enovel Anal Rape - Girls Forced To Take It Unknown [Future Story Codes]

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Anal Rape - Girls Forced To Take It ....(70k)    by Unknown

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

Anal rape! An exotic form of sex for many, but for others a commonplace occurrence or a desired event. Following are some of the stories of women who have been abused or enticed into participation.

Daisy E.; "The man in the foster home thought he could do anything he wanted to me. He held me down on the bed so that I couldn't move and then I felt his hard black stiffness pressing between my cheeks...."

Audrey B.; "Ever since I watched my mother taking her lover's cock up her ass I wanted to do the same. But, all I got was abuse and mistreatment...."

Paula Q.; "I told him that since he was my own brother it would be too much of a sin for him to take my virginity and ruin me for marriage. But I was shocked when I saw that he was going to put it in me anyway, in the other hole...."

Muriel N.; "My lesbian lover was licking my pussy and then I felt her ex-husband's cock pressing between the cheeks of my ass. I thought about protesting, but it felt too good. He pushed forward ... "

CASE HISTORY ONE

SUBJECT: Audrey B. AGE: Seventeen

INTERVIEW ONE

Audrey was a very slender girl, almost delicate. She had a long and regal neck and an oval face. She apparently considered herself fashionably slender because she wore clothes to accent her figure, a clinging blouse which out-lined her small breasts and clearly showed the points of her nipples, and slacks which were so tight around her hips that they were faded where the hipbones showed.

She was quite attractive.

She looked as if she was trying to be older than she actually was. Her high heeled shoes and her elaborate eye make up both seemed incongruous on a girl of seventeen.

And yet, other than the false maturity, there was nothing about the girl that was too ostentatious. She wore her wealth tastefully and with style, never flaunting designer labels or designer clothes which were not made for her personal look and style.

Her black hair framed her face with shaggy curls. At first she was perfectly polite and even reticent, but then she revealed the full intent of her story and became more of a little girl.

Doctor, I thank you for making this appointment with me. I wired my mother and told her that I felt I wanted to see a doctor about a personal matter and she wired back the money. She never even bothered to ask me what the problem was.

That's the way it always is with my mother. She constantly tells me that she trusts me. Well, any other girl my age would envy me the chance my mother gives me. She trusts me and she doesn't care to check up on me. And yet, there's something very lonely about that.

I can't help the feeling that my mother just doesn't give a damn about me.

You see, she's always traveling. She has enough money so that she doesn't have to work, but she enjoys working as a designer. Well, if there's a furniture show in Paris she'll travel off to Paris. If there's a house to be decorated in Tokyo she'll go to Tokyo for months.

Her money, you see, has been a great advantage to her in the business. She can afford to invest in any expensive furniture that suits her tastes and then she can plan out a whole room using things she's picked up around the world. She thinks well ahead.

But, if I criticize my mother for not caring about me ... well, it's strange. You see, she'll always phone me from anywhere in the world. She'll tell me that she doesn't have the time to write letters and she never .remembers to put letters in the mail. Well, of course, I should be complimented that my mother spends the money for a weekly phone call from Yugoslavia or wherever she is, but I feel sort of slighted.

Do I sound too terribly selfish? I feel that I'd like to get a letter from her so that I have something to look at and to read over and over. And she always tells me the same thing when I talk to her. She tells me that she doesn't want to pry into my life, but that I'm welcome to tell her anything that I want to tell her.

I live in the house in Rhode Island. There are servants to look after me. My mother, when she's out of town, has always contacted the school and told them that the housekeeper, Mrs. Dan vers, will be my legal guardian for a few months.

That's really a joke since Mrs. Danvers is nothing more than a hired employee. I could have been having wild orgies in the house every night and there was nothing that old woman could have done about it. In other words, I was really on my own.

Well, to tell you the truth, Doctor, most of the time I was happy about that. I would boast to the other girls about that. It's just at times like this that I reflect on it and feel that I'm pissed at my mother for not giving me enough attention.

Of course I know what the other girls have to go through with their mothers telling them what to do and who they can see. I don't want that. But, I do miss the other things. You know the sort of things I'm talking about. I'd like to go shopping with my mother.

Then again, I also feel that my mother had certain expectations of me that I've been trying to fulfill. I remember when I was a little girl and my mother would have her friends over at the house. They would joke with her about the fact that she never liked children.

It would all be joking but my mother would always say that she trusted that I wouldn't remain a child for too long. She looked forward to my becoming a woman so that I could be along with her. Well, that became my goal, Doctor. I wanted to become a woman so that I could be my mother's friend. I wanted to become older and more sophisticated.

I guess I've been putting off the real subject for long enough, Doctor. Sex.

To become a woman, I suppose that I really needed to have sex and that idea was implanted in my head from the time I was very young. I think I was about nine when I first observed sex.

My mother had held a very embarrassing discussion with me. I mean, I was turning bright red because of what she was saying and I just wanted the discussion to end.

She wasn't telling me about the birds and the bees. Rather, she was telling me about her sex life and her sexual needs. She told me that she was still a young woman and that she wasn't going to roll up and die just because she and my father had split up.

Oh, I suppose I should have told you about my father. I hardly ever see him.

As I was saying, my mother told me that if she had a man staying at the house I should consider him like an uncle to me until I was old enough to consider him more.

I suppose that the conversation was prodded by the fact that my mother had this young man staying there. I could tell that he was about two or three years younger than my mother. There was something so boyish about him. I guess he was sort of an ivy league type.

There was a sauna and a whirlpool in the basement of the house. Actually, there still is a sauna and there is a whirlpool in the basement. What my mother didn't know was that there is also a way to peek through the wall from the wine cellar which is next door to the sauna. Well, no. It's not actually next to the sauna. I mean, it is next to it, but the hole in the wall looked into the part of the room with the whirlpool and not into the sauna.

I suppose someone would have noticed the hot air getting into the wine cellar before then.

Actually I had found that one of the panels in the wine cellar moved away. It was just covering the hole in the wall looking into the whirlpool room and once I took it away I could look through. I also found that if I didn't turn on the light in the wine cellar no one in the whirlpool could notice me.

Since I was around the house and the grounds so much I found things like that about the place. And I guess I took advantage of those sort of things. I suppose I have to admit what I did before that.

There were these two gardeners working around the house and they were getting all hot and filthy because it was a nasty day. They had done a great deal for us that day. My mother, I should add, was not at home that day since she had gone out early in the morning.

Remember that I was only nine at the time. Anyway, these two gardeners had dug up the roots of a tree and everything like that. They came into the kitchen for a cold drink afterwards and I was there with Mrs. Dan vers. We were just standing there talking and then I said, "There's a whirlpool and a sauna in the basement. I'm sure my mother would show her appreciation by letting the two of you use those."

"No, miss, we don't wanna be any trouble," one of them said.

I turned to Mrs. Danvers and I had her assure them that it wouldn't be any trouble. Then the two of them started to say how that would certainly feel good on their aching muscles.

They were directed down to the basement and to the room where, they were told, they could lock the door. There was, fortunately, another stairway down to the basement, one from outside which went directly to the boiler and the fuses. I took that stairway down.

I had gone to fetch the key to the wine cellar. I got into the wine cellar as quickly as I could, climbed up on the bench there, and took off the one panel with the light off.

As I looked into the whirlpool room I saw that one of the gardeners was in his underwear and was adjusting the water of the whirlpool. He had his back turned to me for the longest time, including when he dropped his shorts and climbed into the tub.

It took a great deal of patience on my part. The two of them did not show their genitals freely and the glimpses I did get showed me that the cocks were very small indeed.

I was disappointed by the whole adventure. But, not by the second time I spied through the hole.

My mother and her boyfriend were using the sauna. I had been outside with them and they told me that they were going inside and that I shouldn't disturb them for a number of hours. That sounded too enticing for me to miss. I knew they would put on a good show for me.

Of course I had seen my mother naked long before that. She would sunbathe nude in the garden.

Her boyfriend was another story. He was tall and dark with a hard body and a hairy chest.

When I went down to the wine cellar I saw that they were already in the sauna and I waited for the longest time before they came out. The two of them came out glistening and naked. My mother's boyfriend, Clark, had a very long cock that was hanging down from a patch of curly black hair. His legs and his chest were also covered with black hair.

My mother was tall and slender, like me. But, she has much larger breasts than I. I'm also pleased to say that even though she's now pushing forty her breasts are very firm.

This, however, is something that happened when she still wasn't thirty yet.

I watched as Clark climbed into the whirlpool tub. The water was swirling around him and he reached down and started to play with his prick. I couldn't exactly see his cock from my vantage point, but I could see his hand moving. I looked forward to seeing it erect.

I suppose that the reason I knew so much about anatomy at that time was that my mother had given me access to any of the books in my father's old library, which had come with the house. There were a lot of things on human biology and, of course, being a typical young child I wanted to read all the parts pertaining to sex.

So, I knew that the penis became large and stiff when stimulated and it didn't take much, from the way that Clark was looking at my mother and from the way that he was moving his hand down near the water, to tell that he was getting stimulated.

It was my mother who gave me the good view. She was standing right at the side of the tub. The tub, I should add, was not sunk into the ground because there was a concrete floor that they couldn't break through. The tub was standing up with wooden siding on it and two steps that led up to it. So, when my mother was standing next to the tub, you can understand that her crotch was virtually on a level with the edge of the tub.

She started to spread her legs and finger herself.-Well, it was a thrill for me. How many little girls get a chance to watch their mothers lingering themselves?

I had barely started touching my pussy lips then. Perhaps I would rub against the blankets with the blankets between my legs. Can you picture what I'm describing? I would sleep with a soft nightgown, and nothing on underneath, so if I sort of pulled the nightgown up and managed to get the blanket untucked from the bed, I would press the fabric of the blanket between my legs and I would hump against the softness for a little while.

Of course I wasn't getting any clitoral stimulation, but I could feel the pleasure of the softness that was rubbing up against the flesh of my youthful, innocent pussy lips.

Watching my mother doing it was a whole other thing for me, Doctor. Of course she had hair around her pussy lips and I didn't at that time. That was something I really wanted to look at. I don't want you to think that I had lesbian desires for my mother, but I was curious. I wanted to see what I would look like when I grew up. I wanted to know what I would be doing when I grew up. That's the reason I looked at my mother in that way.

Since I was just wearing a swimsuit at the time, it was easy for me to emulate the movements my mother made at her pussy lips. I'm sure she was getting more pleasure from them.

I watched as her elegant fingers moved up and down along the crack of her pussy slit. Then she pulled the lips apart and seemed to be stirring one finger around in there. Years later I realized that she was flicking her fingertip against her clitoris.

Then Clark reached out of the tub and held my mother by one of her hips. He leaned over out of the tub and brought his lips to her pussy lips. His tongue was right at the lips of her cunt. His lips were wrapped around the moist and tender cunt lips.

He seemed to be sucking very hard, working his tongue over the flesh and pulling at it with his lips at the same time.

My mother, meanwhile, had tossed her head back and she seemed to be in a complete daze over the whole matter. It was like her head was moving from side to side while he sucked her cunt.

Then he said to her, "Get in the tub and sit on it."

She climbed into the tub and she had her back to him. That meant that she was facing me. For a moment I moved away from the hole in the wall, not wanting to have her see me. But then I became secure that she really wasn't going to see me. She had other concerns.

My mother was working her ass into the water. She seemed to be positioning herself over Clark's dick and then she was lowering herself. For a moment there was very little movement between the two of them. Maybe my mother would move her hips one way or the other and maybe Clark would seem to grimace and to arch his body up with a little tension.

Then there was a swift movement. My mother had Clark inside her and she slid all the way down on his pole. She started to ride up and down on his dick. He reached around and he was playing with her nipples. It's incredible the number of things I learned that day. I mean, honestly, it would have been some time before I would have learned about having my nipples played with.

I suppose that it really felt incredible for them to have the water flowing all around their bodies. My mother, I could tell was excited by it. Then I saw this really strange expression on Clark's face. He was cumming. He started to bite my mother's neck and her whole body seemed to go into these weird movements. Then the two of them were out of breath.

That's the way I remember the scene when I spied on it, Doctor.

But, there was more to the scene and the additional part is the thing that really made it something for me. My mother and Clark both got out of the tub. Clark's dick was still erect. I couldn't believe the way it was standing up and I couldn't stop looking at it.

Then he told her that he wanted to fuck her again and she said that she didn't feel like it.

He seemed to make a little joke about, "If your pussy doesn't feel like it maybe I'll just have to find another entrance to heaven." In a while I found out what that meant.

My mother went along with the joke. It was apparently one that she knew and approved of. It would have been different if I had watched this done by force to my mother. Heaven knows how I would have reacted to that, but what I saw was quite a bit different.

Clark tossed my mother's legs up in the air. From where I was watching I could see the lightly furred pussy lips and then I could see her ass which was also exposed.

The hairy man was rubbing his fingers over his dick and he seemed to be wetting his cock with spit. At that point I didn't question any of his actions because the two of them knew about fucking and I didn't know a thing in the world. But, my mother's legs seemed to be awfully high.

I could sort of tell that he was going into my mother at a strange angle and then I realized that he wasn't going into her pussy at all. He was pulling apart the cheeks of her fleshy ass and he was placing his cock head right at the opening of her anus.

That was stunning to me. I mean, I was stunned. And yes, in my childish way I was turned on also.

I couldn't believe that my mother was able to take the full length of the prick in her bottom hole. But, I watched the thick pole disappearing into her body.

Clark, pushed forward and then he pulled back a little bit so that her ass could relax, I suppose. Then he pushed forward more and before I knew it I could see his hard, hairy stomach pressing down right against the smooth and soft cheeks of my mother's ass.

Also his dangling balls were pressing against my mother's ass cheeks.

He stayed like that for a minute and my mother seemed to be in a dream, far away. Then he started to fuck her. She was crying out each time he pulled out of her and crying out each time he pushed into her. Her voice was echoing in the room.

As he started to fuck her ass harder than that he reached down for her pussy lips and he started to finger her. I could see that her body was moving and writhing when he did that. The two of them were really moving in unison and then he slammed forward. I could see the cheeks of his ass clenching together and I knew that something had reached a climax.

The two of them were crying out and moaning and grunting together.

That's what I remember of the scene, Doctor, and I suppose, to be perfectly honest, that in my own life I've been trying to duplicate that scene. Perhaps when I'm a little older and a little more mature and my mother accepts me as her friend I'll be able to get into that subject with her.

You see, all my attempts to get fucked anally by a man have ended in disaster. I have been fucked anally but it has never been a pleasant experience for me.

I suppose if our time is up that I'll have to continue and tell you about my own sexual experiences next week when I see you again. Thank you, once again, Doctor.

INTERVIEW TWO

You remember that I told you the sort of woman my mother was? I mean, that she still is? I mean, you remember that I told you that my mother has been treating me very much like an adult, even more like an adult than I actually wish to be treated at times?

Well, then you can certainly understand what I'll tell you now.

When I turned fifteen it happened that she was at home at the time of my birthday. She had the cook make a fabulous dinner for two just for the two of us. Doctor, you don't know how rarely I get to dine with my mother. Often, when I do dine with my mother it's because she has terribly boring guests and she wants my company there.

She explains to me that when she has dinner parties with other guests and there's no place for a young girl there that I shouldn't be offended. Of course I tell her that I understand that not everyone can be invited to every party, and I suppose that I'm not offended, but I suppose that I do feel rather put out and lonely about it.

So, I was feeling wonderful on my fifteenth birthday. We had fine steaks and a shrimp salad and all of my favorite things. My mother even had a cake baked for my birthday.

Doctor, I know that I'm giving you contrasting views of my mother, but I can't help it. I'm really not sure how I feel about her. I suppose that she is trying to do a good job of raising me, but she might just be one of these women who wasn't meant to have children. She's uncomfortable with children. I mean, she's uncomfortable with me.

Maybe that's why I've been trying to grow up fast. I don't want her to be uncomfortable. I want to make it easier for her to be with me, so perhaps she'll take me along on some of her trips. As it is I've never in my life gone traveling anywhere with my mother.

But, back to my fifteenth birthday. My mother started talking to me after dinner. She kept on emphasizing the fact that she wasn't trying to pressure me and that she didn't want me to feel that she was prying. She told me that I could cut off the conversation anytime I wanted to.

Well, of course I didn't want to cut off the conversation. There had been so few times when my mother had engaged me in a real mother-daughter talk that I didn't want to miss the chance.

She told me that she knew that girls were having sex earlier all the time these days and she told me that if I had already had sex with a boy that I should feel free to tell her about it. She said that I should feel I could talk to her about sex as if she were my chum. Well, as it was, at that time I still hadn't had sex. But that talk prompted me and I knew that I wanted to have sex just so I could tell my mother about it.

I didn't quite say that to my mother. I told her that she had presented me with a new thought and that I hoped she and I could talk about it further since I did want to confide in her. She really seemed to beam then, Doctor.

How can I describe the way I felt then, Doctor? I felt that I wanted my mother to love me and I felt that I wanted her to pay attention to me. She would pay attention, it would give the two of us a common meeting ground, if I could tell her about my sexual adventures.

But, at the age of fifteen they still didn't really exist.

I masturbated a great deal at that age. I was always touching myself and thinking about the boys in school. Sometimes I would think about my mother's boyfriends and I would play out the scene that I had witnessed in the whirlpool room in the basement.

What I mean by that is this; my mother sent me a photo of herself and a guy she was seeing and the two of them were wearing bathing suits. I suppose they were in Florida together. I used to fingerfuck myself while looking at that photo of the two of them. I would see the two of them assuming the positions on the floor that Clark had assumed with my mother.

I wondered how big that man's cock was and whether he also stuck it in her ass hole. The thought had occurred to me that what I had witnessed might have been a single chance experience. Perhaps, I thought to myself, my mother just offered her bottom because that was what turned Clark on. But, the thought kept returning to me that it was my mother's pleasure.

Getting back to me at fifteen. I decided after my mother left town the following week that I was going to find some boy who could fuck me so that I could tell my mother about it.

There was a boy in school whose name was Emerson. I mean that was his first name. He was rather good looking in a very New England sort of way. He had soft blond hair that always seemed to be falling over his forehead. He had taken me out a few times and I had let him get as far as feeling my breasts through my bra, under my blouse.

I hadn't felt his cock or anything. I would just lie there when he did that.

Doctor, it was simply a matter of my being frightened to let him do anything more to me.

But, I was determined that I would do more now. I asked him if he wanted to come over to the house and help me in the garden that weekend. He agreed to come there. It was very sexual all day long. I mean, it was hot out and he took off his shirt and I just had on this swimsuit top so that he could see my nipples. They weren't too large then either.

Then I told him that we should both go and take a sauna. He seemed flustered by that but I assured him that I had men's swimsuits in the house, from when my cousins visited. That was a lie. I knew that there were two swimsuits lying around from my mother's old boyfriends.

I gave him one of the suits which was very skimpy and told him to get changed Then I took off my slacks and left on my panties which could have passed for bikini bottoms.

That gave me a thrill, knowing that I was letting the boy see me in my panties.

Then we went down to the basement. I should add that Mrs. Danvers was off for the weekend. Although I had the run of the house to myself, she did snoop around a lot. I knew that she couldn't stop me from doing what I wanted to do, but she could make me uncomfortable.

Anyway, we both went down to the sauna and then we were there in our swimsuits. It seemed to take forever before Emerson grew bold enough to kiss me, although he had kissed me many times, always in the dark. I guess it was harder for him to do in a bathing suit with the lights on than the other way. But, finally we made progress.

Well, Doctor, I don't want to put you through the torment of suspense that I went through. Let me get right to the end of this part of the story, since it's pretty tedious.

We finally got our swimsuits off. I was naked with him, but he kept flat down on top of me as if he didn't want me to see his dick. Then he fumbled around and pushed it inside me. No sooner did I feel the ripping sensation that told me he had broken my hymen than he started to pulsate and I knew that he was cumming. I just knew it.

He pulled out of me and turned his back on me, grabbing a towel. He didn't want me to see his dick and that made me terribly embarrassed about my own nudity.

I found myself covering up with a towel. I was sorry about the whole thing. I hadn't felt a thing. He had pushed inside me. I had lost my virginity. And it was a big nothing.

He left quickly and I really felt awful then. I figured that he didn't want to see me again. But, he called me that night and asked me if I wanted to go out to a movie in the middle of the week. I told him that I would. He had taken his father's car for the night and after the movie he drove to a quiet spot. He didn't ask me anything and we didn't discuss anything, but he got on top of me and pushed up my skirt and took down my panties. Then he opened his pants and pressed his dick into me. It was disappointing again and it was all over in less than two minutes. But, our relationship continued like that.

Why did I keep going out with him? I suppose because he was a boy and he was fucking me and I couldn't admit that it just wasn't good for me. I figured that it should be good and that I should have been enjoying it, so I felt something was wrong with me.

The next time my mother was at home I told her I wanted to talk to her. I told her about Emerson, telling her that I had been seeing him for some time then. She seemed almost pleased by it and she asked me if he satisfied me. I told her that he did.

Then she proceeded to give me fair warning. She told me that I shouldn't expect too much from Emerson and that I needed more experience in order to be ready to settle down with one man. But, she also told me not to rush the experience, but to feel free to tell her about anything.

Emerson and I went together for a little over four months. It was very awkward when we broke up. I decided that I really did want what I had seen my mother getting. I asked him if he had ever heard about fucking girls up the ass and he said he hadn't. I started to tell him that when I touched myself I sometimes put one finger at my bottom hole and played around with the flesh there. He seemed upset about the very subject of my touching myself. He never even admitted that he touched himself.

Then, one day he was about to fuck me. I should add that he hardly ever let me see his dick, but even with that I figured out that his dick was rather small.

He was about to fuck me and I raised my legs up so that he could do it in that position. I suppose we were in my own bedroom in my house because my mother was away. I was never indelicate enough to have a boy in my bedroom when my mother was home, although, goodness .knows, she was certainly indelicate enough to have men in her bedroom at any time.

When I raised my legs up I reached down for his dick and I started to direct it toward my ass hole. "What are you doing there?" he asked me, very upset by that.

I was feeling bold. "It's something I wanted to try." I wasn't going to be intimidated.

"That's sickening," he said, pulling away from me and pulling his clothes back on.

I only saw him one time after that. He tried to fuck me and I was very stiff and obnoxious to him. I told him that I didn't like to be told that I was sick and he asked me if I really wanted him to put his cock in my ass hole. I told him that since he asked me directly I would answer directly. It wasn't something I had done, but I wanted to try it.

He repeated the same thing, telling me that I was sick, and he told me that he didn't want to see me again. I started to cry and I told him that I didn't want to see him again.

So, there was a long time when I didn't go out with him and I didn't go out with anyone else.

There was another boy who was just in Rhode Island for a summer. He was eighteen and I was sixteen at the time, but at least he was a little more mature and his dick was a little larger. He was able to fuck me longer than two minutes as well.

I knew that he had to go back to New York at the end of the summer, so I felt that I wasn't risking too much by approaching him about the same subject. When I asked him if he would fuck me up the ass, he told me that it was something that he didn't want to do. At least he didn't look at me like I was a sick perverted creature.

At that point I still hadn't had it up the ass the way I had seen my mother getting it.

That guy from the summer never wrote to me or called me. I always wondered if he would have kept in touch with me if I hadn't brought up that thing about ass fucking. I felt that he got cold to me after the subject came up, as if he felt uncomfortable with me.

Meanwhile my mother's business was keeping her busy. "Darling," she would say to me, "You're maturing so wonderfully that I feel I don't have to check on you at all."

Well, that was when I got in with a very wild crowd. I guess there was a certain place on the other side of the town, near the beach, that attracted that crowd. They weren't people from my class at all. They were city kids, many of whom had hitched rides to Rhode Island to go to the beach and many of whom were sleeping on the beach.

Let me explain it simply. These were the kind of people that the residents of the town, the people who were in my mother's income bracket, complained about.

The police should chase them off the beach, the residents said.

Well, I had a car this last summer and I started to go down to that beach. I started to meet those people. There were all kinds and they were certainly different from the people I had been associating with. There were some who just got stoned all the time and then there were others who were political. There were others who just loved to dance.

It was a mixed group, but none of them were acceptable young people.

I started to invite the kids to my house for parties. Some of them started to crash. The basement of the house became filled with sleeping bags and Mrs. Danvers complained to my mother. Mrs. Danvers actually phoned my mother in Yugoslavia to complain.

My mother spoke to me and I told her that these people were my friends and that I expected to be able to invite my friends to the house anytime I pleased. My mother backed me up on that and Mrs. Danvers had the option of leaving if she didn't like it.

But then there was this incident that happened in the house.

I had only had sex with two different guys at that time, but then I started to fuck with different guys who would crash at the house. They really had good bodies and they really knew about fucking. It all started with this couple that stayed there.

There was this girl and her boyfriend. Glynis was really cute and Frank was a typical surfer like you would expect to meet out in California. Glynis came to me just as I was about to go to sleep. We had been smoking pot because Frank dealt with it.

She told me that she really got a thrill out of having a girl watching them having sex.

I told her that I had never done anything like that, but that was a lie, of course. I was not about to admit to that girl that I had secretly watched my mother getting ass fucked.

It didn't take long for her to coax me. Then she and Frank were both in my bedroom and they were both in their underwear. I noticed that there was quite a bulge in the front of his shorts.

He did it to her on the floor and I was sitting on the bed, watching them.

Frank was covered with perspiration by the time he had finished fucking Glynis. It had taken him more than half an hour before he reached his orgasm and I figured his cock would have been scraped raw by that time. The two of them had a hell of an orgasm together.

When he pulled out of his girlfriend's cunt his cock was still thick and hard. And it was the largest I had ever seen. He saw the way I was looking at it.

"It takes a little while to get soft again," he said, sort of playing with his stiff prick. "And sometimes, if given the proper impetus, it won't get soft again."

"Frank sometimes starts speeding and he's too much for one girl to take," Glynis said.

I got the hint and I knew that I wanted the cock. It was the best fuck I had. I didn't keep track of the time but I know that it must have been somewhere around an hour that he was fucking me. I had two orgasms during it and then when he had his orgasm at the end I was so fired up that I thought I would go crazy. I was pressing my feet against his ass and trying to push him further and further into me as I felt him shooting juice against my insides.

The next night Glynis and Frank told me that they had to move on and get down to New York for some business that Frank had to take care of. They assured me that they would get in touch with me again. I knew that I had to take the chance.

Knowing how sexually liberated the two of them were I asked Glynis if she knew if any of the guys from the beach crowd were into ass fucking because I had always been curious about it.

"Wow! Ass fucking? That's really something," Glynis said. "Frank wouldn't like that." She seemed almost defensive about it. Then she said that she would ask Frank, but I told her to make sure that she was very discreet about the matter because I didn't want all the guys on the beach to know that I was curious about something like that.

Just before she left she told me that I should check out Harley.

I had, frankly, never thought much of Harley. I mean, he was good looking and all. He was very hairy and powerfully built for a guy of twenty and he showed quite a big lump in the front of his swimsuit. But, there was something unpleasant and surly about him.

Well, I made a point of getting close to Harley. That wasn't difficult to do because he was a horny bastard. He was making out with me and grinding his hips down against mine while we were on the beach right in broad daylight. Then he asked if he could come home with me.

Back at my place he started to fuck me before we even had the sand out of our swimsuits.

He shot his load right away, but as he was pulling out of me he said, "Let's get cleaned up, babe. Don't worry about that. I always have to get rid of the first load of cum so that I can really get into some serious fucking after that."

We went into the shower together and he kept kissing me and nipping at my body.

Then, as if I was totally innocent about the matter I asked, "Harley, have you ever fucked a girl in the ass instead of in the pussy? I've never done it and I was just wondering about it."

He slapped my ass and snarled, "Is that what you'd like?"

"Well, I'm curious to see if I'd like it. I'd like to try it a little bit."

He turned off the shower and told me to lean over the bathtub's edge. He looked through my medicine cabinet and found some cold cream. Then he rubbed it all over his stiff lance. He pressed the head of his cock against my bottom hole. My ass, you realize, was raised up in the air then. He pulled my cheeks apart. "Fuckin' tight hole," he grunted.

And then he shoved forward. I could hear my scream echo in the small room....

"No, Harley, it hurts. I changed my mind. Don't do it to me." But he ignored everything I said.

"I won't let none of you rich bitches tease me," he growled at me.

Then he started to push his way forward. I swear there was no pleasure for me. But he was insistent. He managed to push so much of it into me that I was sure he would split me open. Then I looked over my shoulder and I saw that there was still half of his cock to get inside me.

I was crying. I mean that there were actually tears running down my cheeks. He pulled back a little and then he shoved forward all the way. I could feel the head of his cock slamming into my insides so hard that I thought he was going to rip a hole in my body.

And then, without giving me any chance to relax the muscles, while I was still in so much pain, he started to fuck my ass. He was moving his cock in and out of me at a frenzied tempo. I could feel the cock head slamming against the depths of my body each time.

I writhed and moved from one side to the other but he was pinning me down firmly.

He slapped my ass and ordered me to move the cheeks when I stopped struggling. Apparently he loved the feeling of the struggling. He was pulling almost the full length of his cock out of my ass and then slamming it all the way into the hot hole.

I guess it got lubricated from the natural lubrication of my body as well as from the pre-cum that had been oozing from his cock head. He was slamming viciously. He would slap the head of his cock against one side of my hole and then slap it against the other side.

My whole body was shaking from tremors. It had been so many years that I had been dreaming about this happening. I wanted it to happen for me just as it had happened for my mother. I wanted to be able to tell my mother that she and I shared the same pleasures.

Well, when Harley was finished, which took quite some time, he shot such a load into my bottom hole that there was goo oozing out of my insides. He showered off and left the house. I saw him on the beach after that, but I never spoke to him again. I avoided him.

There was one other guy on the beach who was named Ivan and he came up behind me one day and rubbed his crotch against my ass. I pulled away as if I had been struck by lightning and Ivan laughed as he said, "I'm a friend of Harley's and he told me what you like."

"Your friend Harley is a filthy liar," I shouted so that everybody could hear me.

There was another guy from the beach that I fucked with a couple of times, but it wasn't too exciting with him. I don't know what was missing, Doctor. Maybe I was just too desperate about the whole thing, like I was saying to myself that I was going to enjoy it whether I liked it or not. And then there was one other incident.

This guy named Jimmy was on a vacation for two weeks and he was on the beach. I was really attracted to him. He was built very tall and big, broad shoulders and a defined chest. I could tell that he was really a kind of uncouth guy without much to recommend him, but he was good looking and he seemed to be a very determined sort of guy.

I was sorry to see him getting friendly with the crowd that included Harley and all of those kids. Jimmy was a few years older than they were. But, when I think about it I guess that Jimmy was a little younger when it came to his mental age.

That's not just a put-down. Jimmy was just sort of a simple guy. That's all.

He was hot for me and he let me know it. I teased him a lot because it was fun. Finally the two of us were back at my house and he was on top of me, feeling me up. His dick was already out of his shorts and it was hard, pressing down against me.

Then he reached around and started to play with my ass hole. It seemed odd to me but he seemed to really turn on to the crack of my ass. He was pulling on the cheeks and spreading me apart. Then he got behind me and he was rubbing his stiff prick up and down along the crack of my ass. I thought, maybe this time it'll work out.

I hadn't said anything about ass fucking and he was just responding to my ass. He seemed to be tender with me. He took the hand lotion that was on my dressing table and I looked over my shoulder to see that he was spreading it on his dick.

After he did that, he seemed to change very suddenly. He pushed me flat on my belly and he started to ram his dick into me. He was forcing it into my ass hole.

"Stop, Jimmy, you're hurting me. You're ripping me apart," I complained., "Ain't that just too fuckin' bad," he hissed in reply. I couldn't believe it.

He was literally pinning my hands behind my back and he was pushing the full length of his cock all the way into my bottom hole. I was writhing in pain but he wouldn't stop.

Fortunately this time it didn't last too long. I guess all the movement was too much for him and he shot his load pretty fast. But, after that incident I just kept away from the beach.

I always wondered if this was something that Harley had put him up to doing. I never found out. Since mat time I've avoided all boys. Everything has been so unsatisfactory to me. The only fucking I ever actually enjoyed was that one night when I watched Glynis and Frank together and then Frank fucked me for a long time.

Doesn't that say that I should just forget about fucking altogether, Doctor?

I don't know what to tell you. I'm trying now to forget about the scene I saw when I was so young. But, I keep on seeing my mother getting the dick up her ass and enjoying it. Maybe I just made the wrong assumption when I figured that if she enjoyed it I would too.

I don't know now how to get close to my mother. I want to be mature and I feel that somehow I've failed. Now I'm the one who's cold to my mother because I'm frightened. I don't want her to see me acting like a little girl. I don't want her to know that I cried when that boy fucked me up the ass in the bathroom. I want to be grown-up for her.

But, Doctor, am I going about this all in the wrong way?

I guess I'm just not the same person that my mother is, Doctor.

CONCLUSION

In Greek myth there was a giant named Procrustes who would invite travelers to spend the night, but if the traveler was too tall for the Procrustean Bed, his legs would be chopped off, and if he was too short, he would be stretched on a rack.

Audrey is trying to fit herself into her own Procrustean Bed, trying to become a person following the strict confines of her mother's personality and habits. She is a different person from her mother. She must give herself a chance to become the person she is meant to be and that also means giving herself a chance to have a childhood.

Her mother must attend some therapy sessions with her so that they can discuss how the two of them can relate to one another as mother and daughter before the older woman places the expectation on the girl's shoulders of having to relate as an adult.

Sexually, the girl must recognize that she will have different responses from those her mother has. Her mother's love for anal intercourse should not have led the girl to try it. Audrey must learn to be her own person and make her own decisions.

CASE HISTORY TWO

SUBJECT: Katherine L. AGE: Fifteen

INTERVIEW ONE

I was surprised when I saw Katherine. Having been told that she was an Italian girl who had been born in Italy I expected her to be dark and Mediterranean. But, she had a round face that was almost pink and doll-like in complexion rather than the usual olive color we generally associate with the Latin temperament of Italy. Her hair was a dirty blond; it was very curly and thick and flowed down to her shoulders.

The girl was wearing a plaid checked skirt that was pleated and came down below her knees. She was wearing white socks that came up to her knees and she had on earth shoes. Her hair was held back by two little plastic clips. She had on a white blouse with a dark blue ribbon tie and a dark blue blazer which had a school crest on it.

It was clear that this was her outfit for school. Her body was healthy in appearance and she seemed, if she were to ignore her weight for a few weeks, a girl who might tend to put on too much weight with time. But, that roundedness of her body, of her girlish breasts, added a certain innocent sensuality to her.

Doctor, this ain't no joke or nothin' like that. I shouldn't be here. It's my brother that should be here. I swear to you on the whole bible, it's all my brother's fault.

I swear, Marco is gonna end up in hell for the things he did to me. I don't see if he took a whole damn lifetime to try to pray to the Virgin herself for forgiveness how he could be forgiven.

I mean it, Doctor, if you only knew the things that Marco did to me.

When my family came over from Italy I was five, but Marco was already nine and so he has a little bit more of an accent than I have. I remember being scared and impressed by America. It was a big change for me at that age. You know what I'm saying to you?

My father has always loved my brother better. My mother just takes Marco's side against me. I guess my father is a very old-world type of guy. He's darker than us even though he's from the same region as my mother. They both had a lot of Austrian blood in them, you know? That's how come me and Marco look so much alike. Everyone knows that we're brother and sister.

One day an aunt of ours was kidding us and she said that if they dressed Marco up in girl's clothes that he would look just me. Marco didn't like that joke. He told her that he was a real man and that she shouldn't talk that way about him.

I guess that's something that he would be sensitive about. You see, how can I explain this to you? The neighborhood where I come from is a very tough one. Of course that means that Marco always had to get into fights and crap like that. You know?

Well, he always refused to join up with a gang. He wouldn't get into gang-fighting and stuff like that. My father knew that. And my mother knew that. They knew that there were mothers all over the neighborhood who told their sons, "Why can't you be like Marco."

If Marco was ever in a fight everyone knew that it was the other boy's fault. Marco didn't pick fights. It was usually some boy who was just so pissed at my brother and just couldn't believe that my brother was always such a goody-goody who slammed Marco in the jaw.

What can I tell you, Doctor? Marco had a reputation for being the best boy in the neighborhood. If the priest needed someone to put up posters for the church bazaar, he would call our house and Marco would do it. From the time I was little I would always hear what a saint Marco was and how rotten I was. My father always figured I would be a whore.

I can tell you that I remember crying myself to sleep over that. But, that's done with now. I swear on top of the biggest bible you can ever find that there ain't no way on earth that my father is ever gonna make me cry again. I swear that to you.

And you can add my dear brother, Marco, to that same list. He won't ever make me cry.

What was I telling you? I was telling you about the way my father used to talk to me. My father would look at me when I was only twelve years old and he would ask me why I was late from school. Well, I liked to walk with my girlfriends and I would stop on the corner with the mailbox and we would talk together. That was all I ever did.

But, my father said to me, "I know what you do. You let some boy stick his hand in your pants! That is what you want and if I ever find out it's been happenin' you'll be out on the damn streets where a whore like you belongs." I swear he would say that.

Now, I also swear to you, Doctor, that when he started to say that I would never give him any reason in the world to say it. I hadn't been with any boy at that time. When I say I hadn't been with a boy I hadn't even gone to a movie with a boy. I hadn't let a boy hold my hand for two minutes running. I'm telling you the honest truth now, Doctor.

There was no point in telling that to my father. From the time I was little my brother had always convinced my father that I was a liar. My brother could have eaten an entire cake in the icebox and when I would tell my father that my brother did it and the my brother would tell him that I had done it, he would believe my brother and punish me.

I can't make sense out of it, Doctor, unless it was just the fact that he liked to punish me more than he liked to punish my brother. He would make me lean forward over a chair and raise up my skirt. Then he would paddle me with a hairbrush, the same one he used on his hair.

Sometimes my bottom was so sore from that that I would have to go he in a tub of water in the bathroom, steaming my bruised butt. Then I still wouldn't be able to sit for a day.

My father would get such a fury in his arm when he did that. It was as if the sight of the white fabric that was always clinging to the cheeks of my ass did something to his blood.

He would spank me over and over again on occasions like that. And it was always because of my brother's lies. I swear, when I would read about the Christian martyrs and those who had suffered for their fate I always knew that I would become one of them.

You see, they were always these people who were wronged. I mean, someone would tell a he about them and they would be punished for it even though they were innocent. That's the way I always identified. Sometimes I would cry myself to sleep and think that my brother would get his when we both entered eternity. But, now I don't know anymore.

You see, since that happened I got very bitter. I suppose that was the thing that really distinguished Christian martyrs. They had stoicism. They did it for their faith. They really believed that they would prevail and so nothing bothered them.

Well, what can I tell you? I guess I didn't have enough goodness of heart and soul.

I finally gave in to temptation in the end. I started to do the very things that my father said he hated. I figured I would hurt my father. I figured it would kill him if I really was a whore. So, I became a whore. Actually, I'd better modify that a little bit. I was fourteen when this all started and I figured that I would become a fourteen-year-old girl's idea of what a whore is.

Do you get what I'm saying? I mean, I was still a virgin, but I considered myself a whore. I felt that when I would let a boy feel me up down under my waist, that was being a whore.

You see, the reason it makes sense to me is that it makes sense to my father and my brother. When my father would call me a whore, he didn't picture me out on the street swinging my bag, taking money from men to have sex with them. He knows that's what a whore is, but he wasn't calling me one of those. He knew better than to ever think of that.

I know how I can explain it. My father believes that if you smoke one lousy little marijuana cigarette, you'll become a heroin addict. I swear that's what he says.

He doesn't care about any research studies that the biggest scientists have done. All he says is that it's so because he thinks it is. He says the same thing about sex. If a girl is pure until she gets married, then she'll be okay.

Do you know that until a few years ago I just assumed that no boy would even touch my pussy until I was married. That's really something considering how far I've gone, considering how far Marco took me in the last little while. I'm getting off the track.

My father feels that if a girl of fourteen lets boys touch her box, then at sixteen she'll be letting boys fuck her and by the time she's eighteen she'll be on the streets, her face painted, shaming her family by selling her cunt to any guy passing by.

So, that's what I mean when I say that I was going far. I was going farther than almost any other girl my age in school. And I knew that my brother knew it. I knew that my brother was going to tell my father about what was going on at school.

"Is it true what I hear about you?" my father said, screaming at me.

"How can I know if it's true unless I know what it is, Papa?"

"Don'chu talk to me like that or I'D really give you a smack."

Then my mother would come in and start crying in a shrill voice. "Don't hit the child."

My brother entered then and said to me, "I'm the one who told papa. I told him that you're the school tramp now. I hear from the younger boys. Even some of the older boys in my class have heard about you and that's trouble. You put me to shame in the school."

"You can go to hell." After I shouted that my father chased me through the house. He was furious that I had said such a thing to my brother. He tossed me over one knee and he held me in place with his other leg and by pressing his left arm down against my back.

Then he tossed my skirts up and he started to hit me on my bottom. I was crying out and wriggling on his lap, but he didn't seem to care. He was spanking me with his bare hand, and I suppose that his hands are so calloused from work that they hurt more than the brush did.

He laid down these really strict rules for me. If I was not home from school on time he wanted to know who I was with, the name of the girl, and her phone number so that he could check up on me. Then I was forbidden from being out later than seven on a weekend night.

That means that I was spending every night over the weekend sitting at home and watching television.

My father considered this proper punishment, but I guess that I really wanted to get even with him. When he did all of that to me I felt that it was my duty to outwit him. I wanted to get even with him so I started to work out complicated ways to get away from this whole security system that my fascistic father worked out. like the nights when they would have slides and lectures at the church, I would go to the church and I would sign in. I would be with these two girls who I really knew very well and I really trusted. I knew they wouldn't fink on me. After the beginning of the lecture, I would slip out and meet this boy, Nicky, I was seeing at the time.

We would sit between two cars in the church parking lot and we would kiss until the people started coming out. Then we would run away and I would wait with Nicky down at the candy store until my two girlfriends came by to meet me.

Then I would come home and tell my father where I went and what the discussion topic was and who I was with. It was just lucky for me that my finky brother started work at that time so that he couldn't spy on me as much anymore.

Let's see, I guess I should tell you just how far things got between me and Nicky. I was starting to get scared then because I didn't know what would happen next. I guess that I broke up with Nicky because I was afraid that we would go too far.

You see, Doctor, I'm notvthe whore my father originally thought I was. Deep inside I'm still a good girl. I believe in some things in the world. I wasn't gonna let Nicky fuck me.

But, I had gotten as far as rubbing his dick through the fabric of his pants. Once he wanted me to touch it through the fabric of his undershorts when he had opened his pants, but I wouldn't go that far. I mean, I was only fourteen at the time.

And he had really gotten good at fingering me. I would let him reach inside my panties but I wouldn't let him actually take my panties down. Wow, did I ever get hot when I would feel his actual finger right up against the actual lip of my pussy.

I mean, I was just starting to get hair on my lips at the time and it felt so yummy anytime I touched it myself. It was really heavenly when he touched it.

But, like I said, I broke up with Nicky. But, a girl needed to have a boyfriend. You know what I'm saying? I didn't want to be all alone. Even though I wasn't allowed to go out on dates on the weekend I wanted to have a boy that I could be around school with.

I know that I'm no great beauty. But, I also know that there, are plenty of boys who are after me. There are plenty of boys who wouldn't mind being seen with me.

I can't really blame a lot of them, though. You know, a boy wants to have a date on a Saturday night so that he can really show off the fact that he has a girl of his own. Since I wasn't allowed to go out like that I couldn't expect a boy to make a commitment to me. You know, I couldn't expect any guy to give me an ankle bracelet or something like that.

There were a lot of guys around school though who would flirt with me. You know, a guy would wink his eye or he would grab at his crotch and whistle at me. Flirting.

I started to respond more and more to the flirting and the guys knew why. They knew it was because I just didn't have anybody of my own. I wanted to get it on with someone. I mean, I wanted to have someone to hold my hand walking around the school and stuff like that.

My brother seemed to hear about everything. He was working at the pizza place in the neighborhood, the same place where my father worked. But, my father was the manager during the day and my brother just worked behind the counter at night.

Let's see, when did all of this start. As I was saying to you before, my brother was always thought to be a real angel by my folks. They just assumed that he didn't do any wrong. But, he did plenty. I heard the story about how my brother and his buddies went into the city to go see a prostitute. I heard all about it. I'll bet my brother's thing is falling off now.

Anyhow, I started in with this other guy in school. He wasn't important. But, we would meet when we both had a free period and we would go into the broom closet or something like that.

Well, we hadn't even gone as far as I went with Nicky. But, wouldn't you know that the custodian would catch us one day and take us to the principal of the school. He called my father and you wouldn't believe the big fight that went on at home.

My father's vacation from work was the next week and he decided that he should cancel it. My mother started to cry her eyes out because her sister was living in Florida and she hadn't seen her sister in more than three years. Then my father started to hit me over the head, I swear, and he kept on shouting, "Look at what you did to your mother!"

Marco came to the rescue, as always. He told them that he would look after things while they were gone. My father said that he had already been counting on Marco to look after me but that now he was especially concerned about me being such a tramp.

They kept talking about me like I wasn't even there. They were talking around me.

I started to act really sassy and I told them that Marco couldn't look after me. "If you talk like that papa won't take mom to Florida!" my brother screamed in my ears right in front of my parents. "You want to deprive our mother of a chance to see her sister?"

My mother was crying hysterically. "I promise that I'll be good, Mama."

I started to cry and my father snarled, "What good is your promise?"

That made me furious. I was in my mother's arms and I was crying and he had to say a crappy thing like that. I crossed myself and said, "I swear on the Blessed Virgin, Papa. I swear on the Blessed Virgin that I won't do no thin' wrong while you're away."

"You won't leave the house while we're away," my mother said. "You wanna have friends here you can have friends here to visit, when your brother is home."

They weren't giving me an inch to enjoy myself, but I was in a corner.

"Swear on the Virgin," my father said about all of this. That was resolved. They sold my fate into the hands of my two-faced, bastard older brother.

Then my father actually had the nerve to tell my brother, "Remember, Marco, is you tell us anything she did to break that oath to the Blessed Virgin you're doing a favor to God and to your sister both." I was seeing red when I heard him saying that.

"Don't you worry, Papa. I'm gonna go to the library and I'm gonna take out some books and I'm gonna spend the whole week reading." That was the end of it.

You know, Doctor, sometimes I think that if my father wasn't so suspicious about my doing the wrong thing that I wouldn't be prompted to do the wrong thing all the time.

Well, that week I was determined that I was gonna be good. You know what I mean?

My brother, believe me, didn't make things easy for me. He was goading me all the time. "You gonna go out and hustle your twat on the street?" I swear he said that to me over breakfast. I told him that he would go to hell for saying things like that to his sister.

He just laughed at me and left the house, leaving me a prisoner there.

What happened after that wasn't my fault. Honestly it wasn't my fault. It just sort of happened. I mean, the first part wasn't my fault and the rest of it was certainly my brother's fault.

Well, you'll see what I'm getting at when I tell you the story, Doctor.

You see, I was at home and I was really trying to read this book that I had there.

Oh, the session is over now? I'll be able to tell you the rest of the story at the next session. You'll see when I do, Doctor, that I'm telling you the truth when I say that I'm not to blame for what happened with my brother.

INTERVIEW TWO

Let's see, Doctor, at the end of the last session I was telling you about what happened with my brother. Yes. This involves a very specific day. It was while my mother and father were visiting my Aunt Oona in Florida. I know it's a strange name, but then my maternal grandmother was a strange woman. It's too complicated to explain now.

Anyway, like I was saying, Doctor, my brother was in charge of watching over me and they had put me through this whole terrible thing before they left about how I had to behave myself and I had sworn on the Blessed Virgin that I really would.

And then I was home after dinner and my brother was working a few hours longer and I got a phone call from Nicky and he told me that I had his social studies book. I had borrowed it because he had his notes written into it. You know, it was one of those notebooks where they have the questions to be answered right in the notebook.

I told him that he couldn't come over because I couldn't let him in when my brother wasn't there and he asked me what kind of bullshit that was. He told me that all the kids in school would laugh at that if they heard about it. I told him not to dare tell anyone.

Well, he started in about how silly I was being and about how everybody really should laugh at me because of the way I was acting. And he told me that he needed the book because he would fail social studies if he didn't have it. So, I told him to come over, but I said that I would just give him the book and make him leave right away.

He came to the door and he wanted to come in to use the bathroom. I told him to go to the bathroom and then to leave. When he came out of the bathroom, and since he didn't flush, I mean, I didn't hear him flush, I don't think he really needed to use the bathroom, he asked me if I was mad at him or something. He wanted to know how come I wouldn't see him.

"We just don't have enough in common, Nicky. I don't enjoy your company."

He tried to kiss me and I pushed him away and told him not to dare do such a thing in my father's house when no one else was home. I swear on a stack of bibles that's the honest truth of what happened while Nicky was in the house. He was really pissed when he left the place and he got on his bicycle and took off down the block.

I locked the door and no sooner did I lock it than I heard a key in the lock.

"Marco, is that you?" I asked when I heard the rattling of the key. My heart was really pounding. What can I tell you, Doctor? I guess I started to act suspicious right away because I knew that Marco had seen Nicky going out of the hoiise.

I tried to be cool, but that only made it worse. When Marco came into the house there was a really mad look on his face. He told me that we would have to talk.

Before he even said anything I started to tell him everything about Nicky. I told him, "Nicky only came here to get his social studies book and then he left right away."

"I heard about you and Nicky on the nights in the parking lot right outside the church." That really surprised me. I didn't know that Marco knew about that.

He started to unbuckle the belt from around his waist and that scared me.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I asked when he had the belt doubled up in his hand.

"You swore on the Blessed Virgin that you weren't going to break any of your promises to our mother. You also swore that you would listen to me as you listen to papa. Therefore I'm going to spank your ass with my belt, little sister." There was a determined expression on his face.

"Don't you put mat belt anywhere near me," I shouted at him.

"You broke your pledge to the Virgin. What is papa gonna say to that?"

"I did not break no pledge to no Virgin! Nicky needea to come in to use the bathroom."

"Yeah?" my brother said, slapping the belt in his palm. "And did you hold it for him?"

"Don't you talk to me that way, Marco? Don't you dare open such a filthy mouth to your sister."

"Sister? You're no sister of mine. You're nothin' but a stinkin' whore."

"You should know, Marco. You're the expert on whores. I heard about your trip to the city."

"Bend over the chair and pull up your skirt. I'm gonna spank your ass."

"No!" I screamed as I started out of the room. Well, my brother was faster than I was.

He tripped me and then he fell on top of me. He pulled my skirt up and then my panties were revealed. I only wear the simplest kind of white panties. That seems to be proper.

Marco was on top of me. He was slapping my ass. At least he had dropped his belt so he wasn't using the leather on me. And anyway, he had to hold me down because of the way that I kept on squirming. He couldn't have manipulated the belt over my ass cheeks.

So, he had to settle for slapping my butt. At least that was how he started out.

Then he ripped my panties right down. I can't tell you how stunned I was when that happened.

"As long as you're nothin' but a whore who don't even care about a pledge she made to the Blessed Virgin herself, why shouldn't I knock off a piece for myself."

I can't tell you how ugly that sounded coming out of my brother's mouth and directed at me. But, it was also frightening for me. After all, I had no more panties on and my brother was lying on one of my legs, pulling the other leg as far away as he could.

He was spreading me open. He was actually forcing me open there on the floor.

His fingers were moving closer and closer to my pussy. I was crying. I mean, there were real tears that were coming down my face when he was doing that to me.

Through the tears I started to cry out, "Marco, I'm a virgin. I'm a virgin."

He didn't believe me. That fuckin' bastard really didn't believe his own sister. He reached down and started to tickle the lips of my pussy. I guess I had a light down of hair at the time. Yeah, sure I did. I had hair on my pussy slit at the time.

Marco pulled my pussy lips open and then he wriggled one finger inside the tight lips. He plucked that finger out and laughed, "You're a virgin. You really are."

"You see, Marco, you can't take my cherry. You're my brother and you're supposed to protect my cherry, Marco. You couldn't be the one to take it before marriage."

Remember that there were tears in my eyes throughout this. There were also tears in my throat. I was really getting myself sick and turned inside out over this.

He spread my legs out and he was pressing the front of his body down hard against the front of mine. The difference was that he was still wearing his jeans and they were hard and stiff in the front. I mean, not just the pants but also the buckle at the top. I was completely stripped down there. He had pulled up my skirt and he had taken off my panties. So, I was feeling the hard fabric of his jeans rubbing against my naked flesh.

He was moving up and down and the stiff dungaree material was pulling at my pussy lips. I guess that my lips were starting to get moist. They had never been treated so rough and they were already starting to feel raw from what was happening to them.

Then my brother managed to hold me down with the weight of his body. It took a lot of time because I was always fighting him, always looking for a way out of it.

The two of us were really very sweaty by the time he got where he wanted to be.

He had his pants open and then he tugged them down. He was wearing the white jockey shorts tha he always wore. I had seen him in them before, but usually just a glimpse if his door was open a little bit when I passed by. I knew that his prick showed in the front of them.

Once when I had confessed seeing that to the priest, he told me to wash my eyes out with holy water. When I got to the fountain there was another girl, gargling. Oh, you already heard that?

He tugged down the jockey shorts and then I could actually feel the hot flesh of his thick thing pressing right up against the lips of my pussy. I tried to get away from him then.

"I told you I was a virgin. Are you gonna take your own sister's cherry?"

"I'm gonna do it the Greek way, little sister. That way I don't take your cherry. At least I don't take the one that your husband is gonna take when the time comes."

And then I found out what my brother was talking about. Afterwards I heard about it from other girls who told me that some of the girls, especially the Greeks, (that, I suppose, was a theory on how come it was called the Greek way), girls who wanted to keep their cherries until they married, would let boys do it to them that way.

I couldn't imagine such a thing. I mean, I couldn't imagine girls doing that on purpose.

But, let me go on. Do you know what my brother was talking about, what he wanted to do to me? He wanted to put his dick into my ass hole. He felt that would be better than fucking my pussy because then he wouldn't be breaking anything I was supposed to have.

I really started to panic and go crazy when he told me that. He was on top of me and he started to work his way into my bottom hole. He spit on his hand and used the spit to get his cock all lubricated for it. Then, when I felt the mushroom head of the thing pressing in right against my ass hole I thought he was going to destroy me.

The pressure was so great that I could feel it spreading me wide open. He pulled on the cheeks as he pushed forward with his hips. His prick was so stiff that I thought it might snap at any instant. I was sure hoping it would snap then and there.

But then I felt the head of it prying my ass cheeks apart, getting inside the moist flesh that was the anal ring. He was starting to work his way inside me.

That bastard was still wearing his red and white striped shirt from the pizza place. The shirt was sort of loose on him and I could see the sweat running down his perfectly smooth and defined chest. There was also perspiration on his brow.

Then the full head of his cock managed to get into my bottom hole. I cried out when I felt that and he made a nasty crack about getting the rest of my ass with the rest of his cock.

He was pulling on both of the cheeks of my ass as he was pushing forward with his body. Then I could feel his cock disappearing into my ass hole. Little by little it was pressing against my insides a little more and it was spreading me open further and further.

Marco was working his body from side to side. I guess he was trying to pry me open.

I just shut my eyes and I tried to shut out all the sensations that were happening to me. I know that part of the reason I wanted to shut them out was that I felt this excitement in my body.

Doctor, I just have to admit this to you. This is the honest truth. I felt this excitement and I was turned on. I was really physically turned on. I mean, I know what it is to be excited because when I used to do things with Nicky I would come home and touch myself and I would be sizzling. I don't mean I would just touch myself to test how hot I was. It wasn't like touching the top of a stove and then pulling away. I mean that I touched myself until I was satisfied.

I guess I already told you that I liked to touch myself? Well, let me go on.

Finally I felt this plunging inside me and I knew that Marco had gotten the full length of his prick all the way into my ass hole. He started to fuck in and out of the hole and that was really driving me crazy. I don't know exactly what it was that was getting me so hot.

I guess that there are a lot of nerve endings all around the ass hole. At least that's the way it feels to me. It feels like someone is tickling all these nerve endings and that each little tickling movement is being sent up all the way through my body.

He held onto my hips and started fucking in and out of me so fast and so hard that I was helpless. I don't know just what happened to me, but it was like my whole body turned into gelatin.. How else can I describe it? He didn't have to hold my body down. He was in control of me. I couldn't fight against him. His dick was the boss.

Each of the thrusting jolts from my brother's body seemed to be getting harder and harder. Then I made the only voluntary movement that I did throughout the whole time. Well, I don't know if I should say voluntary. I mean, the problem was that I just couldn't move at all. I was like gelatin. But, this one movement I made was more like an involuntary one.

I reached my hand down to my pussy lips. I didn't mean to do it, but I did it.

Just then my brother slammed into me the hardest he had done yet. The big head of his j dick pushed so hard at my insides that I was sure he had left a hole in me. Then I could feel his cock pumping away. He was shooting all of his juice into my ass hole.

Meanwhile, as soon as I felt the pressure against my insides I reached up my pussy and pressed the tip of one finger against my clit. That was all I needed to get over the edge.

I started to cum. And when I say that I mean that I really started to cum.

My body was jerking up and down as if I were some kind of bucking bronco. I didn't do that on purpose. It was just something that happened. My whole body was moving back and forth and back and forth. Meanwhile, of course, my brother's dick was in my ass.

"You're a witch," he screamed at me. He pulled his cock out of my ass. I cried out in pain.

He didn't come near me again, but I really started-to lash out in the weeks that followed. I actually started to give guys blowjobs in school. I never actually swallowed the stuff, but the guys knew that I would suck them off and take it in my hand.

I didn't care anymore how many guys I did it to. I don't know why I did it. It didn't make sense, but I just wanted to get back somehow. I couldn't tell my father the truth about what my brother did to me because he wouldn't have believed me.

Well, of course there's been another explosion in the house now and my father said that he would send me off to a boarding school where the girls live in a dormitory. He's been threatening that and I tell him that I don't care. I really don't, Doctor. I hear terrible things about those boarding schools but I'm so unhappy at home I'd rather be there.

CONCLUSION

Boarding school might be the best idea. The girl is choked at home and unhappy in the suspicious atmosphere. It would be healthy for her to be somewhere else.

But, primarily she has to learn to do things that are positive for herself.

She keeps making decisions to do things because it will "get back at someone else" when, in point of fact, she is usually hurting herself most of all Her father's anxious contempt for the girl has turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Her reputation has been tarnished among a group of people who value such things.

The girl should attend intense therapy and should then be given an opportunity at a new life in a new home, at least for a little while. It hasn't gone too far so that she can't still have a chance at being a well-adjusted girl with a normal sex life.

However, her father with his one-sided view of sex matters should join his daughter for a few sessions. It might open both of their eyes to confront their fears and mutual anxieties in an open manner. The girl truly loves her father and wants to please the man. He has made that part of her problem-perhaps the most important part.

CASE HISTORY THREE

SUBJECT: Paula Q. AGE: Twenty-four

INTERVIEW ONE

Paula looked like a young, bright, up and coming career girl. She had light brown hair that was worn in a soft and fluffy style. Her smile was pleasant and sincere. And yet there was something beneath the surface. She was a deeply troubled girl.

Soon enough her eyes would not meet mine. She had values and beliefs that made her situation very difficult for her. There was shame and guilt in the way she carried herself.

There was just a little bit of a Southern accent in her voice when she began, but as she continued it was evident that there was a deeper accent when she lost control of herself and was not quite so precise about the way she was talking.

Doctor, I must admit that it's not easy for me to be here. I don't know just how easy it will be for me to talk to you about this matter in my life, this side of my life.

You see, I come from a very reserved background. My mother's side of the family was of better blood than my father's and my mother's name was one that was known throughout the state of Virginia and the Carolinas. I came North, you see, for my education because I thought it would be an intellectual challenge. Being a woman in the South these days is not so thoroughly rewarding if you get my meaning.

But, my roots are still deeply imbedded in the old South. I still believe in the things that my father taught me. Although there are some problems with some of the things.

As you've already gathered, I value the prospect of being a successful woman. I'd like to take up the challenge of business and I'd like to compete with men, but at the same time I do believe that a man should hold the door for me and pull out my chair for me. It's just that these things marked the sign of gentlemen and ladies for centuries and who are we to question or change things in the world? I want to be treated like a lady.

And yet I also want to be treated as an equal in the business world, but those two things are not at all similar. Do you understand what I'm saying? I hope I'm making myself clear.

Doctor, there are other things that my father taught me, that my father made me believe in, which are just as bad. I mean, they're problems for me. I mean, sometimes I believe the things and sometimes I don't believe them. I'm so confused.

Like my daddy would read about rape and he would say, "Ain't no such thing as rape." He would also say, "A woman can run faster with her skirts up than a man can with his pants down."

I would agree with all of that. And yet, how can I agree with it when I know that I, myself, have been a rape victim. It happened because of my cousin, Robert.

Robert, one would say, is the finest representation of Southern manhood one could find. That's the sort of thing that my mother is always saying to me about my cousin.

He's from the wealthier side of the family, my mother's people. And he's in about the umpteenth year of college. He was one of those boy geniuses, you know? He graduated high school when he was sixteen. I figured then his folks were happy because he wouldn't be needing their support because he'd start earning a living all the earlier. But, did that happen?

Robert kept on with college and just started collecting degrees.

I always thought he was a little strange, but I have to admit, Doctor, that I also found him attractive. Robert cut quite a figure on the tennis court. He had a smooth torso that was very muscular and he got just the right kind of bronze tan, one that didn't make him look like he had colored blood in him, if you know what I mean?

It's not that my people were ever prejudiced. We always considered ourselves a friend to the colored people and we always were kind to them, in a condescending enough way, but at the same time one can't be too careful about one's owk kin, especially if one wants to be able to be served dinner in all the best restaurants and clubs.

Now, where was I? Where was I? My mother told me that Robert would be coming for the summer. Now, this was the summer when I was sixteen. I was still a virgin then. And, not only was I a virgin, but I hadn't even gotten into heavy petting.

I wanted to be the kind of girl that my daddy would approve of.

And then they told me that Robert would be coming for the summer. He needed a nice and quiet place to spend the summer. His folks were going off the Europe or something for two months and since my folks were just going to be staying home Robert could come and stay with us while he finished writing up his dissertation for his degree.

So, you can see what it was like? The whole summer was devoted to things like, "Turn off the television. Cousin Robert is studying in the other room." Or else, "We have to wait dinner for Robert because he stayed late at the library."

Meanwhile my mother did something that, in my way of thinking, was unspeakably evil and wicked of her. I mean, I'm telling you the way I thought of it back then when this happened. She declared that I had to find a job for the summer. She didn't care what it was doing and she didn't care how little I earned, but she felt I must understand what it was to earn money.

I had never before in my life earned money. I suppose that part of my problem then was that I envied Robert. Seemingly he was sitting at home all day, reading, while I was off at work, struggling to stock shelves in a clothing shop.

That made it more humiliating than ever because my mother came home one day and told me that she had secured a position for me with a clothing shop in town. She was pleased with the pay and pleased that it was a full time job. I think they didn't want me in Robert's way around the house and that was the real thing behind this.

My parents, in truth, could never be direct with me. I honestly felt that they were telling me they didn't have enough faith in me. I don't know, Doctor. They would always tell little lies. It was like telling me that we were going to the zoo when we were really going to the dentist. When parents pull crap like that on a little kid how can they ever be trusted?

So, I would come home from my job and see Robert treated like he was a king.

It was a crappy summer from the beginning. What happened later on made it a difficult summer, a very, very difficult time for me. Of course there was sex involved with my cousin.

From the first time I saw him I knew that I was attracted to him. I was curious in the way that any girl of that age would be curious. You know what I'm saying. I had never seen a penis in the flesh. I had never been around the smell and the ... everything about boys.

I remember one time my mother told me to wake him up and I knocked on the door a little to see if he was up but he probably didn't hear me. I pushed the door open and he was lying there with the blankets pulled back. I do believe that he was jerking himself off with his penis outside of the fly opening of his undershorts. But, I didn't get a good view because he pulled the blanket over himself as soon as I was there.

He seemed very annoyed with me but he never said anything to me and I didn't mention it to him.

Both of us pretended that it hadn't happened. Then there was something else he didn't know about.

Cousin Robert was sunning himself down the hillside from the house. There was a little bit of land around that house, let me tell you. The land wasn't good for much because it was a hillside that sloped down and it wasn't very level, but it was nice to have.

I came upon him and he was wearing a pair of gym shorts from his school and that was all he was wearing. He had fallen asleep with a book open on his chest and his hands over his eyes. His legs were spread apart a little bit and I could see that his cock was sticking out of one of the leg openings of the gym shorts. The cock was erect and I could see the head of it.

I started at him for a long time. It was really a chance to look at him. But, I knew that I didn't dare wake him up like that. I backtracked up the hill and started to call to him from a short way off. Before I came upon him again he responded to me. I saw him again, standing with his back toward me and pulling his pants up his legs.

Meanwhile he was convincing my parents what a gem of perfection he was. He would lecture me all the time about different subjects. I don't mean that he would lecture at me and tell me that something I did was wrong, he would give me actual lectures.

He told my mother that he thought that I was exceptionally bright but that I needed discipline. He was studying philosophy in school of all things. Can you imagine someone like that? He would discuss everything in such a heavy philosophical way that you couldn't even follow him.

Robert was doing a dissertation on the "Amoeba Instinct in Mankind." He spent a lot of time explaining that to me. But, put in simple terms, it means that human life really hasn't evolved further than the first amoeba. Actually, Robert should have taken that back further. The way he described it, human life isn't evolved higher than the first reaction of one chemical with another. It's only that there are more chemicals in our structure that makes us do the things that we do.

I mean, he believed that everything in humans could be broken down in terms of an amoeba. If somebody cried, if somebody died of cancer, if somebody hit somebody else, if two people made love, if a woman gave birth, it was all as simple in essence as the responses of an amoeba.

What he was doing was taking these different human happenings and responses, things we have come to associate with human life experience and he was breaking down each one one of them into component parts. He would say that one incident might have had more than four-hundred component parts, discussing the movement of each muscle and then breaking that into parts and seeing how each part of that affected every other part of the body.

In essence he was saying that we're really no more than a lot of atoms.

My mother thought it was wonderful for me to spend my afternoons in the garden with Robert once the store decided that I should only work in the mornings. I guess it was because Robert didn't seem to mind my company even though my mother feared he would have.

So, I was still stuck working in the store in the mornings because they wanted me then. I was never able to sleep late and then I would usually go out to the pool in the afternoons. Everyone else had gotten a much better tan than what I had by that time. But I was trying to catch up.

There was just a rather small pool and there were little white dressing booths down below it. They were just dressing rooms that you could close from the inside.

Very often Robert and I would go out to the pool. I had become very acquainted with his body. Sometimes when my parents weren't home he would swim casually in one of his pairs of gym shorts, even though he knew that I could see clearly the outline of his cock in those shorts.

But, with all of that, Doctor, I swear that I never went over the border with Robert!

Honestly, I never did anything that he should have really considered provocative. In point of fact, I didn't even wear two-piece bathing suits, even though I had them and I certainly had the body to wear them. I just wore my simple one-piece suits.

Then one evening he came to my room and he was wearing his robe and I was wearing my robe and my nightgown underneath. He sat down and started to talk to me about all sorts of things. He was talking to me about freedom and slavery and control of the mind. He told me that some people were meant to master and others were meant to be mastered.

I told him that with his blond hair and all his saying that really made him sound like some damn Nazi. He said that what he was talking about didn't have anything to do with that. He said he was talking about a willingness to take responsibility.

People, he said, had a right to give up responsibility, but only if they also gave up choice at the same time. "Wouldn't it be simpler for your life," he said to me, "if there was some man who would take care of everything for you. You, meanwhile, would do his bidding. You would, in essence, prove that you were his slave in every respect."

That sounded terrible to me, I told him. Somehow the responsibilities of life at that time didn't seem so terrible as they did a little later and I wasn't so willing to give them up then. I told him that I didn't like the sound of the idea

"There are some who are made to master. Perhaps, cousin, you were made to master after all and not to be mastered. But, that would be a shame if it were so."

A lot of the things he said to me were difficult to understand.

Then one day he said things that were easy to understand. I was planting something way down at the foot of the hill, in the part of the little valley that's really hidden. I can't remember right now what I was planting, but it was something that needed shade.

Since the day was hot, even in the shade, I was wearing just my bathing suit.

He came down the hill wearing just his gym shorts. These were kind of drooping low on him. They were white and dirty and they showed his belly button and the hair on the firm and smooth stomach below his belly button. They also showed the outline of his cock. His hair was wet so I knew that he had been swimming. Also the shorts were wet.

"You are very interested in my body," he said to me in a soft voice.

Now, that was him saying those words to me. I looked away and said, "A gentleman would not say such a thing to a lady. I expect you to treat me with respect and distance."

I must say that there was nothing more ' appropriate that a girl of my age could have said.

But, he went on, "The way you're looking at my crotch right now is telling me that you want to see me naked." My heart was beating like a thunderstorm when he said that.

I pulled my arm away when he touched me and said, "How dare you lay a finger on me."

He said that he would prove it to me and then he grabbed my arm again. He was holding me there and he insisted that my pussy would be wet. Can you imagine how horrified I was when he said that to me? I tried to kick him or to pull away.

But, he was behind me and he was pushing me down on the grass. I struggled, but could not get away from him. He was unzipping my swimsuit from behind. Then he was pulling it off me. It was dry. I can remember that it was dry because I hadn't been in the water since earlier in the day and the sun had dried it. It was easy for him to pull it off.

Then he reached between my legs when he had the swimsuit pulled down my legs and exposing my butt. He had his finger caught there and then he wriggled it up and down.

He got what he wanted. I could feel his finger making contact with my pussy.

"You are not a gentleman, Robert." I shouted at him, "I'll tell my daddy about what you're doin' to me now and he'll have you shot worse'n the lowest chicken thief.""

Actually, Doctor, I do tend to get a bit of a Southern accent wwen I get angry.

He started to lecture me and to tell me that I was lying to him because my pussy was wet.

He said that the truth of the physical being in the greatest truth, the one truth that didn't lie. He said that if a body responded to something in a certain way, limiting that bodies movements only caused a form of cancer of the soul, the ultimate-death.

That was the time when he was first taking his amoeba theory and starting to tie it up with religion and with his theories about what God was and all sorts of things like that.

He told me that his cock was hard. I mean, he actually said, "My cock is hard."

I, of course replied, "How dare you use such foul language with me?"

And he said, "It's the natural way that my mind wants to respond to you. If you don't want to hear it then you're only being unnatural. You're lying to yourself."

Doctor, I guess I was to blame for that first incident. I certainly was to blame for what happened after it. I mean, just as my father said about a rape never being the woman's fault.

Robert was keeping me on my stomach and I didn't understand that. He had gotten rid of his trunks and he was rubbing his stiff prick against the crack of my ass. I didn't understand what he was going to do to me. Then he whispered in my ears, "The only thing you're worried about is the prudish morality of the family and the value structure. That's a reality for you because it truly is something you have to deal with.

"But, you shouldn't worry about it because, in point of fact, you won't have to deal with the problem."

He made me suddenly feel that he was doing me the biggest favor in the universe. He told me that he wouldn't rape my pussy even though that would have been the most natural thing for him, but he would put his dick up my ass hole and use that instead.

In doing that, he explained, he wouldn't be taking the virginity that I was supposed to save for my husband. Well, he made it seem that he was doing me a favor.

Then he started to work his dick against my bottom hole. I was just lying flat and he didn't ask much of me that first time. I just was lying there and he was working it into my body from behind. I started to feel the dick pushing into my body.

He managed to get the head of it inside the hole with a great deal of difficulty. But once he had the head inside I guess there was a relaxation and he slid the rest of it in.

Believe me when I tell you that it was quite a large cock.

He fucked me very hard because I was down in the dirt and he was pushing my body down against a hard surface as he did that I was really going crazy from the pain and the pleasure at the same time.

Oh, I'm sorry I've run over my session. I didn't realize that-you had another patient waiting, Doctor. I did at least want to finish telling you what happened that summer so that I could explain my present relationship with my cousin now.

Okay, I'll just have to pick up where I left off when I see you again. Thank you.

INTERVIEW TWO

Before leaving I explained to the young woman that she had to feel a little more self-reliant in life and not to feel so guilty, but she said that her problem was more complicated than it had been when she was a teenager. I discovered that the first session had merely covered the preliminary situation that she wished to discuss now.

When I was here the last time I told you that my cousin had raped me. Well, the rape felt good to me. It didn't stay a rape for a long time. I mean, that first time he did it to me was certainly a rape. I mean, he truly did force me to do it.

But, the second time he did it to me I didn't really make him hold me down.

I realized why Robert had been coming to my room to sit and talk. He wanted to see if my parents would question such an action. When they ignored it, he figured that he was safe for other things.

And he really was. In a little while there was no way I could go to my father. I guess I wanted it just as much as Robert did and it was always up my ass.

He did it in the greatest positions once I started to cooperate with him. He would always tell me that it was something that was meant to be. Anything that gave Robert pleasure was meant to be. He even taught me to do it with me sitting on his dick, and that was with me sitting on it with it inside my ass hole.

Well, in the fall he went off to school and I was crushed.

I saw him again for a week over Christmas and somehow he was such a smooth talker that he ended up fucking me again. Of course, he fucked me in the ass hole then.

The truth of the matter was that I went to school in the North because I wanted to be closer to Robert. I was in Chicago and he was in Kansas. He often came to Chicago.

But then he moved out to California and I was stuck in Chicago. Understand that up to that time I had been dating other guys, but I hadn't gone too far with anyone else. It was really strange, my cousin was seeing me stripped naked and was fucking my ass any day of the week that he chose to do so, but other guys couldn't get more than a kiss from me.

By the way, that was the time when I started thinking that he really liked to fuck my ass. I mean, that he liked to fuck my ass more than he liked to fuck my pussy.

After he left for California I felt that I wanted to lash out and hurt him in some way. It was crazy because I ended up hurting myself more than anything else.

I started to let other guys have sex with me. Of course I was much too shy and timid to ever think of suggesting anything like asking a boy to fuck my ass. I would only get fucked in the pussy. And I'll tell you the honest truth, Doctor, I didn't like it as much as my ass.

During those years I was dreaming about my cousin. I couldn't help it. Somehow, even though a girl is supposed to enjoy it in the pussy, even though I know that my clit is there and it does feel nice when I rub my fingers against my pussy flesh, I liked it in my ass more. My cousin, to this day, has never ever rucked my pussy.

You see, at the moment I'm the treasurer for the central office of the-

-Church. That's my cousin's organization. Perhaps you've seen him on television. Well, I guess it does take a certain type of person to watch that sort of thing on television.

All he ever talks about is evil. I'll tell you the truth, Doctor. He really is an educated man. He knows that the breakdown of the American family is an economic thing. He knows that in the old days on a farm you had to have certain roles in the family and children were needed to help you with the land. In the new times in cities the old family structure didn't stand up. It was probably only the emphasis on ego that came in in the seventies that accounts for anybody having a baby in the city these days.

So, he knows what's going on. He goes on the air every week anyway telling people that because of big city liberals and homosexuals in New York who take drugs and write pornography our country is being destroyed. And then he tells people to send him money to help him in this desperate war on the encroaching forces of evil that are destroying us.

I'll tell you the truth. Ask me if I feel any sympathy with the people who send us money? Ask me if I feel sympathy with an old lady who writes to tell us that she is sending us half of her social security check and that she'll eat cat food for the rest of the month because she wants to help Robert fulfill his mission of cleaning up America.

If she's living with that kind of fear in her then ... what can I tell you? Let her send us the money! What the hell do I care? You can see, Doctor, that I'm starting to fall apart emotionally. You can see that I'm no longer in control of myself.

It's all getting to me! The lies and the filthiness of the whole business. They are getting to me.

And the worst part is my sex life. Robert has a string of girls. If that old lady had known what happened to the money she sent for Robert's homes to help wayward girls she would probably drop dead of a coronary right now. If you knew, by the way, how many of the old buzzards leave my cousin in their wills and cut out their own children you would pass out.

I keep saying that they deserve it, but I feel so rotten about what I'm doing. I feel rotten about playing a part in it. I don't know, Doctor, maybe I'm just selfish.

How do I know whether I'm telling you a lie, Doctor? Maybe it's just selfishness talking. My cousin used to fuck me regularly. I know for a fact that when he has the time he can fuck more than once a day. Now, he only gets a chance to throw me a fuck as a favor once in a while. He went for two months without fucking me up the ass.

In all that time I didn't do it with anyone else. Then he finally fucked me up the ass and he couldn't even spend the night together with me. I cried myself to sleep.

The next morning I called a gossip magazine and I started to talk to one of the writers about Robert. They'd love to get something on him, and I know everything. But then I just chickened out and I hung up the phone. I don't know what to do anymore.

You can see what I meant, Doctor, when I told you that my family would really die if they knew that I was here seeing a psychiatrist. They don't approve of such things. Like I said, they're all mixed up. I guess I'm the most mixed up of all.

They really think that Robert is doing good in the world. If I said anything to the press about the truth they would think that I was the devil's companion or something like that.

But, it's the same way that I believe I'm on my way in business and I'm competing with men when in fact I'm working for an organization that spent half of its last newsletter warning everyone to fight against equal rights for women because it would take women away from the stove.

Robert, I am convinced, doesn't have any human emotions any more. If public opinion favored eating shit Robert would go on television and eat shit with a smile. He would, I am convinced sell his mother for a thousand dollars and he'd sell me for a lot less.

The trouble is that I am caught in the middle of something. Like I said, if I do or say anything my parents will go against me and my whole family will go against me.

CONCLUSION

Much was revealed when Paula finally opened up in her fury toward the end of the second session. The girl was too unstable at that time to give a coherent report of what had actually happened to her and where she stood in life. She had been a very bright young girl but had been malleable. Her cousin had taken advantage of her.

Robert had a strong will and a strong personality. Paula was desperate for freedom from the man. I strongly urged that she take a quiet rest away from the city, away from friends and away from her cousin and then enter intensive therapy, cutting off contact with her cousin. I even offered to intercede with the welfare and employment authorities if her cousin cut off funds to her.

She took the vacation as I suggested but never returned. I later learned that she had shaved her head and joined an Eastern Cult which eventually took her along to India. At least she found her own way to get away from her cousin and family pressures, perhaps, in her case, the way of least resistance. As a child of tradition and rules, she could only function in a constant effort to find tradition and rules to guide her.

From a rather mundane beginning, Paula turned out to be one of my most interesting patients.

CASE HISTORY FOUR

SUBJECT: Sandra U. AGE: Thirty-one

INTERVIEW ONE

Sandra had a thick New York accent. She was a lovely young woman who was moving into her thirties with grace and a certain charm. She didn't wear too much make up and at the same time she wore what she did well. Her hair was simple and her clothes were simple.

After the second session I concluded that she was getting a little thick around the hips, but she dressed well and she hid it well with her choice of outfits.

She was full-breasted, and her blonde hair was bleached a little bit.

She was also incredibly straightforward for someone dealing with an analyst for the first time.

Doctor, let me get right to the point. My problem is my husband, Ted.

Ted is very tall and good looking. He was, as my mother put it, a perfect husband. My mother was so delighted when I got engaged to Ted that she was crying for joy all the way through the wedding. Actually, I think she was probably crying for fear that I wouldn't marry him.

Keep in mind the generation that I was. I was the generation caught in the middle. Every generation says that about itself, but that is so true about mine. We were caught right in the middle of the sexual revolution. At the time when I was going to school, and I do mean when there was campus unrest all over the country, the sexual revolution was just beginning.

Now I hear about mothers who just take it for granted that their daughters are having sex from the time they're teenagers. My mother would have dropped dead if she thought such a thing.

I was a virgin until I was twenty. Then I started to smoke pot and I was moving with a crowd on campus who were very cool and hip and liberal and it seemed like the thing to do.

I suppose that I went through a period when I was sort of a pig. I think that's healthy for a person. And yet, I hadn't slept with more than five guys in my life when I married Ted. I don't think that's too many, do you?

All of the guys I slept with had one thing in common. Each of them was committed to the cause of liberalism and change in America. When I first married Ted I used to kid with him and tell him that the reason I had married him was that I wanted to take the most liberal of the whole group and the one who was devoted to doing the most.

Ted was in law school at the time. He promised that he wouldn't join a wealthy law firm when he got out but that he would help the poor who needed his help more.

Well, when he got out of law school his grades weren't the highest, of any of the people in his class, but they were pretty good considering that he had spent so much time at demonstrations and that he had been so devoted to the cause of helping people around the world.

Of course there were some catty people who said that he had gone to work for the poverty organization because he wasn't good enough to get into a good firm, but that wasn't the truth. He could have gotten into a good firm if he wanted to.

But, Ted felt better about being able to help people who really needed it instead of just working to keep corporations in control of America. Believe me, Doctor, I stood right at his side in defense of everything he did. Even when my mother was crying about the fact that, in her words, I had married an idiot, I still stood up for Ted.

Ted was really excited about working at the poverty center. He would come home from work and he would talk to me as excited as a child, telling me about things he had come in contact with during that day. He would tell me about some old lady who was getting kicked out of her apartment and about some kid who needed a job to stay out of prison.

You see, they had this whole mix of people there. They had these social workers and psychiatrists and lawyers working together to help people with whatever they needed.

But then something else came up one night and it had to do with sex with me.

Now, I should tell you about my sex life with Ted. He was always rather slow. I mean he could have had sex with me about two months earlier than he actually did, but he never tried. He seemed very grateful to me when I finally did it with him.

And then he kept on saying that I was the best fuck he had ever had. Well, that did a lot for my ego. You see, Ted is really a rather good looking guy. He's tall and he has straight, dark hair and glasses. There's nothing distinguishing about him. But, he's really good looking and charming.

Everyone said that we made a nice couple together. Of course when I first met him he was wearing-glasses and a beard and he had hair down to his shoulders. He looked very different from the way he looks now that he's got a nice suit on a crisp haircut.

Forget about political significance. I believe that short hair on a man just looks nicer. That's only my personal opinion, but what can I tell you? That's what turns me on.

Where was I? Oh, yes. So, Ted and I were having a fairly good sex life. I mean, the two of us were really having fun together. Actually, he could have fucked me a little bit longer than he usually did. And I guess I sometimes faked having my orgasms, just for his sake so that he wouldn't feel that he had failed me, but he was good.

And then one night he brought someone home from work at the center. There was this guy whose name was Vincent. Vincent was a very big black guy. He was even taller than my husband and he had these terrifically broad shoulders and this powerful chest.

I made dinner forThe two of them and they were arguing politics all night.

Most of the time I just listened to what they had to say. It was fun for me. It was like the old days when the campus radical organizations would meet and I would always listen to the guys talking about important things while I was in the kitchen making coffee.

That really made me feel like I was an intrinsic part of things.

Anyhow, like I was saying, the two of them were talking and I wasn't interrupting. And then I heard Vincent saying that he would support a resolution declaring that my husband's job should be given to a black or Hispanic candidate.

"Now wait one minute," I said to Vincent, even when my husband told me not to get involved. "You come into our house and you eat our food and then you tell us that you want to help to get my husband kicked out of a job?"

He turned to Ted and asked, "Were you bribing me with this dinner?"

Ted was furious with me. He said that he already knew the way that Vincent felt about the issue and that he had invited Vincent to the house in order to be his guest and not because he expected Vincent to go against his moral grain on an issue that meant something to him.

Well, I flew out to the kitchen. I couldn't stand hearing this. He was talking about an issue that meant something to Vincent! How about us? It certainly meant something to the two of us! It was a question of whether my husband would have a job or not.

Not only that but I was just starting to picture what it would be like if Ted got fired by the poverty center. It wouldn't be like getting fired by a big company. He would be fired from a place where no one even wanted to work. Who would take him from there?

When he came into the kitchen he was pissed at me but before he had a chance to say anything, I snapped at him, "Why didn't you tell me that they're talking about taking your job away?"

"It's nothing," he assured me. I had him on the defensive then. "They talk this way all the time. It's the Black Power people who don't think that any whites should work there at all. But, the government pays for the place and they would never stand for it."

He was soothing me and he didn't have time to worry about what I had said in the other room.

But, when the two of us got into the other room, Vincent was pacing back and forth in the living room and he said, "I see that I should leave. I'm not a welcome guest in your house."

"Oh, no. Please, it's only that I've been very high strung all day. Won't you please accept my apology?" I said to him with all the sincerity I could muster.

I took his hand and encouraged him and then he, in a gentlemanly way, kissed my hand.

There was laughter all around and then we all sat down in the living room for coffee.

Vincent and my husband were still talking about political things.

"You could be my supporter, but in the end you're not my brother," Vincent said.

Ted assured him, "I would do anything that a brother would do for you."

"I don't believe that. Would you let me have a thousand dollars?"

My heart was beating rapidly. It wasn't that I didn't trust Vincent, but I felt that my husband was actually going too far with the things he was saying. I relaxed a little bit when Vincent said, "I don't need a thousand dollars. I don't need any money. You knew that and you knew you were safe in making an offer like that."

So my husband told him that he should ask for anything within reason. "After all, even a brother wouldn't be willing to give up his home and his family and...."

But Vincent interrupted then and said, "If a brother knew that it was for part of the big fight against the man, he would do it for you. You'd better believe it."

"Oh, well, that would be different," Ted said. "If it was part of the big fight against the man then I would be willing to give up anything you asked for."

"Brother, how can you be so ignorant?" I was surprised at the way my husband let this guy talk to him, but then I thought about it and realized that my liberal values must have been eroding. After all, this was a black man and we had exploited blacks for the last three hundred years. My ancestors were in Russia and they didn't have any blacks to exploit in Russia, but they were, after all, white people and that makes a difference.

So, I knew that it was only right to deal with deference with the black people.

But, what followed really was upsetting to me because it became a game of challenges between my husband and Vincent. If Vincent was hungry and in the desert how much of his water would my husband give to him? That's the sort of questions the two of them were asking.

I was getting pissed off by the whole thing. And then Vincent said that he had a need which my husband could offer to fulfill, if he would offer his wife. Would Ted share his wife?

When I heard that I started to laugh. I thought it was a joke. When I saw that it wasn't I tried to explain, using liberal jargon, that I was a person too and that by implying that my husband could "give" me to Vincent that was taking away my identity.

"White male racist bullshit," Vincent called that. My husband wanted to appease him.

Oh, Doctor, don't ask me to explain how it all happened but I ended up in the bedroom with Vincent. I ended up sucking on his cock.. I could hardly do it. I had always thought that Ted's cock was pretty big and I guess it was-for a white man. Vincent's was huge and I could barely get more than my lips around the head of it.

He shot all over my face. He didn't want to do any more than that.

My husband hadn't watched or anything. He was waiting downstairs. I was pissed at him that night, but he wouldn't apologize or anything. He said that I was proving that I was a closed person. He asked if I had ever slept with a black man before and I hadn't done it before so he accused me of not really meaning any of the liberal things I said.

Somehow my husband won that argument. I don't know how. I didn't know then that it was just the beginning of it.

I didn't know at that time that there were going to be other guys after Vincent. It would always be the same argument, the same bit about proving that we really meant the things we said in our liberal politics, but to tell you the truth I think that husband of mine was getting off on the idea of my getting fucked by the other guys.

The night after Vincent had fucked me in the mouth, my husband put his dick to my lips and asked me, "Is it as good as the black one? Did the black one taste better?"

I told him that it was racist and sexist talk and that it disgusted me. He told me that I was putting a restriction on his fantasies and that I was a prude.

But then it was the guys he brought home after Vincent that really troubled me. The people he brought to me got lower and lower all the time and then there was the little quirk that got worked into the thing. You see, there was this anal sex that started to get involved in the whole matter. I mean, I started to get fucked up the ass.

INTERVIEW TWO

Let's see, Doctor, I told you the last time about the way my husband is, how he feels that he should do certain things for the sake of the liberal causes we believed in in the sixties.

I also told you about that first incident with the guy from his office.

It really shook me up, but I tried not to show it to my husband. You see, he also has that annoying seventies habit of playing parlor psychiatrist. You know what I mean. After the incident with the black guy from his office, he started to say to me, "Did that shake you up? Come on. Admit that your sexual liberation was pushed beyond its limits."

I was prpud of the way I dealt with the whole thing. I kept on assuring him that it hadn't shaken me. "It wasn't somethig I went out looking for," I told him, "but you saw that I was able to deal with it." Doctor, I guess there's something wrong in a relationship if I feel that I have to lie to my husband, if I feel that I can't tell him how I really feel in a certain situation. There was certainly something wrong with that then.

Perhaps if I had been more honest with him at first, if I had told him that I was really bothered by the idea of his bringing a guy home and deciding that it was okay to share me, then things would have turned out differently. No. Maybe not. Maybe the reason why I felt I had to lie to him was that if I had told him that I was upset about it he would have kept me awake for half the night to tell me why I was wrong.

I would have had to listen to his tedious philosophical and sociological explanations. Our marriage has really become a matter of his proving to me that I'm wrong and he's right and I let him do it because I'm crazy from listening to the tedious things he says.

How could I tell my husband that he's a crashing bore?

But then the next week he brought someone else home. We were all in the living room and I was uncomfortable because I remembered what had happened the last time. I could tell that the guy was nervous because of the way he couldn't relax in the living room. I didn't know what my husband told this man in advance of his coming to our home.

If he had brought home a guy and a girl, a couple, that would have been different. But, as it was, he only brought this one person home and that upset me.

His name was Willy and he had just gotten out of jail about two days before. Actually, it isn't surprising that he was nervous and tense in the living room. My husband was doing all the talking. It was as if he was narrating the whole thing.

"Willy here is only twenty-three and he's been without female companionship for the last six years." That certainly wasn't something that the guy wanted announced like that. "Willy doesn't believe in anything anymore. He doesn't believe that people will be generous and giving. But, I want to prove to him that the world can be a fine place."

How did it end up that Willy fucked me up the ass? Somehow my husband was in the bedroom with us that time. The two of them didn't even get fully undressed. I was naked between them and my husband seemed to get off on the way the silent lad felt me up.

Willy turned me on my side. My front faced my husband and my back faced Willy. As Willy started to pull the cheeks of my ass apart, I started to struggle, as if to pull away.

"No, no, my dear," my husband whispered to me softly. "Take it easy now. You don't want Willy to think you didn't mean all you said downstairs."

Doctor, I hadn't said anything. It was my husband who kept on talking incessantly about how we had to prove that there was a fine and generous streak in people.

And then my husband was holding me. I could feel the erection through the fabric of his pants as Willy, behind me, started to enter me. It was only when Willy, still not saying anything, had the full length of his cock all the way into my ass that my husband pulled his own cock out and started to work it into my pussy.

My body was rocking back and forth because of the way that Willy was pushing and out of me. Meanwhile my husband managed to get all the way into me. I could feel his cock pressing against one side of my insides even as Willy's cock pressed against the other side.

I was being rocked forwards and backward. It was really driving me crazy from the pressure.

After that I admitted to Ted that I wasn't crazy about what happened to me. He told me that I had cum-while he had been fucking my cunt. I told him that didn't prove anything that there was a lot of friction in my body and I couldn't control myself.

He started to give me two big lectures right then. The first lecture was that I was denying the truth of my physical responses because I was telling him that I didn't want to do it the way I had done it, one cock up my pussy and one up my ass, even though I had already cum that way. And the second thing he told me was that I wasn't being true to the political ideals I had once believed in. Was I supposed to submit to rape for the sake of ideals?

Ted had it all figured out in his warped way. He told me that I was supposed to give what I had in order to ease the lots of those who were unfortunate. If I was rich would I consider it theft to share my riches? He told me that since I was an attractive woman he didn't consider it asking too much of me to have me service the guys who felt they were part of the neglected world. There was nothing I could do to argue that.

Do you see now, Doctor, what my real, true problem was all the time? My husband wins arguments with me. My husband bored me with his rhetoric and always wins.

That incident with Willy wasn't even the last. There was another guy whose name I never knew. Ted ' told me that he was a boy who was unfortunate enough to have been born into a powerful family in the crime underworld. Can you imagine anyone who would actually be dumb enough to word it that way. Ted considered this boy a poor unfortunate.

I would laugh if it wasn't so sad. I called that one Mister X. The same thing happened as with Willy. I was fucked up the ass and up the pussy at the same time. This time it was Mister X who fucked my pussy and my husband who tried my ass.

And there was one more guy. It happened the same way.

Doctor, I'm close to giving up. I mean, I would just pack my things and leave. I don't know how else to deal with it. I don't know how else to deal with my husband.

If I stay there I'll surely go out of my mind with my husband's philanthropy.

CONCLUSION

The first thing Sandra needs is a good dose of assertiveness. That goes along with a feeling of positive self-worth. If she knows her mind and feels that she has a right to her opinions, she'll be surprised how easy it will be for her to look her husband in the eyes and say, "I am an individual and I deserve to have my life the way I want it. I deserve the right to say that I don't feel like doing such and such a thing...."

It would be best if she were to stay together with her husband throughout the therapy, but if she feels that she needs her independence for a little while in order to build herself up her husband will just have to accept that.

His political rhetoric sounds like a thin disguise for a way in which to get the sexual thrills he desires. There are many married men who enjoy watching their wives having sex with other men and it would be more honest with Tom-if he were to admit that he belonged to that group than to keep telling Sandra that he's doing things for the sake of liberal politics.

CASE HISTORY FIVE

SUBJECT: Yvonne Z. AGE: Seventeen

INTERVIEW ONE

Yvonne was a pretty girl. She had straight blonde hair that was hanging down her back. She was shapely in a subtle way, certainly slender. She wore a plain outfit of a dark skirt, not too short, boots, and a loose-fitting blouse. She had just a touch of make up on.

At first there seemed to be nothing wrong with the girl, but apparently she had been through a trying experience and as she spoke that was revealed.

Doctor I never would have thought that I would be here, but here I am. I don't know what to do now. Something happened to me last month and now I feel like my whole world has fallen apart.

You see, I was always a rather bright girl and I was able to start school a few months ago. I mean, I was able to start college a few months ago even though I'm younger than anyone else at the college. It's not much of a college, but it's within driving distance of my parents' house.

You see, my folks felt that since I was so young they wanted me to stay home for the first year of college. They promised that they would let me go away for the second year.

I didn't mind. I was already out of high school a full year before any of the other kids. It was enough that I was going to college while all my old friends were still in high school.

Actually that made me a celebrity around the neighborhood. I was considered older and more sophisticated by the kids. But, at the same time, I felt a little out of it at twe college. I was younger than the other kids and that made me feel self-conscious.

How can I explain it? I just felt that I didn't belong. After all, I was sixteen at the time.

My sex life hadn't progressed very far. I mean, there I was in class with all these girls who were already on the pill and I still hadn't even fucked.

The furthest I had gone was a boy fingering me and me jerking off the boy. That was this guy named Arthur that I went out with about a year ago. I mean, I went out with him for almost a year and I guess we broke up just before I graduated from high school.

After that I really didn't have a boyfriend. I mean, I was too young to do it with the boys in college and I was too old for the boys in high school. I guess I should explain that. There were boys in the high school who were older than I was, but they were still kids. After all, they were in high school and I was in college. I couldn't go out with them.

There were boys in college that I suppose I could have gone out with, but let me admit the truth. I was scared. I didn't know how to say no to a college boy.

I felt that college girls probably put out a lot more a lot faster and I was afraid that if I went out with a guy who was in college he would expect me to put out.

Doctor, it's not that I'm afraid of sex. It's just that I didn't want it to happen until I was really sure. It's funny how I worried about it for so long and, now look what happened to my virginity! I mean, it's really funny that I worried back then.

It was such a short time ago that I was still protecting my cherry.

I can remember now that it was a day when I didn't have my car. I had to take two different buses and they weren't buses that ran very often.

The first one took me more than half the distance to the school and let me off in the middle of the suburbs. Then I had to walk just two blocks till I got to a rather quiet comer. It was the last stop for the bus before it started to go through all these farm fields. On the other side of the fields there was the college campus.

It had been the farm of a very wealthy family and they turned it into a college. The trouble was that there wasn't much use for the bus out there except by the college kids. That meant that it wasn't an easy place to get to without a car.

I really hated to have to go to school when I didn't have my car. I had called around among the people whose numbers I had from my class and they all told me that they couldn't drive me in for one reason or another. At least I had a ride home with this one really ugly girl from the class.

So, I was waiting on the corner. Hell, there weren't even cars coming. I looked at my watch. I knew when the bus was expected. One bus came every half hour. I had been waiting for quite some time and it was already past the time for the bus. The cars that went by were even few and far between. I finally decided I would try to hitch a ride.

After all, I figured, it would probably be some kid from the college who would pick me up.

So, I tried to thumb a ride. I'm sure that the three cars that passed me were all kids from the college. I'll never forget the fact that they passed me and I'll never forgive them that.

Then this broken down old truck stopped for me. Well, I paused for a moment and I didn't want to get into the truck. But then I thought that would appear like a really shitty thing to do. Do you know what I'm saying to you? A lot of the farmers around the college say that the college kids look down at them and think they're better than the farmers.

If I had passed up the ride in the pick-up truck that would have proved what the farmers said. Then, also, I thought of the fact that the cars had passed me and only this truck stopped.

I climbed into the truck with my books and thanked them very much. That was the first time I got a good view of the two men in the truck. Since I found out their names later on I might as well tell you about them now. Ben was driving. He had a high forehead and very pale features. His hair was soft and straight and very blond and his nose was turned up.

He was of medium built and his arms, through his tight, dirty white tee shirt, were powerful.

Next to him was Caleb. Caleb had a prominent lower lip. His hair was a dirty blond and it was curly. He was built a little smaller than Ben, but he was wiry. There was something decidedly mean about Caleb. There was a way he looked at me.

Maybe it was just the fact that he had those dark eyes in that otherwise light complexion.

"You headin' over to the college?" Ben asked me. I said that I was.

The two of them drove slowly and kept on talking to me. Then Caleb put his hand on my knee. That annoyed me. I pushed his hand away. "This girl don't appreciate us givin' her a ride."

I demanded that they let me out of the truck, but they both laughed.

I pulled on the handle and I was going to jump out while the truck was moving but Caleb grabbed me around the middle and held me while Ben drove the truck off the road.

He stopped the truck right among these trees where, I suppose, we were hidden from view. "I always wanted to see if one of these college girls looked the same as other girls naked."

How can I ever in my life forget such an ugly thing that was said to me.

Caleb was on top of me. He and Ben were pulling my clothes off and they were commenting about each bit of my body that was revealed to their pleasure.

Both of them had their fingers all over me. It was as if they had never felt up a woman before.

"Ain't these titties somethin' else?" one of them snarled. "Look what a tight pussy she has."

I made my biggest mistake then. As soon as I felt fingers pulling at my cunt lips I started to panic. After all, what if they had split my cherry just with the pressure of the fingers? Things like that have happened. They really have.

So I cried out to the two of them and told them that I was still a virgin. I begged them not to take my cherry because I had been saving it and I wanted to keep my virginity.

That really seemed to turn on the two sadistic guys. When they heard that the two of them were determined that they were going to take my virginity.

I was already naked and I was being pushed down on the sweaty fabric of the car seat. It was the sort of fabric that was all wet and sticking to my back and my ass as they pressed me there.

"Spread her apart," Ben said to his friend. And the two of them, set to work.

The trouble was that there were two horny guys and there was only one cherry for them to take. Or, so I thought. Actually there was only one pussy for them to take.

They had other ideas. Oh, Doctor, I still feel the burning shame just talking about it. Please forgive me. I didn't want to start getting upset like this. It's so difficult for me.

INTERVIEW TWO

I had Yvonne lie down to rest for a while because I could tell that it was difficult for her to continue the story from that point. I gave her some medication and told her to return the following day when she was rested and to try to remain calm.

It was difficult for her to remain calm when she started to talk the following day.

Thank you for your kindness, Doctor. I didn't mean to be any trouble. There's so little kindness in the world that I think we should appreciate all that we see.

I told you about my situation in school and about the way I was hitching a ride and the pick-up truck picked me up. Then I told you about Caleb and Ben and about the way they held me down onto the seat of the truck and stripped me naked.

Actually I still had my white tennis shoes on. That was all. I was naked otherwise.

Then the two of them started to fight over it. Caleb snarled, "I saw her first. I'm the one who told you to stop for her." But Ben said "It's my truck. I deserve it."

If I hadn't been a virgin, I suppose that the two of them would have agreed to let one of them fuck me first and then the other one would fuck me afterwards. But, since I told them that I still had my cherry, they had something to fight over.

The fight never really got very far except with words. Neither of them was stupid enough to give me a chance to get out of there. They were both holding me down. Finally, Caleb opened the glove compartment and got a greasy deck of cars.

They were going to cut for me. The one who got the higher card could do what he wanted with me. Caleb picked a six and then Ben picked a seven. It was very close and at first I was grateful that Ben had won. But, then again, except for the choice of one card things might not have been as they were. The whole day might not have turned out as brutal as it was.

Ben started to pull my legs apart, with Caleb's help. At first they spread me as wide apart as they could. My left leg was up over the back of the seat and my right leg was down along the side of the seat. I was really spread open wide.

My virgin pussy lips were spread wide and Ben had opened his pants so that he could get his cock at my cunt. When I knew that was happening I started to get hysterical and to cry.

Caleb snarled from the side, "I'm gonna take her virginity also."

"She only got one cherry in her pussy," Ben said with a laugh.

"Yeah, but she's also got one in her ass." That was Caleb's reply and the response was silence except for the soft beating of my tears. I was sobbing by then.

I wasn't even sobbing because of the threat of what Caleb had said. Ben's cock head was pressing right up against the supple flesh of my pussy lips. I could feel the pressure as the broad head of it pushed forward and almost pushed my pussy lips inside my body.

Then he reached down and spread the lips apart. I could feel the cock head advancing into my body. Once the flared head of the penis was actually between the cunt lips I could feel the way it was spreading me wide open. Then the blunt front of the cock was pressing right up against the wall of flesh that was my virginity. I could feel the pressure.

Ben looked down at my face. It was only a blurred vision because of the tears in my eyes.

And then I could feel the tension rushing through his body. He was tensing up because he was putting all the energy of his body into his cock. Then I could feel the cock as it seemed to grow stiffer than it already was. It cracked right through my cherry.

I could feel the ripping sensation as my hymen gave way in front of the dick.

And then there was heat. I suppose that there was blood that flowed into my pussy because of the ripped hymen. Then the heat was spread out and pulled back. I could feel the cock moving and I could even hear the squishing sensation of the cock and wetness that surrounded it inside the tunnel of my pussy slit. I tensed my body.

Ben started to threaten me and he sounded just as bad as Caleb. He pinched on my nipples. I don't even know if that's the right word. He pinched them and threatened me, saying that if I didn't relax my muscles he would take out his knife and cut my tits off.

I was crying even worse than I had been. How can I relax when someone makes a threat like that?

Considering the circumstances and the other things that they said to me, I have no doubt that they would have done anything they threatened me with.

I suppose that I relaxed. I still wouldn't know how to relax when someone is fucking me but I suppose that the movement of the cock against the flesh of my hole did something to me. His cock was able to slide in and out very fast then. I could feel the fluid sensation.

Ben was fucking me much faster than he had fucked me at the start. I guess his cock was able to slide back and forth faster by that time. I felt that there was more liquid.

But it was still painful. Each time he pushed into me I could feel the broad head of his cock slapping against the flesh all the way at the depths of my pussy. Then when he pulled back he was pulling all the way back so that the flared head around his glans was pulling right at the lips of my pussy and sort of stretching me out in an unpleasant way.

At each extreme he saw to it that he was inflicting pain.

Honestly, Doctor, although I told you before that I was still a virgin and I was afraid to commit myself to giving my body to some guy, I wasn't a shriveled up girl who was afraid of sex. I told you that I got as far as giving a handjob to a guy. In spite of what the statistics show about girls having sex these days, I don't think that at the age of sixteen it would have been right for anyone to expect anything more.

When I say that he was trying to hurt me, I know that I don't have other guys, other lovers, that I could compare him to. But, believe me, there was something cruel in his face. His face was contorted in anger. And he grunted and looked down at me when he pushed all the way into me. He seemed to want to slam the cock head as if it were a hammer.

And then he flipped me on my side. His back was against the back of the chair and my naked back was sticking out near the edge of the seat. I could feel Caleb's hands around my ass cheeks and I tried to reach back to fight him off.

But, Ben helped Caleb then. Ben grabbed both of my wrists and held them firmly in place behind my back with one of his hands. He was holding my body close to him with his other arm wrapped around me. Even though he couldn't move his hips too far because the hot seat was behind him, he was working his dick in and out of my pussy, holding me right next to him.

Then I could feel the other cock rubbing up and down against the crack of, my ass.

There was something wet and cold that rubbed against my ass cheeks. I saw, later on, that it was a can of grease for a car that was under the dashboard. At that time I didn't know what it was. It could have been fishing worms for all I knew.

Caleb's finger was working up and down along the crack of my ass. He seemed to be searching for the hole. I tried to tense my ass cheeks together and I could feel the way my pussy lips tightened around the invading cock in my cunt at the same instant.

Ben grunted, really enjoying that attention. I could tell, because when I started to relax the cheeks of my ass, which relaxed the pussy lips at the same time, Ben reached around and slapped my ass. I tensed up again and he groaned. He liked that.

I suppose that was the advantage for them of fucking me at the same time, one in the front and one in the back. At the time it seemed so gross to me that I couldn't even think about it.

Then Caleb had my ass hole greased. He had managed to get one finger, wet with grease, into my bottom hole and he was working it around and around. I was crying out, tears on my face, and stuffing up my nose which I couldn't wipe away because my hands were held in place behind my back. I couldn't stand the pressure from his finger.

Considering what the finger felt like I was hoping that I would die before I would have to take the cock in my ass. I felt that It would just be too horrible for me to be able to stand.

But he plucked his finger out of my ass. I cried out once more.

I could feel his cock head pressing firmly against the crack of my ass and then he was pushing forward. There was no room for Caleb to get behind me on the seat of the truck, so he was actually on his knees behind me. When I looked around to see how he was managing to fuck my ass, I saw that he was sideways to me. Is perpendicular the word for that? I'm not sure what the word is, but let me explain that his body was making a cross with mine. His cock was entering my ass hole sideways. I could feel the flared head of the cock pressing right up against the right side of my anal opening. I cried out in pain.

And then the cock pushed forward into my body. There was a lot of grease and his finger had worked it around a great deal so I could feel the cock pushing all the way into me.

Then the two of them were moving in and out of me. I could feel the two cocks hitting agains the middle of my body at the same time. It was really something.

When they would both pull out of me at the same time I would feel very empty inside. Then they would both push into me at the. same time and I'd feel they were going to smash a hole inside mybody.

It just kept going on and on, in my body. I thought they were going to last forever.

Then, very suddenly, Ben started to cum. I could feel it pulsing inside my pussy. I writhed around because I could feel the excitement of my cunt flesh around his cock.

I started to cum. Doctor, it wasn't my fault. They just excited me too much. I mean, there's only so much that a pussy can take until it just explodes.

Actually I imploded, the flesh on the walls of my pussy getting thick with juice. And when I imploded I could also feel the cock in my ass being grasped by my anus. The moist flesh of my bottom hole was clinging tightly around the hard prick and pulling on it.

I guess it was actually my orgasm and the movement of my body that made Caleb cum.

They were both shooting in me and shouting out and hollering. The air was thick with sexual sweat.

I was still crying. I would have thought that I would have cried myself out by that time. They pushed me out of the truck and tossed my clothes after me. I didn't get the license number because I was still crying. I called my mother from a store about six or seven blocks beyond the bus stop where I had originally been waiting. I suppose it was an hour before she drove there and picked me up. I went home and got washed up.

When I finally decided to call the police I don't suppose my story sounded very true. I mean, it was hours later and I was all cleaned up. But, believe me when I say that it happened.

I'm here to see you because I haven't been to classes since that time and I don't want to go out with want to go out with boys. I'm scared to go out of the house.

CONCLUSION

Yvonne went through a terrible situation.

However, she must go out and live life, taking the risks involved. Rape victims often have trouble adjusting to the suspicious world around them following their unfortunate incidents. It's terrible to speak in cliches, but in this case it's like "falling off a horse." She can't permit herself to live with her fear of going out anywhere, her fear of sex with males. She must continue to live.

Everything about the girl was perfectly normal prior to the rape. Even her fears and her discomfort about being the youngest girl in her class were quite expected. It would be a terrible thing to permit the work of two lowly, despicable men to warp this very bright girl's future. It's shameful when one thinks that Ben and Caleb could have found some girls to fuck with them willingly, or could have easily paid for prostitutes rather than having to force a girl who is now scarred emotionally due to the incident.

It is hoped that extensive therapy will do the trick for Yvonne.

CASE HISTORY SIX

SUBJECT: Daisy E. AGE: Fourteen

INTERVIEW ONE

Daisy's clothes were neat, though quite inexpensive and not at all stylish. She was a young black girl, a little too developed for her age. She definitely took good care of herself and seemed to care a good deal about how she looked.

She also carried herself with a combination of pride and antagonism, as if pride in her was, of necessity, antagonistic. She was still a little awkward with the recent growth that had come with her age. She carried a chip on her shoulder and it wasn't easy to communicate with the girl at first.

They said that I'm supposed to talk to you, Doctor, but let me tell you something right now, as far as I'm concerned you're nothin' but another honky and I don't trust you.

That's right. What did you ever do that I should trust you? Tell me.

I mean, I never knew anybody in the world I could trust. I've been in foster homes. Do you know what that means, to be in foster homes? It means that you belong to somebody. They can do whatever the fuck they want to do with you. You are theirs.

Anyhow, I've been in my share of bad places and the last one was the worst of all. This bastard who was there thought that he could get away with anything. Him and his whole family thought ... shit, I could skin them all alive and it would be mercy of me.

You think I'm a bad little girl. I can tell. Everybody goes around thinking that. I don't care. Don't you see the racket I've got, Doc, I get left alone if they think I'm a bad girl. They won't give me a hard time if they think I won't let them.

But I wasn't always so tough like that. I was a really nice little girl with a really nice home and family. The problem was that there was nobody to take care of me.

My father's family was from Jamaica. You know, they were West Indian. They were real proud and they didn't dig it when my father married my mother. They figured that she was just some street nigger from Harlem. My mother didn't have any family except for one brother who was always in jail. Well, you'd think there were already enough people who had it in for black folk without one group of blacks gettin' on the tail of another group.

My father's family didn't want to talk to him after he married my mother. I never even met my grandma or grandpa or any of them then. My father was lighter than my mother. I take after my mother. Don't go thinking that I care about that grandmother or grandfather. They could go get hit by a train and be ripped to pieces and you'd see I wouldn't care.

Anyhow, my daddy made a really good living. We lived in a nice, clean apartment. Daddy was a fireman. He had finally passed the test. I was already ten when he died so I was old enough to know what was going oh around the house.

You see, they had these cutbacks and daddy couldn't be a fireman for a long time. He was working at other places, but he always had jobs. He wasn't one of these unemployed loafers, you know. He worked as a butcher's assistant for a while. I remember that he had really strange hours and he had to sleep about as early as I did when I was little.

I don't mean he worked in a store. He was a butcher's assistant who chopped apart whole cows when they came off the trucks. I remember there was always a smell about him then. I really kind of liked the smell. It was really fresh and crisp even if it was blood of cows.

He had taken the test to be a fireman and we lived in this nice new housing project and then they finally had to hire more firemen. I remember this big celebration that we had when he got the job. It was all of mommy and daddy's friends. There was never any family to go to any of their celebrations. We had music and food and everything.

That was the last time I really saw daddy happy. The week after he died would have been his birthday. A month after that was my birthday. I forgot all about my eleventh birthday that year.

I was home in the late afternoon with my mother. I was just watching television. She answered the phone and then I heard her start to scream. I ran into the kitchen to see what happened. The phone was dangling down. She threw something at me.

Now, that wasn't my mother. She was always very good to me. She never threw anything at me. But, she was like a crazed lady. She had red eyes and she was hysterical.

Then she went and locked herself in the bathroom. I went and hid under the covers in my bedroom. I didn't want her to throw things at me. But time passed. I didn't know what had happened and it occurred to me that it was very quiet in the apartment.

My daddy should have been home by that time, I thought to myself.

I got out of bed and tried to find my mother. Everything was still a mess in the kitchen. The phone was off the hook and the glass was broken that at she threw at me. The food was in a pan and the oven was on, but she didn't even put the pan in the oven. I didn't know at that time that both my father and mother were already dead.

When I started to slam at the bathroom door, I really worried. I went to get our neighbors down the hall who were eating their supper. Mr. Feder came into the apartment and broke down the bathroom door. He huddled me over to Mrs. Feder and they called the police. My mother had killed herself. When the police got there everything really started going crazy and it took me a long time to find out what actually happened.

The phone call told my mother that my father had fallen through the roof of a store during a fire. She went and killed herself when she heard that. I lost both my parents without any time to get used to the idea. The Feders kept me there for a week, but they already had four kids and I knew that I couldn't stay there.

There was no money from my father. There was some money for funeral expenses. I don't know why. Why the hell did they have to spend the money for funerals? It was only the friends of mama and papa and no relatives. That money might have made a difference to me. You know?

I guess my papa didn't have insurance and since he was only with the fire department for a couple of months he didn't have any pension from them either. He died because he was trying to save people in a fire and you'd think the city could pay something for that.

But they sent me to a home. They said that they had to send me there.

Shit, you wouldn't believe the difference it was to me. A lot of the girls there were glad to be there. I mean, they had drunken mothers who hit them and fathers who beat them and raped them all the time. The home was an improvement.

But, at the same time, I was there. I had gone from a nice, private place in a nice building in a good neighborhood, and I was the punk kid there. They all picked on me.

Shit, Doctor, I had to become tough and I had to become tougher than all the others or I wouldn't survive.

Do you understand what I'm saying to you? The other part of it is that I was already eleven then and I was black. There weren't homes for black girls of eleven.

I mean, little infants could get adopted, but kids of that age weren't gonna get adopted. And then also there were plenty of homes for little girls who were blonde and had blue eyes. But how many black homes were there to take a child?

You really had to be in good with the head of the home to get placed somewhere.

That's where I learned what it meant to be abused, Doc.

INTERVIEW TWO

Daisy was a little calmer at her second visit. She seemed to trust me more. Her voice had less of the harsh and defensive ring to it.

Okay, Doc, I'm gonna tell you what happened to me. I might as well tell you. What the fuck? I mean, really, man. I'm gonna tell you the truth now. If you don't want to believe me then you don't have to believe me. What the fuck should I care?

I was in the home and they sent me somewhere to live. I was twelve at the time and I had stayed at the home for a little more than a year. Do you know how degrading it is to be in a state-operated home like that? I felt that I was just the cheapest thing on the earth.

It really brought me low and at the same time it made me tough.

I guess it brought me low when I was dealing with grown-ups, but I was tough with the other girls there. I wanted to get out of there. I didn't care if I had to get rid of all my pride to get out of there.

They sent me to this home of some people named Grant. The man was very quiet and his wife was always nagging him. It was a very unhappy place. They didn't have any children and when I got there I thought that maybe they wanted to make me like their child. Maybe they wanted me so that they could adopt me and I would have a mommy and daddy again.

I guess that was two years ago and I guess that I still believed in fairy tales then. Well, I don't believe in nothin' and nobody anymore. Mrs. Grant wanted me there so that she'd have a live-in maid. She told me that she didn't want me to grow up lazy and that I had to help with my share of the housework. She told me that I wasn't doin' anymore than she would have her own daughter do. That was so much bullshit that I didn't believe it.

I was exhausted. I wasn't allowed to go out and play after school because I had to do all the housework while she watched television. When I would cry or complain, or even ask for some little thing she would tell me that they could get another little girl from the home and just send me back. I swear that's just what she said to me.

Finally, I guess I had been away from the home for six months, the social worker came to see how I was doing and I was talking to her alone and I started to cry and I told her I wanted to go back to the home. She said that I should think carefully about what I was doing and she told me that all the other girls there would be jealous of me and would wish for a chance to be with nice people like Mr. and Mrs. Grant.

It was all-what's the word I'm looking for-interpretation. I said that she was treating me like her maid and she said that she was treating me like her child. All I knew was that I was always aching and exhausted from the work in her house and I had to get away.

Eventually they took me back to the home. My last day with the Grants, when they were waiting for the social worker to pick me up, I finally told them what I thought of them. I told them both off and Mrs. Grant went running in o the bedroom and Mr. Grant went running after her.

Yes, Doc, I will tell you that it felt good knowing that I made her cry.

After that I swore that I would make people cry before they would make me cry. I wasn't even thirteen at the time and I was on my way back to the home for the better part of a year.

I guess I sort of got a guilty verdict a couple of months later because they sent two more girls to the Grants and both of them complained about exactly the same thing. I heard that from the last girl who went there. She heard from the social worker that the other girls had also said that Mrs. Grant treated them like they were maids and that they would rather go back to the home because at least they had some time for playing.

So, I guess it was after they got that black mark off my record, my asking to leave a home, that they were ready to consider sending me to somebody else's home.

The Harkers seemed like a really nice family.

Mr. Harker was young, tall, and very good looking. They already had two sons who were a little older than I was and Mrs. Harker said she had always wanted to have a daughter around the house.

When I got to the house I was just praying for it to work out.

Well, I won't bore you with the stuff in the middle. Mr. Harker came to my room one night. He wasn't wearin' nothin' at all except for his boxer shorts and he kept on rubbing himself between the legs. I had the blanket up over my body.

Yeah. The Harkers were black and the Grants were black also.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and he started to talk to me. He asked me how much I knew about men. He wanted to know, he said, because I was now living with three men in the house.

I told him, honestly, that I didn't know much except for what the girls in the home told me. Keep in mind that a lot of those girls walked the streets before they went to the home.

But, I didn't know anything for myself. In fact I had never been so close to a man who was so close to being naked until that night with Mr. Harker on the edge of the bed.

He started to pull my covers down and I told him to stop. But he said that he wanted to teach me how to be good to him. If I wanted to stay in his house I would have to learn.

I protested and he managed to get the cover off me. I was just wearing a plain white nightgown and nothing underneath it. He pinned me to the bed.

Well, remember how I said that nobody was going to make me cry? I decided that I was going to stay strong and not fall apart. I said, "I'm a virgin, Mr. Harker, and they know that I'm a virgin. If I tell them what you did and they give me a medical exam they'll know that I'm tellin' the truth. You ain't gonna get my pussy or else you're gonna go to jail."

He laughed and then he tossed me over onto the bed. Well, I didn't know what the hell he was planning to do to me. He pulled my nightgown all the way up. Then he slapped my exposed ass.

When I cried out from the slap, he pushed something into my mouth. I realized that he had pulled down his underpants and he was using them for a gag in my mouth.

I choked on it and tried to spit it out, but he had pushed it in too far.

There was no chance for me to use my hands since he was pinning me to the bed throughout. Then I could feel his hard cock rubbing right against the crack of my ass.

I knew what a cock was and how it got hard and all of that from listening to the other girls in the home. Remember what I said about some of those girls working the streets before going there. But, even those girls never told me about ass fucking. It was something I had never heard of.

"Ain't gonna be no sign that I busted no cherry, little girl," Mr. Harker snarled into my ear.

Then I could feel the head of his dick pressing right up against the hole of my ass. He reached over and got some lotion that was on the nightstand next to the bed. He splashed it all over the crack of my ass and all along the length of his prick. Then he pushed forward.

I could feel the cock moving into my bottom hole. He was working his way into me. The flared head of his cock was spreading my anus wide open. The cheeks of my ass were being pushed wide apart. There was a lot of oil on me and he managed to push in.

It was a lunge as he went forward into my body. Then he grunted. I could feel his hard belly and his big balls pressing down against the smooth flesh on the back of my body. Then he started to work in and out. At first he was just moving a little bit because the flesh of my bottom hole was clinging around his thick pole. But then he started to move more and more. Finally he pulled at my hips and he pulled me up into a dog-like position.

My ass was up in the air. He was holding me that way and he was fucking in and out. I could feel his big balls slapping back and forth agains the soft flesh at the backs of my legs.

His undershorts were still in my mouth. They smelled of piss and sweat. He was holding one of my hands behind my back, pulling on it a little as I was struggling. He pulled on it more when I struggled more. He was, like I said, a really big man and there was no way I would get away.

Then he pushed all the way into me and started to grunt and wheeze. I could feel the cock pulsing and shooting into me. Time after time it was sending out its waves of hot liquid that were splashing all against the insides of my body.

I held back the tears, Doc. I said that I wasn't gonna let anybody make me cry again and I managed not to. He pulled out of me and grabbed his undershorts.

"You ain't gonna go around tellin' nobody what I done to you," he said to me. "I ain't gonna take your cherry, but whenever I feel like it I'll fuck your ass. And I'll bring my boys here tomorrow night so they can fuck your ass too."

Then he said that when he trusted me more he would teach me to give blowjobs for him and both of his sons. I didn't say a word. The next afternoon I packed just a few things. Doc, I didn't want to stay there and become a live-in whore for the whole damn family. I packed and I left a note for Mrs. Harker who was just out at the store. The note told her everything that her husband had made me do the night before and the threats that he made to me.

I ran away because I didn't trust anybody. I didn't know how I was going to live when I left, but I figured I would find a way. At least, even if I had to sell my pussy to live, I would be getting the money from it. I didn't want to do anything for the sake of some rotten bastard who was using me whenever he felt like it. Let a guy pay me twenty bucks or even fifty bucks. I might as well. I mean, what the fuck, Doc?

But, you already know the end of the story. You know that I didn't get that far. The cops picked me up the very next day. They had my description and the description of the suitcase and everything. I don't know. To tell you the honest truth I'm glad that they found me when they did. I'm glad that they took me back to the home.

I don't know where I want to be anymore, Doc. I want to be home with my mommy and my daddy. I want my daddy still waking up early in the morning and going out to the river so that he can wait for the trucks to come in with beef for the butcher shops.

If that damn store didn't catch on fire my daddy would still be with us, we'd still live in a nice place and rotten bastards like Mr. Harker wouldn't think they could do things like that to me. None of it is my fault. I didn't ... Oh, shit. I said that I would never let anybody make me cry again and here I am crying. I don't want to cry.

Don't look at me, Doc. I don't want to cry. If I can't be tough, Doc, I'm gonna be killed. I'm gonna die. That's a shitty world out there and if I can't be tough I might as well go back to Mr. Harker and let him and all of his sons fuck my ass hole.

They're never gonna send me out to another home. I'll be in that damn home with the other girls until I get old enough and they kick me out on the street. What the hell am I gonna get out of life? I'm only fourteen, Doc, and I'm already at an end.

I didn't mean to cry, Doc. Pretend that I'm not crying. Don't watch me crying.

CONCLUSION

If only every child were guaranteed the right to a real, happy childhood this would be a wonderful world and I would be out of a job. Unfortunately, that is not the case.

There are no simple solutions for Daisy. If she could find a home, an adoptive family who would take her in and treat her with love and respect, her life would certainly be salvaged now. The girl is desperate for love and is terribly lonely. In spite of the role she plays, being tough and unfriendly, she is still a child and wishes to be treated as a child.

In the meantime I made arrangements for Daisy to be transferred to a group home in which a set of parents looks after a group of children in one large house. They live as if they were a family. This is only a weak substitute, but I hope it will be something for Diasy.

A psychiatrist's advice, unfortunately, cannot take the place of parental love.

CASE HISTORY SEVEN

SUBJECT: IVY J. AGE: Fifteen

INTERVIEW ONE

Ivy had light brown hair that was straight and pulled back from her rounded face. Her cheeks were full and that made her look even younger than she was.

She wore a patterned blouse that looked as if it was too big for her and also looked very old. Her skirt was equally shabby.

The poor child actually looked pathetic. Her skirt was a shabby rag and her shoes just were worn away. She seemed rather embarrassed about the way her clothes looked and she was also awkward in my office. Apparently the girl had never been in anyplace quite like my office and it was strange to her.

There was something about her that reminded me of a scared sparrow.

The people at the school sent me over here. I guess they want to know how come I'm so quiet all the time and I suppose I missed some days of school and they're upset about that.

Things ain't easy for me. You don't know about my mama, I suppose. I figure that everybody at the school knows about my mama.

She works down at the five and dime store and in a town the size of ours everybody goes into that store a couple of times a week. But, that ain't exactly what my mama is known for. She wears a little too much make up and her perfume is real strong and they all say that she's a bad woman. They say that she sleeps with any man who comes along.

They told me that you're a doctor and that anything I say to you is a secret because you took an oath. They said that I have to tell you the honest truth so that you know what to do. Well, I'm countin' on that oath, Doc, because I also have an oath to my mama.

My mama tells me that if I ever tell anybody what goes on in her house she'll see to it that I'm put away in some child reformatory and that they won't let me out until I'm already past twenty-one. But, I feel that I've just gotta tell somebody.

After all, those stories in the town didn't get made up by themselves. Of course they're true. My mama entertains men at home. That's what she likes to call what she's doing, but I'm old enough to know that the other part of it is the truth. The men give her money for it.

Since it ain't much of a town, my mama is sort of the town whore. I'm not sayin' that she does the stuff that you hear about whores. I'm not sayin' that she has a lot of men all the time. But, she does have men over a couple of times in the week. They'll usually bring along a bottle of something and when they leave they'll leave money on mama's dresser.

We've just got this little place in town. It's over a store that's not too far from the five and dime where mama works. There's a parlor that you walk into right after you walk up the steps to the place and then on one side of that there's a kitchen and on the other side there's a bedroom. Mama sleeps in the bedroom and I sleep in the parlor, except when the time comes for her to entertain gentlemen she always puts my little cot in the kitchen.

Even when I was little I remember a lot of things about that. I remember seeing the things going on with my mother and the men who would come to the house. I remember watching from the door of the kitchen. I was too little then to know what sex was but I saw a man put his hand up mama's dress. I saw her pull open his pants and pull something out of it.

I didn't even know what a cock was at that time, but I saw it when mama pulled on it.

Then the two of them closed the door to the bedroom and I didn't see nothing else.

Except, of course, I would see mama and her men going to and from the bathroom. The bathroom was through the living room and so the men would have to go out of the bedroom door and then into the bathroom. When I was watching from the kitchen door I would see the men in their undershorts and many times I would see them completely naked.

It was really strange, going around town and knowing just what all sorts of different men in the town looked like when they were naked. It was strange.

Of course most of them never even thought about me being there. Sometimes one of them would go into the kitchen for ice or something and would nearly fall over me.

Most of them would grunt at me or curse at me. "When are you gonna start earnin' money and helpin' out your poor mama?" the owner of the grocery store asked right before he plugged her.

It was only very recently that I first actually saw mama having sex. You see, she always liked to drink, but recently it's been getting worse and worse. Now she'll even drink when she's not entertaining men. Even when if s just the two of us and we're sitting and watching television together, she'll start drinking and get smashed.

Usually she's okay. Most of the time she'll just fall asleep and that'll be the end of it. A lot of times I let her sleep on the couch in all her clothes where she was watching television and the next morning she would holler at me and ask me how I could let her get her clothes all wrinkled. She would blame me because her back was stiff and sore from the couch.

Then, the next time she would fall asleep on the couch I would work really hard to try. to wake her up and she would go crazy and tell me that I was a rotten daughter. She would tell me that she worked hard day and night and that she had even given away her last shred of pride and dignity so that she'd have enough money to take care of me right.

I wouldn't answer her or try to when she got that way. I mean, Doc, I could've said a lot of mean things to her, but what for? She don't remember nothing she says and she don't remember nothing that happens when she gets that way. And I don't want her to get worse.

You see, there are nights when she starts drinking and things don't stay peaceful like that. There are nights when she starts throwing things at me. We don't own anything that's breakable anymore. Even the dishes are a special kind of plastic that isn't supposed to break.

Or else, if it's not that, she'll start crying and she'll be very sad and quiet.

Anyhow, like I said, a couple of years ago it was only when she'd have gentlemen there. She would drink with the men. On a weekend night sometimes she would go out of the house and just not come back all weekend. I would just have to take care of myself.

But, now, she's getting a little older, I guess, and she's starting to drink even on a quiet night when it's just the two of us there watching television.

Oh, yes, I did tell you that I finally did see my mama having sex with a man. I guess I should tell you about that It wasn't too long ago. Like I said, she drinks more now and she used to be more careful about things like that.

There were many times when I would be watching or at least listening from the kitchen and mama would say to her gentleman, "Not here, my little girl is in the other room."

That was always when they would go into the bedroom and shut the door.

I didn't know much about sex. They don't teach us nothing in school and I suppose that other girls in school talk to each other about it, know about it, but I don't talk much to the other girls. I don't really have many friends. I don't suppose I have any friends.

When I was really little I remember that after school I was walking with this girl. We couldn't have been more than seven and her mother had come to pick her up after school. We had just walked out of the school together. We had both done something together. I don't even remember what it was. I think that the two of us were supposed to put on a skit in school the next day. Well, you should have seen how fast her mother grabbed her wrist.

Her mother pulled her away from me and when they were a little down the block and I was behind them I heard her mother telling her, "Don't you play with that girl. She's trash."

Well, if there was a hole in the ground that I could have crawled into I would have gone right into that hole. There was a hurt inside me, a pain inside me, that wouldn't go away.

I ran down the block, right past them. They must have thought that something was wrong with me.

But, I just disappeared right down the block. I went home and started to cry and I was still crying when my mother got home from work. I wouldn't tell her what it was because I knew that she called me trash because of my mama. I didn't want to let her know that that was what hurt me. You know, I was hurt and I didn't want her to be hurt in the same way.

She figured out then that somebody did something mean to me and she went down and got me vanilla fudge ice cream. That was my favorite flavor. That was all I had for supper that night.

My mama always tried to be good to me. I know that her life would have been easier if I wasn't there. She could have gotten a man and settled down. But, no man wanted to raise somebody else's kid. That was what I always heard my mama saying.

I never knew my father. Mama said he ran out on her when I was just a baby sucking at her tit.

Oh, yes, I was gonna tell you about seeing my mama having sex. I was in the kitchen and it was a night as usual. There was a man there named Keating. He worked over at the factory and his wife, they said, had run off with a delivery man. He had been visiting my mama regular and he was really sweet on her. I saw what he did to her and he wasn't the first one.

He would talk really sweet to her and make her think he was gonna marry her and make her think that he was falling in love with her. I saw other guys do that. Then they would come over and fuck my mama, bringing a bottle of liquor each time they came. They would fuck her and they wouldn't even leave her the twenty bucks that the other guys left.

Then my mama would be in a whirlwind for a couple of days or weeks, depending on how long it lasted. She would decide she was gonna change her ways. And then she would sink down into a depression when she would find out the truth.

In many ways, I guess, I am older than my mama What can I tell you, Doc?

So, Keating was on the couch with her and he was romancing her. They finished nearly a whole bottle of whiskey together. It wasn't a big bottle, but all the same it was something.

Then he started to kiss her and he was pushing her on the floor. She was so drunk that she couldn't say nothing at all and she couldn't tell him to go into the other room. He had been there before and he knew that whole routine, but he wanted to do it right there.

Keating pulled my mama's clothes off her and then she was naked. I saw my mama naked at other times, when she would come out of the shower and things like that, but I never saw her when she was with a man and when she was naked. That was different.

She was drunk and her body was moving like she really wanted to have the man. There was something really dirty and sexy about it. I felt a tingling down between my own legs because of the way that Keating was rubbing his body against my mama's body.

Then he stripped out of his clothes. He stood up, weaving a little from front to back, and he pulled off every bit of his clothes. I had seen him naked before when he went to the bathroom after doing it with my mama, but this time I saw him naked with his big thing all stiff and hard in front of him. He was stroking it and it was glistening.

Keating got down on top of mama and then he pressed his long thing against her slit. He spread her open and pushed right into her. I felt down at my own slit, just as if I thought I was gonna get split open by the pressure that he was pushing into mama.

Since I was watching the two of them from behind about the most I could see of the thing was Keating's ass moving in and out as he was working his dick in and out of my mama's hole. The cheeks of that hairy ass were moving together every time he pushed down and then they were relaxing when he pulled up again. And then he pushed down hard and I knew that it was like the end of something. Something was happening to him.

To tell you the truth, by the time he reached that point I think that mama was passed out already. I really don't think mama knew what was happening. I watched Keating get up and get dressed and then he left. Mama was left, naked on the floor.

I thought about doing something for her, picking her up and getting her to bed or something like that, but I was worried that she would find something to be mad at me about. I figured then that the best bet was just to tell her that I had been asleep, if she asked.

She must have figured that I watched her with the men sometimes. Before that she was always careful to go into the bedroom to do it, afraid that I could watch. So, if I did anything to help her out that would only show her that I had been watching her.

It wasn't easy to get to sleep that night because I had to go to the bathroom. But I didn't dare go through the living room. I just tossed and turned until the morning.

How can I complain about that. The really terrible thing was what happened the next week.

INTERVIEW TWO

Well, Doctor, I saw my mama fucking with Keating another time. That was a few days after the first time. I guess by that time it occurred to me that my mama had been drinking really heavy and passing out every single night for a couple of weeks.

When she would get home from work she would be all gushing about Keating and she would call him her new lover. I had seen that before, Doc, and I knew just how long it lasted. Maybe I should say to you that I knew how short it actually lasted. That might be more appropriate.

Anyhow, mama would drink a lot and talk about Keating and I suppose on the nights when he wanted to get taken care of he would come over. It wasn't like he ever even saw my mama outside of our own apartment, but that sure didn't seem to bother her much. She never stopped to think that if the man really meant to do anything he would take her to a restaurant or something.

I guess that my mama was really used to being treated bad by men. She took whatever she was offered.

And I can tell the difference. She's getting close to thirty-five now and she's scared.

Anyhow, the second time Keating started to fuck her right in the living room he was right in the middle of doing it and he turned to the kitchen door and smiled. It was like he knew that I was there and he knew that I saw his big thing and everything like that.

Well, I got under the blankets and I pretended to be sound asleep. But, that was okay, he never came to look for me. I was scared of him after that.

A couple of days later, it was one week after the first time I watched my mama having sex, I got home from school and the phone rang. It was Mr. Lang from the five and dime store. He called to tell me that my mama had passed out, fainted, and that they took her to the hospital over in the next town over. I thanked him for calling and then I called the hospital.

In the hospital they told me that my mama was resting up fine. I said that I would come to visit, but they said that people under eighteen weren't allowed to visit inside the hospital. Well, how do you like that, Doc? This was my mother. I wasn't gonna be able to see her in the hospital and you bet that nobody else was gonna visit her.

Nobody worried about me. I was concerned that somebody in the hospital would find out that mama had a kid at home and they would send someone from a home to take me away so that I was looked after. But, nobody worried about me and nobody looked in on me.

They left me alone, which was just fine with me, Doc.

I called the hospital later and they told me that there was no phone close enough for my mama, but that they were gonna dismiss her the next morning so that she could get home.

I didn't know what to do. I tried calling Keating, but he wasn't at home. Then I just made my supper and I sat down to watch television and do my homework.

That was when Keating came to the door. I told him, through the door, that my mama was away at the hospital and that he should go visit her there. He was already drunk and he said something disgusting about not being able to fuck her in the hospital.

I told him, kind of boldly, not to talk to me that way because I didn't have to listen to his smutty words.

He started to laugh at me. "Look who thinks she's the daughter of the Queen of England."

Keating was being really loud and I was mad. I opened the screen door that I had been keeping locked and I tried to push him. Since he was drunk I would have been happy if he fell right off the porch and broke his head open. But he pushed me right back and then he was inside the living room.

He slammed the door shut and said, "If your mama ain't here I'll settle for you. I could use myself a good piece of fresh meat for a change instead of that sloppy old pussy."

"Don't you go talkin' about my mama that way," I said. I looked for something to throw at him. I picked up a metal ashtray, but I only hit the wall.

When I threw it that was like his cue to jump on me. He was on top of me and he was pressing me down onto the floor. I was fighting against him.

"Come on, girly," he said to me. "You're worth twenty dollars."

"I ain't givin' you my cherry," I said to him. As soon as I spoke I was sorry that I told him so much. I was sorry that I had told him that I still had my cherry. That seemed to make him even meaner than he already was.

He said that he was gonna start me off right because he would take my cherry so that I could become a whore and earn lots of money just like my mother did. I was fighting with all my strength, but that wasn't enough to fight the bastard off me.

Keating managed to get my pants down and then he was fingering my pussy. He opened his fly while he was still fighting me and then he told me that he knew that I watched him. He told me that he liked to display himself in front of me, knowing that I was a young virgin.

Then he pushed the head of his cock right up against the lips of my pussy. It was a horrible moment and it seemed like it would last forever. But then he pushed forward. He was moving onto things that were even more horrible than that.

He pushed forward, busted my cherry and then pulled all the way back. Then he towered over me. There was a pain in my guts. I looked up at his dick and it was covered with blood that dripped slowly off the tip of it. I shut my eyes. I didn't want to see anything else.

And then he spread my legs apart and he was pushing the head of his cock right up against the tight opening of my bottom hole. I couldn't believe it. It made me open my eyes again. He pushed forward and I guess the blood from my cherry was like a lubricant because he managed to wedge the head of his dick right there between the cheeks.

Then he pushed really hard and his cock started to move inside of me. I could feel it opening me up and at the same time I could feel the heat of it inside me. I guess that blood from my cherry was what was making it so very hot. He pushed and then he had the whole thing inside me.

He was laughing while he was fucking me. Oh, it was a laugh that I'll never forget He was moving in and out and laughing and laughing all the time.

Then he pulled his dick out of my ass and started to fuck my pussy again. He went back and forth from one to the other and I was disgusted when I thought about how filthy he was getting my slit, the hole that had been so clean a moment before that.

He came more than once. I kept trying not to cum. Each time I felt it close I fought against it. I wasn't gonna let him know that I liked it. I guess, to tell you the truth, I knew what cumming was because I had been touching myself before that, but that's a whole other story.

Anyway, now I'll get to the worst part We fell asleep on the floor. I must've fallen asleep first, because if he had fallen asleep I would've gotten up and gotten out of there. But, he was asleep with his arms around me. By that time we were both naked.

And the next morning my mother came home while we were still sleeping like that. I woke up and heard her screaming. She thought that Keating was her boyfriend and that he really loved her and she thought that I was a tramp who was trying to steal him away.

She wouldn't listen to me and Keating didn't give a damn. It was too much effort for the bastard so he just picked up and left just like that. My mother started to drink even though it was early in the morning. She ordered me to get out of the house.

I went out for the day. By the time I got back there she was passed out and it didn't matter. I don't know if she remembers about the thing with Keating. She must. She wasn't drunk when it all happened. But, she didn't say anything. Something is dying in her. I can tell that her eyes look very blank and fogged over. She always seems so sad.

I don't know what I can do for my mama. She lost her job at the five and dime, but because Mr. Lang felt sorry for her he fixed it so that she could collect unemployment.

There's hardly any food in the house. Every so often a gentleman comes to the house now, but they don't even bother with the preliminaries. They just go into the bedroom with mama. Last week three boys from the high school came to the house all at once. It wasn't like a date anymore. There wasn't any pretense about that.

I couldn't go back to the high school knowing that those three boys all had sex with my mama. Can't you understand that, Doc?

CONCLUSION

Ivy's mother needs to be institutionalized. Alcoholism is a disease and it is treatable.

Meanwhile Ivy needs a home, someplace, where she can grow up without this stigma on her. Life in her hometown has become impossible for the girl and some opportunity must be found to improve her standing in a new community. If she has no relatives to take her, she would certainly be better off in a state institution for children rather than in the environment of drinking and prostitution in which she is so terrible vulnerable and has already suffered.

Her quietness and reticence are her natural defense mechanisms against the vulnerability that she feels. At her age, Ivy needs a chance now or else all her chances will be lost.

CASE HISTORY EIGHT

SUBJECT: Muriel N. AGE: Twenty-two

INTERVIEW ONE

Muriel seemed nervous in the strange situation of being in my office, but otherwise she seemed like a perfectly natural, even agressive, young businesswoman.

She was wearing a smart suit and her hair was cropped short, which made her seem older than she really was. Her make up accented her large brown eyes and her perfect skin.

Doctor, I'll get right to the point. I'm concerned about my sex life.

I imagine that might sound a bit abrupt, but I'm here because of this one problem. It just seems to me that my sex life isn't normal and I'm worried about it.

Let me explain a little more fully. I was concerned when I first started to have lesbian feelings. That was the first step on my way to where I am now.

I suppose that I was fifteen when it first occurred to me that the way I looked at girls was different from the way I was supposed to. Of course I didn't do anything about it at that age, except I did dream about my girlfriends in school.

I was very popular in school and never let anyone guess about the way I felt. I always had boyfriends and I figured that I would be able to hide my lesbian feelings because I found that I was physically responsive to the boys. I wasn't fabulously passionate the way I was when I was with the girls, but that was a different story. I felt it would be enough.

You don't really need to hear the story of my sex life in high school. It was much like any other girl would have had. I went steady with one boy and let him feel me up in his car. I never went all the way with any guy and they respected me for that.

In my freshman year of college I finally fucked with a guy and I liked it.

I went through a two year period where I was sort of slutty. Well, I was loose. I guess that I had seven-different guys in that period and nice girls of that age in that college didn't fuck with that many different guys. But, I was popular and pretty and nobody seemed to really hold any of that against me. Then, in my junior year I met Oscar.

Oscar was good looking in a quiet sort of way. He wore glasses and was very bright, but he also had a wonderful body and was very handsome. He was built big all over. I didn't mean anything dirty by that. He was tall and had broad shoulders. But he also had a large cock.

He and I started to go together and we were really getting serious. We actually moved in together at the beginning of our senior year. That was an unfortunate choice.

It was early in the fall that I met Phyllis. Phyllis was my first and my present lesbian lover. I was working as a teacher's aide, having my tuition paid by the college in return for that. Phyllis was new on the faculty of the English department.

All those years I had been fighting against the passion that I felt, but I couldn't fight it anymore with Phyllis. She really didn't do anything to seduce me or to lead me on. There were a lot of books on lesbianism in her new office and she was quite open about it. She had been married for a number of years and she said that she still saw her husband.

I told her that she was bisexual then and she said that she probably was but that she found that she really needed the women. She had never been slutty. Actually, at that time she was thirty and she had been to bed with her husband, with one other guy before that, and with only two other women. She had been to bed with fewer people than I had.

Anyway, we were becoming very close and I knew where it was going to lead. I was falling in love with Phyllis and she was falling in love with me. By January I moved in with Phyllis. Oscar was really upset. He couldn't understand it and he couldn't accept it. But I was in love with Phyllis. I still love Phyllis. That's where the problems have come in. You see, there's the matter of Phyllis' husband.

Even though she says that she loves me and she says that she doesn't have a need for male sex the way she has a need for female sex, she insists that she has to see her husband every so often. It's never been more than once every two months, but that's bothered me.

I mean, the two of us could go along fine for a little while and then she would go see her husband and that would be the start of a big fight between us. IVe tried to view it different ways, but I was never really able to deal with it.

Once, after Phyllis and I were together for a year, we all went to dinner together. When Phyllis went to the ladies' room, Quitt, her ex-husband, started to talk to me and he held my hands and told me that he couldn't live without Phyllis. He told me that he didn't ask much, all he wanted was to see her five or six times a year, but if that was taken away from him he would wither up and die. "You don't have to worry about me. I can't ever compete with you, Muriel," he said to me. I felt ashamed that he spoke that way.

But, even that didn't change me enough. I still felt absolutely horrible about Phyllis going over there to see him. Finally, a couple of weeks ago Phyllis had a suggestion. She asked if I would feel better about her having sex with Quitt if all three of us did it together. That way she wouldn't be leaving me out of any part of her life.

I said yes and then I had regrets, worrying about what I had gotten myself into. But, she was so delighted by the yes, so relieved that I had taken a weight off her shoulders, that she quickly arranged the whole thing. I was stuck and I had to go along with it.

Well, Doctor, it worked out between the three of us in a very strange way and that's why I had to come to you to talk about it I really need professional help now.

INTERVIEW TWO

I rushed right through the early years of my sex life because what I really want to tell you about was what happened when Phyllis and I went to visit Quitt, her ex-husband.

All three of us had something to drink first, to loosen us up. But, even that didn't do it for me.

Then we got undressed. As men go Quitt was very handsome. He could've gotten any available woman he wanted, but he only wanted Phyllis. She was very beautiful. She is beautiful.

I started to kiss Phyllis and then Quitt started to feel us both up. It was startling for me to feel a man's hand on my naked tits for the first time in more than two years. I won't tell you it was unpleasant. I know that I prefer Phyllis, but Quitt was very sexual.

What we eventually did was what really caught me off my guard.

Phyllis and I were eating each other's pussies. We were in a sixty-nine position and Quitt was rubbing up and down against the crack of my ass. When I say that I mean that he was rubbing his hard penis up and down along the crack of my ass.

Then he started to use this lotion on the smooth and soft cheeks of my ass. It made me feel so wonderful all over that I was wriggling my body back and forth, pressing the lips of my pussy against Phyllis' lips and then pushing back against the man's cock.

And then I felt the head of Quitt's cock pressing right up against the hole of my ass. Of course I had heard about such things being done, but I had never done it. It caught me by surprise, but I didn't say anything. My lips were working on Phyllis' pussy lips and meanwhile she was doing a wonderful job on my pussy, getting her tongue as deep into it as she could.

Then I felt the cock sliding into my bottom hole. I gasped but kept my lips at Phyllis' cunt. He pushed forward and he kept on working from one side to the other, spreading apart that last vestige of virginity in my body. I never imagined that such a thing would happen to me but in that instance it happened without any protest on my part.

He was all the way inside me and he started to fuck wildly in and out, even as his ex-wife, my female lover, was sucking and licking at my pussy, using her teeth and lips along with her tongue to excite the flesh of my cunt lips and then pressing her tongue deep inside me so that it was pressing against the tightly clinging interior lips of my cunt.

The two of them seemed to be moving in unison and I was sliding back and forth between them. It seemed that not only did Quitt work his dick in and out of me, but I was also working my body on and off his cock. When I slid off his cock I was pushing my cunt closer to Phyllis' face.

It was the greatest orgasm of my life. I thought I was on fire and I thought my pussy juice would never stop. Phyllis told me later that she thought my cunt lips were going to rip her tongue out by the roots and Quitt thought my ass hole would rip his cock off.

Afterwards, Quitt told me that he had done that because he had felt the responsiveness of my ass. He said that he just wanted to do what he thought I would like because he wanted to keep me coming back. He figured that if I was willing to come back it would be easier for him to see Phyllis. I was really shaken up by the whole thing.

The three of us have seen each other a number of times over the weeks now. I know that Phyllis loves it between us. We don't always do the same thing, but more often than not Phyllis and I will eat each other while her ex-husband fucks my ass.

My concern is that there's something wrong with doing that.

I mean, I get a great deal of pleasure out of it, but I just feel that there might be something wrong. Hell, there are a lot of people who would start off by condemning me for what I do with Phyllis and I don't listen to them. But, for some reason, anal sex, the things I'm doing with Quitt now, has a negative connotation to me.

When Quitt first told me that he had done it because he knew that I was turned on by it, I kept on denying it very strongly. It was something I never thought about, or at least something I wasn't conscious of thinking about. Well, now I'm worried.

This threesome doesn't seem to be having a negative effect on my relationship with Phyllis. The only thing troubling me now is the sexual guilt part of it.

Does this sound crazy? I just realized that I've been saying. I've been telling you that I feel guilty sexually about the thing with Quitt and Phyllis, the thing with the three of us together, but at the same time I've been living a lesbian lifestyle and I've been very happy.

Let me try to explain it to you because I think I need to explain it to myself.

I love Phyllis and anything I do with her is done out of love. You understand what I'm saying? I really care for her and I would go to great extremes for her.

But with Quitt it's just a sexual thing. I think I'm beginning to put some of this together now. I think the problem is that Quitt and Phyllis really care about each other and that Phyllis cares about Quitt and me. I know for sure that Phyllis loves me.

There are certain things that you either know or you doubt. I have no doubt that she loves me.

So, anyway, the problem then is that she feels this love for Quitt also and he has this great need for her. But, Doctor, it just isn't enough to make it work for me.

I'll tell you also that prior to that first time with Quitt I never thought about taking a cock up my ass. I had never had a cock up my ass in the time that I had been with men.

I discussed it with my lover afterwards and she told me that she had only done it with her husband a few times in that position and that it seemed like something he really enjoyed a great deal. I told her that it was stimulating to my body.

I already discussed that part with you, didn't I? I looked it up in the library and I found, after checking a couple of books on anatomy that there are a lot of nerve endings all around the anal opening so that when you're rubbed there, when there's friction there you really feel the sensations all happening to you. I mean, that explained to me why I felt so good about it.

Those nerve endings are sending the messages to the rest of your body at the same time.

Anyway, when I found that out I talked to Phyllis about that. That very same night the two of us were in bed together. We were licking each other's pussies. The two of us really got off on doing that. I was down between her legs and she was between my legs and we were really going at it like crazy. My tongue was moving front to back against her pussy lips and her tongue was doing the same thing to my pussy lips.

Phyllis has got to be the best cunt lapper in the world. I can't imagine anyone better. Maybe it's just that she's so very responsive to the movements of my pussy.

Anyway, Phyllis reached for the dildo that was next to the bed. She pressed the head of it against my ass hole and that's the first time I realized she had greased it up in advance. It was obvious that she knew just what she was going to do.

She worked the dildo forward into my ass and I was pushing my ass back on it. I guess that I remembered the way it had felt when I had that man's cock in my ass and I wanted Phyllis to work the dildo into me while she was eating out my pussy.

It was just the very best there ever was. I started to ride her face and she was using the dildo behind me to sort of work it in and out of me at the same time.

She had hardly moved it much. Maybe she had worked it in and out of me two or three times and then I started cumming. I thought I was never going to cum. Do you know the phrase when people say 'cumming in buckets'? Well, that's what I was doing.

The first thing Phyllis said to me after that was, "You sure do love getting it up the ass."

That embarrassed me and made me blush. But, she didn't seem to mind. The problem was that then she started to tell me that her using the dildo on me wasn't nearly as good as Quitt using his cock on me. I told her that wasn't at all true.

Doctor, I am troubled. I feel confused by the whole thing.

I told you that I can get turned on by a penis, but that I can also get turned on much, much more by a vagina. I'm definitely a lesbian, but it's not as if I'm turned off by the sight of the cock. Okay? So, what I'm saying to you is that I like sex with Quitt but it isn't one of the top things in the universe as far as I'm concerned.

Do you understand what I'm saying to you?

Then there's the thing about love. I love Phyllis and I don't love Quitt. But, I can justify that by saying that I'm only going to bed with Quitt to make Phyllis happy.

But, is that a valid thing for me to be doing? Shouldn't I be concerned with my own happiness?

Finally, there's the question of anal sex and that's the big one. I feel guilty about the fact that I enjoy it. There, I said it. I guess my problem comes down to that.

With all of the other craziness in my sex life that's the one troubling thing. I feel guilty over the anal sex. What do you think I should do, Doctor?

CONCLUSION

If Muriel enjoyed the anal sex, and Quitt and Phyllis enjoyed what they were doing, and if none of them was doing harm to any of the others there was nothing wrong with anything that was happening between them. Muriel's guilt is misplaced.

GENERAL CONCLUSION

Why anal rape?

Certainly that question has been sobbed by abused females throughout the centuries. This act of sheer brutality, an act shocking to many females just as it is desirable to others of their sex, is performed for many reasons but always to satisfy the lust of a male, always where the lust of the male participant is primary.

The pleasure of that act, rather than communicated through the clitoris and organs of stimulation, is carried through the nerve endings to all parts of the body so that it is an act of great sensuality, a sex act felt in the arms and fingers as much as it is felt in the crotch simply because of the great number of nerve endings around the ass hole.

However, the fury of rape, however it is performed, is never justifiable. Now, with liberation proceeding on all fronts, men should be able to find female partners, consenting and willing, who are interested in participating in various chosen sex acts, (i.e., anal sex, rape fantasy) and forcing oneself upon anyone is an act of sickness which should be referred to a professional therapist.

THE END
Anal Rape - Girls Forced To Take It ....(70k)    by Unknown




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