaction. Yet guilt feelings often prompt the need for monetary demands.
We can now understand the nature of pedophilia. The adult becomes erotically stimulated by knowing the boy is sexually innocent and a probable virgin. In using the boy child for sexual pleasures, the adult woman reverts back to her own lamented youth and experiences a warped satisfaction in feeling a resurgence of these first joys.
Many of these adult female deviates feel sexually inferior as well as frigid. When using young boys for sexual intimacies, such women experience relief from such inhibitions because the boy is innocent and expects little from them.
Some of these adult females display symptoms of sado-masochism as well as a compulsion for any other repressed debauched act. We shall see this in the following case studies of adult women and their boy virgin seductions.
CHAPTER TWO
THE HOUSEWIFE WHO OFFERS "ORAL PLEASURES" TO NEIGHBORHOOD BOYS
At age 41, Stella Barstow is beginning to show her age. She is on the plump side. Her face has just a few traces of wrinkles. Her breasts, once big and round and firm with nipples that were as thick and red as juicy strawberries, now show sagging on her pectorals. To add to Stella's distress, her husband, Phillip, age 43, is losing his interest in her. Since the couple has no children, middle-age can be a terrifying experience of frustration.
Philip Barstow is district sales manager for a large auto parts chain and this means he must travel frequently. He leaves Stella in lonely isolation which adds to her pent up sexual desires.
The night that changed everything took place when Stella wanted to have Philip in the conventional marital manner. She stroked his body and offered her naked breasts. "Can't you just work them over?" she begged. "I love it when your lips suck on my nipples."
Philip was non-pulsed. "Stella, I'm sorry but I just don't feel excited over you." Naked, he was showing signs of age in the form of a paunch, flaccid body. His once thick phallus was flaccid and non-responsive even when his wife gripped it in her fist and slid his foreskin in rhythmic manipulations. "Maybe it's overwork or something." He emitted a modest whimper when she continued to manually stimulate him and then rub his testicles. "It's going to take a long time," he said lamely.
Stella bit back her anger. She felt her desires hammering at the base of her head. "But I need something, Phil. I can't stand it any more." The bedsprings creaked beneath their combined weights as she moved. She put her mouth where her hand had been, then took her husband's male flesh within her moist orifice. She tongue-flogged and manipulated his scrotal sac at the same time, but the frustrations were increased when he failed to respond with the normal degree of rigidity.
When she released him, she swallowed down her thick sob. "Oh, Philip, if I don't get relief, I'll go out of my mind." She sprawled on the bed, lifted up her pelvis. "I feel the itch, like fire. It's burning." She used the heel of her palm to massage her raised pudenda, then used her thumbs and forefingers to part the outer lips of her mons veneris, exposing the moist delicately ridged woman flesh. The throbbing "button" of her clitoris, set in the upper folds of her vulvar groove, had likewise grown rigid and was hammering with carnal intensity. She looked lewd; but her face, screwed up in tormented frustration, was pitiful.
"What are you doing?" Phillip watched as his wife proceeded to fondle her clitoris. "Are you playing with yourself?" He was aghast. It made him all the more conscious of his embarrassing weakness. "Stella, I never...."
She was writhing now, the pupils of her eyes bulging, her face contorting. She breathed in short spurts. "Help me, Philip. I've got to have help...."
He pushed away her hand, then tried to mount her, but his flaccid, pendulous male flesh was a pitiful excuse for what he desired. He had to move away, then he started to kiss and fondle her.
"Go down," she gasped, "go down," she tried to lock his head between her well-formed thighs, but he resisted. He never did "that queer thing" and was not about to start now. "Ohhhh, please...." she whined through shocked tones.
"I'll do this for you," Philip conceded. He put his hand on her mons veneris. "I'll rub and spike you," he said lightly. It was his "escape" from normal male fulfillment.
"Stick your fingers in," she whined as she raised up her pelvis. "Ohhhhh, that feels good," she murmured as his forefinger and middle finger were inserted into the warm fleshly environments of her female vulvar groove. "Ohhhh," she gasped in gratitude to his rhythmic insertions. "Rub the little nubbin," she gasped again.
With his free hand, Philip twisted and tortuously manipulated her clitoris. He kept up this dual motion until she sighed, "Now, now, it's going to happen. Ohhhhh, here it ... ohhhhh, OOOOOOOO ... ahhhh...." She bounced up and down as she reached her vaginal climax. All sorts of sighs were heard as the voluptuous manually-induced release was achieved. She locked her thighs on Philip's hands and murmured, "If only it were the real thing."
The tense situation existed between them because Philip had succumbed to impotence on his part and accepted the defeatist-fatalistic attitude that it was part of his "advancing age."
Stella might never have considered seducing pubertal boys had it not been for a delivery boy, Johnny. He came with a package from a downtown store and Stella searched for a tip when she heard the boy say, "This'll help me take my girl to a movie."
"Oh," she liked the slim built youth with the shock of dark hair, like a Buster Brown cut, over his forehead. "You have a girl? How nice." She held several bills in her hand. She thought something over quite speedily. "I suppose you fool with a girl in the balcony."
Johnny flushed beet red, stomped nervously in the living room where he stood. He was a typical bashful boy. "No, ma'am. I don't want to get a girl in trouble."
Stella's heart pounded. He looked so young, so innocent. She wondered if he had a big male flesh. She saw the thick bulge in his crotch, the outline of his pouch. When he turned, she saw the hard-muscled young buttocks, not fully developed, but so tight against his "mod-style" bell bottoms, that the dividing gorge was clearly revealed. These young studs, she mused, showed it all off. She became stimulated.
"There are some things you can do that will get your rocks off, Johnny, and you won't get into trouble." She let her tongue dart over her lips. At the same time, she held several single dollar bills in her hands. "Don't you know about such things?"
He gaped at the words and now his ears burned red. At the same time, his thick crotch bulge began to swell. He stood there nervously. "No, I don't know, ma'am."
"Don't call me 'Ma'am,' but it's Stella." She liked this young innocent. Now she would be able to have her kicks because this boy virgin would go along with anything. He just did not know any better. She later found out he was just 15 and this added to the appeal. "Why don't you sit down and we'll talk it over?"
Johnny looked around. "Your husband? Won't he be home soon?"
"No, he's out of town." She motioned him to a chair, then sat down, crossed her legs, let her dress hike up to show off her fleshy thighs. She wore a pair of tiny panties. "You see, Johnny, girls have a little 'button' right here." She patted her crotch. "If you keep rubbing it, while the girl rubs ... your thing, then it kind of feels good. But the best thing is to kiss it." She let that sink in.
Johnny was so nervous, he kept on sweating. He wore a tight fitting Nehru shirt with an upturned collar that made him look very cute and boyishly fetching to the pedophiliac. "Well, ma'am, I mean, Stella, I don't know...."
"I'll bet you play with yourself." Stella laughed at his embarrassment. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of the boys, in fact most of them do it. Nothing bad. I mean, it won't stunt your growth or bring pimples out on your face." She was finding this increasingly stimulating, acting as a guide to this obvious boy virgin. Now she swooped down with, "But if you really want to have a good time, you should let your girl kiss it"
"She ... she wouldn't...." He was so upset and nervous, he could scarcely form his words. His face was shiny with beads of nervous perspiration. At the same time, when he sat and parted his strong thighs, the enormous bulge had lengthened into his thick power. "I don't know...."
"Don't be shy, Johnny." She got up, patted him on the back, liked his boyish "cute" looks with his long hair, the Nehru shirt and the skintight jeans. "I'll give you a nice big tip, but first I'll tell you something else. If you want to have a nice feeling, let a girl do this to you."
Impulsively, sparked by her own pounding heart and the drumming sensation, Stella's hand moved down. She fondled the bulge. Johnny whined and instinctively tried to shut his thighs, but she held his bulge.
"Just open the zipper," she instructed. When there was only a red-faced expression, Stella became annoyed. "I'll open it for you, damn it You're one wet-behind-the-ears kid, I'll say that."
The zipper was heard opening. When Stella's hand went into his fly, when she gripped the huge mound of boy-man flesh, she was astounded. She lifted out his enormous erection. "Hey, kid, you're like a mule." She slid his prepuce back and forth until the glans corona gleamed with bulging red translucent flesh. "Let me just cool it for you."
"No, no, I mean...." He was terrified. The boy tried to squirm but Stella held his phallus hard in her fist and then she was bending down. Her mouth opened and she took the glans corona between her teeth. A few tortuously gentle bites on the underside, and then Johnny was pounding with desire. "Ooooooo," he gasped as he pushed forth until the entire shaft was imprisoned in the oral cave. "That's good," he said through a tight voice. His body broke out in a sweat.
Stella oral loved his shaft a few times, while her hands cupped his scrotum. Then she released him. "We'll spoil our clothes. Let's take them off."
He was rigid with desire. "Can't we ... do it like this?" As a pubertal boy virgin who had never shown his nudity to anyone (in the school locker rooms or shower rooms, he was always the first to go in and out, fearing shame before the other naked boys), and was terrified over the prospect now. "I mean...." His throbbing shaft gleamed hotly.
"It's the wrong way, Johnny," she patted his cheek. "Come on now. We wouldn't want you to go off while we're talking."
She relished the idea of posing naked before him; it was her streak of exhibitionism that she loved. She got out of her dress quickly, then unhooked her bra. When her naked breasts plopped out, it made Johnny gape. She laughed as she hooked her fingers into the elastic band of her panties and slithered them down.
"Like them?" She knew in the heat of her pounding desire that even if her breasts were slightly sagging and her figure not up to the firmness and proportions of a teen-ager, this boy virgin would not know the difference. It was this innocence that appealed and aroused Stella. "Want to play with them?"
Johnny fondled them only after Stella took his hand and forced him to moist-palm rub her nipples. Then she said, "All right, out of your things."
She had to help him strip off. Stella knew that she would get him completely naked, without a stitch on. That would intensify his rigidity.
When Johnny was nude, he resembled a young Eden-like boy or one from the Grecian valley or mountains. His moppet hair made him look angelically innocent. He had very white skin, nipples like erasers on neatly chiselled pectorals; his rib cage was firm. His navel was a raisin in his very flat stomach. He had a thick, very thick wiry shrub that encased the enormous maleness of him. His legs were smooth and without any hair. Yet, he had promise of boy-man development. He trembled when Stella's hands went over his smooth boyish sinews.
"Like me to rub you?" she laughed, then went around, played her hands over the bent back, down the deeply indented spinal column. "You've got a nice bottom. Don't let any queers get it," but even as she said it, she knew he did not understand.
"Ooooo, I like that," he was shivering with nerve drenched thrills as he felt Stella's hands reach to the backs of his naked thighs, then she cupped his firm buttocks, pried them apart. "Ahhhhhh," he started to shiver as he felt her forefinger press between his two cheeks and play with his anal canal. "Ooooo, that's good, ma'am," he lapsed into his automatic respect for the older woman.
"I know it's good. It's what lots of boys like." When she tease-penetrated, it made him all but bolt forward. "Easy, easy," he laughed as she removed the penetrating finger from its warm environment, then caressed his perineum. Her mouth and fingers roused him until he gasped, "Oh, oh, I can't hold back!" He started to rock on the balls of his feet. "Please, please...."
"Now, good," she gasped as" she knelt before him. Her mouth enveloped him and she captured his rigid-as-steel male shaft in her oral prison. Her tongue worked on the delicate nerve endings; she did not have long to oral love. She felt the stiffening and through the rushing roar of wind, she then felt the hot gush of his peak. He kept on and on and on, while he garbled screwed-up words of tense feeling. He was in a backbreaking spasm by the time it was over.
Stella had serviced him for the first time. What added to the pleasure was that before he left Johnny had used his mouth on her. Innocently, he assumed it was the "big guy" act. He roused her to a peak and when he bit down on her clitoris, it was, using her own expression, like exploding all the frustrated tensions of the past.
Johnny was rewarded with an extragenerous tip. "Can I come back again?" he asked as he dressed. "Hey, quit fooling around," he laughed as he felt Stella's hands on his scrotum. "I gotta get dressed."
"Sure, you'll be welcome here anytime." Stella loved being naked in front of Johnny. She liked the way his eyes lit up as he saw her big breasts and her naked female parts. "I always tip generously for good service."
That was the first of a series of pedophiliac seductions. Stella then caught sight of a teenage boy who was watering the lawn of the house across the street. He was a cute boy with an impudent thrust of his jaw. He had white-blond hair, broad shoulders, narrow-narrow hips with tiny buttocks under his too-big khaki pants. He was cute to the point where Stella found herself imagining how he would react when he would be hot and naked. She decided to call him over to the house to water her lawn.
His name was Peter Janson and he was just 16 years of age. He wore a tight T-shirt that outlined his lean, wiry frame. "Morning, Mrs. Barstow." He had been summoned here to water the back yard. The fact that he lived right across the street did not preclude the desire to seduce him. It added a strange exhilaration. Stella would like having him, knowing that his parents, right across the street, were blithefully unaware of what was happening to their baby-faced boy.
"Oh, Peter, let's be informal." She wore a pair of shorts and a halter which contained her big breasts by a thread and a hope. She caught Peter's hot eyes as he saw the rigid nipples. "I'm Stella to you. Now, let's go in back and I'll show you where to connect the water hose." She knew Peter was watching the rounded arc made by her big buttocks as she walked.
In back, they were shaded in by trees. She knew she had stimulated Peter. Now she would prepare the seduction. Whoever said she was no longer attractive was all wet! She could attract these young bucks and that meant everything to her.
"Now, just screw around the nozzle and turn the knob."
Peter set up a fine water spray. That was when Stella "mistakenly" walked into it. She yelped. He yanked the hose out of the way but not before Stella was soaking wet. Her shorts and halter clung to her, outlining her raised pudenda, even the pelt of her crotch so that Peter was choked up and embarrassed.
"Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you...." He kept gaping at her drenched shorts and halter that made her naked under the transparent cloth.
"I'll just change," she sputtered and hurried into the house. A moment later she called, "Peter, please bring me the towel on the backyard line."
When he brought it, she stood in the doorway of the bedroom, naked in her womanflesh. She felt her blood boil at the way the boy gaped at her nudity. At the same time, his obvious arousal swelled up.
"What's the matter, Peter? Didn't you ever see a naked girl before?" she came toward him, showing her intimate flesh. "Touch. Don't be afraid."
As before, she had to force his grubby, sweaty boy hands on her big breasts. It always thrilled her to the way these pre-adolescent boys touched her privates; so delicately, as if afraid to tread on forbidden territory. He was wide-eyed and trembling. "Maybe I shoulda knocked." His throat muscles were constricted and he was as nervous as a typical boy virgin.
"Now, now, Peter, you don't have to be afraid. Such a nice boy," she put her arm around his waist, then she fumbled with his pants. When she opened the buttons, she saw his hirsute adornment, then she lifted out his male flesh. He was so tight up, so tensed up, it was a miracle he did not erupt. "Mmmm, you are nice."
She pressed herself close and as they stood there, she guided his enormous male power deep within her vaginal orifice. She clung to him as they play-wrestled. In the midst of it all, they fell to the floor and in a few moments, he erupted. The hot spurts were like soothing balm to her tensed desires.
She undraped him and played with his wiry body. "Oh, Peter, don't look like that. It wasn't so bad. We just couldn't help ourselves."
"I never did it before." He was an unusual boy; he admitted being a virgin. "But it felt good."
She hugged his nude body and explored the nooks and crevices of his innocent purity. "It's supposed to be good. Now, don't tell anyone about it. They wouldn't understand."
Peter was another one of Stella's steady callers until the family moved away. By then, she was sure he was experienced to the point where he could satisfy any girl. She had taught him the most carnal arts so that he was obviously going to be perverted. One only wonders to what depths of depravity he will sink.
Stella would call up department stores for purchases, have delivery boys bring them. She favoured those stores that had very young boys. Sometimes, she could inveigle them to remain. A few boys were so terrified, they would flee if she would rub against them.
She had a telegram boy of about 14, with red cheeks, a pug nose, and a pre-pubertal body. He cowered in a corner when she opened her robe and exposed her naked body to his hot eyes.
"Please, Ma'am, I don't...." He broke out in a hot sweat.
"I'll rape you," she laughed as she teased him. Stella was so fired up, she had to have this little baby faced kid. She all but ripped off his clothes, then when she had him naked, she cupped his male flesh. He was, lamentably, undersized. He must have received a traumatic shock when she said, "Damn it, you're the smallest midget I ever had. You're not even much of a male." She saw that his scrotum was small and his erect phallus was like that of a 9 year old. "Well, I won't let it go to waste."
She mouthed him and brought him to an orgasm. But the die had been cast. She had taunted his maleness and this created such guilt feelings that the boy blurted out about a "dirty woman" who "played around."
That brought the authorities and Stella Barstow narrowly escaped being confined in an institution. Her husband was ruined by the scandal. They divorced after the nasty scandal and neither was heard from again after they packed up and left the town.
In this situation we can see that Stella's compulsion for young boys was borne out of a compulsion to be admired, to be worshipped. She felt herself a virile woman again when she could arouse an adolescent boy. It made her feel young again. She was too sexually egotistical, thinking only of herself. She never gave a thought to the warped shock she would induce upon her innocent boys.
CHAPTER THREE
THE WOMAN WHO USES "DULL" BOYS FOR ABNORMAL CRAVINGS
At age 39, Yvette is pleasingly plump. She has three children of her own. Her husband was one who felt that sex was solely a man's realm. He would spend several moments in fondling Yvette, then he would proceed with coitus. She recalls, "If only he would have kissed my breasts, or even played with my little hot button (her clitoris) it would have helped me become excited. But he only cared about his own pleasures.
He would get excited, then he would mount me and thrust until I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from screaming. He would thrust and plunge with the fury of a stallion until at long last he reached his climax.
"When it was over, he would just stroke and play a little, then he would roll over and go to sleep. What could I do? I had to play with myself and once I had to use the head of a Coke bottle. OOOO, it felt good, the big knob, just like a man's. It made me go to the top. But I don't care to do it to myself. That's only for the kids. So what else was there left for me? There were the children and taking care of a house. Still, I am a woman and I have my desires."
Yvette might never have "discovered" the innocence of young boys had it not been for the time when she drove toward town, experienced a tire blow out and hobbled into a nearby filling station. She saw this handsome looking garage mechanic, hardly more than 16 or 17, yet he had an even younger look because of his rather blank expression. Something drew her to him. It was undoubtedly the pent up frustrations of being denied fulfillment.
His name was Jimmy Waters. He had deep blue eyes that were constantly looking at the legs of women and also trying to perceive the privates of girls who wore high rise mini skirts.
"Hi, lady. Want me to fix your car?" He looked at Yvette with the same intimate penetration. He licked his lips. "What's wrong? I can fix anything."
Yvette found her heart pounding. She felt the warmth of this boy. She wondered, for just a fleeting moment, what it would be like to fondle him, to feel his mouth on her loins. Would he express shock, as did her husband, by saying he wasn't queer and didn't do such things? No, this boy was obviously "dull" and a bit on the retarded side, although he was physically mature.
"Just my tire," she said. "Would you put on a new one?" She slid out of the car, deliberately letting her skirt hike up over her knees. She wore a pair of postage stamp size panties and the pink was so flesh-coloured, she might have looked nude. She caught Jimmy's hot glare. "I'll just freshen up a bit." She wiggled her bottom when she went to the ladies room.
Moments later, she heard someone coming into the adjoining rest room. There was a wire grill dividing the two; she was seized with a sudden impulse. She stood on top of a carton and peered into the men's room.
There was Jimmy. He was filling a pail with water. Then he paused. He was fondling himself. He opened his work pants and then freed himself.
Yvette gasped. "Of all the things," she whispered to herself, her heart thumping wildly, her blood soaring, her throat constricted. "He's got some thing there." She watched as the good looking boy fondled and slid his male flesh, self-manipulated.
Just then, a noise from outside alerted Yvette and with bitter frustration, she had to climb down and pretend to be applying makeup. Another woman had come inside. She was so wrought up, she felt the familiar throb at her loins. That boy was like a young mule. She was not so much interested in having him the usual way. Truth was, she felt frightened of the thick rod like power. He might tear her apart. But she wanted him to do something else. She knew that she could tease him into it, but the problem was to get him alone.
Back outside, she waited until Jimmy came over to the car. The thick pouch was outlined against his work pants. He smiled stupidly. "I just hadda go," he looked embarrassed. "I'll fix it."
"Do you live around here?" Yvette wanted to make some conversation with him, however inane. "I don't recall seeing you at the station before." She purposely parted her legs as she stood there.
Jimmy, kneeling, was able to get a real good view up her dress. He licked his lips. He made a peculiar oral sound. "I was away," he said lamely. "But now I've got a room over the garage, round the bend."
So he lived by himself. That was interesting. Yvette thought it over quickly.
"I'll bet you and your girl friend must have a lot of fun." She flashed a grin, then bent over. The action pushed her breasts tightly against her bodice. The nipples jutted through her thin bra. She had good breasts, despite the fact that she had three children. The nipples needed just a little lip-teasing and they would grow rigid. She wanted this boy's mouth on her body. "You look like a lively boy."
"Awww, don't have much time for girls," he said, then stared between her thighs, almost seeing the delicate parts that were concealed by the panties. "You got a boy friend?"
Now Yvette knew she could have him. This dope didn't even have the sense to know that she was so much older than he and obviously married. "Nobody steady," she said haltingly. She reached into her purse and removed some cigarettes. "After you finish, you can have one. I wouldn't want you to blow up the car."
He flashed a grin, looking boyishly cute and stupid. "I don't blow nothin' up, lady. Nothin' much, I mean." He made some goon sounds and low throated chuckles.
That was how Yvette made her intitial conquest. She purposely "forgot" her cigarette lighter. She feigned clicking it and when it did not light, gave it to Jimmy. He lit cigarettes for both of them and absentmindedly put the lighter into his pocket. That was the way Yvette gained entrance to his small two room apartment over the garage. She went there to retrieve the lighter.
"What do you do for fun?" she asked, when she was seated on a broken chair opposite him. She had not expected it to be so shabby. "You must drive the girls wild with your cute looks."
"Girls are scared o' me," he grinned. At the same time, he kept scratching his crotch, fondling himself lewdly. He licked his lips as he kept looking at her low cut bodice, at the way her silken legs were casually crossed. "Girls say I hurt them."
"It's all in the way that you do it, Jimmy." She seized this opportunity. "You need someone to instruct you."
Yvette, like most adult women-pedophiles, delight in instructing younger boys in the arts of fleshly debaucheries. They satisfy their depraved interests by molding the innocents in their abnormal casts. One prime motivating factor for the sexual craving of innocents by the adult woman is to train them into abnormal acts while they are still blithefully unaware of morals.
"I got enough to have fun." He leaned closer; the movement brought his tight jeans together so that the bulge gave evidence of his arousal. "Ever play around?"
Yvette had to laugh silently. This was ridiculous. This boy was stupid to the point where he did not know anything about the so-called niceties of preparations. This was the best part of it all.
"Now, Jimmy, you mustn't be so anxious.
But before we do anything, let's understand that I will show you just how to make love. Understand?"
He was excited now. He nodded up and down. "Sure, sure. Want to take your clothes off now?" Already, he was fumbling with the buttons of his blue work shirt and in a flash, had stripped it off. He revealed a surprisingly athletic body, bronzed and hard-muscled, with thick pectorals, billiard-ball like biceps and strong forearms. "Come on, I can't wait."
Yvette gaped at the spectacle of this nearly nude dull-witted boy. His body was exciting with his innocent young brawny power. She saw the washboard abdominals, the deeply inset navel; then she saw the thick swirl of his hirsute foundation, and the enormous power that jutted forth like a powerful lancer. When he slithered out of his jeans, his well developed buttock cheeks were taut and powerful. His thighs were strong, covered with a soft dark down. His kneecaps were firm. His legs were solid. Naked, he looked like a young lifeguard at the peak of his virile manliness.
"You've got something good there," she was bubbling over with joy as she doffed her clothes, then unhooked her bra. She kept staring at the dopey boy's wavering joust-like power and the swinging pouch beneath. "Now, I'll show you just what you have to do." When the bra fell off, Yvette's moon-shaped breasts bounced into view. She still wore her panties. She would not remove them herself. She loved having a boy do that, having him stroke and fondle what he discovered beneath. She would teach this dumb cluck how to do it. He was too dumb to know anything about guilt feelings or morals. "Come here."
"Yeah," he was breathing thickly. His solid, chunky body moved with an athletic grace that was tantamount to that of the ancient Roman gladiators. He had a smooth bronzed tan. "Whatcha want me to do?"
He embraced her. His rock hard body pressed tight while his hands went over her soft back, then around in front where he fondled her breasts. "These are nice and big." He fondled her areolars, but even when they sprang to erect life, he was too dumb to recognize this as part of the normal response. "They're big."
Yvette's nerves were screaming as she stroked and kissed him. This was like a young sexual animal. She fondled his hard-muscled buttocks, then reached beneath, and from the depths of his warm upper thighs, found the swinging pouch. She felt his shudder when she clutched them.
"Like two big oranges," she gasped as she hefted them, and then she saw that he was so aroused, it might be over before she got what she wanted out of him. She released him, stroked his powerful weapon. "Now, you pull my panties down. But first, insert your hands and play with me. A little bit."
He looked blank. His breathing was shallow and his dark eyes were filled with obvious lustful cravings. Each breath sent a wave of muscular power through his body. There was a strangely fascinating male aroma about his body. He was soon glazed with his own nervous perspiration.
"Aw, come on, lemme do it to you," he pleaded. "I can't wait." He clutched his pendulous power and slid his flesh until there were warming spasms and gasps. "Come on, please."
"You better not do that," she slapped his hand away. "I saw what you did in the bathroom at the filling station." She smiled at his obvious shock. Something seemed to penetrate. "Now, Jimmy, if you don't do what I want you to do, I'll tell everybody what you did."
He hung his head in remorse. "Aw, don't do that. Whatcha want me to do?"
"I told you. Pull my panties down. Use your fingers where I tell you." By now, the older woman was so supercharged with libidinal longing, she would have succumbed to anything if only to be given release. It had been so long since her husband had even fondled her. She needed it desperately. "Go on, do as I say, or I'll go around and tell the whole town that you were playing with yourself."
For some peculiar reason, the boy feared exposure. It seemed to penetrate his thick head that he had done something bad and he was ashamed of it. He stopped manipulating and now he took hold of the waistband of Yvette's panties. His hands were warm and sweaty. His grubby fingers stimulated Yvette until she felt her nerves screaming at the base of her scalp.
She all but swooned when Jimmy's fingers went beneath. She saw his stupid leer, the drooling look, the incongruous Tarzan-physique that oozed masculinity. It all added up to a bizarre reaction. Every nerve was taut and alive. Her nipples were rigid. Her spreading areolars were so engorged that if this dumb lout would just flick his tongue over them, it would be enough to send her into orbit.
"That's it, that's the way," she clutched onto his thick biceps, almost swooning at the ripple of his sinews. "Now, put your fingers in the slit. OOOOOO, that's good, OOOOO, so good. Use both fingers and rub them ... ahhhhh...." She was deliriously happy and spasms tore through her loins. She clutched onto Jimmy's red hot pendulous powers and fondled him delicately.
"Lemme do it now ... now...." He was pleading with her. "Now ... I can't hold it...." His young body broke out into a hot sweat; the glazed sheen emphasized his jungle boy innocence. "Please...."
"Pull my panties all the way down," she commanded. "If you don't do what I say, I'll scream," she chortled in hoarse tones. "Do what I say!"
Dumbly, he slid down her panties, gaping at the exposure of her pelt, then he found the warm perineum that he fondled, with as much pleasure as a dopey child with a new discovery. "Hey, this is nice," he drooled. The panties were slid down over her firm, full thighs.
Now she came to her next plan of abnormal conquest. "Pull my panties down to my feet. Kneel down, damnit." She could scarcely control herself. She wanted to feel his moist mouth on her loins. If she did not have his mouth, she could throttle him! "Go on!" she snapped. "Or else I'll take a whip to you!"
"No, no, don't hit me, don't hit me." He reacted with a peculiar fear of punishment; it brought back to mind the floggings he had received when placed in the institutions. "No, do not hit me."
Quickly, he knelt in a semi-squat. His broad back spread out; the muscles were like thick slabs. It was unbelievable. This young gladiator this dull-witted buck, was going to be her slave! It was something out of her wildest dreams. She knew she could never do it with an adult male. That was why she sought to conquer dull-witted sloths such as this one. They would be unable to resist. They were too dumb to know otherwise.
When the panties were around her ankles, she stepped out of them. She bent, scooped them up and flung them to the dark side of the dingy room. Her breasts swung like twin melons on a bough.
"Now, just come closer. No, no, you stupid idiot," she screamed. "Don't get up. Kneel down there. Kiss ... kiss ... IT."
He licked his lips. Now he faced the raised mons veneris, saw the protruding vaginal folds of flesh, the nugget-like clitoris in the upper sectors of the vulvar groove. He wavered between acquiescence and doubts. "B-but...." He wanted to form the words that it "was dirty" but the thick fogs of his retarded psyche did not permit permeation of any slight civilized understanding. "I ... don't...."
By now, Yvette was so wracked with tortuous anxieties, she could no longer control herself. "Damn it. I'll make you do it!" She seized his head, forced it forward. She twisted her pelvis, parted her thighs and when she felt the boy's hot breath, she all but screamed. "That's the way. Kiss ... kiss ... kisss ... or I'll take a whip to you."
This last threat forced him onto deeper depraved penetrations. He mouthed Yvette, his tongue and lips paying oral homage. She urged him on. Slowly, the banked up fires leaped into flames and when she felt every nerve screaming, when she was hysterical with joy, when she laughed and cried at the same time, the explosion rocked her innards.
"Now, now, it's going ... keep on, keep on ... more ... use your teeth ... nibble, nibble ... OOOOO, that's the way...." With that, she slammed her pelvis onto his face and that was how she soared into dynamic orbit. Again and again, she felt the wondrous voluptuous explosions as she was wracked with one spasm after another. It felt so good. She wanted it to last forever.
"How about me?" Jimmy squatted nakedly on the floor, fondling himself. "Do it to me."
Yvette had rarely done such a thing. Yet, this time, she felt she might proceed because it would be one way to enslave this dope. "On the bed. Hurry up." She was still rosy-glowing from the wondrous sensations. Ohhhhh, if only her husband would do something like this.
Jimmy sprawled out on the bed. "Do it to me good, please."
Yvette's fingers played with his strong, vibrant young body. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, the warmth flowing through his sinews. Her mouth fell to the task. It took a few moments until she had Jimmy riding on the crest.
"Now, it's now ... OOOO," he erupted into garbled gibberish, as he reached the top. He bolted on the bed, bucked wildly as he erupted into the expulsion of his spurting lust. "Oooo," you do it gooder 'n the guys...." That was the only indication that he had been sexually assaulted by men. "Oooooo," he was unable to stop the outgushing eruption. At long last, he was depleted.
Yvette did not know whether to feel sick or repulsed. She raced to the bathroom, her breasts and buttocks dancing with her movements. She washed up. Then she came back and looked at the dumb countenance of the bronzed young jungle-like Tarzan.
He was fondling himself again, partially flaccid.
"I like that. We're gonna do it some more, eh?"
"Not now, Jimmy, I've got to get going." Now that she had found relief, she was eager to return home. She had a husband and children of her own to take care of. "But you'll be seeing more of me. And remember: not a word to anybody or I'll take a whip to you." She had some slight worries about this stupid lout blabbing but the urgent needs for carnal satisfaction outweighed customary caution. "Hear me? No talking about it!"
He looked blank. "Sure, sure." It was apparent that he would keep quiet. "It felt good, didn't it?" He grinned.
Yvette dressed herself while the dumb kid watched. She even flaunted herself before him playfully, liking the way he fondled her. Some desire renewed itself but the growing concern about family duties forced her to restrain herself.
"It'll feel good next time, too," she promised.
There were other "next times" and now that this depraved 39-year old woman had discovered that young boys could be trained and coached into debaucheries, she wanted to have different ones.
Yvette would become a "foster mother" of slightly retarded or "delayed" boys and would even take one or two of them into her home when her husband and her own children would go off to their summer home for weekends.
Yvette would play games with these dull-witted boys, saying that she would mention a word and they had to point to their bodies to identify the meaning. She would invariably lead to the sex parts and this would create a sensual situation that erupted into debaucheries.
It was only when one boy, who had a slurring speech problem, said something to a supervisor in the institution that suspicion was cast. All Yvette did was make herself absent until the suspicions died down.
One only wonders what will happen when the truth comes out. Yvette uses these unfortunate lads to perform oral eroticism upon herself until she reaches a climax. One occasionally demurs, and Yvette then rouses him orally but refuses to allow him completion, unless he mouth-services her at the same time. This usually forces them to complete the oral friction upon her privates and she then performs fellatio upon them. Eventually, something will happen and a scandal will erupt, ruining all parties involved.
Yvette is one of many older women who take advantage of innocent lads and warp them into performing carnal acts. We may wonder what her rection would be if her own sons were involved with another older woman!!
CHAPTER FOUR
THE ADULT WOMAN AND HER TWO TEEN-AGE "ODD" BOYS
Edna Curtis is a typical representative of those debauched adult women who find a depraved outlet in seduction of the innocents. Like her other dominant "sisters" of perversia, Edna has uncontrollable urges for the practice of unusual sexual activities. At the age of 36, she looks back upon her life with confused frustrations. She was raised in an environment of dominating parents. Her mother regarded sex as a woman's "punishment." Her father had an aggressive attitude toward sex and would use forceful actions in order to consummate his urges.
There were many nights when Edna would toss and turn in the adjoining bedroom as she listened to her mother's whimpers and cries of pain when her father would unleash his brute sexual force upon her.
It was this environment that twisted Edna's outlook on sex and love. At the same time, she had an intense dislike for the male sex and wanted to see them punished. In each fantasy-dream of flagellomania, she would see a virile youth being flogged and it would resemble the father-image she created. With this attitude, she became a frustrated spinster. When she reached her middle 30's, she had earned enough to open up her own dry cleaning establishment. She hired young lads to do deliveries and pickups and to make themselves generally useful. Just how she first came to debauch these boys is unclear but it is believed that she once went into the cellar of her store and caught two of her boys, Ronnie and Gerry, with their pants down, while they were fondling one another.
Ronnie's pants were down to his knees, and he was thrusting forth his pelvis. "Here, Gerry, just rub it a little. It'll make it feel good. Nothing to be ashamed of. Come on. I'll do it to you."
Gerry was the younger of the two; at 14, he was still timid enough. His pants were down to his ankles, yet he was shy to the point where he held onto his tight briefs. "Naw, it ain't nice."
When Edna peered through a slat in the door and saw this scene, she experienced a quickening of her pulse. Pangs of frustration rose to the core. She saw the two hot blooded youths, saw the way Gerry's enormous male organ was poised for penetration. She saw young Gerry, hardly over 14, with spindly smooth legs, smallish buttocks, with yet-to-be-developed genitalia. It made her fight back the hot flood of tears. She should have had such sensual love. But it was too late now. She felt rooted to the spot as she watched.
"Okay, but let's do it quick. I ain't never let nobody touch it before." He pulled down his briefs. Gerry's slim body was like a reed. His buttocks could have been two handballs. The backs of his naked boy thighs were absolutely smooth and pink. When he moved, it brought out a little ripple of development-to-come.
"Rub it a little." Ronnie's huge maleness was a direct contrast to that of the other boy and his intensified the pounding heat of the situation. "Hurry up or that ol' bag'll catch us."
Edna flinched. They were talking about her! Of all the nerve! She wanted to barge right in but she had to see this through to the finish. She ducked back into the shadows and peered through the slat.
Gerry's hand trembled as he made a fist and captured Ronnie's elongated steel-rigid maleness and started to slide. "Oooo," Gerry giggled in his cracking pre-pubertal voice, "You're getting so swollen up. Here, play with mine."
Ronnie sneered as he seized the boy's slim flesh and started to mainpulate. "It ain't hardly growed yet. Ain'tcha got more hair there?" He laughed as he played with the boy's small pouch. "This ain't much."
They gasped and sputtered as they fondled and played with one another. Ronnie, having had self-manipulation experiences before, was aware of what would happen when he felt the spasms and twitches. "Oooo, it's gonna come out now ... keep on ... rub the head ... oooo, OOOOOO...." His slim body erupted into a series of wrenching twists and then the spewing gave forth the proof of his power.
At the same moment, young Gerry's face grew tomato red and all the veins of his lean boyish body began to bulge. "Rub it more, more, more...." he gasped as he felt the most unusual sensation course through his loins. Suddenly, he sputtered, "I'm gonna ... ooooo, there's something coming out...." In a few seconds, he discovered the miracle process of consummation by manual friction.
He was exhausted as he pulled apart. "Ronnie, what was that?" He laughed shyly as he adjusted his clothes. "I never knew it could happen."
Ronnie pulled his pants back on. "Aw, that is what happens when you go off. Guess at 14 you ain't never had much. I do it to myself all the time. I oughta get a girl. I'd like to put it into her. How'd it feel?"
"Kind of funny," Gerry looked tired. The experience had both embarrassed, yet relieved his boy tensions. "My ol' man. once told me not to fool with it. Said I'd get sick or some-thin' so I don't touch it. But I sure get funny feelings down there."
"Aw," Ronnie was the mature boy, about 16, but he felt the protector of this one, "don't listen to the ol' man. Mine's the same way. Caught me doing it once, when I was in the shower. Man, he let me have it. Used a leather belt on me. Said he'd kill me if he ever caught me doing it again. Said I wasn't to touch it. But honest, Gerry, what'll I do? At night, it gets so hard, I can't sleep. I gotta do it." He sounded desperate.
At that point, Edna barged in on them, her face a cruel mask. "I saw what you two boys were doing! Want me to report the two of you!"
They both were rooted to the spot. Ronnie and Gerry blanched; all the blood drained out of their faces and they looked terrified. Gerry at 14, hopped behind the "older" protector, Ronnie. His eyes were enormous with fear.
"We weren't doin' nothin'," protested the chortling Ronnie. "Nothin', honest." He looked as if he would burst out into tears.
"I saw it all. You two were playing with each other." She pointed to the evidence of their orgasms. "Want me to have you placed in detention homes? I should tell your parents what you did. It was in my store, too!"
Gerry started to whimper. "P-lease, ma'am, don't tell anyone. We didn't mean it." Tears went down his smooth face. His moppet hair gave him a babyish look that could be sensual as well as fetching. "Don't tell. I didn't mean it. It was Ronnie, he made me do it...."
"Shut up!" With that, Edna knew she had both of them where she wanted. This was her opportunity for vengeance. A few thoughts ran through her head. "I want both of you to come to my apartment tonight. I'll discuss it with you and then decide what I'm going to do. Tell your parents you're just going out for a walk. Hear me?"
They were so petrified, they would have consented to anything if only to be spared parental punishment.
That night, Edna Curtis started her downward descent into flagellomania punishment of her own warped libidinal frustrations. It was the traumatic shock of having seen pubertal boys in the throes of their carnal awakening that served as the spur for Edna Curtis' debauched cravings.
"You two have been naughty," she berated them in her apartment. "Now, there's no need for both of you to look like that. I have thought this over very carefully and have decided that you have to be punished but I'll do the punishment." She reached into the bottom drawer of a large bureau and withdrew a hideous looking whip. It was something she had once picked up on a trip to Mexico. She had purchased it on a strange impulse. Now she knew it would be" put to good use.
The boys recoiled with fright.
Ronnie was swallowing down the choking well of tears that he was too brave to release. "Please, please, Miss Curtis, don't whip us."
Gerry looked as if he would break down in a wave of crybaby tears. "No, no, don't hit me. I'll do anything you want. Please." His smooth chin trembled and tears flooded his eyes.
Now Edna knew she was dominant and victorious. "Very well. Since the two of you know you are naughty boys, you will understand what I tell you to do. Strip down. Go on!" she raised her voice. Excitement mounted. Now she could punish these boys, as she yearned to punish her overbearing father; now she could give vent to her repressed urges. "Strip naked! Then you two will do exactly as I say."
They cringed in fright. "But we never did it, in front of a lady," protested the sobbing Gerry. "Please, we didn't mean it."
She clutched the whip by its hard handle; it was made of sleek, genuine alligator and glistened as she test-hefted it in the air. It was about three feet in length. It had been fashion crafted by a master whipmaker. Just a slight flick of the wrist and the flexible whip snapped in the air with the slicing action as if hurtled against naked buttocks.
Ronnie was aghast. He felt his heart pound furiously. "All right, we'll do it, only don't hit us."
Since the older boy was starting to remove his clothes, Gerry followed with nervous movements.
They soon were naked, looking smooth and soft with erect privates that were instantly aroused; at that tender pubertal age, rigid virility was possible with just a thought, a motion; it was assured with nakedness.
Edna soon learned of this sensitivity of extreme youth and it whetted her lust for such callow sexual studs. Like most female pedophiles, she knew she could not dominate taunt or otherwise compell adult males into her debauched acts. Only with puerile youth could she accomplish her wish-fulfillment craving for punishment of her father-image. This led to her search for other boys in pairs because her first command made it evident that she needed two boys for her debauched cravings.
"All right, Gerry, you lie down on that bed. No, don't look like that. I'm not going to whip you." She felt her heart pounding as she saw the 14 year old boy's milky smooth body, the undeveloped physical apparatus in proud arousal, the way his crinkled pink pouch with its two oval spheres were swinging with his movement. She wanted to stroke and fondle him. That would come later. "That's it. No, you stupid boy. On your tummy. Bottoms up!"
When the boy snuggled on the bed, he whimpered slightly, feeling that there would come an awesome experience. "Please don't hurt me," he sobbed.
"Shut up!" snapped Edna. She turned to the white-faced Ronnie. "You, straddle him. That's it. Go on or I'll have both of you whipped until your bodies will be stripped like a peppermint bar."
Ronnie, being the older one, was showing signs of precocious development. He had a massive young boy-man power, with a thick hirsute covered pouch and enormous ovals. His thighs and legs were smooth with only the suggested trace of down. The rears of his naked thighs were pinkish smooth. His buttocks were firm, without any sag. They dimpled inwardly as he moved. The dividing gorge was so erotically provocative, it made the red-faced Edna Curtis almost swoon with a peculiar longing.
The two boys reflected the image of pristine purity. This appealed to Edna as it does to almost all such adult female pedophiliacs.
"Go on, Ronnie, use Gerry like a woman! You heard me. Put it into him and that will punish him so he'll never do naughty things again."
The two reacted with a strange horror. "B-but, I don't know...." Ronnie felt the damning warmth sweep up through his young loins with a heart-pounding intensity. "I don't know...." He was so frightened, he wanted to shrink down and hide. He was mounting the whimpering Gerry who was blithefully unaware of what .it was like to be sodomized! The backs of his white marshmallow-soft buttocks were glazed with the sheen of his boy sweat. Trickles of sweat poured down his armpits. So did Ronnie sweat, sucking in air. His throat felt parched.
Edna raised her whip. There was a strange whisper. Suddenly, the snake-like whip flew out and it landed with a loud and sharp THWACK upon Ronnie's smooth buttocks.
"Do as I say!" screamed Edna.
Ronnie yelped as a stinging hot flame seared the back of his naked thighs. Tears rolled down his cheeks. At the same time, a series of reverberating spasms tore through his loins. The lash left a deep red welt on his otherwise flawless marble-smooth boy buttocks.
"I'll do it, I'll do it," he gasped desperately. "Don't whip me." He gazed with wide-eyed terror at the snake-like whip.
"Just push. Use your hand to find out where to put it in." Edna gloried in her she-master's role. In whipping and punishing these boys, she was flagellating her hated father-image, and giving vent to her repressed frustrations as a spinterish old maid. "Go on!"
With wet, grubby hands, Ronnie fondled the quivering Gerry's buttocks. Male instinct served as a guide. He found Gerry's small aperture and with a few exploratory thrusts, gained entrance into the warm environment.
Gerry screamed as he felt the pounding penetration. "It hurts! I don't like it! Don't do it. Take it out!" He beat the bed and bit down hard on the cushion but there was no shaking off the heaving boy atop.
"I gotta, I gotta do it," sputtered Ronnie as he now surged forth. "Hey, this feels good. Lemme do it," he stammered with nervous anxiety. "I never felt this before. Like a girl."
His body jack-knifed and twisted as he now began the familiar thrusts, using his powerful boy lancer as he would a piston. The room was filled with strange grunts and peculiar sounds as their wet bodies slapped against one another.
Gerry was trying to press down into the bed as he tried to shake off the pounding boy. "I can't take it ... stop, Ronnie, please...."
But Ronnie could not hold back. The fires of youth had erupted into a bizarre flame. He surged forth and then he made a lusty cry as he felt the eruption. "Ohhhh, oh, oh, oh, oh," he gasped as the shooting spurts of lascivious fulfillment were emitted into the warm receptacle. Again and again the spasms tore through his loins. At long last, he was satiated. He was drained. When he extricated himself, he had to stagger to a chair and then collapse. His maleness was still rigid.
"Ohhhh, that sure felt great," he looked happy and relieved. "Sorry, Gerry, I didn't mean it."
The other boy was very quiet. He sniffled but said nothing.
"Let that be a lesson to both of you," snapped Edna. "You have been punished for your own good. You did dirty things in the cellar. You have to be punished." But even as she said this, Edna knew she was only using her power as a means of easing her own confused attitudes about normal love.
Because jobs were scarce in this small town the two boys could not leave Edna Curtis' dry cleaning establishment. This meant they were completely under her power. She hired other boys as her business increased but she preferred the very young ones because they were so innocent and frightened of the awesome magnitude of sex, they would succumb to any debauchery for the simple reason that they just did not know any better.
Furthermore, like most female sodomitic pedophiles, this older woman knew that the trigger-reflex anxieties of hot blooded youth precluded hesitation. They were so stored up with cravings, they were vulnerable for any types of expression. This is one reason why so many become involved in homosexuality. The temptation for release overpowers any sense of caution or reason or morality.
In another bizarre orgy the 36-year old dominant woman found an excuse for bringing three boys down into her establishment's cellar. She rebuked them for having called to girls while in the store. "Since you have no respect for women," (here it is obvious she is reacting to her own frustrations,) "then you will have to be taught the proper discipline. Drop your pants! All three of you!"
"B-but, what'd we do?" stammered one pink cheeked boy who was hardly even 14. He was still in the growing stage and resembled a slim page boy from bygone days. "We didn't do nothin'."
"Shut up," she growled. "I heard those terrible words you said to girls across the street. And right from my shop, too. Drop your, pants, I said."
The boys were red-faced as they looked from one to the other. They were embarrassed at having to lower their pants before one another, let alone before this older woman. They were all boy virgins and despite their obvious braggadacio, they were frightened of girls at their tender 13 and 14 years of age.
She wielded a doubled over leather belt. "I'll tell your parents." This threat worked wonders.
There was a rustle as the three red-faced boys fumbled with their pants. They dropped their pants and upon another whip-sharp command, dropped down their shorts. Naked, they were all ramrod stiff.
Their naked boy parts were erect in gleaming heat. One boy had difficulty in retracting so Edna seized upon this opportunity to fondle him. He reacted as if a spark of electricity had touched his sensitive boy parts.
"You've got a long skin here," she jeered, deliberately taunting the boy. She seized his erect phallus and gave a vicious yank that made him yelp. "If I were your father, I'd see to it that it was cut off." She knew it was making him all the more humiliated.
Edna went around, beheld the dizzying spectacle of the bared bottoms of the three boys. She fought against a strange impulse to fondle and explore their smooth-as-silk buttock cheeks. The red chasm looked equally as forbidden. She would have thrilled to compel them to sodomize one another but right now, she had another fiendish goal.
"Bend over. That's it." She saw their smooth buttocks grow taut. "Now ... you count as I whip. If you miss a number, we'll do it over again."
She used the doubled over leather belt as she would a vicious whip. Each THWACK echoed in the cellar with the ominous sound of dungeon punishment.
Each Whack brought forth a tightening of the boys' gluteal muscles. They whimpered, sobbed, staggered and almost fell, but they took their spanking punishment until their bottoms were red hot.
When she finished, Edna felt as if she had had her own climax. "Now, two of you stand over there." She pointed to the designated two boys. "You," she pointed to the 13 year old boy who sniffled as he held his spanked bottom. "Kneel before them. Take their 'things' in your mouth."
The standing boys snickered. Gone were the fears. They had heard, vaguely, of such things. They were so stiff with anxiety, they needed something. Even if a buddy was forced into it, they wanted it!
"I can't," the 13 year young boy protested. "It's ... it's dirty...."
"What you did was dirty, calling dirty names to girls!" Infuriated, Edna seized his thick hair, dragged him nakedly over to the other boys and forced him down on his knees. "Go on or I'll whip you until you won't sit for a month."
"B-but...."
Edna seized his head and pushed Mm into the oral act. She forced him through each compulsive fellatio until he had serviced both boys. Then he becaime sick and heaved up on the floor.
Edna felt victory consummated with a release of her own frustrated tensions. "Wash everything up, get dressed and be gone." She wanted to savor every bit of the memory of it by herself.
It was when the enforced performing boy became moody, depressed and showed signs of neurotic withdrawal, that the truth came out.
Edna Curtis was charged with impairing the morals of minors but when none of the others had the courage to come forth and identify her, charges had to be dropped. The sick boy was declared to be suffering from delusions and his accusations were not accepted at face value.
Nevertheless, the townspeople had good reason to believe that Edna. Curtis had debauched the boys and they withdrew their trade from her dry cleaning establishment.
In due time, she went bankrupt and had to leave town.
It is to be expected that she is still continuing on with her abnormal quest for debauching minors.
Throughout all of her experiences, she has never permitted any of the boys to violate her person; rarely did she dare to touch them. This mental block was part of her psychosis. Instead, she would compel them to perform homosexual-flagellation activities and this provided her with an abnormal satisfaction.
Like other pedophelis, this older woman has a warped sense of sexual values and seeks solely to gratify her dark desires of domination over young boys.
CHAPTER FIVE
DELIVERY BOYS AND WARPED DIVORCEES
In the better sections of almost every large city, there are luxury apartment houses, nattily furnished town houses, expensive buildings in which live the lonely divorcees who have regular alimony but irregular or non-existent love. These are the women who have failed in their roles as wives and must eke out their years in frustrated loneliness. Some have men who come to them, but many of these women have warped or unusual ideas about sexual fulfillment that are often unaccepted by these men.
Many of these lonely women have discovered the "stud power" of young boys. These are the women who will call up for home delivery of flowers, have telegrams sent to themselves, order room service, or any other excuse for getting an "innocent" boy into their homes. Once this is done, they can easily inveigle him into a form of sexual debauchery to satisfy their warped whims.
You may wonder about the "innocent" boys and why they succumb to the attentions of a much older woman. Much is traced to the disparity of the sexes according to Nature or biology or what-have-you.
A boy is physically mature while he is still emotionally underdeveloped at the pubertal age. A girl, on the other hand, is more emotionally mature while her sexual-physical needs are still underdeveloped when she reaches the pubertal age of 13 or 14. This peculiar imbalance may be difficult for some boys. The boys have a strong physical craving; they are able to have erections and seminal emissions. Emotionally, they are still in the stages of development. Sex, for them, is purely physical release of their physical tensions.
A girl at the age of 13, is aware of her responsibilities as a potential mother; she also fears pregnancy. She seeks emotional satisfaction and this precludes an all-physical relationship such as is coveted by boys.
Eventually, there is a suffusion of the elements and adolescent boys learn to control themselves (to varying degrees) and to recognize the needs of girls. But until there is this levelling off, the physical demands of the 14 or 15 or 16 year old boy can be most compelling.
The older woman is often aware of this and she takes advantage of a boy to use him solely for his "stud power" while she receives the carnal satisfaction she wants.
Some of the boys are aware of their power and take advantage of it. There is also another element involved as we see in the case that follows.
BARRY, AGE 16, TELEGRAM DELIVERY BOY. "I'm 16 and know I'm cute with my long hair and tight pants. I like an older woman because she makes me feel so young. Also, they do the book. Nothing like them." This candid expression is borne out of Barry's confusion about his male role. Since he is still in the formative years, he is unaware of emotional elements of sexual satisfaction. Futhermore, he is not yet fully mature (perhaps he never will be!) in the techniques of making love. Since his sole aim is physical release if HIS own sexual cravings, he is unconcerned about the needs of his partner.
Barry had several experiences with a few girls from his school, before he dropped out and went to work as a delivery boy. There was one girl, Irene.
They had gone to a typical Lovers Lane, where Barry parked his beat up car, then moved closer to the girl. "You're kind of nice," he said, as he put his arm around her, felt her breast. "Like to fool around?"
"Oh, Barry," she tried to appear distant, reserved, "you're too quick." She put her hand on his knee. She edged upward, felt the bulge. "Oooo," she gasped. It surprised her. "You're so excited."
"Open the zipper. Take it out." Barry was unlearned in the methods of foreplay and came directly to the point. "Go ahead. Make me feel good."
"I don't want to," she hesitated. Irene leaned back, let Barry's hands go up her thigh, then to fondle her pudenda, to insert a finger beneath her panties and to stroke the fleshly female lips to make her gasp and quiver. She locked her thighs on his hand as she felt familiar hot spasms tearing through her groin. "That feels good." She could feel his other hand fondling her breasts, tweaking her nipples until they became as gnarled and rocky as diamonds. "Just keep on," she moaned.
By now, Barry felt as if he would burst out of his pants. "Come on, Irene, fool with me, will ya?" He had to remove one hand and unzip himself. He withdrew his boy-man power and lewdly shook himself. He had boyish pride in his well-endowed virility. "See? Now, just play with it. Then we'll do something else."
Irene was startled at the abrupt sight. She reluctantly stroked his phallus, then upon his urging she cupped his scrotum, and sent shivers through him. But Irene, like the average female, is more emotionally concerned with what is done to herself, rather than devoting much attention to the male body. Yet Barry was at that adolescent stage where he could not understand his disparity in sexual inclinations. All he knew now was that he was rigid with carnal lust and he wanted a girl to stroke, even to kiss him where he would feel it.
"Barry, let's just play a little more." She wanted to be kissed. She arched her back and with an impatient gesture, opened her blouse and pulled it up high, under her armpits until her girlish breasts, firm and resilient, like inverted goblets, with red areolars, poked forth. "See? Won't you kiss them? I like it when a boy uses his lips on my nipples. Suck on them, Barry."
But Barry was unprepared for this form of masculine agression. Futhermore, he was on the passive side and preferred having a woman display agression in the sex act. It might be mentioned that we have many adult males among us who have this same sexual disposition. They are not agressive or fully brute-force masculine and often must just remain inert while the partner displays agressive actions by means of oral or tactile stimulation. These are the men (Barry would mature into such a type) who often prefer fellatio since their sexual libido is fixated at the all-physical release sense. They are undeveloped when it comes to emotional fusion with physical expression.
Barry licked his lips; he was still too young and too undeveloped emotionally to become aroused by naked breasts. He nuzzled his head between Irene's firm girlish breasts, licked at the dividing valley, fondled them until the nipples were swollen with response.
But Barry had to admit to himself that as far as he was concerned, this meant little to himself. He looked into Irene's face, saw the raw lust in her glazed eyes.
"Come on, Irene, whyn't you do it to me?" He raised up, twisted his lean, wiry body in the tight confines of the car until he loomed up before the startled girl. "Here, just lick it a little. I like it that way."
Barry and another boy had once "fooled around" in the basement of a deserted house. The other boy had performed an oral act upon Barry; he had been, obviously, a boy homosexual. He had taken Barry's erection in his mouth and provided oral stimulation until the boy erupted. All the while, Barry had just stretched out on the floor, remained inert and let the boy homosexual fellate him. It was a pure physical release that satisfied Barry's undeveloped and immature sense of sex. All was fixated at the level of his genitals. It was all localized in that small perimeter of nerve-drenched interest and relief was all he craved. He hardly did anything to the other boy except watch as the boy later masturbated because Barry had said he wouldn't do anything like that to him because he wasn't queer.
This type of release satisfied Barry and it, perhaps, helped establish a pattern that shaped the boy's sexual outlook.
Now, he wanted the same form of localized sexual stimulation from Irene.
"Come on. Just lick and nibble a little. It's clean, see? Go on, I'm dyin', Irene." He was all pent up, breathing rapidly. His face was perspiring. He felt droplets of sweat pouring down his sides. He needed this in the worst way. "Go on." He thrust the stout pole of his maleness to the resisting girl.
"I can't ... I can't Barry. I never do those things." She tried to avert him, but the boy was so angry and aroused, he was like a young animal. "Don't push it at me or I'll...."
"You'll do it, Irene. You'll do it or I'll beat you up!"
When Irene's mouth opened, Barry shoved himself forward and impaled the girl. Her lips and tongue were forced into rhythmic strokes while Barry held her head captive in his hands. He sputtered, gasped as he felt the inside tensions beginning to erupt with trigger-sensitive delicacy. "Damn it, don't bite! Don't bite!" he yelped. "I'll kill you if ... OOOOOooooo, keep on, keep on...." He started to tremble as if an inner explosion had rocked his loins.
Barry's eyes bulged in their sockets. His breath kept coming in a series of spurts. His heart thumped wildly. Suddenly, a hot flood gushed forth and he garbled his moans as he all but suffocated his groin on the resisting Irene's mouth. Again and again the shooting spasms tore through. The flood of lava was one of hot release. He loved it. "Oooo, man, this is good. Oooo, this feels good ... use your tongue, you damn bitch," he cursed her. "Use it ... wow ... OOO...."
The copious eruption had satiated Barry to the point where he was seized with a complete physical euphoria at the last dwindling spasms. He all but fell off to a side of the car, slumped on the seat.
"Where's the tissues? I don't want the ol' man to see what I did." He took several Kleenex tissues and wrapped them around his throbbing penis, shivering from the sensitive abrasion against the nerve drenched flesh. "Ooooooh, that sure felt good."
Irene was spitting into her handkerchief. "You dirty thing. I should have bitten you," she looked sick. "I'm never going to bother with you again. Take me home or I'll scream." She had hated it all. "What do you think it did for me? Nothing!" She adjusted her clothes and moved away from him on the seat.
Just then, there were honking sounds and it was apparent that local authorities had decided to break up the nest of car lovers. This brought an abrupt ending to Barry and Irene's rather one-sided session. Irene saw Barry in the school corridors for a few weeks thereafter; while he snickered at her, she just turned on her heel and walked off.
Shortly after that, Barry quit school. He never did like school and he wanted to earn some money on his own. At the age of 16, he started delivering telegrams to a better section of town. He was boyishly unaware that there were many lonely and sex-eager middle-aged women in this area who loved having a young boy. It restored confidence in themselves in being able to charm a male. It also enabled them to satisfy their own debauched cravings Barry would soon discover that these types of women would be perfect for his one-sided sexual cravings.
As we can see, while some of these middle-aged or adult women may be held accountable for debauching the morals of minor boys, the blame is often placed upon the boys, themselves. They derive satisfaction by having these adult women oral service them; also, many of these boys are aggressive and can perform coitus or sodomitic practices upon the women. The main driving point of this unnatural relationship is this: it provides physical release for the young boy who does not care to provide any form of satisfaction for the partner. The sole and total aim of these relationships is that of physical satisfaction for the boy.
It is this type of "one-sided" or fixated satisfaction that spawns this peculiar form of carnal attraction. It is built around the compulsion to have sex without love. It is a throwback to the formative adolescent years when physical satisfaction is all the pubertal boy seeks. If he finds someone to satisfy this craving, he may have his entire sexual outlook altered for life.
Barry met Mrs. Nora Thurston when he was sent out into the pouring rain to deliver a night letter to her duplex apartment. He was soaked to the skin when he knocked a her door, holding the sopping telegram in his hand. He was surly and uncomfortable when he saw her.
She was in her late 30's, possibly about 40. She wore a see-through housecoat with black lace bra and undies. It startled the two of them. Barry might never know that Nora frequently sent herself telegrams, hoping the boy would be cute enough so that there could be a sensual affair. But right now, he was dripping wet and angry.
"Here. I hope it's bad news!" he turned on his heel when he heard her call, "Oh, boy, will you please come here?" She arched her shoulders and thrust out her breasts, catching the look in his eye. "I'm so sorry. It's just some nuisance telegram. I had no idea it was being sent. I certainly didn't want it. Won't you come in and dry off? I'll prepare some hot chocolate for you."
Barry was still unsuspecting as he entered the sumptuously appointed duplex apartment. Inside, it was warm and cheerful; there was modernistic furniture, exotique paintings on the walls, a burning fireplace, soft music coming from a hidden hi-fi set. It added up to gilt edge and glass luxury with fur covered upholstered furniture. To the boy, this was "classy" and it appealed to him. He saw the way Mrs. Nora Thurston moved around, with her well rounded bottom creating a rounded arc, the backs of her naked thighs looking glossy through the filmy negligee. To the young boy, this was appealing. The fact that she was older had an unusual attraction for him as it does for many of these boys. She is older, maturer and more experienced. Therefore, she can do all the work. She had thus relieved him of the responsibility of his male role! Barry was this type of passive young male and in Nora, he saw an escape, a flight from reality. It was the start of a long relationship.
"You look so uncomfortable. Why not remove your wet things and take a hot shower? I'll get it ready for you." Just like that. Nora Thurston had taken charge of the situation. It was this masterful situation that catered to Barry's rather passive attitudes. "Go on," she urged as she went to the bathroom. "You don't have to get embarrassed. If you wish, undress in the bathroom. Then you can put on this robe."
CHAPTER SIX
BARRY: STUD SERVICE FOR ADULT WOMEN
In a few moments, they were on a first-name basis. Nora Thurston told him, "Barry, just strip yourself down and leave your clothes over there. We have a hot air dryer around and I'll see that your clothes are nice and dry. But you best get under that hot shower. I wouldn't want you to catch cold."
"Okay. If you're sure I'm not putting you out or anything." He was still shy to the point where he could not bring himself to being normally agressive. It was a pattern that would remain with him permanently. He was one of many adults who could not cope with the mature responsibilities of agressive maleness. "I mean, you may be expecting your husband."
"I don't have a husband," with a slight twinge of distaste. "I'm free and independent and I do whatever I want." Then she motioned to the bathroom. "Go on, Barry. The steam's clouding up. I'd like you to be nice and warm."
Barry shuffled nervously in his wet and soggy feet. "Thank you, Mrs....I mean, Nora." He was aware of her eyes on him as he headed toward the frosty glass enclosed stall shower in the marble and glass bathroom. It was so pink and feminine here, even down to the statue of a pair of nude Greek goddesses, that it made Barry wonder what this would lead to.
He closed the bathroom door and quickly slithered out of his wet clothes. He did feel clammy and wet and it was a relief when he finally took off his jock strap. Naked, he caught a fleeting glimpse of himself in a ceiling to floor mirror made of some extra material that precluded steam clouding.
Barry flushed slightly at his aroused desire. Just removing his clothes created that embarrassed arousal. It was one reason why he hated going to the school shower rooms or locker rooms to change clothes. He knew the other boys would laugh and jibe at him. Some even sideswiped his erection and this made him so red-faced, he would punch and kick at them, while his enormous over-developed power would waver in unison with his swinging scrotum. He was glad to be out of school. Now, he had nothing to hide.
He ran his hands over his broad chest, then down to the flanks. He knew, with a typical adolescent Narcissustic streak, that he was damn good looking. He had let his hair grow overly long now that he was rid of school. It gave him an impish Buster Brown appearance that he knew was appealing. He also favoured tight pants, a Mod-style jacket, the latest Nehru or hippie design shirt and the customary motorcycle boots. It brought out the best in him. As yet, he did not know it would be his ticket to becoming a stud for adult women in lonely apartments and houses on his delivery route.
He stepped into the marble tub and stood under the warm needle spray shower. He let it soak his every pore, thrilling to the sheer goodness of it all. Now the chill of the rain-swept outside was vanishing. He dipped his hands into some fragrant liquid soap, started to soap his body, bypassing his sex because he knew that if he would slide his flesh, he would be unable to control himself.
He was so absorbed in the pleasurable sensations of the shower, he had not heard the bathroom door open. Not until a cooling draft made him aware that the door was open did the slippery and soapy boy turn.
"Oh, I...." He was red-faced as he stammered in embarrassment to the older woman, Nora Thurston. "What...?"
She gaped at the enormous power that protruded from the boy's groin. "Why, Barry, are you ... playing with yourself? You shouldn't have to do that. I mean, a nice, handsome boy like yourself should have plenty of girls. And from what I can see, you have lots to offer." She reached out and before Barry could dart away on the slippery marble tub, he felt her hands enclose around his soapy erection. It sent the most exotique sensation coursing through his loins.
"What ... do you mean?" He felt his throat go parched and dry. His heart hammered. He felt a million pinpricks stabbing into his most delicate flesh. "I wasn't playing around."
"Then how do you answer this?" she insisted, disregarding the flow of the shower that was wetting her expensive negligee. Her breasts pushed tight against her bra; underneath, the nipples were growing rigid with reflex desire. She always thrilled to a youthful body. She was a typical body-lover among adult women. "How did this happen?"
"P-please," he winced, as he felt her fingers tighten around his throbbing male shaft and make a few peck-peck-peck stabs. "I ... I'm always hot. I mean, I get this way when I take off my clothes." He tried to extricate himself but now Nora had cupped his testicles. The feel of her fingertips on the underside of his scrotum as he rolled his oval spheres around, was the most delicious thrill he had ever thought possible. It was threatening to drive him out of his mind in explosive reaction.
"Then you should have more fun. If you want to make the most of it, you should put it to use." Then she released him, while she ran her hands over his slippery wet buttocks and the rears of his thighs. "You're a handsome young boy. You must drive the girls wild."
With typical pubertal innocence and unawareness, he blurted out, "Naw, I don't fool too much. Girls are always expecting me to do all the work!"
Nora Thornton's eyes were lust filled. "Then you need a few lessons. Just wash off your soap and then come outside. We'll have some nice hot chocolate before the warm fireplace and we'll talk. Oh, you're not on working hours, are you?"
He nodded his wet head. His thick hippie-long hair was plastered to his head and this only added to his boyish appeal. "Naw, I'm all through. I don't have to go home if I don't want to. The folks left some food for me in the 'frig' because they're goin' to some meetin' or some-thin'." He always affected this tough, swagger talk because he felt it made him more masculine.
This was just another of Barry's attempts to act the male role when, subconsciously, he felt pangs of failure at being able to fulfill the obligations of aggressive maleness.
"Good, good. Maybe you'll even have a bite to eat." She picked up his soggy clothes. "I'll get these dried off." As she bent over, she let her well-shaped bottom protrude so that the boy could get an eyeful. Nora always derived a warped thrill out of exhibiting herself before pubertal boys. She was an exhibitionistic sort; she could not derive the same satisfaction when displaying her breasts or female genitalia to an adult male since the latter would be more experienced and beyond the "shock stage." This added to her cravings for youthful boy studs.
Moments later, dripping wet, but pleasingly warm and tingly, young Barry appeared timidly on the cream colored thick rug of the huge sunken living room. He had wrapped himself in a pink terry cloth robe. Beneath, he felt his throbbing powers.
"Ohhh, now you look so nice and cute. Come here, boy." Already, Nora was seizing the initiative. She would tell him exactly what to do; thus, she would be relieving him of the masculine role that he could not exert. "Now, just sit on this hassock before the fire. Drink this hot chocolate."
Meekly, he obeyed her. He liked sipping the hot chocolate; the lapping flames of the wood-burning fireplace made him feel all the better. He looked at the older woman, knowing that she would make the next move. This was so different from his other experiences when the burden of conquest was placed on his shoulders. Now he could free himself from such obligations and provide stud service for his own sexual satisfaction.
"It's sure nice, Nora, of you," he sipped the drink. "I mean, it sure is a mean night out."
Nora looked intently at him. She fumbled with her sash. "It's a perfect night to be indoors, before a warm fireplace. Do you feel better?" She put her hand on his knee and felt him start.
"Yeah."
"But you're so excited, so tense. I saw what you were doing in the bathroom. I'm sure you don't have to do that. I'll bet you have lots of girl friends. But you'll probably hurt them. You're kind of big." She let her tongue lap her lower lip. "This younger generation. They're bigger and better. Some of these 12 and 13 year boys are enormous. You'd never believe it."
"Well, I don't know." This intimate talk made him shy. "I don't fool with boys. But I've had a lot of girls," he made with the typical adolescent brags of conquest. "Some of 'em can't take me. The last girl I had, she didn't let me do it to her."
"Oh? Then what happened?" She let her hand travel up Barry's inner thigh, exploring his young, firm flesh. "Tell me."
He swallowed as he felt the fingertips search for his most delicate parts. He parted his thighs. It felt damn good to let a girl do it all. He just had to let her work him over, that's all.
"Well I told her to 'kiss 'it' but she would not."
Nora was visibly aroused. "Do you like it that way?"
He flushed darkly. "Sort of."
"Put down the cup, Barry. That's right. Now, I want you to stretch out on this rug before the fire."
Rising excitement manifested itself in Barry's pounding heart. Every nerve was taut and strained. Every part of him was alive and throbbing. "Yes, ma'am."
He stretched out as directed. A moment later, there was a click. The lights were extinguished. Now, the licking flames from the fireplace created strangely exciting illuminated shadows over the exotique furniture.
With pounding heart, he just lay stretched out. His groin itched with the most maddening insistence. Barry felt that this was IT.
Nora stood before him, like a dominant giantess. She resembled the agressive-superior female image that catered to Barry's passive attitudes.
"Just watch me." She undid her sash, let the robe fall down. "See? I'm pretty." It was as if she wanted his approval. "Now, I'll take these things off." She unhooked her bra, tossed it to the floor. Her huge breasts bounced free. She had spreading areolars, over a huge part of her breasts. The dividing line was wide. Nora was showing signs of sagging. Her naked midriff was protruding. The rounded bowl of her tummy would soon sag even further. Now she hooked her fingers into the elastic band of her panties. With a strange exhibitionistic posture, she slithered out of her panties, down over her knees. When she bent, her huge breasts shook and shivered. Finally, she kicked off her panties and stood nakedly before him.
"Gosh, you're pretty." At his age of innocence, 16-year young Barry could not differentiate between firm and flabby flesh. A naked girl was a naked girl. It was this innocence that endeared him to these warped adult women. "Can I touch them?"
She laughed as she squatted beside him, then took his flesh in her warm hands. "You're so silly. Of course, baby boy, you can touch them." She let him fondle her breasts. "Pinch the nipples. That's it. Now, run your hands down over my stomach. Ooooo, that's the way. You have a nice touch. Now, touch me ... there ... go on ... GO ON!!!"
Barry still hesitated. A childish fear of punishment for touching the forbidden genitalia still pervaded his arrested sexual maturity. "Okay." His hands found her vulvar groove and now he parted the lips. He inserted one finger, made her yelp. He played that way as she closed her thighs on his wrist. Then she twisted her body.
Her mouth was everywhere.
Barry went rigid with sensual arousal. He released his finger. He cared naught about exciting Nora. All he now wanted was the excitingly delicious feel of her hot lips and nipping teeth as she started the oral route that would culminate in fellatio.
"Oooo, that feels good," he gasped as he worked his arms out of his terry cloth robe. "That's the way. Go all over me. Ahhhhh," he made other garbled sounds and whimpers of pent up tensions. "That's the way...."
"I'll just kiss you to pieces," laughed Nora, already flush-faced and writhing with ardor over her young boy stud. "Youth, youth, so nice and firm." She turned him over. "Bottoms up, baby boy." She worked swiftly to slide the robe from beneath his quivering body. Now she had him naked and hot. "You've got a beautiful body, Barry-boy."
He pounded the floor with both fists in another moment. "Yeeee-OOOO-ooooo...."
Nora had taken his buttock cheeks, pried them apart, then her tongue stabbed until the helpless boy screamed, "I'm going crazy, Nora. Now! I want it now ... oh please, please...." He was burning up. A hammer slammed itself at the base of his skull. Every nerve, every fibre was alive and throbbing and demanding release.
"Yes, baby boy, oh yes," she used her mouth up and down the broad back, then she turned him over. "You're a hot kid," she whispered.
Her head dipped. While she tweaked his nipples, she let her mouth roam into the most provocative reaches of his flesh, while her fingers twisted flesh, cupped his oval spheres in each hand and prodded gently.
"Easy, easy," in a tight voice as the boy reared up, thrust forth his pelvis. "Ahhhhhh, orrrrragr ... mmmmmm," he was sighing as his hot, feverish male flesh was now immersed in the cool oval cave of lustful captivity. "That's it ... ooooOOOOO, now, it's ... it's...." His body tensed up.
Every muscle and every fibre grew taut on his sheen-glazed young physique. There was a split second of tension. Barry thought his head would be torn loose.
His blood pounded.
He wanted to scream.
Suddenly, the dam broke loose!
He shrieked as he felt the eruption sear through his groin. Wave after wave, tidal wave eruptions ripped through his innards and spewed forth in a series of hot, torturous eruptions.
"Mmmmm, ahhhh," gasped Nora as she savoured of the Fountain of Youth. She kept on and on, creating the most agonizing sensations while the boy's very elixir of youth ebbed forth.
With a great heave and sigh, the depleted Barry sank down on the ground again. "Oooo, Nora, that sure felt good. Ahhh, it was great, Nora." He felt so happy, he wanted to sing. This older woman really knew the tricks. He always wanted it this way.
Nora laughed shrilly as she released him; then she squatted beside him. "Here, Barry, be a good boy. Just rub. Ahhh, you young whelps really know how to grope a girl." Then she checked herself. She had to refrain from referring to herself as a "girl" since she was well past that desired age. Still, this young boy made her feel so young.
Oh, so young again.
"That's the way. Use both fingers." She tightened her milky thighs on his wrist, imprisoning him. She looked positively ecstatic and delirious with joy. "Ooooooo, it feels nice. Keep on. Rub my little button."
He wrinkled his brow. "Button? What's that?" He kept on finger-manipulating her pudenda, fondling her mons veneris, inserting his two fingers to simulate coitus. "I dunno."
"Never mind. Never mind. With what you have," she fondled his still rigid maleness, making him shiver and laugh, "you don't have to care about what a girl has."
A few more manipulations during which Barry said, "My hand's getting tired," and then Nora felt it.
"Little more ... ahhhhh, now...." She constricted her pelvic muscles, rocked on her heels, threw her head back; her saucer-round breasts rolled on her rib cage. Her tummy kept going in and out. Her mouth opened wide; she made sucking sounds as she erupted into a manual-induced orgasm. Again and again the rocking spasms tightened.
Barry was fascinated with it. He was actually giving a "hand job" to this older dame. He never thought dames went for it. He did not really care. Right now, he felt that the pressures of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. The yoke had been removed. This woman had done "the book" with him and all he had had to do was lie back and let her take over. It was wonderful!
He reasoned, Could he ever get a girl his own age to do that?
Obviously, no.
Much later, the two of them washed in the shower. It was kind of groovey, to use Barry's own expression, to have this older woman soap and wash him, then fluff dry him. It made him feel so comforted. So secure.
"Now, you be sure and go straight home," Nora admonished, after she watched him put on his dried clothes. "I wish we could have something to eat but there's no time. I've got to play cards with some friends."
He flashed a grin, looking more boyishly mischievous than ever.
"You ate plenty tonight, ma'am. There's lots more, when you want it."
"Just give me a call. I'll write my number down."
There were many such get-togethers. Nora was one who liked to dominate a boy and use his body for her own oral cravings. She disdain-ed normal intercourse; she always said it was hurtful. She had a neurotic attachment to her "independence" and did not want to surrender it to a man and this made her an agressive fellatrice (a female who performs fellatio or oral-genital orgasm).
As for Barry, he has met other women on his telegram delivery route. Some are in their late 40's. All are "hot" for a young virile boy. He is slowly becoming completely passive where he just lies inert while they perform their oral acts upon him. Otherwise, he is unable to function. Here is a typical example of the type of boy who is sought after by adult female pedophiliacs. He is normal in almost all respects except that his libidinal impulses have become fixated at the pure-physical level and he seeks satisfaction solely by means of his own orgasm. There is no emotion, no feeling of love or affection. One can only wonder at the fate of Barry and many others like him when he has passed his prime of life.
Will he then be able to reconcile with the obligations of masculinity?
Or will he experience a serious traumatic shock? Time will tell.
CHAPTER SEVEN
HOTELS FOR FEMALE PEDOPHILIACS
Money is not always the reason why some adolescents will offer themselves to older women. As we have seen in the preceding chapters, many such adolescents are throbbing with sexual virility and will leap at any opportunity (even homosexuality) as a means of enjoying release from carnal tensions.
In some situations, money is said to be the motivating factor; it is reasonable to believe that this is just balm for a guilty conscience. The adolescent soothes his pangs of guilt at letting a 45-year-old woman use his body, by saying that he needs the money. In a number of situations, this can be an acceptable excuse but one only wonders why such money-hungry youths do not seek extra employment or other nonsexual means for earning cash or bread!
Throughout the country there are various hotels in which divorced women, widows of all ages, single women, retired women, make their residence. Many such hotels are above reproach.
Many other hotels are sites for adult women pedophiles who have formed sexual "friendships" with the more virile page boys or bellhops. One such large hotel in a midwestern city will hire only the handsome looking boys and they have an age limit of 19. It was once noted that older bellhops of an ancient vintage age of "23" were unable to earn tips or even invited into a room. Many of the older women complained about such bellhops, lamenting about "poor service" or "rude" attitudes. This led the hotel to hire only apple-cheeked boys who would appeal to these warped women.
One such boy is:
ANDREW F., AGE 16. "I'm working my way through college prep. Yeah, I made it good and I'm just starting out. I need the money. I'm willing to do ANYTHING with any older woman because she's rich and can pay my way."
Andrew is tall for his age, about 6 feet and 1 inch. He had broad shoulders, a lean waist, flat buttocks, smooth limbs. He has an athletic gait when he walks that seems to "turn on" some of the older women in this hotel.
One such woman is 38 year old Dorothy. She never married; rumors exist that she is a lesbian but she has never invited any women to her hotel. She is still rather good looking yet she shuns male companionship.
"A few drinks and she's ready to do it all," the bellhops would joke in their smoke room. "Hey, Andy, she keeps giving you the eye. Whyn't you take her on?"
Andy shrugged. He had been working in this hotel a few weeks and had heard about providing "stud service" yet resisted. It is always difficult the first time for many such boys. "I don't know. Hey, you guys, what makes you think I'm a kook for these older creeps?"
"She'll make with the bread," one of the chubby bellhops rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "She'll pay for your clothes and things. I hear that dame's loaded. She inherited some money from another spinster sister. She's really got it."
"Then why don't you get it?" asked Andy, an idea forming in his head. "Why give her to me?"
"I don't dig some of her way out scenes, man. That's all. I've got enough with the schoolteacher in room 69. Man, she's got a mouth that makes me explode when she just breathes hot air on it."
"On what?" Andy raised his eyebrows, wondering what he was talking about.
The others laughed derisively. "Hey, this kid's a real virgin. Don't know nothing. What do you think a queer dame blows hot air on? The back of your hand?" Again, they laughed until Andy had to leave, flush-faced with embarrassment over displaying his lack of worldly masculine knowledge.
But the news that Dorothy was wealthy had an appeal to him. Andy had had very few experiences with girls. There had been no time, what with school and homework and then helping around the house. He often got so charged up, he had to resort to self-manipulation which always left him with guilt feelings. Yet he hardly knew any girls. Like many other youths of his age, much of the so-called sexual conquests existed in the fertile imagination. There were also problems of finding a girl and then being able to take her someplace. Rare was the hotel to admit a teen-age couple! Their parents were always home, so that was out. As for the family car, there were few places where a couple could have an all out "spike" session. So there was little alternative left to these hot-flush youths except the hand route.
When the opportunity came, Andy leaped and seized it. Money did influence him since he would need it for his college; he had to admit that money meant a lot to him. But he also wanted to cool the fires of his flesh.
Dorothy M., aged 38, was well-formed. She loved taking sunbaths on the terrace of her small apartment in the hotel. The terrace overlooked the rooftop of a small building. There were no prying eyes to see her. She loved the kiss of the sunshine on her naked breasts. She loved to part her thighs wide, to let her female genitalia yawn and gape to admit the licking rays of the warm sun. It was like no other sensation.
"Room Service?" She called early in the day. "I'd like to have Lunch sent up at about 2 o'clock. Oh, just a sandwich and some tea. That's all. Tell the boy to be prompt." She did not specify the boy since she always liked the element of surprise. "Thank you."
Since there was plenty of time, she decided to take a soothing sunbath on the terrace. Dorothy stripped down to her nude skin. She loved walking naked in the room; it gave her a sense of freedom; more correctly, it served as sublimation from her pent up tensions. She patted her inner limbs, cupped her two breasts and raised them up to her face.
She pinched her own nipples; shivering as little thrills ran through her breasts. When she let her tongue lap at the mountainous saucers, she felt a simultaneous shiver through her loins. She rubbed her engored pudenda and felt her clitoris tremble.
"None of that now," she admonished herself. "Don't go doing that."
She fought against the impulse to palm rub her clitoris until she had her orgasm; she walk-ed with a bouncy gait onto the terrace and stretched out on her lounge chair.
The morning was very warm with bright sunshine. She stretched, yawned leisurely and thrilled as the warming rays, as intimate as if a hand would be stroking, caressed her fleshy woman parts.
Her thighs parted and the kiss of the rays was a delicious thrill. "Ahhhhh, it feels so good." She kept thinking of the bellboy who would come to her. She hoped it would be a cute one with a nice body. A nice big boy! A hot one.
She was in a state of langour as she drifted off. She had no idea she was fast asleep until she felt a hand on her naked shoulder. It roused her with a start.
"What? Ohhhh, hey ... you...." In a flash, she came out of the foggy stupor of a deep sleep. The warmth of the sun had been as tranquil as the aftermath of a voluptuous orgasm. Instinctively, both of her hands flew to her groin to conceal the hirsute adorned mons veneris. A shock of flushed embarrassment that was with its attendant thrills swept through her. "Don't you believe in knocking, young man?"
She reached for a robe and put it around her suntanned body but not until she had let this tall, handsome young hotel page boy get a good glimpse of what many boys would give anything to see.
"I ... I knocked, madame," said Andy in an apologetic tone. "But there was no answer.
I used my passkey to come in here."
She was still flustered. "Well, you should have gone away if there's no answer."
He shook his head. He was aware of the way she kept looking him up and down, as if surveying a likely purchase or acquisition.
"Sorry, madame, but it's the rules of the hotel. We bring lunch on call and must leave it, even if we have to use the passkey."
She was still grouchy upon this rude awakening. "I know I know; then you put it on our bill even if we have to throw it out. Money, money, money." She got up and went to the bathroom to wash her face and hands. When she came out, Andy was standing there.
Now she looked at him with a better perspective. He was damn good looking. "How old are you?"
"I'm 16." He shuffled in his feet. He squared his shoulders, wanting to look masculine. "I'm going to prep school."
"Didn't you ever see a naked woman before? No? I guess not. Well, it's about time you saw one." She kept rattling on, while looking for a cigarette. Finding one, she stuck it in her mouth but then was unable to find any matches.
"Here," he fished one out of his tight pants. The motion caused his jacket to ride up. He caught the way she looked at his neat, trim pelvis. "I'll light it for you, madame."
She sucked in the tobacco smoke; it was just what she needed.
"What time are you off duty?" She was one to come right to the point.
It was an unwritten rule among the hotel's page boys that if one was propositioned by a hotel resident, he was to say he was already off duty. They would work out a balanced schedule later on.
"This is my last call, madame," politely.
She perched on the arm of a chair, crossed her legs, letting him see the insides of her smooth thighs. "Come here," she ordered.
"Yes, madame." He felt his heart thump. He was growing hot and perspiring over what would be his first experience.
"You're kind of cute." She put her hand on the nape of his neck, felt his tingle and she laughed. "Nice and cute. Then you best do what I say. Hear me? You'll do everything I tell you. I'll make it worth your while. If you don't, I'll take a belt to that nice bottom of yours." She patted his flinching bottom, making him all the more nervous. This pleased her. She preferred the "nervous" types because they were more sensitive to sexual overtures, they were also more aroused and more potent than the "cold" ones. She had had her share of those.
"Yes, madame," said Andy meekly, wondering just what was going to happen.
"Good, good; now you do exactly as I say. Let's have a few drinks."
With that, she got up, went to a closet, removed a bottle of hard liquor and two glasses.
She worked swiftly. She then added some ice cubes from a refrigerator. The clink sounded so friendly. She splashed liquor in the two glasses and offered one to the trembling Andy.
With a sudden gesture, she shrugged out of her robe, delighting in his shocked look. She smiled as she felt familiar trembles creep into her loins.
"Like it? Well, let's drink to this," she patted her mons veneris. "This is what you'll be having." They clinked glasses.
Unaccustomed to drinking, Andy gulped, sputtered as the hot liquid scorched his throat. "Whew. That's hot stuff," he spoke through constricted vocal chords. Watery eyes made the naked Dorothy seem like a blur. "Whew."
She smiled. Her thighs whispered. Her breasts bounced as she came toward him. "Put your hands over here." She shivered because his fingers were cold from the drink he had been holding. "Now, your fingers go in here...." She sucked in her breath as she felt the boy's strong fingers penetrating her vaginal tissues. "That's nice...."
He was glowing with inner warmth. At the same time, the woman smell of her with the peculiar vapours of the liquor conspired to make him stimulated. He knew he was swelling up and he had that agonizing feeling that he needed relief.
She was wise in the ways of impetuous adolescence and looked down. "All worked up, eh?
We'll have to do something about that." She patted his crotch, laughing as he flinched. Then she gasped. "You're quite a big boy. I hope I can take it all."
"I think you can, ma'am."
"I'll decide that," she snapped shortly. She continued fondling him. "Now, let's just see the rest of you."
She worked quickly with deft fingers, unbuttoning and unzipping. She gasped when she had him down to his shorts. He was a handsome looking young athletic type; similar to the college freshmen with the baby faces and man's bodies. She ran her fingertip up and around his nipples, then reached down, pulled the shorts ajar and inserted her hand in the warmth of his groin. He was all screwed up with tensions. Her hands played with his male flesh, then she brought it out.
"Ooooo," he gasped. It was the first time anyone had handled him like this. He felt like swooning from the sheer thrill of it all. He was burning up. His young body was glazed in a hot sheen of his boy sweat. "That's good," in a tight voice.
Dorothy still had her imperious attitude. "It'll be good if I let it feel good." With that, she pulled down his briefs, then ordered him to step out of them. "You've been fooling with it! No? Don't lie to me," she seized his scrotum, clutched his oval globes and held him prisoner. "I can tell. Well, don't you do such things. It's dirty." She stroked his shaft, slid his flesh up and down as he rocked on the balls of his feet. "Come closer."
When Andy was given permission to fondle Dorothy's body, he felt stabs of icy fingers on his vitals. "You're nice," he gasped. He fondled her breasts.
"Stroke me down there," she commanded. This was one reason she sought these boy innocents. She could dominate them and order them to do her bidding. It was unlike adult males who were worldly, sophisticated and knowledgeable. Only with these youths could she dominate the sexual scene. This was her compulsion. "That's it. Don't be afraid. It won't bite you."
"It's so ... hot...." He felt her mons veneris, then he parted her female "lips" and inserted his fingers deep into the hot, moist fleshly cavern. The wiry underbrush teased his own erect male flesh when he was pressed close. "Oooooo, I ... I...." He wanted to penetrate her. This would be his first time and he felt the fires burning with volcanic fury.
"Not yet." She pushed him away. "Just walk around. You've got some body, kid. It's like a young giant. Whew! That's nice bottom. Nice and tight." She fondled his buttocks, pried them apart, then inserted a finger.
He yelped. "No, no, take it out! It hurts!" He felt her finger penetrate in a tactile sodomy that he found revolting. "No, no, please, oh please don't do that." He was relieved when she withdrew with a laugh at his humiliation.
"Lots of the queers do that, Andy. Don't you let them do it. Well, go on. Do as I say. Walk around." She folded her arms over her cushion big breasts and watched the red-faced youth in his athletic gait as he walked around. It excited her to see naked boys in movement.
His erect phallus moved like a rapier with his other muscular appendages. His scrotum slapped against his perineum. His buttocks rose up and down in opposite unison. The crease lines dividing his buttock cheeks from the backs of his smooth naked thighs became very lascivious in licking shadows. He looked forlorn in his pent up anxiety.
"Now, come in here." She slapped him on the buttocks playfully as she followed this young stud into the bedroom. "On the bed."
The springs creaked as she spread out. She parted her limbs and said, "Get on top of me, Andy." She loved his warm, vibrant body. She hugged his muscular frame, thrilled to the way he was trembling. She ran her hands up and down his buttocks, fondled his crotch, then used her forefinger to ferret out those delicate parts that made him gasp and whimper.
"Ooooh, this feels good," in a tight voice as he now pressed between her thighs. "What'll I do now?"
"Just ease it slowly. Damn it, Andy, you're a big boy. Go slow or I'll scream." She poised herself. A second later, she was aware of fhe filling sensation. Bit by bit, the penetration continued until she felt the enormous power of him. "That's it. Now go slow ... in and out ... slow ... DAMMIT, I said SLOW!" she seized his thick hair, pulled his head back until he thought his hair would be ripped out by the scalp. "Now ... go easy ... this is going to last...."
Chastened, the boy gasped, "All right, all right, but don't hurt me."
Already, the die was cast. He realized his role was that of the younger, inexperienced, teen-age male stud. She was older, experienced and she dominated him. In a way, Andy found this pleasing. It relieved him of the pressure of having all the responsibility of being the male initiate.
The onslaught continued. Again and again, when Andy felt like screaming, he was ordered to halt. At long last, when every part of his body was tortured, he could not hold back.
"Now ... oh, please ... let me do it now ... yeeeee ... ooooo, it's ... it's...."
A hot flash fire spewed forth and Andy's body erupted in a blaze of sinews.
Gasping, Dorothy felt her own orgasm. She rubbed the boy's fast-moving buttocks. His gluteal muscles contracted and tightened with each eruption. She loved to feel the way the boy's smallish, well-formed rump kept up this rhythmic muscular exploration.
Over and over, the spasms rocked their bodies until they both lay spent.
When it was finished, she said shortly, "Just lick my breasts a little. You heard me! Lick them."
Meekly, he obeyed, taking each nipple in its turn, biting gently upon her orders. All the while, he was still imprisoned in her warm receptacle. The feeling was one of overall glowing warmth and pleasure. He loved lying here with this older woman. It was all so secure.
"That was good, Andy. Now, let's wash up. Then we'll have some of that lunch together. Afterwards, you may leave."
When Andy finally left, he did so with a twenty dollar tip in his pocket.
That was the start of it all. Andy soon learned there were many lonely older women who had a "hang up" on boys' bodies. It made them feel younger to conquer a youth by sexual means. He took advantage of them. He was able to earn enough for his tuition. But at the same time, his own sexual outlook became warped to the point where he was unable to establish rapport with a girl his own age.
His libido was fixated at the abnormal level of wanting an older dominant woman to guide him. He is not alone. There are many such Andy's who originally start out because of sexual curiosity. Then they become slaves of their own warped urges. Who is the winner? Perhaps it is the older woman! She has taken everything from the youths and given nothing in return.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HOOKEY SCHOOL PLAYERS AND THEIR OLDER PERVERTS
The image of the lecherous old man is that of a hawkish looking fiend who preys upon innocent girls and boys within reach of their school. He will taunt them with candy bars, then abduct them in his car to perform vile acts upon their virginal persons. To a certain extent, this is a valid image. But what of the lecherous woman? Little is said about her because the boys who become involved are usually a delicate 13 or 14 and too immature to realize the implications.
Many adult women will use excuses for loitering in areas where young boys will be available. These women are usually less noticeable because it is rare that they are apprehended. They are not considered as much a moral threat as lecherous men although there should be no differentiation between the sexes when it comes to impairing the sexual morals of a youngster.
Many neighborhood boys who play hookey from school will do so to meet an older woman who will then participate in a sex act with them. If blame is to be attached, it should be equal to both the older woman and the boy since both are aware of what is taking place. The older woman, of course, is to be held responsible since she is an adult and is more aware of the social consequences of an abnormal sex act with a youngster. Let us see who these neighborhood boys are and what they do when they are absent from school.
LESTER, AGE 14, UNDERSIZED YOUTH. This boy comes from an average family; his parents provide him with material possessions and give him a sense of security. He attends a good school, yet about once a month, he is absent. He cannot feign illness and remain at home since his parents will summon the doctor. Lester is undersized in the sense that his genitalia is of minute dimensions in comparison to the other boys in school. This has given him a feeling of inferiority.
Once a month, he must attend gymnasium; this means he has to undress, shower, expose himself before the other boys. As is customary, they will all examine one another nakedly and will make jeering taunts about one another's masculinity. This is a pretense to disguise their own feelings of self-consciousness but it can be most painful to an undersized youth.
Lester was ridiculed, called "tiny" or "runt" or "peewee" when the other boys saw his rather minute genitalia. He was 13 at the time and while still in the growing stage, it was difficult for him to understand that he would eventually catch up. All he knew was that the other boys jeered and taunted him about his masculinity, and this so hurt him that he dreaded the thought of having to go to gym.
He decided to play hookey; he would forge notes from his folks saying that he had been ill and was compelled to remain in bed. Now he would be able to avoid the jeering taunts about his maleness.
Lester was a slim boy, about five feet, four inches, dark blond hair and an angelic face framed with a sheepish scowl. He wore jeans and a T-shirt as he shuffled along a side street, just kicking at stones and wasting time on this one day out of school. He carried his books with him.
It was during this early morning that Mrs. Ethel Barber was driving from the supermarket. She had lived alone ever since she divorced her husband. There had been sexual incompatability. He was much older than Ethel (she was 41) and she had really married him for his money. Now she longed for the body of a younger man. She had gone to several summer resorts and met the young beach boy types but they had been too "commercial" and interested solely in her money.
She had often watched the slim-hipped youths from the nearby school. It set her on fire to think of their warm hands, their vibrant powers. The younger they were, she conjured a vision, the more responsive they would be. She kept imagining how some of them would look, naked and aroused. She would even speculate on the size of some of them.
Ethel went down the side street; that was when she saw Lester. Since school had already begun, why was this boy loitering with his books? She liked his baby face and his long legged appeal; he could have been a frisky colt. She felt her heart pound with anticipation. Maybe ... maybe....
"Need a lift?" she drove up beside him.
The boy turned his scrubbed face to her. "Aw, no. It's okay." As he walked on, Lester had a slight awareness of the way she was looking at him through the car window.
"Well, if you're not in school, maybe you can help me with these packages. I'll give you two dollars. Hop in, won't you?"
Lester still hesitated. He noted the woman looking very warmly at him. He had heard some snickers in the school that the boys often "had fun" with girls. Still, Lester had no idea what this nice looking lady really had in mind. "Two dollars?" The money appealed to him. More than that, he would be glad to get away from the school area. What if a truant officer saw him? "Okay, lady." He slid in on the front seat beside her.
"My name is Ethel." She patted his knee, noted his slight flinch. "What's yours?"
"Lester."
They drove in silence for a few blocks, then she came to her house. "Here we are. Mmmm, it's time for a little lunch. You'll join me, won't you, Lester?"
"Sure," he piped up. Then he helped her with several very light packages. He liked the house. It was warm and friendly and the taunts of his manhood seemed to be far away. "Your husband home?"
"No, silly boy," she laughed at his innocence. "My husband ... is away." She would not tell of divorce. This boy would not understand. "Now, let's just have some milk and cookies." She carried on a brief chat as she prepared everything. She found herself drawn to the boy. His slim body personified a youth that she had never possessed. Having married when she was about 18 or 19 to a man who was more than twenty years her senior, she had been denied the full fruits of youthful love. Now, in a bizarre manner, she was trying to recapture it with youth. Very young youth, at that. Lester would be the symbol of recaptured youth.
"How come you're not in school today?" she prodded gently. "Oh, I suppose like all boys, you play hookey." She laughed to make the bashful boy feel better. "You're not going to learn much if you don't go to school." Then in a gender tone. "Is there anything the matter?" She crossed both arms across her ample bosom, let the big mounds press against the silken fabric of her bodice. She had a magnificent pair of breasts with nipples that pointed like fingers. She caught the way the boy's deep dark eyes were gazing at them.
"Well," he licked his lips nervously, "I do not like to go to gym." Then, he was telling her in halting tones. "The guys in my class, they see me in the shower and laugh at me." He was red-faced and embarrassed. "They call my Tiny."
Ethel might have laughed but the seriousness of the boy and the situation precluded mirth. "Aww, boys can be cruel. But it can't be what they say. I know lots of girls would like someone like you." She ruffled his hair and made him smile. "I'm a girl, too. I'd like you."
The boy looked embarrassed. "I don't know." He was at the age where words were difficult. Thoughts, however, were turbulent and he felt a heat in his groin. "I don't fool too much."
Ethel leaned closer and now she gathered his face in her hands. "You darling boy. You shouldn't listen to those boys. You are very nice." Her lips were on his. There was some confusion. Lester, apparently, did not know how to kiss since he had never kissed a girl before. Ethel taught him by saying, "Just open your mouth, Lester."
His mouth opened and Ethel's tongue darted in. Their tongues fenced. At the same moment, Ethel's hand went down to the boy's crotch and she fondled the bulge that was swelling up at an instant's caress. The two tongue-fenced while the older woman stroked the whimpering boy between his thighs. Then she moved away.
"Would you like to show me?"
He bit his lower lips. Lester's heart thumped wildly. Except for gym, he had never let anyone see him naked. He had an erection and it embarrassed him. It was precisely this shy embarrassemnt that appealed to this 41-year old female pedophile. It symbolized boy virginity and the epitome of all she had been denied when she married an older man.
Also, she had nightmares about having wasted her years; she thought herself to be an old woman. The only way she could cling on to her vision of fast-fleeting youth was to drink the nectar of a young boy. This would restore her self-confidence. Never a thought of what it might do to the boy!
"Well, I don't know...." He could not look directly at the older woman. "I mean, I never...."
"Don't be ashamed. You're going to like it. You'll see." She took his hand, led the boy into the bedroom. "Here, see?" It was dark and cool in the simply furnished bedroom. A huge double bed dominated the scene. "Now, let's undress."
"I don't know," he stammered shyly, just standing there, looking slim and terrified. He kept staring at the floor, too shy to look at her. "I mean, it's not nice."
"We'll make it nice." By now, Ethel was so aroused, she wanted to cover this boy with her mouth. "Just take off your clothes." Seeing that he still hesitated, she fumbled with his pants and before he could dart away, the pants were down around his knees. Ethel gaped to see the boy's pristine pure genitalia. She flew into a wild excitement. "Ooooo, this is nice." She reached between his thighs and cupped his scrotum. "This is nice and big," she emphasized the last word.
"It feels good," he gasped. It was the first time anyone had ever touched him. "Rub your hands over the top here."
She laughed at his directness. Youth, youth so unblemished.
"All right, but your clothes will get all wrinkled. So will mine." With that, she yanked up his T-shirt, up over his head. A moment later, she had denuded him completely.
She could hardly work her fingers with her own dress; Ethel was so excited over the prospect of this 14-year young conquest. At long last, she shed her garments, having slid down her pink panties.
"Do you like this?" She took Lester's resisting hand and placed it on the lower slope of her belly, then forced his fingers into the triangular thatch. "Ahhhh, you have such nice hands. Boys always do." She had to hold him since he was so rigid with shy fear. "Just put your fingers in here ... oooooo, rub the little button. See? This is called a clitoris."
"Clit ... clitoris," he stammered boyishly.
She laughed as she moved her head down, then her tongue snaked out. "Lovely boy. So pure. So young. Like cream." Her tongue tortured the pent up boy, over the length of his aroused boy flesh, while her fingers dallied his oval spheres and stroked the soft underside of his scrotum. She fingered his smooth perineum, making him wince.
They made it to the bed. She would first manipulate him, then she would initiate him into having his first session. She had to self-admit that Lester was small. Maybe glands or hormones. But he was undersize. Still, it was exciting, in a strange warped manner.
"Now, just lie on top of me." She had to guide the frightened boy. "Ooooo, you're trembling." She ran her hands over his slim back, down to his very small buttocks. He had very little hair anywhere; only in his crotch was a small down of very white blond. His boyhood was as smooth as alabaster and as resilient as silk. He was still in his pre-pubertal throes of growth. This added to the excitement.
"What do you want me to do now?"
Ethel felt her blood pounding. She nuzzled her face in the boy's hair and hugged his slim, alive body. "Ooooo, you precious darling. You're like a little doll and I love you." She fondled and stroked him until she felt that he would be unable to control himself. Youth. So impetuous. Just a few touches and they were ready to go off.
With a fleeting pang of bitterness, she recalled how her husband had taken ages of manipulation to get excited. She might as well have married some aged eunuch. If only she had married youth. She had married for money but that was no sexual consolation.
"Just move over here. Ahhhhh, you have a nice body, Lester." She would have loved any boy who was virile and alive. "Well, put your arms around me. Play with my breasts. Ooooo, you are good. Twist the nipples. Put your mouth down there. Kiss the nipples."
Dutifully, the boy opened his hot young mouth. His teeth scraped against the older woman's nipples. It made her shiver with needle-sharp-excitement. "That's it, darling. Oooo, you're a wonderful boy. Bite my nipples!"
Lester found himself liking this form of oral love; although he was too young to perceive the means of stimulation, he knew solely that it provided pleasure. He used his boy's mouth from one breast to the next, loving this fun.
"Now ... what'll I do next?"
She loved guiding him. Like almost all female pedophiles, she delighted in innocent youth who sought direction. That way, she could inveigle him into debauched acts that might be shunned by adult males. In this case, Ethel had no craving for abnormal methods but many pedophiles specialize in them.
"Just move here. Ahhhhh, that's the way." She saw the way the boy propped himself up on his thin elbows. Such a slender body. His nipples were still surrounded with baby fat. His flesh was pink and smooth, without any hair. Even his armpits were pinkishly soft and naked. "You're nice." She reached down and stroked his erect flesh. She cupped his smallish testicles and then she felt the whimper that warned her this might end too abruptly.
She pushed him toward the target. "Now, just slide in easy, Lester, baby." She knew he did not like the appellation "baby" but it had slipped out. "That's it ... oooo, it feels nice." She had to tighten her vaginal muscles. There was a coital constriction and she now possessed the boy's immature flesh. It felt just wonderful. "Slide ... in and out ... slide...." She nuzzled his ear, let her tongue slosh out of his ear drum. She nibbled on his ear drum.
"It feels good. It feels nice," he made a shy laugh It was evident he was thrilled. His first time! With a 41-year old woman! But all he knew was that it felt good! He jackknifed his young body with a strange instinct. He gasped as he followed the ritual. His testicles slapped against her crotch as he twisted. There were several thrusts. He hurtled all the way and felt his boy flesh immersed in hot moist walls. There was a sudden shooting flame and he erupted.
"Ohhhh, something's ... it's ... ohhh-ohhhh," the boy whimpered as he felt shooting spasms tear through his innards.
"Let it come out ... that's it...." Ethel was delirious with sensual joy at the hot spurts that seemed to pervade her every tissue and cell. "Ooooooh, that's it ... that's it...."
The two of them bounced up and down on the bed. They rocked with the explosive climax of their lust. They breathed and gasped and emitted bizarre sounds of the peak of their carnal craving.
All too soon, the spurts ended and the boy was depleted. He just lay atop the warm Ethel, feeling her breasts, shivering slightly.
Ethel felt as if she had had the voluptuous experience of a lifetime. She hugged the boy. She, too had erupted and it was this simultaneous climax that made her thrill as if this had indeed been the best of everything.
"Now, Lester wasn't that good?"
"Yes. It felt good," piped up the boy.
"Then you are a good boy. I'll give you more than two dollars."
"It's okay." He was not like other boys who acted like male studs in exchange for money. "I kind of liked it." He waited until he was told to wash up. Then his young, wiry body moved across the room. He could have been the boy-lover she always wanted.
Before they parted, Ethel hugged the boy while stuffing several dollars into his pocket. "Now remember, Lester not a word to anyone about this. Also, I want you to go to school. No more playing hookey."
"When can I come here again?"
She was thrilled with his boyish innocence. "Darling, you can come here some evening. We'll be alone. Just tell your parents you're going out for a while for a walk. You mustn't deceive them by saying you go to school when you don't."
There were several other pedophiliac experiences and then Lester no longer came to Ethel. She might have expected that the boy's conscience matured so that he felt guilty about this liaisons. She sighed as she went in her car, some months later, and started looking for other boys.
Perhaps a runaway.
CHAPTER NINE
HOW SOME BOYS EARN ALLOWANCE MONEY AS STUDS
Here is what one young boy has to say about his experiences as a stud service for an older woman.
ARTIE, AGE 15 SCHOOLBOY. "I know lots of us skip school for a day and make the scene with some guy's wife. I don't get much allowance. So when I met this 38-year old dame when I was walking along, I figured this is the way to make money. Lots of the guys do it. I don't mind doing what she asks."
Artie is a good-looking boy of just 15. He has matured early. Unlike the preceding case study of Lester (in which the taunts and feelings of inadequate manhood led to his eventual capitulation), this boy had enviable masculine powers. He has matured and developed ahead of others.
His parents give him minimal amounts of money; they have five other youngsters so Artie gets a bare amount. He also receives virtually no attention since the household is crowded with all the children vying for affection. This may have been a motivating factor in his seeking older women as a parent-substitute.
"I wanted to buy some of the new clothes the other guys are wearing in school, but my old man is always raving about how much it costs to feed us and all that kind of stuff. He don't even know much about what I wear so I figured it would be easy to hustle (slang expression for prostitution whether with a male or a female) some guy and then buy what I wanted.
"Yeah, I used to hang out in the movie house balconies a lot. I'd meet some queer who would go down on me (slang expression for fellatio or mouth-genital contact, a method of perversion practiced by many homosexuals) and he'd slip me a coupla bucks.
"But I figured it was too queer. I didn't dig that stuff. Then I was once hitching a ride and this dame comes along. She was about 38 or so. Her name was Flora Nelson. She was married.
She had a wedding ring around her finger. At first, I was scared. I mean, I didn't want to fool with a guy's wife. What if he caught me? Man, he might beat me up!
"But Flora said that her husband worked all day long; if I could come to her house, she'd show me a good time. She said I could use some new clothes and she'd pay for them. That's how it began."
Young Artie may have used money as balm for his guilt feelings or conscience. Obviously, he is seeking a sexual thrill, and a possible adult-substitute for attention.
Since Artie had to see Flora during the daytime, it meant he had to cut classes in school. He lived in a depressed-factory area of the country where classes were overcrowded with limited facilities. It was comparatively easy for him to just take the day off and nobody would notice; the teachers would probably be relieved at the reduced pressure with absent students. The arrangement was convenient.
Artie was sexually precocious for his 15 years of age. When he first came to Flora, he had what she sought. A virile young physique with developed masculinity. He knew the score and he was only too eager to participate in debauchery to get his allowance money and also to experience forbidden thrills.
"You're such a big boy for your age." Flora admired him as she unbuttoned his shirt. "Mm-mm, you've got a nice body. Do you excerise?"
She continued denuding him. (In most cases of pedophilia, the boy is usually the passive partner, waiting for the woman to direct and lead. This often creastes a warped male attitude that conditions the male to follow this same inert procedure in normal relationships. It often leads to impotence if the partner is unable to take the lead normally relegated to males.) "You have such strong muscles."
He laughed as he felt her hands on his upper chest, playing with his nipples, then going down his side, to his waist. "Naw, I don't dig that gym stuff. But I guess I don't need it. I got a big muscle where it counts." He laughed again.
"Let's soon find out." The older woman's eyes were glazed. She breathed in shallow gasps as she opened the boy's pants, then inserted her hands onto his groin. She felt his shiver. She heard his gasp. Her fingers played with his navel, then she tangled in his pubic hair. She found his phallus and when her fingertips stroked, there was a gasp.
"Hey, that feels good. Want to pull down my pants?" He went rigid when he felt his pants sliding down. "Rub your hands over it."
She willingly cupped his flesh, felt the enormous swelling. She was hysterical with joy as she chortled, "Oh you're so big. So 'clean,' too."
He arched his eyebrows as he wiggled his hips so his pants could go all the way down. When he kicked them away, he stood nudely before her like a young Apollo. "Whatcha mean by 'clean'?"
The older woman was obsessed with fascination by the boy's smooth skin, the slight ripple of the sinews as she stroked his resilient bronzed flesh. He was so firm. He was virile so that when she cupped his scrotum, he was about to go off.
"What's that? Oh, it means they took this off when you were a baby." She fingered the extreme end of his shaft, and encircled the perineum. It made him sputter. She tweaked the glans corona to further torture-tease him. His testicles swung with his movements. He exuded a fascinating boy sweat aroma that she felt excited to inhale. "See? They cut it off. Some boys have a skin but they usually take it off boy babies these days."
It made him feel slightly embarrassed to hear such intimate talk, despite their intimate circumstances. But all he did was say, "Can you sort of lick it?" He was actually whining with yearning as he moved his pelvis closer to get the feel of her warm hands. "Some guys did it to me," in a throaty voice.
"Just a minute."
When she released Artie, she heard his sigh of dislike. She had to laugh. "I sure wish my old man would be hot like you. I can't get enough of it. That's why I like you young stuff. Always hot. Well, hold on a bit, kid. I'll get to it."
She worked swiftly, undressing herself. Nude, Flora showed a rather firm body but with growing corpulence. She thrilled at exhibiting herself before the boy. He took in her nudity. She pointed to her breasts. "Here, play with them. Come on, do I have to tell you what to do?"
Reluctantly, the passive Artie fondled her big breasts; in school, the kids were always whispering smutty jokes about a woman's top parts. Now that he had them, he did not get the thrill out of them as he had hoped. But he would not let on.
"They're nice," he said in a false tone of excitement. He hefted them up. He heard her say, "Just lick them underneath and then I'll do it to you."
He looked unhappy. He did not care for this type of foreplay. Already, he had been so conditioned for passive reception, he could not accept the normally aggressive role in normal sexual activities.
"Well, okay, but we better hurry. This damn thing," he rapped his thick lance, "is as hard as a rock!"
His mouth found the underside of Flora's breasts and his tongue explored the creamy sections. He felt distaste at it all. The acrid odour of her woman sweat was offensive. Another man might have thrilled at it but Artie had been conditioned to passive eroticism and being the recipient of attention and could not share the role with anyone.
She loved it and guided his head until he pulled away. "What'sa matter?" she demanded angrily. "Lots of guys would give their (vernacular for testicles) to get at these two big ones."
"I can't hold back," in a tight voice. He clutched his sexual parts. "C'mon, please...."
They did it on the couch. For some unexplainable reason, Flora did not want any boy in the bed she shared with her husband. It was sacrilege in her warped attitudes. This is an example of the peculiar set of values many perverts place on material things.
As Artie sprawled on the couch, Flora mouthed him; she used her mouth and tongue and teeth, biting, torturing, provoking him until he was ready to burst.
The boy's supple, vibrant young body was glazed with excited perspiration. Even his nipples stuck out. "Now, Flora, oh please ... ahhhh, that's it...."
They were silent as Flora mouthed and imprisoned the hot flesh in her cool oral cave. She tortured with her tongue. In a matter of seconds, the throbbing and contortions and the wave of muscular spasms told her the peak was at hand.
"Yea ... ohhhhh...." Artie reared up and bucked forth. The blood pounded in his head. His nostrils were drenched. His throat felt constricted. "Ohhhhhh...." He reared and then heaved as he felt the gushing proof of his power.
Spasm after spasm rocked his loins. He felt the blood pounding heat of it all as every nerve screamed for relief. Then, as the backbreaking wrenches eased up, he slumped back on the couch.
Flora still mouthed him even though he gasped and shivered from the raw nerve exposure. At long last, she released him. A few moments later, after washing up, they sat naked while drinking coffee.
"You're going to rub me a little," she said casually. "I wish you'd go all the way. What are you scared of? I told you I take the pill." Truth was, Flora was too old to become pregnant but she would not admit this to the boy. "What's wrong?"
Artie was still too young to consider himself warped because of his inability to effect normal intercourse. "I just don't want to get into trouble."
Actually, the few times he had tried to create coitus, he had been embarrassed by a receding power. His young virility ebbed and faded during penetration. Years later, he might become impotent with normal methods but virile when made the passive recipient of an act of fellatio. But right now, he was solely concerned with physical satisfaction and did not bother himself about the future.
"Rub me," she took his hand. She liked this boy's handsome good looks, with the dark hippie-like hair combed over his forehead, the pug nose, the high cheekbones. She likes the shape of his nice chest, the thick biceps, the casual innocence of the massive male power he possessed. She thrilled at rubbing her hands up and down those marble smooth and firm thighs. Above all, Flora was always thrilled to hold and fondle his massive male flesh. The kid must have been like a mule and the beautiful part of it all was his innocence of it! This added up to a fresh stud! But if only he could do it to her the regular way....
"That's it," she sighed as she imprisoned his hand in her channel by locking her thighs. Even his arms and hands were strong, precociously developed. "Use two fingers. OOOOooo, slide them ... rub my button. You know where it is. I showed it to you."
"I know, I know," the boy piped up. "I'll rub it." But it was this part that he disliked. He could only be serviced; he did not serve. Yet he had to go through with it. "How's that? Feel good?"
He had grasped her clitoris in his fingers and was twisting and rubbing, feeling it swell. He could tell by the dazed expression that this old dame liked it. Well, he figured he had to earn his bread. He'd do this if it worked her up. Maybe she'd give him more than the four bucks she usually paid. Man, he needed it.
"Ahhhh, rub it ... rub it...." She moved on the hassock beneath him and tried to simulate the rhythmic pelvic contortions of intimacy. She closed her eyes. She had to rub her swollen nipples, picking up the huge balloons and letting them roll around on her expansive rib cage. "Awwwww, ahhhhh, it's good ... ooooo," she sucked in her breath. "Keep on, rub the button, slide it around...."
"Hurry up, will you," Artie was getting-impatient. He started when her hand snaked out and gripped his part-flaccid flesh and started to slide. "Hey...."
"Go on, go on...."
Artie rubbed her sweaty flesh until the older woman gasped and declared in a delicious expression, "It's going to ... ooooOOOOO, yeeeee!!!" She all but leapt upwards when the first spasm hit her. "Yeeee!!!" She was hysterical with joy when the series of ache-pleasures tore through her loins. She had never felt it so good.
Much later, she gave Artie his money, patted his bottom, kissed him even though he usually disliked this part and said, "Give me a call and we'll set up another date."
"Sure."
"Don't go wasting this," she patted his bulge. "I mean, don't go playing with it."
Artie flushed red at this. "Aw, I don't do that kid stuff." He was always embarrassed by this suggestion.
"Well, I'll find out next time. You better save it for me."
There were other "next times" with Artie and other boys from the area. Flora Nelson kept everything quiet but it must have been a snoopy neighbour who saw boys coming and going and notified the husband. This was done by means of an anonymous call or letter to his factory It was enough to make him suspicious so that one afternoon, he hid himself in the shubbery to watch and wait. Nothing happened.
He decided it was just a neighbour's stupid prank. But when he received another note, he felt he had to do something to decide once and for all if his wife was cheating on him, and with young boys, at that!
The second time when he hid himself, he was astonished to see his wife opening the door to greet a tall, lean boy about 15 or 16. The kid even had his schoolbooks with him!
Now the husband was aroused. Hell hath no greater fury than a cuckolded husband. He waited until he saw the parlor lights go out. Then he sneaked up and peered into the window.
There was his wife, nude except for her black nylons and garter belt to match. And to think of it-he had worked overtime to earn enough to buy her that outfit!
He could hear the two of them.
The boy was completely naked; his pink buttock cheeks, naked rear thighs, the pendulous perpendicular stout log was being fondled by Flora. The boy was saying, "Rub it with your panties. I like it. OOOO, it feels nice, the silk it good...."
The boy was erupting into hysterical spasms when Flora laughingly rubbed the taut stretch of silk panties over and under his erect phallus, just as if she were "polishing" it. The boy Was all screwed up with electrifying bolts of pleasure tearing through his flesh.
Just as Flora was about to kneel, to mouth the boy, her enraged husband stormed into the house. "Damn queer!" he shouted to the shocked couple. "I'll fix you!"
He seized a butcher knife. He lost control and chased after the screaming naked boy. There were more screams as the butcher knife hacked at the boy's groin and then emasculated him. Blood gushed forth as the dismembered erect phallus was sliced off and rolled on the floor. The boy screamed from the shock of the pain; as he collapsed, his testicles were severed by the enraged husband.
Neighbours heard the ruckus and the authorities were summoned. Too late. They found a dismembered boy, dying on the floor, clutching a gaping hole where once had been his sex organs. They found a hacked and dead wife. The husband had gone out of his mind. It had snapped.
He sat on the floor, gibbering to himself. He never recovered from this daze. He had to be incarcerated in a mental hospital for the criminally insane.
So we can see that pedophilia has its punishments of violence.
There are mental as well as physical retributions in any of these situations. Some may escape public notice; but the mental punishments are often as serious as the physical ones. The parties involved may have their libidinal instincts fixated at this warped level and this may erupt into serious psychoses in later years. Any form of abnormal satisfaction carries with it the penalty of complete aberrational compulsive behaviour.
A penalty, by any other name, is still a penalty.
CHAPTER TEN
THE BOYS WITH STRANGE COMPULSIONS
Many of the boys who seek out older women are victims of peculiar cravings. It is true that the female pedophiles are usually the ones who possess unnatural and abnormal urges that can be practiced with younger and more impressionable males. But the boys, themselves, are often victims of their strange longings and they become vulnerable for the older pedophile. Here are several situations that reflect the social system of our modern age in which it is considered to be "in" when you are weird.
JEROME, AGE 15, EXHIBITIONISTIC FETISHIST. When he was very young, Jerry recalls that he was always being caressed with a silky bloomer or else with some soft and titillating fabric. He knows when he was about 10, he and several other boys exhibited themselves nakedly to a few girls who were subsequently shocked into telling their parents.
"My mother spanked me," he says. "She pulled down my pants and spanked me right on my bare bottom. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would; instead, it kind of felt good."
First impressions often create an indelible fixation to some youngsters. Although this is not a rule, it is seen to hold true with many youngsters who grow up with longings for such aberrations as exhibitionism, fetishism, spanking and forms of sado-masochism and flagellomania. Some youngsters are able to adjust to a normal sex life. Many others are unable to do so and in an effort to find some measure of release, they seek an outlet with older women.
Jerome is a handsome boy, with a smooth face that has just the trace of down on his upper lip. He was so impressed with the reactions of being spanked (the rhythmic involuntary contraction of the buttock's gluteal muscles are identical with the same tightening and opening in the rhythm of ejaculation) that he sought to have greater punishments.
"I always get hard when I'm spanked," he admits. "Also, I like to feel silk stockings rubbed against 'it' when someone plays with me.
"I once told a girl about it and she laughed it off. I figure if I can get an older woman who understands, she'll go along with it."
Jerome looks like a quiet, studious boy with a cowlick over his scalp, a polite attitude. This makes him a pleasing choice for female pedophiles who are often frightened of rough-looking boys.
"It was in a library once where I met this woman. She dropped a book on the floor and I picked it up. I got an eyeful of her silk stockings and her panties. She caught the look and said, 'Would you want to join me for coffee?' Just like that. Later, I found out she liked the young boys and was always doing things to attract them."
Jerome and this woman, who was about 42, but extremely good looking and well preserved for her age went to her small apartment at the other side of town. She drove him there, chatting idly, telling him that she liked polite boys. She promised to "treat him right" and later, she kept her promise.
"We can do whatever you like," she urged him in her apartment. "What do you want, Jerry?"
He was shy, at first. "Well, could I take off my clothes and just walk around like that?" He was red-faced when the request was blurted out. "I mean, I feel all excited like that."
She was visibly aroused, too. Her face was flushed. "Of course. It's exciting to see a naked boy. Want me to take off my clothes, too?" She lifted up her dress, exposing her shapely thighs and pink panties. She fondled her crotch. "I'll show this to you."
He felt deflated. "Unh, no, not you. I like it better if I'm the only one nude."
Like most exhibitionists, Jerome derived a sensual thrill if he was the only naked one. There is a lessening of excitement if others are nude. This detracts from the main focus of attention upon the exhibitionist.
She pulled down her dress. "Of course, Jerry. Go right ahead." She felt a dizzying sense of elation. She had never before come across such a boy and it was thrilling.
Slowly, Jerry removed his clothes. He did it with a strange precision. Everything was methodical. Now, he was nude except for his briefs. The enormous protrusion gave evidence of his arousal. He was breathing shortly; his gasps were shallow. His flushed face betrayed his mounting excitement. His throat was constricted.
"How do you like me?" in a stammering voice. He slithered out of his briefs. Then he just stood there, nude and vibrant. "Like me?" He craved affection and attention.
"You're wonderful."
The older woman was dazed with his boyish purity. Jerome had a neat whipcord physique, with chiselled features, smooth skin and just the barest trace of down on his limbs. His boyhood flesh was rigid red and throbbing. A slight thatch emphasized the promise of vigorous manhood. His pendulous scrotum shook with his motions.
"Turn around," she said. Happily, he obeyed.
She ran her hands across his naked shoulders. The kid had a neat build. She fondled his lower back, went down his indented spinal column, then to his boy buttocks. These were small and tight.
"Like this?" she whispered as her fingers found his anal gorge, then she reached between his naked rear thighs and cupped his scrotum. "Feel good?"
He was shivering and trembling. He kept swallowing nervously as he turned around, his enormous male shaft now exposed to her manipulations. "Would you rub it? No, I mean, with something silky."
She was slightly taken aback. "Oh? Do you like silk things? Maybe you want to wear panties? Let's try it. Bet it'll be fun." She was eager to participate in any deviation with the boy. This was too good to believe.
"All right," in a quiet voice.
She rubbed his rigid phallus with a silk stocking, then her eyes glazed as she saw how rigid and stiff he became when she used a silk panty to fondle him further. When she helped him into a pair of pink panties, the abrasion against her nerve-drenched male flesh made him yelp, "Oooooo, it's gonna come out...." With that, he erupted in a series of shudders that caused the eruption and a copious flow to wet the panties. He was gasping and sputtering as he felt the older woman clutch the panty covered damp organ. "I ... I couldn't help it." He was embarrassed.
She frowned. "I wanted to kiss it," she was obviously disappointed. "But Jerry, you must learn to control yourself if you want to have fun. This is nice if you use it to become excited; but the best fun is when...." She used lewd terms to describe coitus and fellatio. "Next time, we'll do it that way."
There were other times. Always, Jerry thrilled at being able to parade around, entirely nude. It was one way of arousing his ardor. But he always needed the fetish-stimulation of either having his privated rubbed with silk or else just wearing silky panties.
"I like it better if they're used panties," he confessed. "I like the feel of it better."
The older woman indulged his every wish; she liked this unusual boy and in other experiences, she taught him the art of fellatio-cunnilingus. She teased him and said she would spank him if he did not perform oral-acts upon her genitalia.
"No, no, I won't do it," he play-acted as he protested. "You can't make me lick it."
"Yes I can." With that, she seized him, turned him over her lap and started to spank him hard on his silken covered boyish buttocks. He yelped as he felt his blood surging and the throbbing pound of an erection. The woman called out, "Are you going to lick me or not?"
"No, no...." Then he yelped as the hard-as-leather palm punished him.
Eventually, he capitulated. That was how the 15 1/2 year old boy was "forced" into cunnilingus upon the 42-year old woman. He was masochistic enough to derive gratification by being punished into this act.
The woman doted upon her little naked lover and indulged his every whim. She once gave him some money and this led to the scandal that followed.
His parents found the money and demanded to know where it had come from. After much pressure, he confessed that he had been going to "a woman" and she gave it to him.
The authorities were notified and the woman was arrested. Because of the embarrassing circumstances, everything was hushed up; the woman had to leave the city. The boy was given intensive psychotherapy and it is hoped that he will be able to overcome this isolated form of sexual stimulation: that of fetishism and spanking. But it is reasonable to believe that the woman pedophile is in another city and is contributing to the debauchery of another boy. Who is to blame? There is no compulsion on either part. We can only wonder at the exigencies of voluntary perversions!
EDDIE R., 16, A SPANKING ENTHUSIAST. As the only boy in a family of six girls, Eddie was the youngest and always subject to discipline. The older sisters would soundly spank him for being naughty. This may have led to his liking for such a form of tactile stimulation. There were times when he would spank an older woman and derive a reasonable meassure of excitement.
He met one older woman in a bookshop. He was looking among the paperback section when he spied the small photo-novel booklets that showed spanking in action. Just when he wanted to buy one, he heard the woman say, "You're under age, young man. They won't let you buy that."
He was embarrassed. Until now, he had never let anyone know his secret inclinations. Neither had he found anyone, until now, who would accommodate his yearnings.
"Well, it's okay but...."
"I'll buy it for you." She looked him up and down as do most female pedophiles, as if appraising his sexual values. She liked his clean cut looks and slim body. He looked like a young yearling with power in his blood. His face was not necessarily handsome but his boyishness made him appealing. He had fire-red hair that added to his appeal. "Oh, don't give me the money. I'll be glad to get it for you."
She purchased the small photo-book for two dollars and met him outside by a prearrangement. Timidly, he took the book. Then she asked him, "Are you interested in discipline?"
He was perspiring nervously. "Well, sort of." He thought that everyone was listening and cast nervous, shy glances at unconcerned passersby. "I mean...."
"Would you like to talk in a restuarant? Come along, and we can talk. I don't like to eat alone. Be my guest."
That was how young Eddie came to participate in spanking sessions with 40 year old Phyllis B., a retired schoolteacher.
"I believe in proper punishment." She would force the boy to bend over, hold his ankles with his pants dropped down. "Now, you count as I whack you with this paddle."
The room echoed with the loud crack-thwacks of the paddle on the boy's smooth bottom. Each paddle-whack so provoked Eddie that he felt the familiar warnings of an emission. He kept counting until, when the older woman and ex-teacher, fondled his warm flesh.
"We'll have to do something about that."
Some times she would mouth him until he reached his climax. Other times, she would show him how to penetrate her in an act of intercourse. Always, the ex-teacher would dominate Eddie as to the method of sex. He obeyed. Here we can see that the seeds of masochism were sprouting into compulsive aberrational behaviour.
There were times when Eddie would be spread-eagled nakedly and then flogged with a belt. He would whimper and cry out. The sting of the lash only provoked his libidinal impulses; this catered to his masochistic urges.
The sessions had to end because a new curriculum was established at Eddie's school; it meant he would have to take physical training. In athletic shorts and shirt, he would reveal the welts on his body. Unhappily, it ended for Eddie and the older woman.
We can reasonably assume that once Eddie is out of school, he will seek out other women for this strange compulsion. Why does he prefer older women? Like many of the other boys, he says, "I can't ask a girl my own age to spank me. She'd think me weird. An older woman is more understanding."
NED, AGE 15, CAT O' NINE TAIL ENTHUSIAST. There are reasons for young Ned's lust for the legendary cat o' nine tails. He remembers reading scenes of shipboard punishments when he was much younger; he gloried in seeing such scenes in films and on television. Much of his background suggests his being guilt-drenched about sex. Punishment thereby relieves this guilt feeling because Ned uses the narrow-minded logic that he was forced into the sex act by being flagellated.
Ned has a difficult time finding older women to use this hideous cat o' nine tails.
"They're afraid when I tell them that's what I want. I met one woman in a restaurant and after we got to talking, I told her she could tie me up. Nothing to be scared of. Many think I want to do it to them. That's why I bring leather straps. I love getting all tied up."
On one occasion, Ned met a handsome homosexual male, about 30, who took him to his apartment.
"He whipped me until I couldn't stand it. Then he (vernacular for sodomy) and I thought he would split me in half. He didn't do anything else to me except a hand job." (Vernacular for masturbation.) "He did it to me while I was tied to some steam risers. That's all. I figured he'd at least use his mouth on me or let me spike him. But no. He didn't want it. He said he liked to whip boys. After that, I kept away from queers."
He's had several women who whipped him but he admits, "They didn't go for it too much.
I know there must be a million women around who'd do anything to whip me but I can't find them. I'm kind of cute. I guess I'm something special. Where else can you get a 15-year-old kid who digs the whip stuff? But where can I get a woman who will play the game with me?"
We can thus surmise that if guilt is to be attached, the boys and the older women are equally to blame. As stated earlier, most of these liaisons are voluntary and this is one reason why so little is ever discovered. In order to avoid embarrassment to the young boy, the outraged parents (upon discovery) keep the scandal as quiet as possible. It is hoped they will learn from this bitter experience and see to it that their youngsters are given normal sexual education.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE DOMINANT NURSE AND TEEN-AGE BOY PATIENTS
There are many dominant, aggressive type of women who seek out specific occupations which will give them an outlet for their peculiar compulsions. Typical occupations will include being a nurse or a female doctor, a supervisor in an establishment of boys, an overseer of some all-male type of enterprise, even a female photographer who is then able to compel her male models (many female photographers specialize in nude photography) into embarrassing positions.
The dominant nurse is typical because she has a legitimate and logical excuse for examining her patients and otherwise fondling them. Many such dominant nurses will specialize in treating pubertal boys. The boys are at a very sensitive and impressionable age and more responsive to appearing nude before a woman. Many of them have never displayed themselves nudely before any female so the dominant nurse has them in her aggressive clutch.
Typical of the dominant nurse is the case history that follows. Bertha C, age 42, is a registered nurse with many years of experience. She works closely with recognized physicians, takes tests and examinations which she then sends to the laboratories. She is an extremely capable female nurse and this is the reason for her lucrative practice. She specializes in conducting tests upon adolescents and emphasizes her ability with boy adolescents. In one such situation, she shows how she is able to give vent to her repressed sexual desires.
It might be added that Bertha is a latent female homosexual. She has had several lesbian experiences and while she found them satisfactory, she was beset with feelings of guilt that obviated a pattern of homosexuality.
"I like the young boys because of their resemblance to girls," she said candidly. "In a way, I like to feel boys as they experience their orgasm during intercourse; also, I like to use my mouth on them. I suppose it's a form of wish-fulfillment in that I do not have girls so I take the closest possible resemblance."
One young boy was referred to her for the purpose of having his blood pressure and heart tested; it was just a school routine requirement. He had to have his height and weight tested as well. It is this last requirement that leads to the pedophilia that follows.
His name was Jeff and he was about 15. He was extremely shy and when he came to Bertha's small office (she maintains a combined office and residence in a small home in the better section of the city to give a semblance of professional dignity) he was so inhibited, it was all the nurse could do to get him to remove his sweater.
Jeff had dark borwn hair, a smooth face, soulfully deep blue eyes. He was frail; the way he held back was obvious that he, like many other adolescents of his age, was extremely shy about having a woman touch him.
"Want me to roll up my sleeve?" in a small voice.
Bertha prepared the usual paraphernalia, then she smiled at him. "Yes, Jeff. Just sit down here. Now, there's nothing to be nervous about. No one will see us."
The boy was very quiet, his eyes darting out all over, to see everything. He said very little as Bertha tested the blood pressure and heart.
Then Bertha said, "I'll have to weigh you, Jeff. The scale would be more accurate if you would remove your clothing."
He gaped. His face blushed tomato red and it was apparent he was terrified. "B-but, I do not have to take off my clothes just to get weighed." His throat felt dry and raspy. He had not expected this.
She tried to make light of the situation. "Yes, Jeff, you do have to strip down. Your clothes will add up to several pounds. The school insists upon accuracy. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'll have to leave your weight a blank on your chart; this means you may not be able to .continue with your next school semester. Do you understand?" She was being articulate as she explained this to him. At the same time, Bertha was rising with excitement. The boy was damn good looking. He looked as if he had something big between his legs. He was also so trigger-sensitive that it was apparent he would "go off" with just one touch. This always thrilled the dominant Bertha.
"Well, I ... I don't know...." He looked hot under the collar. "I mean," he stammered bashfully do I have to?"
She crossed her legs, letting him get a good glimpse of her firm thighs. "Certainly. Now, Jeff, you needn't be so bashful. After all, I'm old enough to be your mother, you know." There was a rustle as her starched white uniform moved with her body motions. "So, just go behind that floor screen and remove everything."
Jeff knew that he had to go through with it. If he did not receive a completely filled out application blank from this nurse, the report would go against his scholastic rating. He might even be held back from continuing on into the next semester. "Okay."
Bertha could see his shadow through the starched white curtain of the floor screen. She knew that he was visibly aroused. She felt her own excitement mounting. The boy was good looking, had a sensual appeal because of his complete innocence. Bertha thrived on the innocent boys.
She would never permit any adult man to violate her; she would not become a receptacle for an adult's debauched desires. It would be degrading to her sense of superiority. On the other hand, she logicized that she could seduce an innocent boy and still retain her own sense of aggression especially since she would be the female master.
"Is it okay to come out now?" Jeff was still holding back. Behind the curtain, he had stripped down to his briefs. He was red-faced because he was so stimulated by a reflex response, that he had a huge bulge in his crotch. The tight confines of the briefs only made his discomfort feel worse. He felt a taut tension and a gnawing desire at the base of his loins. "Is it okay?"
Bertha's excitement leaped until she felt a familiar throb. "Yes, of course," she fought to retain herself. It certainly would not do to show her emotions. "I've got everything set up for you."
When Jeff came out, it made both of them stare at each other. Jeff felt his heart thump in his throat, the butch nurse saw his slim body, the raisin-like nipples, the unbelievably white and pink skin, the suggestion of musculature that was still yet to come. She saw his very lean pubertal waist, the navel in the smooth and firm stomach with just the slight suggestion of baby fat.
He had slim legs that were as pink and white as the rest of him. He was not fully developed but the sole development she wanted was obvious and throbbing.
"Now, Jeff, you know that I said you have to take everything off." She wanted to see his boy power. Excitement made the blood pound in her head. "Go on, pull down your shorts."
Jeff looked as if he wanted to sink down in the floor. "B-but, these don't weigh much," he stammered, standing there timidly, terrified over being almost naked before this adult woman. "Can't I just wear them?"
She lost her patience. "No, you cannot just wear them." With that, the aggressive, masculine type nurse strode over to the quivering, whimpering boy. "Let's just stop this silly fooling around." She gripped the elastic band of his briefs, felt the way he instinctively drew back and then slid them down round his knees.
"OOOOOO," he gasped as he locked both of his thighs together. "I ... I...." He was red-faced. Sweat poured down over his smooth young boy body. "I...."
Bertha was astonished at the enormity of what now protruded. "You're all excited, aren't you?" She deliberately taunted him. She saw the huge erection, the overly developed scrotum. There was a profuse adornment of wire brush at the base of the boy's enviable shaft. Except for this pre-development, he was still in the throes of growing. "Well, nothing to be ashamed of."
Suddenly, she made a fist out of one warm hand and clamped it around his rod. The boy yelped and it looked as if he would go off. "Like steel," she released him quickly, disdaining the sliding motion of his prepuce that would induce more provocative sensations. "Well, you're going to make a girl happy with that, soon's you grow up."
This made the nurse laugh. "Grown up already." She directed him to step out of his shorts. "Just step on the scale. We'll weigh and measure you." She already had visions of feeling the boy's enormous power, of fondling and stroking him. "That's it."
His buttocks were small, still in the formative-growth stage, while the backs of his thighs were smooth as silk and delicately lined with a few bluish veins. Each movement caused the buttocks to go up and down in a rounded arc, adding to his sensual appeal.
"Like this?" He was quivering. His erection was throbbing with agonizing yearning. "Is this okay?" His voice was hoarse.
"Yes, yes. You just stand there."
As Bertha moved around, the purposely let her dress rub against the boy's taut erection, making him quiver and erupt into spasms. She provoked him, fondling him as she weighed and measured him and when it was over, she said, "You should find some way to relieve ... that." She nodded toward his erection. "After all, Jeff, it's rather unhealthy for you to just suffer like that."
He swallowed nervously. "I dunno."
"What will you do?"
"I dunnoo," he shrugged.
"I know what you'll do." She tried to embarrass him as she knew nearly all pubertal boys were shy when it came to open discussion of masturbation. In particular, with a woman. "You'll just play with yourself, isn't that it? Now, don't look so ashamed. It's one way of relieving your tensions but it's not the best way. Want to get a special treatment?"
He looked terrified; but the power of his young libidinal demands were making him more responsive to the idea.
"What kind?"
She smiled and then put her arm around his shoulder. Another arm went down and she free-ly explored his smooth as silk flesh. He was not like some other boys she had fooled with; they often exercised, did bodybuilding and looked prematurely developed. They would have appealed to some women but not to herself. She liked these smooth buttocked boys with the overly developed male powers.
"Just come over here and I'll show you. Now Jeff, you are to do everything as I say."
He was only too willing.
Moments later, Bertha was naked, thrilling to the way the boy stared at her big breasts and her naked parts. "See? This is my clitoris. Go on, touch it."
"I ... I...." He was rigid with desire. It was obvious he was under tension. Now he would be receptive to her plan. "I ... don't know...."
Bertha took his hand. When she clapped it on top of her mons veneris, she held it tightly because the boy was terrified. She loved the feel of his slim fingers. "Just touch the little button. That's what we girls call it. The clitoris is the key to a woman's passion. You'll need to know this when you get married."
"It feels kinda funny."
She laughed, then her mirth turned to eroticism as she felt his probing fingers. "Ohhhh, that feels good. Just stick your finger in. That's the way. Bend it ... OOOOOO, it's nice."
Seconds later, they were on the couch. The lights were dimmed and Bertha thrilled to having the embarrassed young boy straddle her loins. The shocking spectacle of his enormous power served to whet her lascivious urgings.
"Go easy, Jeff. Hear me? Just slide it in. Here, dopey, I'll guide it for you."
She felt the initial penetration, then she felt the insistent wedge. "Easy, damn it ... whew ... you're built like some mule...."
The boy worked his way through slow prodding. He would have preferred doing it quickly; he was typical of impetuous youth, troubled with problems of premature ejaculation. He was all-physical. There was nothing emotional about his desires since he had not yet matured to that level. He sought physical release and it was all focused in the localized region of his male genitalia.
"It feels good," he sputtered. Then he was seized with the most voluptuous warmth. A billion pins stabbed at his glans corona as he felt the nurse's sphincter muscles tighten around his power. "OOOOOO, what'll I do now?" he gasped.
She told him about the rhythmic thrusts. She had to help him push and shove. It took several moments until the two of them were gasping and writhing as a million wires of livid fire tore through their loins.
"Oooooo, it's gonna...." Every sinew and boy muscle twisted up and screwed into the most agonizing tensions. Suddenly, Jeff stiffened and then the hot floods poured forth in a series of never-ending spurts. Again and again the wrenching spurts tore through his loins. He never knew it could feel so good.
"That's the way!" yelled Bertha as her hands twisted around his waist and she held the sweating boy in her iron grip. "Go deeper ... push ... yeee ... YEEEEEE!!!!" She rocked and she bounced on the bed. The springs creaked, It felt as if the bed would collapse on the floor. "Ooooo, it's good, more, more, more, more," she pleaded.
Not until Jeff was so completely satiated that he was limp, did he get up. Then he was released. He did not know what to say. But now that he had lost his boy virginity, he had a little more nerve.
"Felt good, didn't it?" He looked down at his flaccid power. "Guess it'll stay down now."
Bertha wanted to laugh at the boy's peurile attitude. But she would not hurt his sensitivities. "It certainly will, Jeff. Now you must be careful about doing this with other women. You just can't go around soliciting women." She made a pretense of giving him some hygiene instruction. "And do be sure about coming here again."
Bertha and Jeff had several more situations but it must have upset the boy because of guilt feeling; eventually, he stopped coming.
Bertha is not too concerned because she is able to find plenty of boys through her profession.
There was one altercation that caused her to take an extended vacation until things quieted down.
It happened when she examined a more aggressive boy of about 16. This boy knew the score and he knew that this older woman had "The hots" (as he put it) for some "young stuff."
"Suppose I bring my buddy." He had a rock hard young physical structure, a barrel chest and strong, sturdy limbs. He was not as rigid as Jeff because the freshness, the newness of it was not as delicate. But he had driving power, like that of a steel piston and this is what appealed to Bertha. "I mean, like we can make it a three-way deal. Okay?"
Bertha had an impulse. "Sure, sure. Suppose we make it next Thursday at about 6 o'clock at night? I'll be ready for the two of you."
For the next few days, she was on pins and needles with excited anticipation for the event. Two young studs at the same time. It was unbelievable.
When the boy came with his buddy, Bertha almost went into hysterics.
The buddy was a 6 foot young fellow, hardly more than 16. He had a tough, pugnacious air about him that added to his sensual appeal. He was still smooth-faced.
"Hi ya, babe?"
She invited them in.
They were soon naked and then the two boys became rough. "Let's just give it to her like we did it to that queer," one jeered. "Bottoms up, you old horse."
Bertha was shocked as they twisted her arms. "No, no, let me go. Let me go!!!"
Her breasts bounced around; grubby hands swized her twiggy-like nipples and twisted until she felt sharp spasms of pain shooting through her rib cage.
"What are you going to do to me?" She tried to kick one of the boys between his legs but he darted out of the way, his throbbing lancer wavering while his scrotum danced and moved lewdly. "Let me alone. I'll scream...."
Her attempted screams were obliterated as a handkerchief was stuffed in her mouth. She was wide-eyed with terror as she was flung on the floor.
"Okay, let's go at it. Man, lookit that bottom. Bet there's enough for both of us at the same time." Using lewd comments, the boys sodomized the writhing registered nurse, pounding and punching. Not until the two of them had satiated, did they get up.
"Whew, never had it like that. This broad's tight ... I like the tight ones."
They continued to make ribald jokes about it being "safer" this way because there was no chance of the dame getting pregnant.
"Let's beat it before we get caught." The boys dressed hurriedly; before they left, they rifled her desk and took out a wad of cash and her expensive jewelry. "This is better'n than robbing some faggot," they laughed.
After that episode, Bertha was so shaken up, she felt she had to get out of town for a while. She even thought of giving up her practice and fleeing in panic to another area of the country. Then she calmed down and reasoned that such things happen.
Henceforth, she would only take on one boy and she would not even attempt to tease any of the more aggressive, pre-developed boys who had masculine physiques and tempers to go with them.
Bertha is just one of many such registered nurses, female masseurs and even some women doctors, who thrive on innocent boys as a means of relieving their own warped tensions. There is no ascertaining how many lives they may have traumatized by debauching them.
While some such persons use their boys for normal coitus, many will perform fellatio and condition them to this passive attitude. Many others will compel the boys to perform cunnilingus and condition them further to this warped means of arousal. There are no limits to such debauchery.
Yet, with the increased female freedom, it is to be expected that there will be more and more of such pedophiles in our society unless a program of education is waged to create greater understanding about this sordid and sickening problem.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE PROBLEM INCREASES
The moral swing is now in favour of the female. She is accorded complete freedom. With the advent of the birth control pill, she is assured protection. Gone is the fear of pregnancy that had hitherto acted as a deterent to any form of loose cohabitation. This fear is also gone for the male who does not have to worry about getting a girl in trouble.
In conditions of pedophilia, the boy is now able to participate in seduction by an older woman without any fears of being involved in a scandalous paternal charge.
With boys beginning to wear long hair in schools, in offices, in almost all walks of life, with the "mod generation" expressing themselves in complete liberalism, one can only wonder where the trend will end.
The boys are still immature even though they may make a pretense of being otherwise. They see in the older woman a form of security. She will tell them what to do, sexually; she will direct them, dominate them and seduce them. The male instinct is one of physical release. If the aggressive older female provides satisfaction for the physical urges, then the boy will succumb to her temptations.
The New Wave of sexual freedom will see this problem on the increase. As stated previously, the only hope of rescue from the debauchery of pedophilia is that of a sound program of sexual education. It is hoped this volume will shed light on this problem and save many from falling into the quagmire of the dominant older woman and pedophile.
