Sex is a universal language, as these stories about foreign exchange students will illustrate.
AMY L. A young Frenchwoman, who has learned the art of love from an older man, comes to New York and teaches the arts she has learned to an equally mature man.
GRETCHEN W. is from Holland. A full-blown beauty with tits that would make an older woman jealous, Gretchen becomes involved with a family who have their own sexual thing going, and learns more from them than at school.
IDA C. Comes from Germany. She goes from a repressed house to a sexually liberated one. The older brother in this American family, cements the bonds of friendship across the sea.
ELENA is a green-eyed Greek beauty, who learns a lusty lesson in the facts of life from the twin brother and sister of a very wealthy family, whose guest she, is for her year of exchange study.
MYRNA L. comes from a prosperous family who live in Argentina. Myrna has a lot to learn, and a lot to teach the spinster sisters with whom she is staying for a year.
TANIA R. is a rare breed, a Russian on the Soviet-American cultural exchange. Catherine the Great would have been proud of her.
WU-CHING comes from Formosa. She is innocent when she arrives, but the family with whom she is staying soon change that, to Wu's pleasant surprise.
MAURA L. is as pretty and proper as an Englishwoman can be, until she comes across a scene that fascinates her. She stays too long, and winds up becoming involved actively, instead of merely observing.
CASE HISTORY ONE
Subject: Amy L. Age: Fourteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Amy L. was a luscious, petite little exchange student from France.
She came to me, recommended by the mother of the family with which she lives. It seems that they had been suspicious of her late-night behavior, although Amy herself had said that she was studying late.
Her English was virtually flawless, as she sat down opposite me. Her brown eyes twinkled, and her reddish brown hair glowed beautifully in the reflected glare from my desk lamp.
What fascinated me throughout the whole interview, was a dimple which kept appearing and disappearing, as she spoke, on her chin.
I am sorry, Doctor, that Mrs. Ames has caused you such trouble with regard to me. I respect her concern, but then, what can I say about certain mores that clash when one society meets another.
Of course, I have been lying to her. The poor woman doesn't know any better, and I care for her enough not to want to shock her. I also do not want her to be embarrassed, ehh?
I hope you understand.
She has threatened to write to my mother. But my mother, her savoire faire is such that she would write back, thinking that the poor Mrs. Ames was either out of her head, or else that she needed enlightenment.
And this is most certainly true. Most of you Americans need a lot of enlightenment, especially in the matter of sex. How can you be so prudish? I do not understand. But then, let me tell you my story, and then you can tell me what you think.
I came here a few months ago, as an exchange student. I was thrilled. I have been to Spain, and Switzerland, but my wish has always been to come to America. Most especially to come to New York City. Whenever a European thinks of America, he thinks of New York first. So when the school wrote and said that I had been accepted, I was beside myself.
I must tell you, before I continue that I am fourteen, but I am no virgin. In France, no self-respecting woman past the age of twelve is a virgin, unless she is retarded, or has a severe emotional problem.
I picked out the man to-how do you say-pop my cherry-myself. It was during a vacation my parents and I took to Provence. He was an older man, as usual, and he had a lot of experience, and wit about him. I was most taken with him, and since I knew it was time, I allowed him to seduce me.
He did it charmingly. I had been putting myself in his way for several days and one day, my parents had decided to take a trip out to one of the vineyards. I did not want to go. I had an ache in my, err ... pussy is it? Yes, my pussy was dripping with desire, and I wanted to be a woman. So I pleaded illness and after they had left, I took off to find my man.
He worked as a clerk in a fashionable haberdashery in the center of the little village where we were staying. I went into the shop, on the pretext of buying my father a surprise gift, a cravat which I had seen in the window.
I had been in the shop the day before, and the salesman to whom I had spoken had told me that that particular item was out of stock, so I knew what I was doing!
In the usual courteous fashion of the shopkeepers in the provinces, he offered to get the item in question during his lunch hour, and bring it to my hotel. That was exactly what I wanted, and exactly what he knew I wanted. I could tell from the suave smile he had as he made up the order, and I paid for the tie in advance.
My parents did not expect to be back from the vineyards until after midnight, so I had all day and half the night to learn the facts of life. Promptly at one o'clock, William appeared.
He was such a dapper-looking gentleman, so well-dressed, and so courteous. He had brought the tie with him. I made a great show of writing a witty note to my father, wrapping the box, and placing it on his pillow. Then William asked if I would like to go for a walk. He said he had the afternoon off.
Of course, I was delighted. We walked out past the little village, into the meadows and fields, bright under the hot afternoon sun. We walked into a copse of trees, and William showed me a clear, lovely brook, where we bathed our faces and drank from the sweet, cold water.
"Well, ma petite," he purred, looking at me and smiling, "and what would you like to do now?"
"I should like to rest here a little while. Perhaps we could swim?" I suggested.
"Well, err, that would be fine, but we would have to swim in the nude. You do not object?"
"Why no, William," I said, eager to get started on this business of being a woman. I stripped with great alacrity, and William followed suit. His cock was magnificent. It was long and thick, and very erect. I could see it bobbing as it stuck out from his thick bush of pubic hair.
He jumped into the water immediately, and gasped at its coldness. I stood up, and looked down, allowing him to get a good look at my firm, shapely, budding body. My breasts were already the size of grapefruits, and stuck proudly out from my slender chest. As you can see, I have slender, shapely legs, and slender arms. And my waist is tiny, which accents the fullness of my hips. Altogether a very fetching sight, if I do say so. I have always been proud of my body.
I stood there, while he treaded water. It was so clear that I could look down and see his legs kicking and his cock, still erect even in that cold water. I couldn't wait, and I dived in.
For awhile, we swam, diving for fish in the clear water, which swam near the bottom, feeling the sensual thrill as they slid through our fingers and dispersed in shiny pools of rainbow light, like a prism through which the sun is shining.
At a certain moment, I do not know how, I wound up tangled up in his arms, feeling the lump of his cock, slightly shrunk now from the activity, pressing against my smooth, hairless thigh. He held me close to him, and he kissed me, gently at first, and then with increasing ardor.
I wanted him so much. I kissed him back with fervor, and felt his tongue invade my mouth. It was such a marvelous feeling, his wet, moist tongue feeling the tip of my tongue, and flicking around the roof of my mouth. I thought perhaps that fucking must feel like that on my pussy!
I threw my arms around his neck, and pressed my lightly fuzzed pussy against his very hairy groin. He responded by pressing back.
"Let us go to shore," he whispered to me, kissing me on my ear, and sticking his tongue in it. I almost melted in his arms. We swam to shore, and as I crawled up on the grassy bank, he was right behind me, and again I found myself in his arms.
The warm sun increased our passion, as it warmed our bodies. His hands were all over me, softly palming my lovely tits, making the nipples pucker with passion. He put his head down and sucked on them, one at a time. His sucking tongue created a pleasant stinging sensation that coursed through me, making my pussy cream even more.
And my pussy was aching more than ever. I wanted his cock to pierce through my hymen, and make a woman out of me. I pressed into him, to indicate my desire. He looked up from sucking my tits, and smiled, easing himself up until I felt his full weight on my body.
It was such a strange sensation. I had been light-headed from passion, and the sensation I received from his body pressing into mine, was that he was holding me down to the earth. After all, I felt as if I would fly away, I was so excited.
It was almost as if my head had left my body, and was bouncing somewhere over me, watching my sinuous writhing in the grass, watching this man's well-built, and trim body cover mine, until the two of us were one mass of twisting, writhing flesh.
It only increased my passion, as I felt his hands gently part my thighs. Then I felt the tip of his cock throbbing against my suppurating, virginal hole. The sensation was absolutely exquisite. I could feel my pussy walls rippling in a sucking motion that sought to drive his throbbing cock into me.
He held me very tightly, and pushed, gently at first but firmly, and I could feel my virginal pussy opening up to a new world of pleasure, to my world as a woman. I knew that soon I would be a woman, and I almost fainted with my excitement. My breath was coming in quick, short pants, as I felt his large cock stretching my opening wide. He was plowing deeper and deeper into me, each thrust of his cock sending new, intense waves of pleasure through me.
My whole body had turned into a pussy being filled with a cock for the first time. Finally, I felt the head of his cock hit my hymen. I had heard that it hurt and I tensed.
William was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, breathing heavily into it, creating another source of excitement as I felt his moist warm breath. I heard him ask me to take a deep breath and relax.
I did as he requested and he thrust hard, as I exhaled. I felt a sharp stinging pain, and that was all the discomfort I felt, as his massive rammer traveled all the way, balls deep into my love channel.
I cannot begin to describe the sensation! It was as if all my insides had turned to water, warm water that was flowing through my veins, warming me, making my flesh tingle. My ears were ringing as I felt myself being stretched incredibly wide by his plowing prick.
I could feel, as he rested there for a minute, to let me get used to the sensation, my pussy walls, throbbing against his cock, which was throbbing against my pussy walls. The feeling was something like watching a stone drop into still water. There is the splash around the stone where it dropped, and then the ripples, growing ever wider and wider, until the initial stone is lost in the depths but the ripples keep going on.
That was the kind of infinite pleasure I was feeling. Then I felt him move his cock out to the very tip, and then move it in again. The feeling was like silk moving against the lubricated walls of my very tight pussy. I bent my knees up, instinctively knowing that this action would give him easier access to my tight twat.
He smiled at me, before he lowered his face over mine, and kissed me again. His tongue was thrusting in and out of my mouth, as his cock was thrusting in and out of my pussy. The pleasure sensations were intense, more intense than anything I had ever experienced, and I thought I was going to go crazy with ecstasy.
Then I felt a new sensation, and my belly contracted hard, as my pussy walls seemed to contract and expand, contract and expand, just like those ripples in the water. I could feel my cunt walls squeezing his cock. I heard him moan,- and then I exploded in a frenetic rage of rhapsodic pleasure that drove me beyond reason, beyond time and place. He held me tightly while I was having my orgasm, driving his cock home more swiftly, and with a more insistent pressure, driving me over the top.
I had become a babbling, squealing fool as my body writhed under his hard humping. And I became for a brief moment an abject slave to the pleasure that was coursing through me, and then, slowly, I settled down, while his cock still drove in and out of my still-creaming pussy.
Then he came. I felt his hips becoming more erratic in their movement, his thrusting becoming harder. His very passion was driving me crazy again. I could feel my pussy muscles going wild again. Then I felt the first wave of his gism as it left his cock, splashing against the sides of my newly opened womanhood, and the warm, liquid pleasure that was coursing through me, drove me crazy again.
Now I knew why women sought to be deflowered, why sex was so marvelous. I knew, as I lay beneath his panting form, my breasts heaving as I strove to fill my lungs with air, while his cock grew soft and small inside my tight cunt, that I could never live without sex again.
INTERVIEW TWO
Amy came back for another session the following week, as our time was finished when she had finished telling me about her deflowering. I asked her to continue with her story, fascinated at the differences in sexual attitudes between young people from foreign backgrounds, and American youth.
Well, after that I had a wonderful vacation. William and I fucked every day. He taught me many things, and he was a gentle and considerate, and ardent lover. He almost spoiled me, except that my sexual experiences have always been extremely pleasant. Perhaps it would be better to say that his teaching set me on the right road, and I know instinctively who will make a good lover for me, and who will not.
When I came to New York, I was to board with the Ames family for my year. I was amazed at the differences in living patterns. Even eating habits are different. The Ames eat out of cans a lot, which surprised me. It makes it very efficient to prepare meals, I suppose, but the food isn't as good, except once in awhile. I can remember the hours my mother and I shopped every day, looking for the freshest vegetables, and the reddest meat.
And people in America eat in such a hurry, and at such odd hours!
Then there is the sex. I had no intention of forgoing my sexual pleasures, and I was looking forward to experiencing American men. Unfortunately, American men seem to fuck with the same rapidity with which they devour their meals. No wonder so many people are fat here, and no wonder sex isn't discussed. They all seem to make such a lurid, secretive, mess of the most pleasurable experience one can experience. It takes all the fun out of it.
I was rapidly feeling like a dried up old maid, before that strange incident occurred, which changed my whole life here. My history professor was a tall, very handsome older man. I adored the way his hair was graying at the temples. He is very intense, and very brilliant. Unfortunately, American students take their lessons as lightly and as quickly as they take their sex and their meals. I wonder how America is populated at all! Much less how there is any education here, and yet American schools are held in high esteem for the most part, in my country.
I used to stay after school a lot, to ask Harris-that was his name-questions on the lessons. And my marks were good. I learned more after school, than I did during the classes, because the classes only lasted an hour, and I could go into depth on some of the subjects covered. It was my last class of the day, so I could take my time.
One day, when the two of us were discussing the ramifications of the Monroe Doctrine on current American foreign policy, a tall, handsome woman, who bore a remarkable similarity to Harris, came into the room.
"Amy, I'd like you to meet my sister. She is the Administrator of the school."
The lovely woman smiled, and came up and shook my hand. "So you're the precocious student about whom Harris talks so much!" she exclaimed, as she held my hand.
We talked for awhile, and then Melinda said she had to leave, but she invited me to their house on Sunday, for dinner. I couldn't wait! I was so excited. I thought Melinda was perfectly lovely, and I was very attracted to Harris.
On Sunday, I was so eager, that I arrived way before the time I was expected. I sat outside on their porch for awhile, enjoying the lovely fall weather, and then I realized that I would just have to ring their bell. I couldn't sit out here forever. I didn't have a watch, and I had no way to tell the time, unless I went back to the bus stop, where I had seen the time on a clock over a grocery store.
I went up and rang the bell. There was no answer. This worried me a little bit. I wondered if I had the right date. I looked at my calendar, and sure enough, it was supposed to be this Sunday. Then I thought that, perhaps I was so early, that they weren't expecting me, and they might be in the back. I had noticed that there was a large, spacious yard in back of the two-story clapboard house in which they lived.
I went around to the back, and went up onto the porch. Then I heard strange noises, and I looked to the right. At the end of the porch, which ran the whole length of the house, was a little window. I went to it, and looked in. There, on a bed, in a small bedroom, were Harris and Melinda, Harris was lying between Melinda's legs, and I could tell from the way that Melinda was moaning and groaning, that Harris was doing a very good job of eating her out.
My pussy creamed as I watched him. I could see his buttocks muscles contracting as his head bobbed up and down between Melinda's lovely snatch. I wondered if Melinda thought she had time to eat out Harris before luncheon, because, as Harris's ass rose in the air, while he pushed his head harder into Melinda's snatch, I noticed that he had an enormous erection. He had a beautiful cock, and it was full and red-looking. I would have loved to have that cock in my cunt!
I went back to the door, meaning to knock on it, to gain their attention, and then I relented. I couldn't spoil Melinda's orgasm, and she appeared to be so close to one that it would have been a shame. If Melinda were anything like me, she would have sat uncomfortably through the whole meal with an itchy twat, and I certainly didn't like to have an itchy twat.
I enjoy eating, and do not like being distracted from my gustatory pleasures. So I went back to the window, to watch. I would ring the bell when Melinda had come. The only problem was, I thought, that Harris should come too. He certainly would have deserved an orgasm himself, because from the looks of it, he was doing a perfectly marvelous job on Melinda.
My pussy was itching so badly, that I felt I had to scratch it. As I watched Harris bring Melinda off I started to rub my own dripping twat, under my skirt. I became so absorbed in my own pussy that I forgot to observe the two on the bed, until I heard Melinda.
"Oh, Harris, look!"
Harris looked up, and gasped with shock. I saw him get up off the bed, and throw on a robe. I knew he would come to the back door, so I stopped rubbing my twat, and went over to wait in front of it. He opened the door, and looked at me very sternly, and not without a certain amount of agitation on his handsome face.
"Young lady, what are you doing there?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I arrived early, and there was no answer ... "
"So you stayed outside and spied!"
"Well, yes, sir, you made such a lovely couple, and I didn't want to interrupt before you had brought Melinda off ... "
Melinda had come to the door with a robe on, also. She looked so lovely, and she had that gorgeous sexual flush that a happy, fulfilled woman gets.
"You mean, you ... !" she exclaimed.
"Well, sir, I know American kids are different from foreign kids, but sex is a lovely thing, as I very well know, and I certainly didn't want to spoil it. I guess I have anyway," I said, as I pointed to Harris's hard-on, which was sprouting through the folds of his robe.
Harris looked down and blushed. Then he looked up at me with a queer look in his face. "And what would you do about that, Amy?" he asked, huskily.
"Why, I could take care of that, while you took care of this," I said, pointing to my weeping pussy. "You were so beautiful together that it got me all hot and bothered."
"Well, then," said Melinda, smiling. "Why don't you come in? You can take care of Harris, while I get luncheon." She smiled at Harris. "You see, dear, I was right. She is just like us, a free and liberated sexual soul!"
Harris smiled and ushered me in. I couldn't wait to feel that monstrous cock in my pussy. Melinda started puttering around the kitchen, and Harris led me into the bedroom, where I had watched him perform cunnilingus on Melinda. I just adore older men. They're so suave, so knowledgeable, so much better than the quick, surreptitious, dirty little fucks I had received to date in American automobiles.
American automobiles are marvelous, and good for many things. Fucking isn't one of them!
Harris threw off his elegant, paisley robe, revealing his long, lush body in all its glory. His hard-on was massive, and his cock stood straight out from his body, throbbing and bobbing with his every motion. I reached over, and grabbed it in my little hand.
"Oh, it's just so beautiful," I husked. "Someone should service it, you did such a lovely job for Melinda."
Harris smiled at me, and began removing my clothes. "And you're just the one to do it," he said smiling. "We knew when we began that we wouldn't have time to do each other. I decided to wait until later. Thanks to you, I don't have to," he said, as he slipped my dress up over my head.
My breasts are so firm that I don't need to wear a bra. So all there was left to remove were my soaking wet panties, and Harris bent down, and brought them down over my hips quickly. I stepped out of them, and pressed my body into his.
I could feel his hot cock bobbing between my thighs as I pressed my hips into his throbbing, hot groin. He was humping into me, fucking my thighs with his cock. The tip of it was sticky with pre-come, and I could feel the inside of my thighs, wet already from my own juices, get wetter, as his gism combined with my cream.
It was a perfectly wonderful sensation. He pushed me away from him and looked me over. "You have a lovely body, Amy," he said appreciatively.
"Thank you," I said, dying to get the preliminaries over with. I was thoroughly greased by this time, and there was a dull, throbbing ache in my twat, that only his cock could ease by sliding in and out of me. I was almost faint with desire.
"Oh, please, I said, "Don't wait any more. Fuck me!"
Without another word, he pushed me toward the bed. I lay back on it, and spread my legs. He sat on the edge of the bed, and fondled my muff, which was sticky with cream. Then he smiled, and lay on top of me, and kissed me.
Then I felt him place the head of his cock against my pulsing, hungry pussy. I didn't wait for him to push into me. I arched my hips up, and captured his raging cock in one movement. I felt him push the rest of the way, and felt his balls slap against my ass cheeks.
I ground my hips up into his groin, wetting his pubic hairs with my cream which was flowing copiously. I heard him moan, as he began humping in and out of me.
His cock felt so wonderful, so big, and hard, and soft at the same time. I could feel him plowing into the very depths of me, stretching my pussy wide open, making my vaginal muscles pulsate with every thrust, with the pressure of his cock against my wet, sticky walls.
I could feel my cream, mixing with his pre-come which was oozing steadily out of his cock now. He was driving me crazy, and suddenly I was swiveling my hips up into him in a raging rhythm of desire, as I felt myself come. I had been so long without a good fuck, that I came wildly, squealing and thrashing about.
The sucking motions of my pussy caused his cock to spew its contents into my womanhood. I felt the first flush of his gism against the walls of my pussy, and soon the two of us were mad, crazy with desire, thrashing around on the bed, and groaning and grunting like rutting pigs.
Finally, the spasms subsided, and we collapsed into the bed, panting and gasping for breath. There was a knock on the door.
"Lunch is almost ready, you two. Hurry up!"
I had a perfectly lovely Sunday afternoon. And we got together often after that. Melinda is a particularly gentle mistress, and I have had many chances to sample her sexual wares. They have taught me much, since they have been making it together since they were children, and I have been able to teach them.
I know Mrs. Ames suspects that something is going on. And it's not wrong, at least, not according to me. But I don't know what to do about her. How can I live under her roof, with our conflicting sexual mores?
CONCLUSION
I was fascinated at the friction that could be created when two alien cultures get together. I counseled Amy for several sessions, advising her to be more discreet in her assignations with Harris and Melinda.
I would have loved to get a case history on this unusual sister and brother, however, Amy didn't think it advisable to tell them that she had told me about their relationship.
Amy has no ostensible sexual or emotional problems, and she seems to be handling the culture conflict fairly well.
She took my advice and became a little more discreet, coming home earlier, and forgoing her pleasure with Harris and Melinda once in awhile. After awhile, the suspicions of Mrs. Ames, a good, but ignorant woman, were allayed enough for Amy to spend a pleasurable and profitable year here.
CASE HISTORY TWO
Subject: Gretchen W. Age: Thirteen
INTERVIEW ONE
I am a man. It is sometimes irrelevant that I am a psychiatrist. And when Gretchen walked into my office for the first time, my cock became instantly erect.
She was incredibly blonde, incredibly beautiful, and incredibly built. I couldn't believe that she was thirteen. And yet, according to her visa, and the records that I had in front of me, she was. She had phoned for an appointment the week prior, saying that she thought she had a problem, and she needed to talk to someone in confidence.
I couldn't imagine what her problem might be. It was inconceivable to me that such a bright, beautiful, and ostensibly happy young woman could have any problems.
Well, I don't know if it's serious or not, Doctor. I have been here for several months. I am an exchange student from Holland. As a matter of fact, I am one of the youngest exchange students to come here. My parents are very proud of me.
At home, I know I am considered precocious. I must tell you that I am as precocious sexually, as I am intellectually. I had my first boy when I was ten, in the fields behind my father's house. I enjoyed my first experience very much, and I have sought out as many couplings as possible, since then.
My school work has always been good. Because of my active sexual life, I suspect that I do not do as much daydreaming, as other students, hence I have more energy to give to my studies. I think an active sex life is very important for all phases of a happy existence.
But I must tell you about the family with which I am boarding. I hope I am not creating too much pressure with a conflict in cultures. That is why I am here. I arrived on a Friday morning, and the Smith family was at the airport to greet me. I plan to major in American studies, and I have been studying English since I was eight, so there was no communication barrier. They are a very good natured, and happy and loving family.
They had some friends over for dinner that night, and then we all retired early, since they assumed I was tired. Of course, I was so excited that I wasn't tired at all, but since they were all going to bed early, I went to my room, planning on reading for awhile, if I could muster enough concentration to do so. I got undressed, and put on my nightdress, and got into bed, and curled up with a sightseeing book, since I had a weekend, and the Smiths planned to take me wherever I wanted to go for the weekend.
I really couldn't read, and each description of a place I would see soon, sent me into more transports of ecstasy and joy and excitement. Finally, I decided that the excitement would only wear me out, and I turned out the light, and curled up to try to get some sleep.
I tossed and turned for over an hour, and decided that perhaps a glass of warm milk would help me. The Smiths had shown me where all the amenities were in the house, and had told me to take advantage of them as if I were one of the family, so I threw on a robe, and went down to the kitchen to heat up some milk. In the kitchen there was a doorway, leading to a recreation room in the basement. As I padded around the kitchen, getting the milk and putting it in a saucepan, I heard strange noises coming from the basement.
I was a little bit worried, and thought about getting Mr. Smith. Then I thought that I would peek first. It wouldn't do to create a ruckus on my first night in a strange country, especially if the noises were normal ones.
So I crept to the cellar door, and opened it quietly. It sounded like moaning, and some giggling. I was really torn. The moans could have been someone hurt, but the giggling puzzled me. So I started to creep down the stairs. As I got to the bottom of the stairs, I looked to my right. There, on a couch in the corner, in the dimly lit, wood-paneled room, were Marty, the older brother, and Trish, his youngest sister.
Trish's head was bobbing up and down on Marty's cock. Trish was giggling, and Marty was moaning. My pussy creamed at the sight of them. I couldn't believe that I had been plunked right in the middle of such a fantastic family. I had all the comforts of home, right at home, if you know what I mean.
I walked over to them.
"Good evening," I said, smiling at them.
Marty gasped, and his eyes went wide. He had his hands on the top of his sister's head, and her head was still bobbing up and down on Marty's massive cock. She was so delighted, obviously, with her sexual chore, that she didn't even hear my greeting.
"Good-good evening," said Marty, obviously ruffled by my appearance.
I pointed to Trish, still frantically bobbing up and down, and giggling. I could see Marty wincing, and I knew from the way his cock was throbbing that he was about to come. "She is good, yah?" I said, trying to make him feel easier. I didn't know anything about the sexual mores of America, but I figured that sex had to be pretty universal, although I must confess I had only heard of a few cases of sex going on between members of a family. I could never understand that, however, since it would be the easiest way to get sex.
My family tends to be repressed sexually, so I have left my sexual life out of the house, and away from their knowledge. It doesn't do to rock the boat, you know? Suddenly, I saw Marty's hips arch up spastically into his little sister's mouth. He grabbed her hard-working little head harder, and forced her down onto his cock, while he fucked her mouth. He had closed his eyes, and I suppose at that crucial moment, had forgotten about my very existence, and I certainly couldn't blame him!
I sat down on the edge of the couch, while Marty came. Trish was a very good cocksucker, and obviously had some practice at it, since she was doing a very good job of swallowing the gobs of come which Marty was spewing out of his cock. There were a few little dribbles of it coming out of the corner of her mouth, but not much.
I watched as her little throat made swallowing movements, and knew that she was getting most of Marty's spunk in her stomach. My pussy was creaming madly, and I really wanted to join this little club, since they seemed to enjoy their sex so much, and I would need to have some outlet. I assumed that it would take a little while for me to meet men and women, in order to have as active a sexual life as I had at home.
I grant you, it's easier on a farm, where children tend to learn the facts of life early. I have learned from living in this city that many children my age are indeed woefully ignorant of sexual matters. I don't know why. It doesn't make any sense, especially since a good sex life makes life so much better all around.
Finally Marty let out a bellow, and thrust hard up into his sister's mouth. Little Trish, almost gagged on that thrust, but she was a little Spartan, and she again swallowed Marty's spunk. She kept on bobbing her head up and down on Marty's cock, until it shriveled and popped out of her mouth with a lewd little squishing sound.
I do so love the sounds and the smell of sex, and the room was certainly filled with both. I assumed they had been at it, since everyone had retired. Finally, Marty relaxed, and Trish realized I was sitting there.
Her eyes, too, went wide with surprise. I smiled at her, and kissed her sperm-smeared mouth. Then I licked my lips. "Mmm, that tastes good," I said to her.
She smiled and relaxed a little, assuming that everything was O.K.
She looked at Marty, who was smiling at both of us. "Now me, Marty, now me!" Trish exclaimed.
"In a minute, hon," Marty said, panting. "I've come twice, and I need a little rest."
"Ohhh ... !" Trish pouted.
"I know!" I exclaimed. "I can do you, Trish, and you can do me. Would you like that? That is," I hesitated, "if you want me to!"
"Oh, wow, do we ever!" said Trish, getting up and smearing me with a big, wet, juicy, spermy kiss. The very feel of it made my pussy cream more.
"Hey, that would be great," said Marty, sitting up. "I'd love to see you two do it. We haven't been able to get Mother to do it yet," he said, shaking his head.
"Oh," I said. "That's a shame, because it's such a nice variation. We should try to convince her-if you think she'd want me to join you, that is. Do you think it would be all right?"
"Sure," said Marty. "Mom and Dad told us to go easy, because we didn't know where your head was at, but if it's all right by you, it sure as hell is all right by us."
"Well, where are they now?"
"Mom and Dad were in a mood to fuck together," said Trish, "so they told us to come down and play by ourselves tonight."
"Oh," I said, wondering at the sexual enlightenment in this family. I knew I was going to have a wonderful time here!
Trish had thrown her nightgown off over her head, and stood before me, her little ten-year-old body quivering with eagerness. Already she had little buds of breasts that were perfectly adorable. I reached over and sucked one little cherry red nipple, and then the other. Trish squealed with delight, as her little fingers fumbled with my nightdress. She pulled it up over my head, and I helped by raising my arms.
Then she threw the nightdress on the floor, where it landed in a white heap, on top of hers.
"Gee, you have great knockers, Gretchen," sighed Trish. "I hope mine grow to be like yours," she said, fondling them eagerly. The feeling of her little fingers on my breasts made the nipples pucker with pleasure. My cunt was really creaming now, and I was dying to taste her little girl twat. Marty had stood up, his massive cock lying flaccid between his thighs. I lay down on the couch, and beckoned to little Trish. She came crawling eagerly over my body, panting, until she lay full on top of me. I couldn't begin to describe the sensation of her light little girl body on top of mine.
I had had girls before, but none this young, and the sensation was very different. Her hair smelled of shampoo, and her little body exuded the fragrance of talcum powder and little girl sex. I reached down to her pussy which was pressing against mine, and felt her little twat. It was dripping with desire.
"Why don't we sixty-nine?" she suggested with her little girl lisp.
"Yes," I smiled, "I'd like that," I said, marveling at her precocity. Without any more ado, she crawled over my body again, until her cunt was at my face, and her face was at my cunt. I could feel her breath puffing against my swollen labia, and the moist feeling of her breath only excited me more. She was very tall for her age. Most Americans are taller than Europeans, I've discovered, so we fit together almost perfectly.
I reached down with my hands, and spread her little twat, marveling at the pink perfection of the little pussy lips. I saw the little pink bud, swollen with sexual excitement, and I flicked my tongue out and tickled it. She wiggled her hips and squealed, and then I felt her mouth, tickling my clitoris.
I had never felt such an experienced cunt lapper go to work on my pussy before! It absolutely amazed me. Her little tongue eagerly lapped over my pussy lips, running up and down, flicking into my dripping cunt. All the time she was lapping at me pussy, she was moaning, and the vibrations from her moaning just added another dimension to the pleasure she was affording me.
I arched my hips up into her sweet little mouth, and closed my eyes, surrendering to the pleasure. My tongue flicked out, and I started to run it up and down her sweet-tasting little girl lips. Again she squealed, rotating her tongue around my clitoris, as she wiggled her twat against my mouth. I covered her whole twat with my mouth, as if to devour it, and then pressed my tongue hard against her clitoris, flicking it back and forth, rotating it around, until her hips started grinding into my face in the same rhythm with which I was sucking her off.
I could feel my own pleasure mounting. In spite of her pleasure, she had enough discipline to keep applying her tongue to my pussy. I was totally unaware of Marty at this time, as my eyes were closed, to concentrate on the pleasure I was receiving. I was moaning continually now, feeling the pleasure mount in white-hot waves from my twat, and travel upward through my belly to my brain. We were both licking in perfect unison, and our hips were matching the rhythm.
It was like a symphony of pleasure, the two of us. Sex is really the universal language. There are sufficient variations of it to keep anyone happy, and it is the same throughout the world. Cunt stuffed with cock, cunt against cunt, mouth against cunt, and cock in mouth. So simple, so gut simple. I wonder that anyone ever makes a problem out of it.
This family was certainly remarkable. I could feel my orgasm reaching a peak, and suddenly, I could feel Trish's little girl cunt gushing. Her cream poured out of her, and what I could not capture with my tongue rolled down my chin. It tasted sweet, with that light, little girl taste that delighted me.
And I could feel my pussy gushing its cream, too. Little Trish was as expert at capturing all my come, as she had been in swallowing almost all of Marty's gism. Suddenly I moaned heavily against Trish's twat, as my pleasure peaked. I could feel my hips leave my rational control and gyrate wildly against Trish's little girl mouth, as she licked me furiously. I could also feel the tempo of Trish's humping increase as she came to her own peak, still moaning against my twat, which only increased the pleasure of the climax.
Before we were finished coming, I could feel a sticky, wet splattering, covering my face, and dripping down. I opened my eyes startled, but still shoving my twat up into little Trish's face, and I saw Marty, his head thrown back, his face a mask of passion. He was jerking off, and he was splattering his come all over our bodies.
I finished sucking off Trish, until I could feel her light little body collapse against mine. It was a shame that I couldn't have captured Marty's gism with my mouth, but it had been full of Irish's twat.
Finally, my orgasm subsided, and the two of us lay there, our breasts heaving as we struggled for breath, still trembling with little after-shocks of orgasm, until finally we were relaxed, and filled with pleasure, and quite enamored of each other's prowess.
INTERVIEW TWO
The next time Gretchen came to the office, she looked more relaxed. It does help for the worried well, as such patients are called, to talk out their more intimate problems with someone who can be objective.
She had no doubt come to some conclusions of her own which would be far more helpful to her well-being, than if I had fed her an answer.
I leaned back and waited for the rest of her story.
Well, Doctor, I think I have my answer-you know, to that problem I said I had last time, but since we made the appointment, perhaps I should tell you the rest of the story.
The days passed into weeks, and everything was just wonderful. Marty and Trish told their parents about me, and I became a welcome guest at their sexual revels, as well as at all their other activities. I was awed by this great nation, fascinated with my courses in school, and of course, delighted with the family which would be mine for a year.
What had really bothered me, was Mr. Smith. It has turned out to be a tempest in a teapot. Mrs. Smith had gone to the midwest somewhere, where her sister lived.
Her sister was quite ill, having had a miscarriage, so Mrs. Smith went to help her with the rest of the family, and to be with her during her time of trouble. That left Marty, and Trish and I, and Mr. Smith.
Marty and Trish had gone to a movie. I had had a late class, so I couldn't go with them. When I came home from school this particular afternoon, Mr. Smith was pacing up and down, and chain-smoking. He looked worried.
"Is anything wrong, sir?" I asked.
"Well, you're in on everything in this house, so there's no reason why I can't tell you," he said, gruffly, looking at me. "I'm horny. I miss my wife like crazy."
"Well, sir, there's I and your son and daughter ... "
"Yeah, but it's not the same thing. I love my wife, don't you understand?"
"Of course I do," I said puzzled at his gruffness. Then I realized that, of course, he was right! There are times when only your most special loved one will do.
"Perhaps you would like to make love to me?" I asked. I absolutely adored his lovely cock.
"That's sweet of you, honey," he said, sighing. "Yes, I guess so. It won't do to be gruff, and irritable because I have no nookie."
He had to explain to me what nookie was. Americans have such delightful terms for sexual things. Almost as good as the French. Mr. Smith reached out his hand, and I took it. Then we went upstairs. He headed for my bedroom, and then I had a brilliant idea!
"Wait!" I cried. "I have a brilliant idea! Let's go to your room."
"All right," he said. "But I don't know why."
"You just wait and see," I said smiling. We went into Mr. and Mrs. Smith's bedroom, and I told him to close his eyes. Then I undressed him slowly, kissing every part of his body, and caressing him. His huge rammer was inflamed to an incredible width and length, and I couldn't wait to get it into my pussy. I made him keep his eyes closed, and then led him to the bed, and gently pushed him down on it. He lay there, with his eyes closed, and his legs spread-eagled, while I tip-toed into the bathroom. Mrs. Smith and I are almost the same build. Frequently, during the weeks I had been there, I had, at her suggestion, borrowed her dresses. I searched in the dressing room, located off the bathroom, and sure enough, I found a black negligee, belonging to her.
Then I went to the cosmetics shelf, and sprinkled myself with some of her favorite perfume. And now, for the piece de resistance! Mrs. Smith had a collection of marvelous wigs, and one of them was in her hair color, and almost the same hair style which she wore. I put that on, and then slinked out of the bathroom, turning out the light.
I also turned out all the other lights, leaving the room in the dimness of a fall twilight.
"You can open your eyes now, darling!" I husked, trying to imitate Mrs. Smith's voice.
Mr. Smith gasped, and reared up in bed when he saw me. He threw his arms out, and I saw his eyes glaze over with lust.
"Sarah!" he moaned, pulling me on top of him and kissing me frantically.
I had never felt him grow so big, never been kissed so ardently. Mr. Smith was beside himself with lust. He loved me that afternoon as I have never been loved before, and I assure you that I was not a little envious of Mrs. Smith.
With one passionate wrench, he ripped the negligee off me, fondling my breasts, sucking them to a puckered, passionate life. I was almost breathless, as he showered me with kisses, sticking his tongue deep, deep within my mouth, running it all over the moist soft cavern of my oral cavity.
I could feel my pussy creaming, and I knew I was going to get one of the best fuckings of my life. I could feel his hands reach behind me, as he fondled my soft white buttocks, running his finger down the crack of my ass, until he reached my dripping cunt.
Then I felt him work his hand between our bellies. I arched my hips up to allow him maneuvering room, as he took his madly pulsating cock, and placed it at the entrance to my dripping twat.
I was still on top of him, and I brought my knees up, and crouched over the flaming fuck monster of his cock as he placed the throbbing head of it at the entrance. Then he felt his hips arch up and felt the monstrous mauler push deep into my pussy. I sat up on his hips, and rammed it down all the way, feeling his balls slap against my grinding ass cheeks, as I swiveled my hips around and around his pulsating cock.
Mr. Smith was a fuck machine that wouldn't stop. He kept pumping and pumping his cock up into my suppurating snatch, and I threw my head back in ecstasy. It was marvelous! He was moaning and groaning, and then suddenly he came, in wild, copious floods of sticky, white-hot spunk. I could feel it splashing against the walls of my pussy, and feel it dripping down, matting his pubic hair. His hips continued to grind into me, and I could feel his cock gyrating into my womb.
I too came, wildly and long, seeing stars, and feeling weak, and warm and happy. Incredibly, Mr. Smith's cock stayed erect. He arched up, and holding my legs tightly against his thighs, threw me over, so that I was on the bottom, and his weight was pressing into me. He arched his ass up and slammed his cock home again. Each powerful thrust sent more pleasure coursing through me.
We must have come three or four times that night. I am not sure, because I became delirious in my ecstasy. Finally, Mr. Smith collapsed on top of me. We did not appear for supper that night, and I felt tired but exhilarated at breakfast the next day.
For the rest of the week that Mrs. Smith was gone, Mr. Smith and I played out our little charade. And then Mrs. Smith came home.
When I came to see you last week, the problem was that Mr. Smith had started to get us confused, to the point where he wouldn't make love but he had to make love to both of us.
I thought, perhaps, that my little charade with Mr. Smith was going to disrupt this happy, and warm, loving family. However, after I saw you last week, I decided that the best way to tackle a problem is head-on, so I had a long heart-to-heart with Mrs. Smith.
The dear woman embraced me and kissed me, and thanked me for helping her husband out, and then she went to talk to him. They were gone for the rest of the afternoon, and I made supper for Marty and Trish and myself, so I know that Mrs. Smith solved the problem in her own gutsy, down-to-earth way.
We haven't had that problem since, and everything is perfectly all right now. I just thought, since I had taken so much of your time, that you might like to know that it worked out fine!
CONCLUSION
I had to smile along with this delightful, beautiful girl, as she told me her tale. A well-adjusted, sexually happy woman like that can have precious few problems in life, her greatest need probably being an occasional shoulder like mine to talk to, in order to sort out the elements of a current difficulty and to work out the solution.
Such patients are rare, but very welcome in my practice. It re-confirms my belief in the basic health of individuals, and my hope that someday, perhaps, when we are much more enlightened than we are at present, all mankind can live together in peace, content with who they are.
There was no further need to counsel this girl, although I regretted the lack of necessity. She was one of the most attractive patients I have ever had.
CASE HISTORY THREE
Subject: Ida C. Age: Fifteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Ida was a tall, Germanic blonde girl, who looked much older than her fifteen years. She was beautifully built, a sterling example of the reason Hitler could promulgate the theory of Herrenrasse.
She was strong, vital, and her high animal spirits made her a pleasure to counsel. Her story was interesting in my career as a sexologist, because it indicates the damage that can be done due to sexual repression.
In Ida's case, her own healthy animality was enough to forestall any trauma, and her independent, and questing mind, could see through the rationalizations of those who would seek to dissipate the most powerful drive man has.
I thank you for seeing me, Doctor. I suppose, before I tell you my story, I should explain a little about my background. I am German, from Munich, you see. My family is what is called upper middle class, my father being a banker.
They are very strict. As I was growing up, I knew that there was much missing in my life in the way of affection. Oh, don't misunderstand me. I think my parents love me very much, but they are very taken with the proper way to do everything, and they are not very demonstrative.
As a matter of fact, I may thank them for being so repressive, because, with my stubborn nature, I tried to seek out the facts that I knew were obviously missing from the picture of life they presented to me.
My first venture into the unknown by myself happened when I was nine, and I was in the bathtub, washing myself. Usually my Nanny, or my mother helped me, but this night, it was decided that I was old enough to bathe myself. I was thrilled, and paddled around making a watery mess of the bathroom, and not caring. One of the things I had always wanted to do was explore my own body, but there was precious little time I had for private investigations of this sort, since we had Nannies, and French Governesses, and Nurses, and what-not.
I started by tickling my little nipples, and then my hands wandered down to play for awhile with my belly button. The one thing that really fascinated me, I saved for last, because I had a feeling that it would take a long time to learn about it, and that was my little pussy.
I knew that I peed out of it, but I had also gleaned enough information, by vague inferences I heard as my mother talked among her female friends, to know that it was also used for something else. I was too young to know what, but I soon found out.
I gasped and jumped as my probing finger touched the little button at the top of the little slit, which hid all that pink meat. I couldn't understand why nature would be so generous with flesh in this part of the body. It must do something, but I couldn't figure out why.
I lingered on the little button, feeling the funny, almost excruciating pleasure sensations that coursed through my body, as my little finger tickled the little bud. Then I ran my finger down into the slit, and felt the moist tender meat between my pussy lips. I was absolutely fascinated with this little mound of flesh. Of course, at that time, I had not grown any hair on it, so it was a little bald thing of infinite fascination to me.
Then I realized that below my piss hole, which it took some time to discover, there was another hole. I tentatively stuck my finger up, and then hurriedly took it out again. I was afraid that maybe I would do some damage to myself that I couldn't explain, if my mother or the Nanny found out about it.
But I was dying of curiosity, and I wanted even more, to find out what that mound of flesh was all about, and what those feelings meant when I touched the little button.
Nanny slept in the same room with me and my sister, and she stayed up long after we were put to bed, so there was no opportunity to pursue my studies on my own body, until I was much older. I have always been an outstanding student, and my particular area of expertise is American literature and history. I also learned English fairly easily, and am quite fluent at it, so when places opened up on the exchange student plan, I applied.
I didn't know too much about the day to day living of Americans, and I had not met many of them, and I was hoping to be able to spend a year in this country. Well, much to my pleasant surprise, because I am rather young for the privilege, I did get an exchange place, and was placed with a family, the Jamerson's. I was so thrilled and my parents were so proud of me. Before I flew to America, they had a big champagne party for me, and I was just as happy as any young girl could be.
The Jamerson's met me at the airport, and I liked them immediately. Mr. Jamerson was a salesman and was away from home a lot. Mrs. Jamerson was a tall, striking redhead, and their son looked just like her. He, too was tall, over six feet, with dark red hair, and brown, twinkling eyes.
I fell in love with him almost immediately, he was so warm, and his hand was so gentle and strong, as he shook my hand.
The next few days were a whirl of activities, as the Jamerson's took me around to see the sights, helped me enroll and get my study plans, and they even gave a party for me, so that I could meet girls and boys my own age.
The whole thing seemed so strange. I had my own room, without a Nanny around and without a sister in the bed next to me. No one chaperoned me, and there were no servants, either, to help me wash up. I helped with the dishes, and helped with the cooking and the cleaning. I enjoyed every minute of it immensely. It was a whole different way of life.
At the end of my first week with this lovely family, Mr. Jamerson had to go away on an extended business trip to the West Coast. I was busy at this time with my studies, and my new friends. There was something to do every weekend, and my schedule was full until Christmas.
My classes were excellent, and I was getting very good grades. My excitement was at such a peak that I think it was a bit like taking amphetamines. I had heard a lot of my chums talk about them in Munich, but I didn't dare try them, because of my very strict parents. Anyway, everything seemed easy. The Jamerson's were so pleasant, and their friends were so nice, and John Jamerson, Jr. was such a ... well, how do I put it into words?
As the days passed into weeks, I was more and more enamored of him. He was charming and outgoing, and friendly. He had a lot of girlfriends, and even better, he had a lot of male chums, and he would bring them home at night, to introduce them to me.
Mrs. Jamerson seemed to get quieter when her husband left. I supposed that she was missing him. I missed him too, at the table for meals. I was so used to my father, who was unfailingly at the head of the table every mealtime, as he was unfailingly at work punctually at eight-thirty every morning, so I could understand how Mrs. Jamerson felt.
I tried to keep her cheered up, and she was certainly appreciative, but I'm quite sure that my attentions weren't enough. After all, I reasoned, I certainly wasn't her husband.
And I realize now, I can laugh at that assumption. In my naivete at the time, I didn't realize how close to the truth I was without being aware of it.
The Friday following Mr. Jamerson's departure, I had a date. We were supposed to go to a basketball game at school, and then go to a party afterwards, to which I had been invited by one of my new friends. I had met the boy in school, so he was not one of the ones I had been introduced to by the Jamerson's. Most of the girls in school were crazy about him, so I was very pleased, when he asked me if I wanted to go out with him.
Unlike most of my other dates, however, he didn't meet me at the door. I found out why later, when John told me that he was notorious, and if he had known I made the date with him, he would have forbidden me to go out with him. Anyway, I was to meet him at the corner drugstore. I did think that was rather strange, but I did as he requested. When we were in the car together, he grabbed me and kissed me in a way I haven't been kissed before.
"Tonight is it, baby. You and I are going to have a lot of fun!" he said in a strange voice. I felt slightly offended by the way he had kissed me, even though I had to admit that I liked it, but as we drove, I realized we were not going to the school.
"Where are we going?" I finally asked. "The school is back there!"
"Just shut up, babe. What do you think I am, some kind of nut. Basketball!" he growled contemptuously. At a red light, he reached behind him, and pulled over into the front seat, a black belt. He rolled it around his fist, and slapped it hard on the seat in front of him.
"You're German, huh? You know all about the Master Race. Well, you and me, babe, we're ideal together. I like a little pain with my pleasure."
I didn't have to know the specific details of what he was talking about. At the next red light, I reached over, and threw myself out of the car. I almost got myself killed, and I ran my nylons, but I wasn't about to find out how he applied his theory of the Master Race.
I ran all the way home, panicked, but thanking my lucky stars that I had gotten out of whatever it is I almost got into. I walked home to the Jamerson's, in the soft fall night, feeling my heart calm down, and my breathing return to normal. I let myself into the quiet house, and went to the kitchen, to see if anyone were there. Then I went up the stairs to my room.
As I passed Mrs. Jamerson's room, I heard sobbing sounds and gasps coming from it. My heart went out to Mrs. Jamerson. I decided that I would forget my troubles, and console her. Maybe I could distract her from crying. We could go to a movie together, or pop popcorn, or something-anything to help her out. I liked her so very much.
I went to her door, and knocked. The sobbing sounds were increasing in volume, but she didn't answer me. I knocked again, louder, and still there was no answer. Then I got nervous. What if she were sick? What if she were hurt, and too weak to cry out for help? I assumed that John had a date that night, since he was very popular, and usually did.
I opened the door cautiously, my heart tripping over its beats, as I feared what I would see on the other side of the door. What I saw caused my heart to stop dead in its arrhythmic pattering for a brief second that took my breath away.
Mrs. Jameson was on the bed, spread-eagled and naked, and John, her son John, was lying on top of her. I could see his ass moving up and down, and this monstrous penis, between his legs, plowing in and out of her furry muff. I stood, stark still, watching with shock at the actions going on in front of my eyes.
Mrs. Jameson was twisting and turning under the body of her son, her knees bent up sharply, her legs so spread that I could see everything. I could see twin sacs flopping against her ass cheeks as she arched her hips up.
I had taken basic anatomy courses, but anatomy is not physiology, and where I did know about penises, and scrotum's, and seminal vesicles, I certainly didn't know what these things did in terms of a woman. And here was my answer-what that little hole I was afraid to explore was all about.
The knowledge shocked me more than the sight of John fucking his mother. Finally, Mrs. Jamerson became strangely spastic and the muted sobbing sounds became loud moans and groans. I saw her reach her arms up, and cling to her son's neck, and I heard her squeal, "Oh, John, John, I'm coming, yeaaaggghh!"
She was writhing all over that bed like a crazy woman, and John kept pumping up and down, up and down, faster and faster. Soon, I heard him grunting and groaning, too. What was it, in this life, that I was missing? I couldn't believe that I was so unaware, and so instinctively understanding when I was confronted with the sexual act before my very eyes.
Trembling, I closed the door. On shaking legs I went downstairs, to the kitchen cupboard. I wanted some wine to soothe my shaking spirits, and I poured a glass of the rich, red stuff that the Jamerson's always kept in their well-stocked bar.
That was another novelty. No one in my family drank any spirits at all, except for a glass of dreadful red wine at New Years, to toast everyone's health, and I never saw anyone in my family, except my little sister, once, finish the glass that was poured for them. But I knew its salutary effects on a shaky mind, and I sat at the kitchen table, listening to the tick, tick, tick of the kitchen clock, feeling very betrayed, very lonely, very relieved, and suddenly very excited in a strange way all at once. I sipped the wine and thought, trying to piece together the whole night. In two hours, it was as if time had accelerated, and I had grown up by about five years worth!
I put my head on my arms which were resting on the table. My head was spinning with confusion. I decided to go to bed. There was no amount of thinking that was going to sort it all out tonight.
I sipped the rest of the wine, and as I turned to wash out the glass, John came into the kitchen. I was so embarrassed that I couldn't look at him, and I concentrated on washing the glass, to hide from him the fact that I was blushing.
He came up behind me and stood there for a moment. I was getting strangely flustered. He took the glass from my hand, and then, without a word, he went to the cupboard and got another glass. Then he poured two more glasses of wine.
"Let's go into the living room," he said, smiling sweetly at me. I preceded him into the living room, and I sat down on the couch. He put the two wine glasses on the coffee table in front of us.
"Now, how come you're home?"
I burst out crying, and through my tears I told him.
"Didn't you know what he was about?" I shook my head embarrassed by my ignorance, by what I had seen him doing with his mother, by all the elements which were boiling around in my mind, confusing me. I desperately wanted the pieces of the puzzle put together, but nothing seemed to fit anywhere.
"Why did you open the door to my mother's room?" John asked kindly, staring at me intently.
I told him how I had heard her crying, and thought she was in trouble, and how I had opened the door when there was no answer to my knocking. He smiled, and put his arms around me, and squeezed me.
"You poor kid, don't you know anything?"
"No ... yes ... no ... how could you ... with your own mother?"
John tilted my chin up to his face, and looked at me with those marvelous brown eyes of his. "Sweetheart, I'd do it for any woman who needs it, and if my mother needs it, she deserves the best, don't you think?"
I couldn't argue with him. In the first place, I found the ignorance to which I was at that moment subject, unconscionable. I was angry with my parents for their repressive attitudes. That ignorance only meant that I could not deal effectively with people whom I liked and cared for. That ignorance was unforgivable when it came to picking the date I had started out with that night, and had put me in direct danger.
In my anger, as the wine loosened my tongue, I poured out my heart to John who listened gravely, without interrupting. Then I sat down, hiccupping, trying to control my tears of anger, and bewilderment.
Finally, I looked up at him, and asked, "Do you know any good books that will give me the answers?"
"The best one," he said smiling. "You and me."
His response took my breath away. I know I blushed, and my eyes widened. I was really crazy about him, and I knew there must be another dimension to caring than just feeling one's heart lurch when the loved one walked into a room, or you heard his name mentioned. And I knew the strange feelings I got a lot in my pussy.
I was scared, but I said it anyway. "Yes, I want to."
INTERVIEW TWO
The next time Ida came to see me, a week later, she sat down, all business, crossed her legs, and looked at me intensely for a moment, as if weighing the words to use.
I just settled back, enjoyed watching her lithe, beautiful young body, and her pretty face, and waited for her to find her own way to communicate.
Well, Doctor, I still don't know if I'm crazy or perverted, but I suppose I should continue. After I had said, "Yes," to John, he got up and took me by the hand, and led me up to my room. He was smiling as he closed the door, and then came close to me, taking my face between his two large, lovely hands, he kissed me.
At first, it was so soft, and sweet, that I felt myself melting in his arms. Then I felt his tongue prying between my lips. I pulled back and gasped.
"Let me," he whispered, reaching over, and kissing me again. This time, when his tongue went between my lips, I let him, parting my teeth against the pressure of his tongue, as he found his way into my mouth.
My heart was pounding as he kissed me all over my face after that, softly and sweetly, I thought I would melt in his arms, as he pressed me close to him, so close that I felt the bulge in his crotch, pressing against my mound.
I became very disturbed when I felt a heavy flow coming from my pussy. I didn't know what it was. I had had it before, when something excited me in that strange way that I had never explored before, but I decided to see just how far I could go before I did something wrong, or strange.
I could feel John pressing into me hard, now, his hand at the small of my back pushing my hips into his groin. I was so excited that I was breathing hard. John stopped kissing me, and picked me up in his arms, and brought me to the bed. Then he placed me down on it, and bent over me, to kiss me again.
This time, I could feel his hands on my breasts, fondling them through the cotton material of my blouse. It felt so good. I felt my nipples pucker up hard, sending strange, tingling sensations through me, as his hands roamed all over them. Then he was unbuttoning my blouse. I wanted to grab his hand and pull it away, but I decided to let him do whatever he wanted, no matter how horrible it was.
I had to know what it was that he was doing with Mrs. Jamerson. I had to know what happened between a man and a woman, if they loved each other and went to bed together.
Soon he had my blouse unbuttoned, and he pulled it out of the belt of my skirt. Still kissing me, he lifted me up slightly and pulled it down over my arms. I can't begin to describe the strange, vulnerable feelings I experienced as I felt myself almost nude, with only a bra on, being held by John. But I trusted him and I loved him, or thought I did, so I let him do what he wanted.
Then, still kissing me, he took off my skirt. I was a little embarrassed when I realized I only had my bra and panties on now, and my panty hose. John lifted up my hips a little, and pulled my panty hose and my pants down over my legs. I gasped, and tried to cover up my private woman things, but John clicked his tongue, and smiling, pulled my hand away.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" he said, as he placed his hand against my bare mound. I jumped at the touch of his warm hand. He left his hand there, resting softly on my pussy, and I could feel the skin crawl with excitement as the warmth from his hand crept through the skin, and melted my juices more. I was creaming heavily now, as John's hand traveled up over my belly, my skin jumping all the way, until he came to my bra. Again he reached behind me, and removed my bra. Now I was completely naked. I lay there, under his soft, roving gaze, trembling. I felt completely free, and strangely excited, as his hands roved over my breasts, back down my belly to my wet, sticky pussy. He ran his finger into the slit of my pussy lips, and I almost jumped off the bed.
Then he did the strangest thing of all. He got up off the bed, and he undressed. I watched him, fascinated, as he removed his shirt, and his pants. I gasped when his pants fell down his legs after he unsnapped them. He wasn't wearing any underwear, and his penis throbbed into full view, big and red, and frightening looking. That huge thing was supposed to go into my tiny hole.
I knew that from remembering what I had seen in Mrs. Jamerson's room. I wanted to curl up in a little ball, and fall asleep and forget that I had said yes. I wanted to run away, and all at the same time, I wanted to stay. John sat on the bed again, and took my hand and put it on his penis.
I gasped at the feel of it. It was so hard, so stiff, so cruel looking, but the texture of the skin was like velvet. It was warm to the touch, and it throbbed in my sweaty palm. I liked the way it felt in my hand, so soft and so hard at the same time, and I liked the way John was looking at me.
There was a strange glow in his eyes, as he looked down at me.
"Do you like it?" he asked, softly caressing my breast.
"Y-yes, I guess so," I said, finding that my voice sounded strange to me. He leaned over me again, and pressed my shoulders into the pillows, and began kissing me again. Then he put his body on top of mine. I wondered if he would squash me to death, but his weight felt so good. I was beginning to feel dizzy, and I was afraid I would faint, or fly away.
But he felt so good, lying on top of me, covering me. His body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and I could feel a slight tremor running through his well-built and muscular frame. I guessed it must be excitement. It couldn't have been weakness, because John was the strongest man in the world to me, just then. And I felt so soft, and weak. I was thankful that he was so kind and gentle, because just then I was the most confused, scared little girl around.
I could feel his massive cock throbbing against my thigh. Then I felt him reach down, and spread my legs, so that his cock was lying pressed against my trembling pussy. I felt him move the cock up and down between my pussy lips, and I jumped again.
I had never felt pleasure like that, pleasure so intense it was like pain, and yet it thrilled through me like a wild flame that set me on fire, and threatened to consume me. I guess I was struggling under him, and I could feel my arms and legs flailing all over the place.
I felt John squeezing me again. "Put your arms around my neck and hold tight," he said. And I did as he told me. It felt good, reassuring, like having hold of a life raft if you're in water, and that's how I felt.
Again I felt his big cock rubbing up and down. I could feel it getting sticky from the juices which were beginning to pour from my pussy. I could feel my legs twitching with my strange excitement. I was gasping for breath, and looking forward to what came next.
Then I felt his cock head against the opening of that tiny hole I had discovered and which I had never explored. My eyes widened with surprise, when I realized that he was really going to do it. He was going to do what he did to Mrs. Jamerson. I was going to feel what she felt.
I could feel him push it in, and I grunted, as the head of it became lodged in my pussy. It felt so big that I thought I was going to be split in two. I looked up at him. He must have read the panic in my eyes.
"Don't worry. If it's big enough to pass a baby's head, it's big enough for my cock. Just relax," he said, stroking my cheek. My eyes widened again, this time, not for shock or fear, but from the sudden knowledge-of course! Why couldn't I have put that piece of knowledge together. I knew babies grew in wombs, which until recently I thought were bellies. But they had to come out some way, and I certainly wasn't dumb enough to think they came out through the belly button. That was what the baby had been attached to!
He pushed again, and the sensation of being stuffed increased. He told me to bend my knees, and I did. That seemed to make it easier, because more of his cock went into me. I was beginning to get these strange, marvelous feelings in my pussy, as I felt the walls of my snatch pulsing against his cock, and felt the heat of his cock deep, deep in my secret womanhood. I was still apprehensive, but my pleasure was taking precedence over my fear or anxiety. Then I felt something happen to his cock. It stopped, and there seemed to be a barrier preventing his cock from going further.
He stopped for a minute and just looked at me. I wanted more of him.
"More!" I said, panting. He just smiled, and lay there, his warmth making me feel good. "More!" I said, getting frantic. I knew his cock wasn't all the way in, and I was loving every beautiful inch of it, stretching my pussy wide, shooting pleasure sparks all through my trembling body.
"Please?" I asked. John was teasing me! He was smiling down at me, kissing my eyes, my nose, teasing my lips with his tongue, flicking it out quick and then sticking it back in his mouth.
I was getting frustrated. Instinctively, I arched my hips up suddenly, to impale more of my womb on his glorious cock. I gasped, and felt John's grasp around me tighten. I had felt a sharp pain, as his cock drove through the barrier that had stopped it. I was scared again and I was trembling, and then I remembered. The hymen. He had-no, I had pushed his cock through my cherry. I could feel the blood gushing down over his cock, lubricating it. He pushed the rest of the way in, holding me tightly in his arms, until I could feel his balls, resting against my ass cheeks. They were hot and throbbing, and I was sorry, as I felt them resting there, that I hadn't fondled them while I was fondling John's cock. But I could do that later, I thought.
My little love tunnel was stinging a bit, where the membrane had torn, but again the pleasure took over, and I could feel my pussy walls throbbing against his massive cock.
"Tight," he grunted. "Tight, and wet, and sweet," he said, as his mouth came down and covered mine. Then he was pulling his cock out to its full length and pushing it back in. He was fucking me with long, slow, sweet motions, easing the tickling in my hungry pussy, bringing me more pleasure than I had ever felt in my life.
Instinctively, I started to hump my hips up into his, matching his movement beat for beat, and I felt the pleasure increase. I held onto him tightly, moaning now, and gasping for breath.
Now I understood why Mrs. Jamerson had been making all those noises. They were from pleasure. The strangest, most different, and best pleasure I had ever experienced in my life. I bit John's earlobe, and ground my pussy up onto his hairy groin feeling a strange new wildness attack my secret woman parts.
John was panting heavily into my ear, and the moist warmth of his breath against my ear drove me crazier. I knew that my movements had become sporadic, spastic, almost as I drove myself hard and harder onto his impaling male sword, wanting to feel it come out of my throat.
And then I was overcome with a strange wildness, that took my breath away, that made my body do crazy things, twisting and turning, and writhing on the sheets, pumping up onto John's body. I could hear the wet slapping noises as our flesh met and parted. I could hear myself screaming. I could feel John's hands again on my face as it twisted and turned on the pillow, while my legs shot straight up in the air.
Whatever it was it was hell on earth, and the most incredible, ecstatic paradise I could ever experience. I squealed and thrashed under John's powerful, still humping body for a long time, before the spasms started to subside. And then the wild gripping fierceness softened into a feeling of warmth and fluffiness, like a soft, fleecy cloud on a summer day. My body turned as soft as mud, seemed to ooze, spread out, as I pressed into John, wanting to bury myself in his body, get drowned in his blood, buried in his organs.
John was holding me tight, tighter, and then I could feel the pumping of his cock speeding up, as he thumped in and out of my pussy, making it tickle and tingle, sending smaller spasms riling through me. And then I felt another strange wonderful thing. I felt the warm wetness of John's spunk filling me, pouring into me as he pumped his cock in and out of my cunt like a piston. I felt myself fill to the brim with warm, sticky, soft fluid, that started pouring out, trickling between my ass cheeks, tickling me. And then he collapsed, and we were like two wet, sticky, warm palpitating fleshy things, breathing into each other's ear.
After awhile, John's grasp on me loosened, and he looked into my eyes, and kissed me softly, passionately on the mouth. I moaned against his dear mouth, as his tongue snaked out to wrestle with the tip of my tongue.
Then he smiled down at me. "Now do you understand?"
I wriggled up tight under him, folding myself into his dear body. I felt drained, but I wanted it to happen again. Whatever it was, it was the most awesome, frightening, pleasurable, painful thing, like all of life in one brief moment that felt like years, that was soft and hard, light and dark, man and woman, and good and bad, all mixed up in one great glorious reconciliation.
"No," I said, yawning, feeling a warm sleepiness spread over me. "You'll have to do it again. I don't think I quite got the hang of it."
I could feel John's belly rippling against mine, as he laughed. He reached over, and turned out the light, gave me a big good night kiss, and fell asleep on top of me, with his cock still throbbing in my enlightened, opened pussy.
Well, Doctor, that's the story. I still don't have any books on sex, but I couldn't do without it any more. John and I make love a lot, I mean, like every night, and often in the morning, too. We fuck in the strangest ways and places. I don't know if it's right or not. John says it is, and it's so sweet and pleasant I have to believe it is.
But I just thought I'd like an objective opinion, just in case I'm being deceived. Not that I think that John would ever lie to me. He wouldn't, but ... well, Doctor I'm dumb. How do I put these things in words? In words that make sense to me?
CONCLUSION
Ida was a perfect example of the dangers of repression. Woefully ignorant of her sexual nature, and of the sexual realities of life, Ida was, nonetheless a healthy, normal woman with a normal natural sex drive.
When I told her as much, she smiled, reassured. A few more counseling sessions, and putting the name to a few of the acts she had engaged in with John, who certainly seems like an astute lover and a sensitive man, further reassured her.
I also reminded her that in first sexual relationships like hers, it would be just as well to go with the feeling and forget the definition, that anything she did which brought her pleasure, and she certainly hadn't had any bad experiences, either with John, or some of the friends of his whom she has dated, and done some experimenting with, was perfectly normal and healthy.
Ida only needed a few counseling sessions. I told her that John was right. That no book could have taught her better than John did when he popped her cherry. And that, given how sensitive and intelligent I think he is, she could probably ask him anything and say anything to him, as well as do anything she pleased with him.
She was happy to hear this. She said she had developed a few ideas of her own, and had been afraid to broach the subject. But now she was going to go home to the Jamerson's, and try them out.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
Subject: Elena G. Age: Fourteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Elena was highly nervous when she first came into my office. She was slender, green-eyed and she had jet black hair. Her figure was perfection in the classical sense and so was her face.
She was a true Greek, which I learned was her nationality. She was an exchange student, here for a year. She had called earlier in the week, having picked my name out of a medical journal.
It took a considerable amount of reassuring to get her to state her case. She seemed extremely reticent to discuss whatever was bothering her. After some supportive encouragement from me, and repeated promises that anything she said would be held in strictest confidence, she finally loosened up enough to talk. She lit a cigarette nervously. I noticed that her hand was trembling as she began to speak.
Well, Doctor, it's like this. I am the only daughter of a wealthy Greek shipping magnate. I have been to private schools all my life, and I have felt deprived because I didn't know too much about life.
Let's put it a better way. I know an awful lot about some areas of life, and not enough about others. I know that the wealthy always screw around-oh, yes, in spite of Greek being my first language, English has always been my second, with French running a close third. Don't forget my father and mother travel in international circles.
As I said, I know about screwing around. The marriage of my parents was one of convenience, she being an impoverished countess. My father was a commoner but he was forgiven for marrying my mother, by my grandparents because of his money.
I grew up hearing about sex and money. My governesses, and nurses talked about nothing else, and the cooks and butlers, and maids, and all the other human excrescences who had charge of my life, since my mother was too busy screwing around to pay too much attention to me.
My father has always proclaimed that I am the pride and joy of his life, but aside from many, many expensive presents, a few pats on the head, and the right to get away with murder if I so chose, I haven't had much from him in the way of affection or guidance.
You might say I'm a spoiled brat. I'm precocious sexually, and what disturbs me the most is that I'm cynical about it.
I know you are raising your eyebrows at that admission, but, it was only when I became part of the exchange program, through my own insistence, because I wanted to get away from home, that I learned how other people live.
Honestly, I think my mode of existence sucks! I mean, what do you do when you have everything, and there's nothing to wish for, or hope for, and get eager and excited and anxious over. Even Christmas isn't such a big deal, because you have everything anyway, and can get it any time you want, so what's the big deal? Most of the time I had trouble thinking of something for people to give me, and I used to just look through catalogues, like a spoiled brat, and pick the most expensive item. I have more junk I never wanted ...
I'm sorry to digress so. I do have a specific problem, and I should get down to business.
I told you I applied for the student exchange program. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if my father pulled some strings for me to get it, even though he appeared to be dead set against it. Because my marks aren't all that great, and because I always had governesses, I missed a lot of school.
But I wound up here, in this city, with a perfectly wonderful family. Pardon my sarcastic way of saying it. They're just like my parents. They are excessively wealthy, extremely idle, and just as profligate as my family. My heart stopped for a minute, when I got off the plane and saw them. It was like walking right back into the lap of my own excessively wealthy, extremely idle family. There was the mother, decked out in some exorbitantly priced denim, the father, the two kids, and yes, even the lap dog! Why the wealthy have to always have some rare, neurotic little bitch of a dog to carry around with them is beyond me. Maybe it's their security blanket, their badge of merit. And of course, there was the typical retinue of servants.
I wanted to cry. I'll make you an admission, Doctor. You know what I wanted to do more than anything in the world? I wanted to wash a dish-I didn't care if it was one fucking little saucer-I've never had my hands in dishwater! And here I was jostled, led, relieved of all burdens, back in the same environment I came from.
And here I thought that Americans were all middle class and hardworking. Oh, I grant you, most of them are, I just get stuck with the filthy rich ones. Anyway, there was a very formal dinner that night, to welcome me to this fair city, and this fair family, and the evening was typical, boring, charming. They couldn't even bring up a subject that would hold me rapt for more than five minutes.
And in typical, spoiled brat fashion, I cut up, which I usually did. My father always got the largest charge out of my high-jinks. I always hated myself afterwards for doing the wild things I did.
Anyway, I threw the maid in the pool, complete with silver salver of bon-bons. Everyone thought this was funny, and the party picked up a little, until Tom, the boy in the family-they're twins, you see, typical American efficiency, to take care of your quota at one shot, ehh?-anyway, the boy, Tom came up to me, and took me to one side.
"You know," he said, "that wasn't very nice."
"Well," I expostulated defensively, "everyone laughed, didn't they?"
"No," he said gravely. "Not everyone laughed. I think you owe the maid an apology."
I stood there, open-mouthed. That was the first time in my life I had ever been contradicted, except for the one time I ventured to suggested that people who were poor were just as good as we filthy rich were. I could have fucked Tom right there, in front of all those people.
And he was right. I marched right out to the kitchen, to the consternation of all the servants, and asked to speak to the maid. She came out, in a robe, shivering, and looking very sad.
"I'm sorry," I said, grimly and in loud clear tones. "That was a cruel, mean thing for me to do. I apologize."
Well the flurry in that kitchen could have spelled the beginning of World War Three, there was such a ruckus going on at my apology.
The maid blushed, and smiled, and thanked me effusively for my apology. I blushed, too. I didn't deserve thanks for apologizing for a rotten trick.
Well, that was the start of it, Doctor, between Tom and me. I really felt that his anger was a caring for me, and no one had ever done that before in my life.
After the guests had departed, I went to my room. The maid to whom I had apologized, was upstairs in a flash, dancing attendance on my every need. I couldn't wait for her to leave, but then I also felt an obligation to her. I guess she needed to say that all was forgiven. I needed to be alone, to ponder the momentous events of the day, particularly Tom's challenging me.
I couldn't sleep very well that night. I tossed and turned. Finally, I got up, and put on my bathing suit. I had decided to take a swim. Maybe a little exercise would help.
When I got to the massive, glassed in room where the heated pool was, I couldn't find the light switch. It didn't really matter. The moon was shining through the glass roof, providing a dim light. I decided it would be real sexy to swim in the moonlight, so I dived in. I swam for a long time, and then I floated until I was under the low diving board at the deep end.
I was really getting off on the experience of swimming alone, with only the moonlight, treading water under the cave-like darkness of the diving board, when I heard giggling. I looked in the direction of the door, and there was Tom, and his sister Kathy. I caught my breath and held it. They looked positively gorgeous in the moonlight, and they were gorgeously naked!
The both dived in, almost at once and swam for a little while at the shallow end of the pool. I don't know why I didn't make my presence known. I thought maybe they would be embarrassed, and then I thought that maybe they would think I was an intruder. Actually, I was rationalizing. I felt embarrassed, and shy, especially with Tom around.
That was a new one for me, to feel shy! They were splashing each other and wrestling in the water. There was just something incredibly sensual about the whole thing. As I watched, Tom reached over and pulled his sister to him, and kissed her.
I knew that was no brother-sister kiss. I could tell that they had their tongues deep into each other's mouth. Then as I watched, I saw Kathy throw her arms around her brother, and press her body hard into his. They kissed for a long time. Now, I've been to some wild parties in my time and walked over a lot of copulating bodies, but this time it was different.
I held my breath, afraid they would discover me, and at the same time I wished I could leave the room. I had this feeling that this was a very private affair, and my presence would not be welcome. Kathy broke the embrace, and led her brother to the stairs, and led him up them. When Tom started up the stairs, and his crotch was revealed, I noticed that he had a monstrous hard-on. In the quiet of the room, all I could hear was the water lapping against the tiled sides of the pool, and their heavy breathing.
Kathy led her brother to a couch at the shallow end, and lay down on it. She looked incredibly beautiful in the moonlight, her white skin was glowing. She had bent her knees up, and she was holding out her arms to her brother. I could see him smiling as he fell softly into her arms, between her legs.
I could also feel my own pussy getting very itchy, as I watched the two moon-washed bodies writhing sinuously on the couch. Only the itch had an added dimension, and that was the sense of something missing. A knowledge that I had been fucked many, many times, but I don't ever remember feeling loved. I caught my breath when I came to the realization that Tom and Kathy weren't just fucking; they were actually making love, and the realization just made my pussy cream more heavily.
I watched as Tom arched his hips up, and placed his monstrous cock at the entrance to his sister's cunt. And then I saw him push in. I almost fainted with desire, as I watched his buttocks muscles rippling as he pushed in and out of his sister's blonde cunt. I could hear them murmuring softly to each other, only I couldn't make out the words. The whole scene was one of incredible erotic impact, not to mention the emotional power that was sweeping over me.
I would have given almost everything at that moment, to be a part of that loving couple, and I found my eyes blurring with tears, and the scene before me of those writhing bodies, misting before my eyes, as I thought of how much I didn't have, that money could never buy. Oh, sure, I could get any husband I wanted, have anything I wanted, go anywhere I wanted, but watching Kathy and Tom, as they made love to each other, in that slow, sensual, sweet way, I knew that that was not what I wanted.
I wanted them. I wanted their love and approval.
INTERVIEW TWO
I watched them for a long, anguished time, until they both came together in each other's arms. I watched them holding each other closely for a long time, kissing and petting each other.
Then they got up and left, hand in hand. I have never felt so alone, or unwanted or unlovable in my life. I got out of the pool, and went to my room. I must have spent the rest of the night crying. I finally fell asleep as dawn was coming up. When the maid came in to call me for breakfast, I begged off, saying that I was tired and I wanted to sleep for awhile.
I dozed again, dreaming that I was in Tom's and Kathy's arms, and that I was happy. I was awakened by a gentle knocking on me door.
"Elena?" It was Kathy.
"Yes, come in!"
Kathy came into the room. She was a beautiful, glowing young girl. "Are you all right? Why, you've been crying!" she exclaimed, coming over to the bed, and putting her arms around me. "Have we done something wrong?"
"No, you're all right," I said, sniffling, feeling all wrong myself, and wishing I were home again, and hadn't seen what I had seen. "I was just a little homesick, that's all," I said, lying as I smiled at her.
Kathy took me in her arms and hugged me. She was so sweet, and innocent and loving that my heart melted and I felt ever so much better. She was caressing me, and cooing at me, and I was beginning to feel so much better.
"We have to go register for classes today. We thought you'd like to go with us. That way, we can show you around."
I nodded, brushing away my tears, and got up to take a fast shower, throwing my nightdress over my head, as I ran, bare-assed into the shower. I turned the nozzle on and got in, leaving the shower door open. Kathy was standing in the doorway, looking at me as I soaped myself down, and rinsed myself off. It was probably the fastest shower I had ever taken. As I got out of the tub, I noticed Kathy smiling.
"You're very beautiful, you know? You look like a Greek statue."
"Well," I said, "I'm Greek, but I guess that's about all."
We laughed, and then Kathy came over and pinched the nipple on my left tit, as I was leaning over, and drying my legs.
"Watch out," I said. "I'm horny."
"Well, you have two choices," Kathy purred. "Me or my brother."
"I don't think your brother would like your making that offer for him."
Kathy shrugged. Her finger was now circling around my nipple which was getting very puckered with the pleasure she was providing.
"I'm sorry, Elena," she said. "We shouldn't have left you alone last night. I-we should have realized it would be difficult the first night."
I blushed and lowered my head. I didn't want her to know that I had watched her and Tom making love last night. I just seemed like it should be a very private thing between him and her, and I felt as if I had wantonly violated that privacy.
Suddenly, Kathy reached over and kissed me. It was such a sweet kiss, that I melted in her arms. She had gorgeous tits, and I could feel them pressing against my nakedness, and I wanted her very much, not just to assuage my horniness. The need was keener, and harder than that. I wanted her to love me, and I wanted to give her pleasure, because I liked her.
I started to unbutton her blouse, and she let me, dropping her arms, which were around my neck, to slide the blouse off. She herself removed her skirt, letting it drop in a blue pile at her ankles. She didn't wear a bra, and all she had on were her panties, and a pair of sandals. It was fall, but the weather was still very mild.
Then my hands were all over her lovely melon-like breasts. They stood out proud and firm on her slender chest. Kathy was kissing me passionately now, her tongue snaking into my mouth. I could feel my pussy creaming madly, and then Kathy broke the kiss.
"Come on," she said, smiling. "Let's ... " She took my hand, and led me to the bed, and lay down on it, after removing her sandals and her panties. She held out her arms to me, almost the same way she had held out her arms last night to Tom, and I couldn't resist the invitation. I fell into her arms as if I were a man stranded on the desert, dying of thirst, who had suddenly come upon a pool of water.
And that's exactly how I felt, as I started sucking her beautiful, firm, young nipples. She had her pussy pressed hard into mine. I could feel our pussy juices, mingling erotically, sensuously, as we rubbed pussies. We hugged and kissed for the longest time, and then she wound her body around mine sensuously, and slithered down until her face was at my pussy. I could feel the sweet aroma of her pussy, which was near my mouth, and I couldn't resist it.
I reached out my tongue, and flicked at her little clitoris. She squealed and jumped, and then her own sweet mouth was plastered all over my pussy.
I sucked her cream as it was pouring out of her twat, running my tongue gently over her swollen pink meat. It was like a rose of passion, as it blossomed out of her pussy lips, ripe and gleaming with my spit and her cream.
I could feel the effects of her sucking on my twat, as my hips started to undulate upward, rhythmically into her face. She was running her tongue in quick, light little circles over my clitoris, and I could feel my belly tighten against my impending orgasm. I came like a cloud. I felt my body turn from heavy to light, felt my cream pouring out of me, emptying me of all substance, felt her little tongue swirling and swirling around my little love button.
I increased the pressure of my tongue against her clitoris, and I could tell from the way her cream was pouring out, dripping down my chin, that she was coming too. She ground her sweet little twat into my face, and I covered her pussy with my mouth, while her orgasm turned her into a mad, writhing little bird of fantasy. I could feel her squealing and moaning against my pussy, which she had not released from her mouth.
Then I felt her collapse, just as I felt the last of my own after spasms ride through me. I felt so wonderful. Kathy lifted her head up, and turned over her shoulder to smile at me. Her chin was dripping with my pussy cream.
We showered together, and then we went to the school to register. Tom and Kathy, at their own insistence, against the wishes of their parents, went to a public school, which was highly integrated, in every way. There were the rich (us), and the poor (everyone else) with a few middle-class thrown in for good measure. And they were all nationalities and races, and religions. The next few weeks were dizzying, in more ways than one.
Every night after I had finished my homework, Kathy and I, and Tom would play together, and make love, and I never felt so good, or so human in my life. Tom was marvelous. He was a superb lover, and there was no lack of love anymore in my life.
I remember one mad weekend, when Kathy and her parents were away. Kathy was best lady in a wedding party, to which the parents had been invited. Tom had begged off because of an exam which required heavy studying. It was an advanced course in political science, which he was supposed to be too young to take.
We spent most of our time, nude, in the pool room, making love. I never did tell him what I had seen. Just as I knew I would never tell that he and I had been making love there that weekend. It was private, just between him and me.
My problem is, how do I live divided between two worlds? I can't ever go back to those orgies I used to indulge in. I have to care for the person I'm making it with, now. Tom and Kathy have taught me that. And I know I don't want to dispense with the pleasures and the convenience of having a lot of money, but how do I unspoil myself?
I've joined the voluntary organizations that Kathy and Tom belong to, but that's not going to be enough. After all, I can't follow Kathy and Tom around, aping what they do. I've got to be an independent woman, and follow my own conscience. The whole thing has me bothered very much!
What do you suggest I do, Doctor?
CONCLUSION
Elena's problem in not unique. What is unique is that two very extraordinary young people taught her that taking isn't everything. Elena is sensitive enough to know that cold copulation is not the answer to personal happiness. She has a healthy sex life now with Tom and Kathy, however, there is the problem of her future life.
I recommended that she stay as actively involved with Kathy and Tom as possible, and continue counseling. I also recommended that she strike out on her own, and see what she could do to make her own friends.
With a few sessions, I am sure this bright sensitive person will be able to find her own way, without having to ape her very much admired friends. After all, she had enough going for her, to have a very good life, socially, as well as sexually.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
Subject: Myrna L. Age: Fourteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Myrna was extremely timid and shy when she came to see me. She is a beautiful little creature, in a subtle, soft sort of way, with tawny skin, dark hair and dark, flashing eyes. Her features are perfectly formed, and so is her body, which is full and well-shaped.
She had difficulty looking at me at first, and expressed some hesitancy to tell her story. But she is a little girl of some determination, and eventually, after a few false starts, she poured her heart out to me.
I came here from Argentina. My parents are very wealthy. They own a cattle ranch. I have three brothers. I am the youngest in the family.
My parents were very happy when they found out that I had been chosen to be one of the exchange scholars from my country for this year. My mother felt that I was too much under the dominance of my brothers, and that I should get away from them, in order to grow up my own way.
My brothers are very possessive, as is my father, in the old-fashioned, Spanish way. I wonder that my mother has the spunk she does, and that she wants for me some more independence. Perhaps it is a vicarious way for her to gain her own freedom.
The day I left home, to come to America, she pulled me aside. "Take good care of yourself," she said, "and remember to live as well as you can. Take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself."
I was puzzled by her remark, and I had a long plane flight to think about it. I wondered if she were telling me to find boyfriends. Why would my mother, who I thought was so old-fashioned, why she would ask me to, well, go wild, when I had never been anywhere without a chaperon up to that point?
It was a puzzle to me, and I was a bit frightened. After all, the invitation gave me the freedom to do as I thought best for my life. I had been wanting to become a woman for a long time, but with my brothers around, I didn't dare. They would have killed me, or the boy, or both of us.
But here I was, winging my way to America, free, and able to choose for myself without having my three older brothers or my very strict father watching my every move. I decided that I would do the best I could, and not force anything, just feel my way around.
I was met at the airport by the misses Lathrop. Gemma and Imelda Lathrop were two maiden ladies. They weren't really that old. As a matter of fact, they were extremely young, but there was something awesome about them that I couldn't quite fathom. I was to stay with them for the year I was at school in America. The school was only two blocks from their house.
When I arrived, I was amazed at how lovely it was. They were not nearly so rich as I, but I was soon to learn that in America, even the very poor have a definite taste of their own, and can afford to live in nice surroundings, because there is always some attractive thing that they can afford, not to mention layaway plans. Well, not the very poorest people, and at the public school I attended, I met them, too, but most of the people I knew could do something to make their lives attractive.
And here I had thought that only the wealthy could have taste or learning. My first few weeks were a bewildering array of contrasts and differences. I couldn't imagine how Americans could live with such an incredible diversity, and yet they seemed to, as well as live together, all crowded up, with a minimum of mayhem.
Finally, I began to assimilate some of what I was learning, and I had time to examine more closely some of the elements in my brand-new life.
My new family were more than permissive. Their rule was that I had to be in bed by midnight. As Imelda said to me, rather good-humoredly, that meant that I could stay out until one minute before midnight, during the week, as long as I was sure I could make it through the door, up the stairs, and into the bed on the dot of twelve. On weekends I had much more latitude. For a while, I was exhausting myself, pressing myself to the limits of the brand new freedom I had found, but then I learned another lesson, and that was that all the freedom in the world won't help the grades, or make you feel good, or look pretty, if you are very tired, so I learned to pace myself, and that worked much better. I was becoming very proud of my independence, and the wonderful, very practical lessons I was learning about living. It was so much better than being told what to do for no other reason than that someone in authority insisted that it be done. And in my whole life, there had always been someone in authority to throw orders at me. Now, I was feeling my own way, learning what my own life style should be, finding out where my own head lay, and I liked it.
The misses Lathrop were never available on weekends, for some reason, and I had the house to myself. I learned to cook a lot of American dishes, and frequently had parties. My school chums were amazed that I was living with them. Apparently, they had the reputation for being recluses, but I knew they had friends, mostly women, and that they entertained frequently. There was a rumpus room, they called it, in the basement, and they would go down there.
Gemma had told me that there were boundaries in the house. The rumpus room was for adult entertainment, and the rooms on the first floor were all mine if I wished to entertain. I thought they were very generous, and I never overstepped the boundaries.
And then one day it happened. I did become a woman. I had given a party, one Friday night. Gemma and Imelda had gone to a convention, they said, so I had the house to myself. There was one boy, I had had my eye on, since I started school. He had his eye on me, I could tell. I played hard to get for a long time, because, well, because I was afraid. I knew what I wanted, and I had this funny feeling that what I wanted, would happen, if I let it. And I knew I would let it ... happen, that is.
I mean, I wanted him, and I knew he wanted me. Anyway, finally I decided to invite him to one of my parties. He came, with a big bunch of flowers, and he was a charming guest. I mean, he danced with a lot of people, but most especially with me, and he was a good conversationalist, and when the party was over, he stayed to help me wash up.
When the house was all sparkling clean again, he and I sat down on the couch and played some records and drank Coke. He asked me if I smoked. I said no, I didn't, and he said, "No, I mean grass."
I couldn't imagine smoking grass. I mean, it smells good when it's mowed, and I used to love to roll in the sweet grass. It was like catnip to me, but smoke it?
He laughed at my ignorance, and took out a funny, thin cigarette, and lit it. He inhaled it deeply, and then he handed it to me, telling me with sign language to do the same. He held the smoke in for a long time, and then he exhaled.
I followed his example, and coughed. He told me to try again. I did, and this time, I had better luck retaining the acrid, funny-smelling stuff. It sure didn't smell like grass to me, nor like any kind of tobacco I had ever smelled, either!
But after the second puff, I began to feel funny, marvelously funny, and suddenly I was giggling over the silliest things. And then I began paying attention to the music more. It was as if I became the music.
At the same time, something funny was happening to my pussy. It was tingling in this funny, itchy way, and I wanted to scratch it. I had masturbated before, but I had never stuck anything up my snatch, and I couldn't quite understand why I had that need now, or why I was itching so.
I was lying on the oriental carpet, on my stomach, and Brad-that was the boy's name-was lying beside me. I felt as if I were in a field of wildly colored, weirdly-shaped flowers, and I was running my finger over the pattern in the rug, when I felt Brad's arm go around me. That didn't help the itch in my pussy. As a matter of fact, the itch got worse. Brad reached over and kissed me on my cheek.
"I like you, you know that?"
I looked at him, and blushed. I could feel my face turn red, and I felt the heat from it.
He smiled at me. "You're shy, aren't you?" he said, reaching over, and kissing me again. He was so sweet. I buried my face in his shoulder, and closed my eyes. It felt so good. Then he lifted my face to his, and he kissed me again. This time, I felt his tongue insinuate itself into my mouth.
It almost took my breath away. I mean, it was such a soft, wild, wonderful feeling. I could feel the juices in my pussy running down, and wetting my pants, as he kissed me for the longest time. Then I got scared. I couldn't understand why I got as scared as I did.
I certainly didn't expect Brad to do anything hurtful or mean. He seemed to understand what was happening to me, because he put his arms around me, and crawled close to me, so that we were both lying on our sides. I reveled in the warmth of our bodies pressed tightly to each other. I could feel the heat from his crotch against my pussy, and that seemed to scare me even more.
"It's all right," he said, softly, running his hands through my long hair. "It's just the grass. It exaggerates everything you feel." I was getting very thirsty, and Brad got up for a minute, and got us some more Coke.
Then I started to feel better, and I let him put his arms around me again. This time he was humping his crotch into me, and I was getting very excited. I started to respond. He was kissing me madly, passionately, and I felt as if I would drown in his kisses.
He put his hand on my breast, over my blouse, and I could feel my nipple pucker. In my heart I was thinking, this is it, oh, yes, let it be he. I wanted him very much. I wanted to be a woman very much. So I let him caress my breast. His hand was so soft, and gentle, and it made me feel so good. I felt as if my nipples were tingling the way my pussy was tingling.
Then Brad rolled over on top of me, and I pressed my hands against his shoulders, afraid again. "Oh ... " I whispered.
He looked down at me, with such an understanding look on his face that I fell madly in love with him. "Do you want me to go?" he asked.
I looked at him, and felt the heat of his cock throbbing against my pussy, and I shook my head.
He had a puzzled look on his face. "Have you ever ... ?" he asked.
I blushed and shook my head. He smiled, as I sought to hide my face in his shoulder. "That's O.K.," he said. "There always has to be a first time-if you want to," he added.
"Oh, yes, I do," I said, relieved that he wasn't put off by my virginity.
He started to unbutton my blouse, very slowly, leaning up on one elbow, and looking down at me. "You should have said something," he said.
"I was afraid ... well, that you wouldn't want me if I were ... "
"Well, I said I liked you," he smiled, as he pulled the blouse open. The cool air on my nipples made them pucker even more, and I felt him fondling my full breasts. He reached his head down, and sucked on my breasts, first one and then the other. The feeling of his tongue on my nipples drove me crazy. I reached under his chest, and started to unbutton his shirt. Then, giggling, we both sat up, and undressed each other. Our clothes went helter-skelter all over the place. I don't know why it was so funny.
I felt relieved, and happy. And Brad seemed relieved, too. He kept kissing me all over, as I exposed more and more of my body. He kissed my breasts, and then my belly button, my shoulder, my back, between my shoulder blades. Finally, we were both nude, and I got my first look at a male body. He was just beautiful. His chest was lightly fuzzed with blonde hair, and his cock was just fascinating to me. It was huge, and it scared me a little. I wondered how that big thing could fit into my little hole. I reached down, and played with it. His breathing was getting heavier, and heavier as he lay there on his back, letting me explore his cock, and his balls. I fondled his balls, and they felt so strange, soft and light, and his cock felt so heavy. Then I noticed the little slit at the tip of his cock, and there was a little drop of white cream there. I stuck my tongue out and licked it.
He gasped, and reached down, pulling me on top of his body. It felt so strange and beautiful, our naked flesh pressed together like that. I could feel his heart beating like a trip-hammer. I knew mine was beating just as fast. He reached down between our bodies, and I could feel his hand on my pussy. I gasped. It was such a strange sensation that my flesh jumped.
Then I felt his finger, probing between my swollen and wet lips. He brought his hand up and put his finger to his mouth.
"You've been thinking good thoughts," he grinned. I smiled back at him. I knew that his cock would be the cure for my itching pussy, and I spread my body out on his, grinding my hips into his hairy groin. I wanted him so bad. He rolled over, so that I was on my back again. Then he leaned over me, and reached for his trousers.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
He pulled out a small packet from his trousers pocket. "Making sure I don't nail you," he said, showing me the packet. I knew what they were. Condoms! I had heard my brothers talking about them, but I had never seen one.
"Go ahead. Open it. If you're a good girl, I'll even let you put it on," he said. I opened the package and pulled out the long rubber thing. It looked like a balloon, and suddenly I gasped, and my eyes widened.
I remembered, and I told Brad, seeing a lot of these in the meadow in back of my father's breeding corral, especially on weekends. Somehow or other, I never wanted to pick them up, and I never told anyone I had seen them, even if I were dying of curiosity. What a perverse thing the brain is, it even lies to the instincts. I guess I had a vague idea of what they were all along.
Brad thought it was very funny, and he rolled over and laughed. True to his word he let me put it on, with some help from him. My pussy was creaming more than ever, now that I knew it was really going to happen to me.
He rolled me over onto my back again, and then spread my legs, ever so gently. He rubbed the rubber-clad tip of his penis against my pussy lips, getting it all nice and wet. He kept on rubbing for a long time, until I wanted to scream, my pussy ached so much to be stuffed with his prong.
Then he pressed the tip of his cock at the entrance to my pussy. I could feel the cock head throbbing, and my hungry pussy muscles were contracting madly. It felt as if they wanted to suck the whole thing in all at once. He pushed gently at first, but firmly.
I gasped, and raised my knees, instinctively, feeling that it would make it easier for him. It did. The head of his cock popped in. At first, it didn't feel good. But it didn't feel bad, either. My pussy walls were throbbing madly, and driving me crazy, and I knew I wanted that cock stuffed all the way up my womanhood. It stung a little, and the stretching sensation was uncomfortable at first.
He pushed in slowly, allowing me to adjust to the length and girth of his massive mauler, and then I felt him hit a barrier. I knew it was my hymen, and I knew it was supposed to hurt. He pushed harder, and I felt it give. It didn't really hurt that bad, just a little sting, and then he was pushing all the way, deep, deeper into my womanhood.
It was fantastic. I felt as if his cock had filled up my whole belly and was going to come out of my throat. I lay under him, feeling his belly undulating against mine, as he breathed, and felt his wonderful cock all the way up in my womanhood.
"Ohhh," I gasped, hardly able to talk, "it feels so good," I whispered.
"You do, too," he said, reaching around, and hugging me close to him. "So tight, and wet. Pretty little pussy," he husked, as he pulled the cock out. I squeezed my pussy muscles tight around his cock, afraid that he was going to abandon my cunt, and I wanted it to be filled forever, with his luscious man-meat, but he only went to the tip, and then drove it home again.
That felt even better! I closed my eyes, and felt the pressure and the pleasure grow in my belly, warming me, sending delightful, crazy shivers all through my body. He was holding me tight, and I had my arms tightly around his neck. He had started to sweat, and it was dripping, warm and salty onto my body, making our flesh slip and slide as we made contact, our bodies undulating like snakes in the grass.
I could feel the itch being soothed, scratched away by his cock. It felt so weird. It was hard, very hard, and it felt powerful. I felt as if I were a prisoner of his cock, impaled on it, and helpless under his strong body. But it was also soft, and it caressed my wet, sticky pussy walls so tenderly, making the itch go away.
And then a strange wonderful thing happened behind my closed eyelids. I saw the most wonderful fireworks display. My brain was flashing wild, beautiful colors, in all sorts of geometric shapes against my closed eyelids. I moaned, and felt my hips arching up onto his long, impaling pleasure pole. As he drove it in, I arched up into his hairy groin, to get all of it. I could feel his balls, his beautiful balls slapping against my ass cheeks. I could feel my juices which were raining from me now, covering his cock, making it slippery, making it even easier for him to slide in and out of my fuck channel. I was going crazy, grinding my pussy up, rotating it against the base of his cock.
I felt as if my pussy were on fire. I could feel his breath, hot and moist against my cheek, and I could feel the air being expelled from my lungs every time my hips shot up, driving his cock deeper and deeper into me. And then I felt the fire spread, like a wild conflagration through my whole body. I seemed to get as tight as a sprung bow, as the waves of fire shot higher and higher into my head, driving me crazy. And then I felt as if I were totally consumed, and I didn't have a body anymore. Just a wet, deep, red-fleshed cave of a womb. I was all pussy, and I surrendered, and buried myself deep into my womanly cave as Brad's cock drove harder and harder into me.
He must have been coming at the same time I was, because he was gasping and groaning. He held me so tight he almost squeezed the air right out of me, and that only added to the pleasurable rush of ecstasy that was coursing through me.
Then the spasms softened, and I could feel my body relaxing, could feel Brad's body spreading out as he relaxed, coming down from his own orgasm.
"Ohhh, oohhhhh," was all I could say for the longest time, as I felt his cock throbbing in my pussy, and felt the after-shocks of my orgasm rippling up my back and my belly
We lay like that for the longest time, and then he pulled out. "No ... !" I cried, as I felt his cock slipping out. It was still big, and it was still throbbing. But he explained that if he got small in me, he'd spill his spunk which was pooled at the bottom of the condom.
We smoked another joint, listened to some more music, and when I put my arms around him, because I wanted more, he said I had had enough for one night.
"No ... !" I said.
"Yes ... !" he said. "That was your first time, and you're gonna be good and sore tomorrow."
"I don't care!" I cried.
"I do! I want you tomorrow, too!" he said.
I looked at him, and grinned. Then, since Gemma and Imelda weren't due back until Sunday night, he asked if he could sleep with me. I felt so warm and happy. We curled up in the middle of the oriental carpet on the living room floor, and wrapped warmly in each other's bodies, we fell asleep.
I was startled awake with the sun shining in my eyes, by the sound of the front door slamming. Brad heard it too, because he awoke with a start, and covered my naked body with his own, protectively, looking over his shoulder. I was looking over his shoulder, too, and I gasped.
There stood Gemma and Imelda!
INTERVIEW TWO
When Myrna came to my office, the following week, she seemed more at ease. I had no difficulty, after a few leading questions, in getting her to continue her story.
Well, Doctor, my heart was pounding so hard, I thought I was going to faint. Brad was holding me tight, very tightly.
Gemma walked into the room, and looked down at the two of us. "Darlings, don't you know that that is what bed is for?" she asked, smiling. Then she reached down and patted Brad on the shoulder. "Good boy!" she husked, heartily, "I'm glad to see you're a gentleman who follows through on your fucking."
I couldn't believe my ears! There was no disapproval, no shock, no lectures on morality, no outraged sense of honor. The only sense Gemma was displaying was a sense of humor!
I started to giggle and buried my face in Brad's shoulder. He smelled so good, and he felt so good. He was still holding me tightly, not knowing what to do.
Then I heard Imelda, who was struggling with two huge suitcases, which she finally slammed down in the hallway, outside the living room. She came in, and stood sternly over us, folding her arms across her generous breasts.
"The only follow through I'm interested in is the possible consequences of your deflowering of this virgin," she said, seriously. "Young man, did you cover yourself?"
Brad reached over sheepishly, and fumbled in his pocket, taking out another one of the little packets. He handed it to Imelda, who looked at it, and frowned.
"Hmmm, Ramses!" She looked up at Gemma. "I thought Ramses was a Pharaoh."
"He was dear," answered Gemma, who had sat down on the couch, and taken off her shoes. She was massaging her feet. "And I don't believe he left any heirs, which may account for the name of them."
"The only one I ever heard of was Trojan."
"Maybe those are better," said Gemma. "I believe the Trojans had more populated cities than the Egyptians."
"Well," said Imelda, throwing the packet down at Brad, who caught it, "I certainly hope they work!"
At this point, Brad burst out laughing. The whole scene was so silly, really. And all my fears had been so groundless.
"Well, children," said Imelda, being all business. "You might as well get up and go shower. I shall make breakfast. You two must be starved."
We got up, without any self-consciousness at this point at all, and went up and shared the shower together. It was nice. And when we came down, Imelda had prepared a lovely, big Saturday morning type breakfast, which I always loved.
"What kind of a convention did you go to?" asked Brad, a mouth full of eggs.
"Don't talk with your mouth full!" exclaimed Gemma. I was amazed at the question. It hadn't occurred to me, the way I was being bombarded with new information to assimilate every day, to even ask the question, but Gemma and Imelda went to a lot of conventions.
After breakfast, Brad went home to change. He was going to take me to a basketball game that night, and there was a party afterwards, "That is," he added, stopping dead in the middle of his plans, which he had been laying out to me, "if you two don't mind ... "
"Not at all, young man, not at all," husked Gemma. "As long as you're a gentleman, and as long as Myrna likes you, we see no reason why not."
After Brad left, I helped Gemma and Imelda clean up. "What kind of conventions do you go to?" I asked, suddenly very curious to follow up on the bee in my bonnet.
"Leather goods!" husked Imelda, who was bent way over, her ass high in the air, putting away the frying pan. Gemma walked by and administered a smart slap to Imelda's exposed ass. "Imelda! Her young ears!"
Imelda reared up and looked at Gemma with daggers in her eyes. "She is now old enough! She has taken the plunge."
"Not so fast, not so fast," remonstrated Gemma. "She'll catch on in her own good time."
I spent the afternoon studying, and napping. Brad came to pick me up about six. He brought me a pretty gardenia to wear, and he was so charming and gallant-he even kissed Gemma and Imelda on the cheek before we left. They blushed, and brindled in the cutest way. I was really beginning to like them a lot, now that some of my awe for them had vanished.
The party after the basketball game was a bore. By the time we got there, everyone was drunk or high. It's a funny experience to walk into a drunken party when you're sober. Anyway, we stayed for a little while, and then Brad and I left. We decided to go back to my house, and watch television. And of course, make love.
Gemma had sat me down and asked me a lot of questions after breakfast, about how I felt, and did I like it. At first, I was embarrassed, but then I realized that she was just concerned for my well-being. I did tell her that I would have loved to feel his cock without the rubber. She patted me on the hand, and said that she would take me to her gynecologist the following week, to see if it were all right for me to take the pill.
"But if you tell your mother or-God forbid!-your father, who wised you up on the facts of life, when your brothers are finished with you, I take over where they left off!"
I just smiled at her and kissed her.
The house was dark when we got there. Gemma and Imelda hadn't said they were going anywhere, and Brad and I really didn't care. We figured we could get some loving in. We were lying in the darkened living room again, and both of us were well on our way to being undressed, when we heard a wild yell from the basement.
Brad got up, and told me to stay where I was. He pulled his pants up, and zipped them up, and then, taking a detour through the kitchen, to get a knife, he went to the door of the basement.
I followed him, and he got very angry, but I indicated by the expression on my face that he wasn't going to go down there alone. He motioned me to stay behind him, and he very carefully opened the door, leading to the cellar and the rumpus room. There was a dim light coming from below, and we tip-toed down very quietly. Then we heard another moan, coming from the room.
I had never been down the cellar, so I had never seen the room, which was forbidden territory. When we got to the foot of the stairs, we could see the doorway to the rumpus room. The light was coming from there, as the door was open. Brad rounded the stairs, and crept up to the door, his back pressed to the wall. I followed his example. Then he peeked around the door, gasped, and pressed his head back against the wall. He looked at me, and there was this crazy grin on his face, mixed with a look of disbelief. He motioned me to keep myself flat, but peek around the door.
I, too, gasped at what I saw. Imelda was bent belly forward, over a tall stool, stark naked. Her hand and feet were bound to the legs of the stool, and there was another binding around her neck, which crossed at the back of her neck, and came down over her back, and tied to a rung of the stool.
I could see her thickly furred muff, totally exposed, and her pussy was gleaming with her cream. Behind her, stood Gemma, also totally naked. Gemma was wearing black leather boots which came all the way up to her thighs, and a strange harness which strapped around her waist, the thongs of the strap running down between her ass cheeks, and I assumed, under her cunt, to the contraption on the front.
The thing strapped near her cunt was huge, and shaped like an exaggerated penis. At least, I couldn't think that a penis could ever be that large. I looked at Brad.
"What is it?" I whispered.
"A dildo," he grinned, whispering, too. Then he put his hand to his mouth, cautioning silence, and we watched. Gemma had a leather strap in her hands, and she was whipping Imelda's bare bottom with it. The dildo bobbed violently with her whipping motions, and every time she struck Imelda, I could see more of Imelda's cream pouring out of her pussy.
The sight was exciting me strangely. I was leaning against the door frame, and more and more of me was peeking around the corner, in spite of Brad's pulling me back. I was shaking with disbelief and curiosity.
Then suddenly I gasped, and fell forward, right into the room. Brad had been trying to pull me back, and I had tried to jerk my arm free from his grasp, and slipped, falling forward. I looked up, slightly stunned by my fall, and Gemma was looking down at me, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"Well, young lady, curiosity will kill the cat, you know."
Imelda was looking back over her shoulder. She shook her head, and clucked. "Tsk, tsk!" she said, reprovingly. "It isn't enough, you have your own boyfriend, you have to insinuate yourself into other's fun, as well?"
"I'm sorry," I stuttered, still stunned by the fall, and the sight I had just witnessed. Brad-dear, sweet Brad-stepped into the light, and helped me up. "It isn't her fault," he exclaimed, holding me tightly. "I heard a scream, and I thought something was wrong, so I came down ... "
"Young man, you should go far in life. Your follow through is, as usual, superb-dammit!" Gemma had flicked the leather strap against her leather boots as she said that.
"Well," smiled Imelda, "now you know what us adults do down here." Imelda didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable, strapped where she was. Her nice, round white buttocks were red from the whipping Gemma had given her.
"Would you like to join us, dearies?" Gemma asked. Brad held me tighter, and shook his head, no. But I was dying of curiosity, to know what they did.
Gemma smiled at me. "It looks like you're outvoted, young man. Oh, don't worry!" she exclaimed, as Brad started to protest, and tried to drag me from the room. "It's only a little light bondage, you know?" As Brad held me close to him, protectively, I could tell that he was excited too. I could feel his cock throbbing against my pussy.
"Oh, let me at her-and him!" squealed Imelda. "I would love to redden their little bottoms."
Well, Doctor, that was just the start of it. Gemma released Imelda, and then they tied me to the stool, and I was amazed. At first, the leather belt hurt my bottom, but as Imelda kept whipping, the warmth in my fanny spread to my cunt, and pretty soon, it was in the same condition as Imelda's had been.
Then Gemma pierced me with the dildo she was wearing. At first, it hurt, but then it felt good, and I came and came and came. Then Brad fucked Imelda, while Gemma and I whipped them both lightly. When they started to come together, we whipped them harder.
"Gives them an extra little buzz, you know?" smiled Gemma. Afterwards, when we were all talking about it, over wine, Brad and I had to admit that we liked it-a little.
But I felt like it was perverted. I didn't know what to make of two sisters, who admitted that they lived like lovers, and who regularly engaged in leather sports. But we did it a couple more times with them, and I let both of them ... well, err, make love to me.
I don't know if I've become a loose woman, or if something is wrong with me. And when I told Imelda and Gemma how I felt, they made me come to you. They told me to tell you everything, to see if I could sort it out in my own mind.
I'm confused. I have a steady boyfriend, whom I adore. I really think he's the most wonderful man in the world.
I don't even want to go home to Argentina. And Gemma and Imelda say if I want to stay here, they'll help me out, because they're very fond of me, and I'm fond of them.
Brad wants to go steady with me all the time, and even talks about marrying me-what shall I do?
CONCLUSION
It only took a couple of counseling sessions, to straighten out the little girl's emotions. It was a simple matter of over-programming. She had been fed too much too soon.
I told her that whatever made her feel good was perfectly all right, and a little kinkiness in sex was good once in awhile, as long as one didn't concentrate all one's energies on it. I did have a session with the two sisters, who were very good, kindly creatures. I advised them to let Myrna make up her own mind, about her life's decisions, which they readily agreed to do.
Myrna did decide to stay with the Lathrop's, through high school, and won a scholarship for the remainder of her school career. I assume that she is happy and fulfilled, as any little girl can be.
She should be. Her environment is enriched, and varied, providing a considerable latitude of experience for the child.
CASE HISTORY SIX
Subject: Tania R. Age: Sixteen
INTERVIEW ONE
The first and only time Tania came to see me, she had been sent by her school counselor. She was a cultural exchange student from Russia. I was in session with a patient, and had to cut the session short, because of the laughter in my waiting room. The patient was absolutely distracted, and being slightly paranoiac, he had come up with the bizarre suggestion that I had a microphone rigged in the room, which was broadcasting to the waiting room.
Assuring him that this was not the case, I made another appointment for him and dismissed him. Then, highly irate at the disturbance, I myself went to the door of the waiting room.
My anger dissipated immediately. The woman-child sitting there, regaling my secretary, and two other patients, who consistently came early, a sign of their anxiety neuroses, with funny stories, was one of the most magnificent specimens of womanhood I had ever seen in my life.
She was fully six feet tall, and magnificently full-blown for her sixteen years. Her hair was a tawny gold, and her eyes were an incredible ice blue. She was incredibly and devastatingly beautiful, and I was floored by her high animal spirits, and the love of life she exuded. A thoroughly salutary personality. I felt a little guilty, begrudging my poor, humorless, worried patients, the laughter she was affording them.
I ushered her into my office, however, rather sternly, and reprimanded her for upsetting the calm and easy therapeutic atmosphere I was trying to maintain.
She sat down, and made herself right at home, crossing her long, beautiful legs. I had no trouble getting her to talk at all!
Hah, Doctor, what do you mean, calm and easy? Those poor people were very up-tight, almost tight-assed. How can you live a good life if you're tight-assed, ehh?
I know, I am here, because I am supposed to be up to no good. Most of you Americans are so retarded sexually, it is hard to believe you keep up your population!
Really! My school counselor sent me here, because he thinks I'm a sex fiend. I admit that I probably said too much to him, but he's such a sphincter mouth. Instead of being concerned with my academic record, which is above reproach, I tell you! Above reproach! He is more concerned, with prying lewdly into my secret life.
Unfortunately, for him only, I told him all about the doings of my pussy. My marvelous, purring, always alive pussy. I even offered to let him have a taste of it. Maybe, I suggested, it would take the bad taste of celibacy out of his mouth, which always had such a sour look.
I know, I know! I was perhaps hasty, and a bit too ... err, latent about it all, but he was being so hypocritical, the nasty, repressed old man. He wanted to get off on me, and I gave him more than ample material.
What have I done, ehh? I come from Russia. I was part of the cultural exchange program. I was so eager and happy to come here. I wanted to try American cock. I have had Latvian cock, and Byelorussian Cock, and Armenian cock, and Georgian cock-ohhh, those Georgian cocks! Even the old men, so big, and full, and they can fuck forever. So wonderful!
I decided after all this Communist cock, that I would like to try Capitalistic cock. I am disappointed! You Americans are so busy filling your wallets with money, that you forget the other lump in your pants, besides the wallet lump. I mean, your cocks.
I have heard of virgins saying no, and the tradition is the woman says no. Do you believe, Doctor, I have deflowered four virgins since I've been here? That is outrageous! Four young men, over the age of fourteen, and they have never had a woman!
Very deleterious to the health and the studies. How can you study if you have a hard-on, or your pussy is creaming madly, and you want a cock to stuff it, huh? How can you carry on your capitalistic business of making money, if you have blue balls, ehh? The first day I am here, I have trouble. My family is Irish. I think, how wonderful. I will sample Irish cock. The oldest boy in the family, he is big and healthy and strong. When I go to him, and ask him to fuck me, because I have had this long plane ride, and my pussy is hungry, he almost faints on me! A big, strong boy like that!
He doesn't want to do it. This, I cannot believe! A man does not want to fuck with me?
"What is wrong with me?" I ask him in my biggest voice. I am very angry, you know.
"N-N-Nothing!" this boy, Mike says. He is quaking like a virgin about to be deflowered. When I tell him this, he admits he is a virgin.
"What!" I ask him. "How can you be so big, and strong," I ask, feeling his muscles, and running my hands down his belly, and feeling his cock. It has potential, but it is soft! Soft! What an insult to a full-blooded woman like me! "How can you be such a big, strong man, and not have had a woman?"
"M-M-My religion forbids intercourse before marriage," he says to me.
"Oh, fuck religion. That rule was made by priests who didn't have pussy," I say, fondling his cock. At least my hand is having some effect on the silly little lump. "What does religion have to do with fucking anyway? You go to church on Sunday for only an hour. You have all the rest of the time to fuck!"
He is backing away from me. We have gone out on the porch. It is after supper, and his parents have gone to visit some friends. His sister has a date, so there are just the two of us. I cannot see wasting such time. As he backs away, he falls onto the couch, flat on his back. This is exactly what I want to see.
I fall on top of him. I am no sissy little girl. I am a big woman, a country woman. I grab him and kiss him, and stick my tongue in his mouth. His mouth tastes good, but his tongue is as soft and flabby as his cock. This, I have to do something about. I want to have his cock in my creaming pussy. I press my twat into his cock, and I feel it start to come to life. I keep making fucking motions against his groin, running my hands up and down his arms, using my fingernails to scratch his skin. Men love my fingernails. I make such nice tracks on their flesh.
My womanly charm is working. I can feel his cock growing beneath my pussy. I want to feel his body next to mine. I start to unbutton his shirt.
He says, "No, we mustn't. You're a Russian, and we have to be diplomatic!"
"What is diplomatic?" I ask him. "I tell you I want cock, and you say no. Is this a good impression for a foreign visitor to have of an American man?"
Mike blushes. I see I have made an impression on him. He lets me unbutton his shirt. I take off his shirt, and then I get annoyed.
"What is the matter with me, huh?" I ask him angry. "You will not touch me. I have some social disease?"
I take his hand and put it on my large, and as you can see, my gorgeous titty. He grins a silly grin, and starts to rub his hand around. I am annoyed because he is so inexperienced, but I leave him alone. I do not want to be-how do you say it?-I do not want to be a ball buster. I just want him to fuck me.
I get frantic to have him fuck me, so I get up and remove his pants. I even have to hit him a couple of times. He is whimpering like a little boy, and trying to hold onto his pants. Finally I get his pants off. I pull them down over his legs. He is gorgeous. I slap my forehead with my palm, like this.
I say to him, "how can you have such equipment and not use it? It will rust and fall off," I tell him, putting my hand around his cock, now. I pump up and down on it to make it bigger. He is giggling like a silly school girl, but that is all right. He has a wonderful prick. It is big and thick. His balls are big and thick and hairy. My pussy is itching to feel his prick in it, to feel his balls slapping on my ass. I reach under and scratch his balls. He starts to go crazy and pushes his hips up into the air.
Now I smile. His cock is beautiful. It must be all of nine inches, I think. That is a respectable size. I do not spit at nine inches. I take it into my mouth and suck on it like a lollipop, but soon my pussy starts aching something fierce.
So I say he should stick his cock into me. His eyes grow very wide, and again I am annoyed.
"O.K. So I do it for you!" I yell. I cannot wait another minute. I must have cock. I think I would die if I didn't have cock every day, and now I wonder if I have made a mistake. I wonder if this American is a freak or if all Americans are so stupid about sex. It is good for the health. It is good for the brain. It is good for the complexion. It is good for the heart, and the lungs. I cannot understand what is wrong with Mike!
It cannot be me. I am beautiful, and perfectly all right. I am healthy. And I love cock!
He really has a beautiful cock. It is large, and thick, and the beautiful purple vein on the shaft is throbbing wonderfully. My pussy is throbbing. My pussy wants his prick inside me.
I spread my legs, and kneel up, with my legs straddling him. He is gasping for breath, and still he does nothing. I do not understand! His cock is excited, and pounding, crying for release, and here I am, with a beautiful pussy just waiting for him, and he still lies there, panting.
I start to sit down on his cock. Ohhh, it feels so good. It is so big and hot, and it throbs, as I push my pussy down onto it. Oh, I cannot tell you how good it feels. You should be a woman, just for enough time to feel cock like a woman feels cock. Then, perhaps, you would not be so bashful. It is very mean for American men to hold back and not give women their cocks.
I wiggle down over his big rammer, and finally, I think he gets the idea. I want to be fucked! I think he begins to want to fuck, too! I feel his hips pushing up into my pussy, pushing harder and faster up, up, deep into my pussy. My pussy is on fire, and I want his spunk to drown the flames before I burn up. I cry out as I feel his balls slap against my beautiful round buttocks. They feel so good and hairy. I start bouncing up and down on his cock.
Finally he begins to move right, to meet my bouncing by bouncing upward himself, as I come down on him. I can feel his pre-come begin to ooze out of his piss slit. He himself is groaning. I am a little angry at him for this. When I get fucked, I want to be fucked by a man. It is O.K. to help a little boy get his first fuck, but a woman needs a man, and here is a man, who is acting like a little boy.
He does not pounce on me, like a tiger, and take me madly, and fuck me senseless. He lies there, and he moans. I think, what a waste of cock.
Finally he goes crazy under me. He is humping up into my pussy, and his cock gets even bigger. I feel his scum shooting into me, and it makes me come.
I decide to reward him. I squeeze my pussy muscles around his cock, and squeeze every ounce of come out of him. He goes crazy. He cries, he moans, he tosses his head from side to side. And then he collapsed.
I am greased now, and ready to get down to real fucking, but he shrivels up inside me. I squeeze my pussy muscles tight around his cock, I whisper the nicest obscenities I can think of, but he is finished. He just lies there, as limp as his cock, panting.
I get off him, and I kick the railing of the porch. I want to kick him for being such a weakling. A ten year old boy in Russia can do better. Then I get a better idea. I go back and I start to suck his cock. He looks at me as if I am a queer animal, or maybe a man from Mars. I do not understand that he cannot allow himself the pleasure of being sucked by my beautiful mouth.
Ahhh! I am so angry, and frustrated, and my pussy is weeping for lack of prick. Finally, he starts to grow again in my mouth. I run my tongue around the head of his beautiful prick. I lick the pre-come off the piss slit. I run my tongue down to the base of his cock, and I take all of his cock into my mouth. I swallow him, and I keep on sucking, until, like a balloon, his cock has blown up again.
Then I ask him to fuck me again. This time, I make him get on top of me. I tell him I want him to crush me to bruise me, to make me crazy.
But instead, he fumbles. He finally gets his cock into my pussy. And he humps and humps and humps. It is such a pity he lacks talent. He certainly has the equipment but he doesn't know what to do with it.
I am going crazy! But at least he is able this time to keep it up more. I get to come twice more before he finally shoots his load. And he shrinks again. So quickly. I try to make him grow again, but this time he cries.
He says it hurts. I am disgusted. I put my clothes on, and I storm into the house. That night I have to use my dildo, and I am angry. I only use my dildo in emergencies. Tonight was an emergency.
Almost every night since I have come to America is an emergency. What is the matter with American cock? I am going crazy.
I tell you, it is terrible not to get cock when you want it. I love to fuck. What good is it to live without cock?
One night I go out with this boy. He is the head of the football team and he is a big stud. I think to myself, good! Tonight I get some cock.
We go dancing, but I do not want to dance. Nothing is fun anymore, because I do not get fucked on a regular basis. I tell him I do not want to dance anymore. I want to fuck. His eyes grow round like saucers, and he almost drags me off the dance floor. We get into his car, and then he takes me to a dark woods off the highway.
He is breathing heavy, and I think, good, at last I have found a tiger. He starts to kiss me, and he puts his hand on my tits. I can feel my tits getting all excited and tingly. His hands are going crazy on my tits.
He says to me, "You got gorgeous knockers." I laugh. I have never heard that word before. Knockers! It is a good word. I throw my arms around him, and squeeze him tight. He starts to moan and groan, and he tries to pull away. I reach my hand down to feel his cock. It is good! It is hard! I pull down his zipper and I take out his cock.
It shrinks in my hand! "What is the matter with me, your cock grows small in my hand?"
"N-Nothing," he squeaks. He has sweat all over his face. He acts like I am going to kill him, or something. All I want is to fuck! I push him back so he is leaning against the car door, and I put my mouth on his tiny cock. Then it starts to get big again.
No man can resist Tania's mouth. I am a good cocksucker, I am! But I do not understand this man. All the girls in school say he is a good lay, and he only goes out with the girls who put out. But now he acts like he has no cock at all. He acts scared.
I suck and suck and suck. I like the taste of his cock. He tastes like a man, all salty and spunky. I like the taste of cock. Finally it gets big again, and I can feel it throbbing against my tongue.
I take it out of my mouth, and then I take my pants off. I lean back against the car door, and I say to him: "Now fuck me." I spread my legs, my long, beautiful legs, and I show him my pussy, all wet and shiny and waiting for him. He stares at my pussy like it is a man from Mars. And then I get very angry with him.
I say to him, "What's the matter with you. You never see pussy before. You like men, maybe?" I am very angry, and he gets very angry, too.
"I'll show you you ball-busting bitch!" he says to me. He throws himself on top of me, and he pushes his huge cock into me. It feels wonderful!
I cry out. "Arrggghh!" Now I feel like I am being fucked. He pumps hard into me. I feel his cock plowing through my creaming pussy. He fucks like a madman. I can feel my pussy lips being pounded by his cock as he slams into me again and again. He has grabbed me by the shoulders, and he is fucking me fast and furious, like a tiger! I think this is wonderful, and I go crazy.
I hump my hips up onto his raging rammer hard, pressing my pussy lips into his hairy cock, grinding my hips up into him, as he plows through my womanhood like a knife through butter.
I am loving it.
"Arrgghh!" he cries, and then I feel his spunk shooting into me. I love it, it feels so wet and hot and sticky, filling up my pussy, and dripping down. I feel it trickling into my ass crack, and it feels delicious. I grab his hips and squeeze his ass cheeks, trying to press him harder and harder into me, as I grind up into him.
But he gets small in my pussy. He shrinks until his cock is like a little worm.
"Oh, you big, warm wonderful man," I cry. "I love it. I love your cock. Do it again."
He looked up at me with those stupid saucer eyes. "You-you do? You liked that?"
I look at him with disbelief. "Yes, I like it. I want more."
He pulls out of me, and he zips up his fly.
"I think I better take you home," he says.
"What is the matter with me? What is the matter with you Americans, ehh? You cannot get it up? You do not like pussy? I am very angry. I need cock, and I do not get cock. I get excuses, and kisses, and hands on my breast. But not cock. I want cock!"
CONCLUSION
I had to laugh at this gorgeous teenager, as she stood, fiery-eyed, and red faced, almost in tears.
I explained to her that she was very unusual for her age, that most Americans developed later in life. I suggested that she would probably do better, to seek her sex life among older men. She did argue that point, citing as an example the counselor who sent her to me.
I reminded her that he was only one man, and that there were plenty of cocks out there in the world, waiting for her aggressiveness, and her great joy in living and fucking, who would appreciate her more than a teenaged boy.
She left, promising to look farther afield than among her classmates. I had great hopes for her, and since she never came back, I assume she found what she was looking for.
This is an ideal example of culture shock, and the conflict that can occur when one culture meets another, in this case, when East meets West. Americans are later developers, sexually, whereas Russians and Middle Eastern nationalities, develop earlier, and their whole attitude is different.
I wished her happy fucking. I wouldn't have minded trying her myself, but I decided that it would ruin the professional distance I needed to counsel properly. I also decided, that she might be too much for me!
CASE HISTORY SEVEN
Subject: Wu-Ching Age: Thirteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Little Wu was an exquisite, porcelain princess. She minced sweetly into my office, with a distressed look on her face.
She spoke in a voice little above a whisper, with a delightful lisp. She was an exchange student. She had come from Formosa just a few months prior to her visiting me, and she wished to discuss some difficulty.
She spoke at first with great difficulty, but I tried to be as supportive as I could, and she finally found the courage to come out with her story.
When I came from Formosa just a few months ago, my parents were very proud and I was very happy. I had always wanted to come to America. I have been studying the American language, and American literature and American history for many, many years. I thought that eventually I would come here to live.
But my mother who is very good and very wise, thought I would be unhappy here. She said that American men were terrible, and that I would be very unhappy among the women, who do not behave as Formosan girls behave. They are very different.
They are very different. But I like the difference. I was assigned to a family who live in a very nice apartment. It is many stories up from the ground, and one of the things I like to do, when I have finished my studies, is to go to the window and sit there. The window has a seat in it. And I just pull the curtains around me, and there is only me and all that traffic and the people looking like little dots on the ground beneath, and all the other tall buildings lit up and looking like Chinese New Years, all the time.
One day as I was lost in my big, little world, and daydreaming, I heard the door to the living room, where I was sitting in the window, slam shut, and I heard the little girl, Mary, talking.
"But Daddy, please. Mommy's gone for the afternoon. Do it again!"
It was Mr. Smith, the girl's father. I wondered what kind of game he played with his little daughter.
"Come on, Daddy. I know you want to do it."
I heard Mr. Smith grunt. Mr. Smith always grunts when he wants to say yes. I think it is a cultural trait. Many Americans make strange sounds when they say things. It is very difficult to learn the meaning of this part of the language, because I cannot find the sounds in the dictionary. But I know that a grunt means yes.
Then I heard some rustling, and a rasping sound. I peeked around the curtain, wanting to join them, but I decided against it. I did not want them to lose face, and they were both naked. I know Americans do not like to be naked among strangers. This is one of the things that makes them very different from us. They also do not teach their children about sex, so early.
But this family was different. The father looked as if he were going to give his daughter a lesson in loving, and I was going to watch. I had always wanted to be fucked, but I was considered too small among my friends at home, although many of them were no longer virgins. My parents were rather repressive.
Mr. Smith had a big cock. It looked as big as any of the cocks I had found painted in the pillow books my mother let me read. It was very long, and thick.
What made me more fascinated with his cock, was that it moved. A picture does not move, but his cock was dancing, sort of bobbing up and down.
Little Mary was pulling on her Daddy's cock, and Mr. Smith was smiling and grunting. I guess he liked what she was doing, if he could say yes in that strange guttural language so often.
Then little Mary lay down on the rug on the floor. She bent her knees up in the classic coital pose, and spread her thighs, bracing her feet on the floor. She ran her little hand over her gleaming privates, smiling at her father.
"See, Daddy, how wet I am. You gotta fuck me!"
I was most interested to see how American men fuck. I did not think that there was fucking among families, but I could see now that I was wrong. This father was going to fuck his daughter. He got down on his knees, and I watched, as he placed the head of his big penis at the entrance to Mary's slit.
Mary seemed to be quite happy, and I watched her arch her hips up. The head of Mr. Smith's cock disappeared into Mary's little hole. She grunted, too. "Oh, Daddy, uhn! That feels good. Push it in, please."
Mr. Smith obliged his daughter. He pushed his long, big cock all the way in. I was most fascinated that such a large male organ could fit into such a tiny hole as Mary had.
Mr. Smith seemed to notice it too. He said, "Mmm, tight, honey, tight!" He started pushing his ass up into the air, and he pulled his cock out to the tip, and then he pushed it in again, all the way to his balls. Little Mary threw her legs up into the air, and she squealed.
The little girls in my school at home had said that American men had awful cocks. That they hurt. But little Mary didn't seem to be hurting. She seemed to be having a good time. She wrapped her little legs around her father's waist, as Mr. Smith arched up and down, and pushed in and pulled out again and again. Mr. Smith was trembling violently. His face looked as if he were in pain.
He was making all sorts of strange noises in his throat, and his hips were moving not only up and down, but all around. My own little pussy was doing strange things to me, as I watched Mr. Smith fuck little Mary.
I brought my hand down to my pussy, and I could feel that my pants were wet. I wanted to have a cock in me, too. I had always wanted to be a woman, but no one would have me. They had said at home that I was too young.
But I didn't think, if I had these feelings, and if I wanted a cock, that I was too young at all. I think if the desire is there, then I should be able to satisfy that desire.
I watched with envy, as little Mary writhed on the floor, arching her hips up into her father's big, wonderful-looking cock. Even Mary's face had a look that was similar to pain, but I could tell from the sounds she was making that she was having great pleasure.
"Ooohhh, fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me."
"I am, honey. I'm fucking you. I'm fucking my little darling."
I almost swooned with desire. To think that a father would love his little daughter enough to fuck her was wonderful to me. And I wanted to be fucked, too. I wanted to be fucked right then and there.
As I watched, I noticed that Mr. Smith's hips were a mere blur of motion. He was fucking faster and faster. I watched fascinated, wondering how he could move his body so fast.
Little Mary's legs were way up in the air now. She was kicking them wildly up and down, and she was squealing, and tossing around like crazy. Somehow, though, I didn't think she was uncomfortable.
"Oh, Daddy, I'm gonna come!" she cried out, and I watched her body arch up off the floor, and then flap around, impaled on her father's cock, like a fish impaled on the hook of a fisherman. She tossed and writhed on the floor for a long time, and Mr. Smith kept pumping in and out of her. Then he, too, began to writhe madly around on the floor.
"Little pussy, wet, stinking, beautiful little pussy; Daddy's fucking you. Daddy's fucking you to death."
He let out a strange guttural cry that I had never heard before, and then he was slamming into her harder than ever. I could hear the wet, slurping noises their genitals were making as they slapped wildly into each other.
Finally he grunted again, and then collapsed on top of Mary. Both of them were kissing and hugging each other.
I was so riveted by the sight, that I forgot about the book on my lap. It crashed to the floor, startling the couple still panting on the rug.
"What was that?" asked Mary, looking in my direction.
I parted the curtains, and came out into the room. I wanted to experience the pleasure that Mary had just known. It was a strange new world that I wanted, but I was an unworthy guest, and I didn't know if I would be imposing or not.
Timidly, I asked for Mr. Smith's permission. "Would you do that to me, too, sir?"
Mr. Smith looked at me with shock on his face. I thought I had made a dreadful breach of protocol, and I stood, flustered and speechless.
INTERVIEW TWO
Little Wu came for her second appointment on time, and sat precisely in her chair, to continue her story, which had been interrupted by the end of the session last time. I would have kept her longer, even though her time was up, but I had had another patient waiting.
She continued, in the same sweet lisping voice.
As I said, Mr. Smith was looking at me with shock written all over his face. Mary was just looking at me. Then she smiled.
"Yes, Daddy, if she wants it, she should have it, too. Please? You're so good at it!"
"Well, I don't know about that. Little Wu is a virgin," exclaimed Mr. Smith.
"But Daddy, I was a virgin when you did it to me the first time, and it was nice. Do it to Wu!"
I came over and knelt beside the couple still lying on the floor. I put on my most pleasing smile. "Please sir? I have always wanted to have a man, and nobody at home wants me. I am sorry to impose on your time ... "
"No, no, it's ... err, all right. I'd be happy to oblige." Mr. Smith seemed to have gotten a frog in his throat. He was having trouble getting the words out.
"Well, first you have to get undressed," Mary said.
"Oh, yes," I said. I took off all my clothes, and stood there, naked. I was hoping that Mr. Smith would be pleased with my body. I am small, but I have a good shape, I think. Of course, it depends on the man, whether I please him or not. I was not experienced sexually, and therefore I could not compensate for a displeasing figure by my skill in the art of sex, yet.
Mr. Smith did seem to be pleased. He grunted again. He reached up and touched one of my nipples. It felt wonderful when he did that, so much better than when I did it to myself. I could see the little nipple pop up, all puckered and tingly. Mary scrambled out from under her father's body. "Can I watch?" she asked.
I looked at Mr. Smith. I didn't know what the traditions were in this regard, so I left it up to him to decide. "Sure, honey, if Wu doesn't mind. Do you?"
"Oh, no, sir," I said, very conscious that Mr. Smith was Mary's father, and therefore, Mary was being very generous to share him with me.
Mr. Smith pulled me over to him, and then kissed me. It felt good and warm to be kissed by him. He put his tongue in my mouth, and that made me feel all weak and wonderful inside. The juices in my pussy were cascading down my thighs, and I could feel them, all sticky, and making me feel hot and cold all over, and all at the same time. My hands and my feet got very cold.
Then Mr. Smith lay me down on the rug, and spread my legs. He put his finger to my pussy, where the little red lips were all swollen. Now I had a strange ache in my cunt, and it felt a little bit like hunger pangs when I needed to eat. I wanted to feel his cock stuffing me up.
I wanted to become a woman. He smiled, when he brought his finger away. It was all wet and shiny from my juices. He licked them off his finger. I guess he liked that.
Then he leaned over me, on his knees, and lowered his body over mine. I was a little nervous. I wondered if his weight would crush me. But I felt the head of his cock which was as large as ever, pressing against my opening. My cunt jumped at the pressure. He started to move down over me, and as he moved down, the cock started to push into my tight twat. It felt strange, and ever so wonderful. I felt all my muscles being stretched very wide. I bent my legs up higher, so he could get more of his wonderful man meat into my cunt.
He pushed very hard, until finally, I felt a great pain. I cried out and threw my legs into the air. I felt as if I had been split apart. But Mr. Smith did not seem to be alarmed. He kept on pushing his cock into me, and then I felt his great hairy balls pressing against my ass cheeks.
I was alarmed at the way I felt, but I did not complain. I let him pull his cock out the way I had seen him do it with Mary, and then he pushed it in again. I felt as if my insides were on fire, it hurt so much. I closed my eyes and resigned myself to my pain. I felt as if there were something wrong with me. I could not imagine that Mary would laugh and squeal for joy because she was being hurt.
Maybe it was just me, something was wrong. Maybe that's why nobody had ever wanted me. I felt his monstrous cock stretching me, rubbing the sides of my pussy walls. And then, as I lay, feeling my cunt battered by his monstrous mauler, I felt the pain start to fade. Little warm tickles were spreading through my cunt, filling my belly with warmth. I started to relax, as Mr. Smith kept humping his hips into me.
As his cock stretched me wider and wider, I could feel the pleasure building, and then I, too, squealed, as I felt the hot waves of pleasure running all through me like a delightful demon. My head abandoned my body, and I felt my hips arching up onto his great dork. My head was spinning somewhere out in space, and my body was whirling and tossing and turning on the rug like a dervish gone mad.
I couldn't believe that mad ecstasy that took possession of my body and shook it and turned it into a blur of motion. Finally, the pleasure was so great it approached agony, and I screamed. Then I felt my body turning soft and quiet again, and a great peace spread over me. I looked up, and saw Mr. Smith, still sweating and still pumping.
And then I felt a new sensation. I felt hot, thick liquid pouring into my twat, filling me up. The feeling was indescribable, and little shocks and shivers filled me with more pleasure. Then I felt Mr. Smith collapse on top of me. He was breathing heavily. I was so happy, that I put my arms around him and gave him a big kiss.
"Thank you," I said. "Thank you, thank you."
Little Mary was laughing and clapping her hands. "Now you're one of us," she said.
I felt so happy. But I also feel so disturbed. I wonder if I should ever go with a Chinese man. After all, they did not want me. I want to be with Mr. Smith always. I don't care if I have to share him with Mrs. Smith and Mary.
And yet, I feel that perhaps I should find my own man, and have my own daughter, so that my husband can fuck her. It is such a good feeling!
CONCLUSION
Little Wu needed a lot of guidance. For all the exposure to sex she had received, little Wu, was woefully ignorant of all the ramifications of sexual life.
I kept seeing her for several months, once a week, and explained that whereas it might be all right for some fathers to fuck their daughters, it is not the goal of marriage.
I approved of her decision to seek her own man. I hoped that my guidance would help her to choose wisely. She was such an innocent little creature, I would have hated to see her ruined by some calloused man.
Eventually, she did find a little boyfriend, who was ideal for her. I stopped her counseling at this point, knowing that the boyfriend would teach her the rest of what she had to know.
CASE HISTORY EIGHT
Subject: Maura L. Age: Fifteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Maura was a typical English rose. She walked into my office smelling of English Lavender, and dressed in very expensive tweeds.
She kept wringing her hands, and restlessly squirming in her seat. She told her story hesitantly, with many pauses. I gave her as much time as she needed, knowing that she needed help, a supportive shoulder to cry on, if you will.
I thank you for seeing me, Doctor. I know that you're prominent, and that the demands made on your time are exceptional, but I just didn't know who else to come to with my problem.
You see, I am involved in a menage a trios, I just feel terrible, you know. I mean, here I am involved in a program that is supposed to cement relationships among people from different nationalities, and-well, it's really disgraceful. I don't know what to do about it.
I just hope I don't cause an international scandal with my doings.
It all started several weeks after I came to the Carson's. There was so much to do, that I had been virtually buried in class schedules, and studying, and just plain sightseeing. It was a big deal to walk down the street, because I wasn't used to the city, and I would keep bumping into people, as I gawked, and rubber-necked.
I had been working late at the library one evening, finishing up some studying for an exam. I walked home in the mild fall evening, feeling very good and very proud of myself. I had started to fit in, as you say, and a lot of things were becoming second nature to me, now.
I let myself into the house with my key, and yelled hello to the members of the household who were downstairs. Then I rushed upstairs to my room. I wanted to take a shower before dinner.
I went into my room, and got out of my clothes, and put on my bathrobe, and then went down the hall to the bathroom. As I passed James's room-he's the oldest boy in the family-I heard giggling and some very heavy breathing. I thought that perhaps the young twins, who were cut-ups, had gotten into James's room and were up to monkey business. I decided to give them the scare of their life. I marched busily up to the door, which was partially open, and suddenly, I stopped dead.
What I heard were not the twins. I heard Alice, the oldest girl in the family, talking.
"Oh, Jimmy, fuck me, fuck meee!"
I heard gasping and the rustling of sheets, and I peeked around the door. Alice was lying on her back, nude, her lovely little head writhing back and forth on the pillow in ecstasy. Her legs were spread very wide. Over her her brother James, was humping in and out of her pussy. I could tell from the angle at which I was observing them, that he had a truly monstrous cock.
My pussy, which had been devoid of cock for quite a while, while I struggled with a new lifestyle, and my classes, suddenly sprung to life. I could feel myself creaming in my pants, as I watched these two dizzingly lovely creatures fucking each other.
I was a little bit surprised at the incestuous nature of their relationship, but the very enchanting power of the sexual act itself obliterated that consideration from my mind. I was getting dizzy with desire, and I reached out to grab the doorknob. The door swung away from my hand, knocking me into the bedroom.
I stood there, embarrassed, as the fucking proceedings going on on the bed in front of me were arrested by my untimely entrance. As I look back on it, I don't believe that slip was an accident.
I had felt my pussy cry out with need in a way it had never done before. I wanted to be in on the act, as you say.
James looked up, his cock still embedded in his sister's cunt, and smiled at me.
"Good evening," he said brightly. "Care to join us?"
"Well, I ... uhh ... !"
Alice was holding out her hand. "Come on, love," she said. "You're such a pretty thing. We'd love to have you. But hurry up. Dinner is in half an hour. I can get you off at least once in that amount of time if you don't dawdle."
Well, I was thoroughly flabbergasted by the offer, and I did not hesitate for a moment. My embarrassment vanished, as I removed my blouse and my denims, and then stripped my panties from me, after removing my shoes and socks.
"I'll tell you what," said Alice. "You sit on my face. That way we all get off."
I had never been involved in a three-way sex session before, but that didn't mean I wasn't willing. I certainly was.
I got up on the bed, and I straddled Alice's face. Then I crouched down, on my knees, until my pussy was right above Alice's mouth.
"Mmmm, you smell good," Alice husked, and I gasped as I felt her tongue rippling around my clitoris. She had found it very fast. I guess it was swollen with my desire, and easily located. James was looking at me with a smile, and he resumed his fucking of his sister.
"Mmmmm," he moaned. "You're nice and tight, sis."
Alice squealed, and started licking my muff with greater vigor, as her own excitement increased. I was so hot and bothered that I was getting off pretty quickly.
I could feel my pussy juices pouring from my hole, and falling in a steady stream, all over Alice's face. She seemed to be enjoying it all enormously.
Then I heard James grunting heavily. I felt his fucking motions, moving Alice up, as he pounded into her furiously. The added movement, only added to my pleasure, and I could feel my own orgasm approaching.
I really thought I was going out of my mind. I couldn't believe the alacrity with which I accepted the invitation. I couldn't believe I was getting such a marvelous tongue job. I had never had a lesbian experience, so I wasn't aware of how good a woman's tongue can be.
Alice certainly knew how to please me, but then, she was a woman, with a woman's instinct for what pleased her own sex the best, and she was doing a perfectly wonderful job.
I threw my head back as I felt my belly contract against the spasms which were growing in my pussy. My clitoris felt as if it were on fire, as Alice's tongue drove me into a froth of passion and lust.
Then she started moaning. She was coming herself. In the process of coming, she plastered her mouth to my pussy, her tongue still driving mad circles around my stinging, maddened with pleasure clitoris. The vibrations of her moaning against my pussy drove me up over the edge.
I came wildly, my hips bucking up and down on her face. I was so beside myself I forgot about Alice, and the necessity to breathe, as I ground my hips into her wide-open, wet, moaning mouth.
Alice didn't seem to mind at all, and she continued to lave my muff, until I finally collapsed. I eased myself off her, and looked down into her come-covered face. She was smiling and licking her lips. She stretched luxuriously. I heard the wet, sucking noise of James removing his still-erect pecker from his sister's snatch.
"Last one into the shower is a rotten egg!" he bellowed, jumping up and grabbing a bathrobe. We all took a shower together, and then went down to supper. I, for one, was positively famished. That's what good sex can do for an appetite.
INTERVIEW TWO
Maura seemed more anxious than ever to continue her story when she saw me for her second session. I settled back and lit a cigarette, while she finished her story.
Well, Doctor, I knew that that quickie session was only the beginning. That night we made love all night in every possible combination. I cannot begin to describe the wild sensations of James's cock, as he plowed in and out of me, while I tongued Alice to a fare-thee-well.
They had been sexually involved, I found out for years, every since they were children. They were very happy to have me involved, since they had been thinking about having group sex for quite a while.
I remember one night, one crazy night, when most of the family was out to a movie. We had been fucking and sucking in the middle of the living room floor, our nude bodies writhing around the floor like snakes.
That was the night hat James taught me about ass-fucking, while I licked Alice to an amazing climax. James brought me off by fingering my clit. After that, she went up to shower, and we started all over again. I almost got drowned, as I sucked off James under the shower, while Alice fingered herself watching the whole scene. Alice wasn't as gifted a cocksucker as I was, apparently, and she couldn't get all of James's massive rammer down her throat.
I sucked him off to a fare-thee-well.
But Doctor, even thought this goes on every night, and many times in the morning, too, and we are all very fond of each other, I still feel as if I am perverting the morals of the family. It's all well and good for the sister and brother to do their own thing, privately, but I feel as if I shouldn't be a part of it at all.
I would really like an opinion from you, as to what I should do. Should I stop being involved with them? Or should I continue with that has been so far a very beautiful relationship?
CONCLUSION
I had to caution Maura against making a mountain out of a molehill. In the first place, she may have represented her government in some small manner, but she wasn't a professional politician, nor less than human.
And being human, I reminded her that she was going to get involved in very human ways. And the most human way to become involved was sexually. As I questioned her further, I found out that the brother and sister had a very active heterosexual life outside of the family, also, so I wasn't too worried about them, either.
I told her to carry on as she was, and enjoy herself, that sex was a normal, healthy outlet for a normal healthy young girl, and Maura was certainly normal and healthy, sexually.
CASE HISTORY NINE
Subject: Lorene J. Age: Fourteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Lorene had been sent to me by her possessive parents. She had come back after a year in France, an exchange student. She had lived with a family there, who were very prominent, and who had, apparently, treated her as one of the family.
In this case, as I soon found out, being one of the family had peculiar ramifications.
Her parents were extremely worried about her behavior. They felt that she was behaving queerly, and thought that she had suffered culture shock from an extended stay with foreigners. Being mid westerners, and rather narrow in outlook, they did not suffer deviations from their conventional mode of existence willingly.
I really don't belong here, Doctor. I'm not crazy, and my parents are wasting their money. I know you're a high-class shrink, but I think you should save the effort for someone who really needs you.
But, since they paid for the session, I'll tell you what's bothering my parents. It certainly isn't bothering me.
I'm one of the youngest kids to win an exchange scholarship. I don't know why, but I'm very good at languages, especially French and Spanish, so I applied for a year in France. I thought I might like to learn the language and the customs well, and then maybe, teach it.
Now, I don't know if I really want to teach. It was a life choice I made because it was sort of forced on me by my parents who think it's a good way for a woman to while away the time before she marries. I don't even know any more if I want to get married.
I mean, why make what you can do for free, official with a lot of expensive trappings?
I liked the LeBlanc family, as soon as I met them. The father held a high post in the cultural ministry, which made it exceptionally good for me, considering my purposes in spending a year in France. My parents regarded France in the same light as they regard New York. A good place to stay away from because of its wicked ways.
I fell into their pattern of living very easily. They were so suave, and such a happy family. The first night I was there, the oldest son, Maurice, asked me if I wanted to sleep with him.
I guess my jaw dropped when he said it. He laughed.
"You Americans!" he said. "I hope I didn't offend you. I know how you are about sex. I just thought that, perhaps you were different."
I was still a virgin, and I had wanted nothing better than to be deflowered, but how do you get that done with a minimum of difficulty and a maximum of pleasure in the puritanical little town I lived in? I knew better than to get caught by any of the boys I went out with, and Lord knows, they really tried, so awkwardly that I usually had to repress my laughter.
I certainly didn't want to offend Maurice, nor did I want to pass up any chance I had to experience a life different from the narrow one I had led to date.
So I explained my life situation, and what I felt to Maurice.
"Poor cherie!" he murmured, stroking my long, blonde hair. "I am so sorry you live like that."
"I don't want you to be sorry," I said. "And I don't want to be sorry." I blushed. "I would like to sleep with you, if you think you can stand a virgin."
Maurice shrugged, and led me to his room. We had been walking in the formal gardens behind the chateau, in the twilight. It was such a beautiful walk, a misty, surrealistic beautiful time of day, and one of which I became extremely fond. America has lovely evenings, but none quite like France's.
It was all so casual, and so natural, as natural as it should be, and wasn't in my home town.
When we reached his room, he smiled, and poured us both a brandy. We drank for awhile, and talked. There was much laughter occasioned by my book knowledge of French-American textbooks are dreadful, as I learned. Sophomoric!
Then, when the brandy had created a warm, sensual glow in me, he started to undress me. He did it very slowly, and carefully. He didn't grope and claw the way American boys do. He was so gentle, that I soon felt my pussy creaming.
I just loved the way he toyed with my buttons before undoing them, running the back of his hand, almost accidentally over my nipples. By the time he had my blouse off, my nipples were puckered with passion, and I could feel my breathing coming in gasps.
Then he started slowly, to remove my skirt, zipping it down carefully, and unbuttoning the button carefully. He seemed to be having such a good time. I wanted to do something to please him, he was pleasing me so much, but at the same time, I felt that my turn would come later. He certainly wasn't demanding anything. He was savoring my body, and the process of undressing me with all the relish that I had seen him evince in eating the marvelous meal we had had that evening.
I stepped out of my skirt, as it dropped to my feet, and he picked it up, and put it on the chair with the blouse. Then I was only clad in my bra and panties and sandals.
He reached around, pressing me softly to his chest as he did so, and very expertly released the hooks on my bra. My very large tits fell loose, bobbing slightly as they were released from the cotton bondage to which they had been consigned by propriety and custom.
"Ahhh," he breathed, "you have such lovely breasts, so soft, and full and beautiful." I closed my eyes, and threw my head back in sheer ecstasy, as he bent over and tongued the nipple on my left breast, circling the little bud softly around and around, until the nipple was sending darts of pleasure and excitement racing through my eager body.
Then he laved my right breast, devoting as much loving attention to that nipple as he had to the left. I was in seventh heaven. I thought of how wonderful it all was. I couldn't wait to enter the rites of passage from childhood to womanhood, couldn't wait to feel his cock in me. Then I felt his hands, gently palming my breasts, and then moving down to fondle my round, smooth belly. Then I felt his fingers expertly hook into the elastic of my panties, and he pulled them down over my full well-shaped thighs, and I stepped out of them, too. Now I was naked.
I trembled all over as I thought of what was to happen next. It was a strange sensation to be nude, while Maurice was still fully clothed. He led me to the large bed, and sat me down on it, then began to kiss me. His kiss was long and deep, and his tongue was most experienced as he found all the spots in the warm, moist cavern of my mouth which were sensitive, which drove me crazy when he touched them.
I could feel his hands on my shoulders, as he pushed me back onto the bed, until I was lying flat.
Then he stood up, and smiling, he began to undress in front of me. It was like a male strip-tease, without the camp, watching him unclothe himself.
I threw my hands over my head, and crossed my legs, rubbing my thighs together, as I watched him remove his clothing with the same sensual care that he had used to strip me. The rubbing of my thighs against my stinging clitoris soothed it a little bit. It had gone wild, and was throbbing in my muff.
I never knew I could experience such desire, such sensual anguish. I had thought, after all the groping and fumbling I had experienced in the back seats of movies, and the back seats of cars, that that kind of passion was reserved for the movies and movie stars.
I just felt so beautiful, so sensual, so much a woman, before my cherry was even popped. He had removed all his clothing, except for his briefs. My mouth became dry with excitement and expectation, as I watched him hook his fingers into the elastic band of his pants, and pull them down. I gasped. His cock was enormous. It was so beautiful, full and pulsing with life, a red, florid color.
It stood straight out from a thick patch of pubic hair, bobbing slightly with his movements. His body was perfection itself. He was tall, and slender, and his muscles rippled sinuously, like snakes beneath his gorgeous skin. His legs were long and lean, and also muscular.
I wanted to feel his naked body next to mine so badly, my pussy was twitching madly.
He walked over to the bed, and lay beside me, kissing me again, and fondling my breasts, my belly, his hand lightly pressing against my creaming mound. I could feel my pussy lips swelling with desire, blooming like a rose of passion from my snatch. I felt his long finger running up and down the sticky red meat. He touched my clitoris and I jumped!
I put my arms around his neck, and pressed his lips to mine. I wanted to drown in his mouth, be eaten alive by his caress. He was everything a first lover should be, sensual, gentle, and sweet and slow. He pressed his hips into my hairy snatch. I could feel his cock insinuate itself between my thighs. My thighs were all coated with the cream that was pouring from my hungry woman maw, and he sawed his cock back and forth with a gentle rocking motion, the shaft rubbing against my pussy lips, exciting me to a fever pitch.
"Ohhh," I sobbed overcome by lust. "It's so beautiful, so wonderful ... "
"Shhhh ... " he husked, "just enjoy it."
Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around his, my pussy opening even wider to the hot caress of his throbbing shaft, as he sawed it back and forth, while his hands wandered all over my body, my back, my buttocks. His finger traced the line of my ass crack up and down, dipping softly into my dripping honey pot, and then coming up again, making my ass crack moist with the juices that had poured onto his prying finger.
Then he ran his hands over my breasts again, bringing them to maddening perfection in their excitement. I thought I was going to fly away, I was in such ecstasy. I could feel my face flush with passion, as my hands and feet turned cold.
I ran my hands all over his gorgeous body, fondling his buttocks muscles as they undulated sensuously over my creaming twat. I was dying to be fucked, dying to feel his cock open me wide, and he was driving me mad with his teasing.
"Oh, now," I gasped. "I must have you now, now! Please, fuck me!"
He rolled me over, and straddled my wide-open thighs. I was trembling all over, and I could feel the white hot waves of passion rolling over me like a tidal wave. I felt him press his cock at the entrance to my white hot pussy. It felt fantastic, indescribable! That huge, throbbing, hot pleasure pole, pressed to my still unplowed, unused pussy.
I bent my knees up, my titties jiggling on my heaving chest, as I waited. He rubbed the head against my pussy lips a little more, and then, once again, he lodged the head of his pleasure pole, at the entrance to my wildly throbbing cunt, and he pushed.
I let out a loud groan, as I felt the head of his cock lodge in my tight cunt. It was an unbelievable sensation. I felt as if I were being split in two, and at the same time, it was such an incredible pleasure that more gushes of my cream poured out.
He pushed some more, and this time, I was eagerly helping him, as my hips without any rational control on my part, started humping up, impaling me more and more deeply onto this throbbing prick. I felt as if all my insides had turned to fire. I felt as if his massive mauler were pushing all my organs out of place, up, up into my head. And even my head felt stuffed. I was panting madly now, arching my hips up, while he swiveled down onto my virgin pussy.
There was a sharp stinging sensation when I humped up with a particularly sharp motion, and then his cock was plowing deeper, deeper into my womanhood, to the very most secret depths.
I could feel his prick pulsing against the walls of my creaming twat. I could feel the rippling motions of my cuntal muscles, as they contracted against the gorgeous, fleshy invader that had reamed me out, and opened me up to the pleasures of the flesh.
And it was a pleasure I had never known before. I felt as if I were suddenly made out of all pussy. My head was pussy, stuffed with cock, my mouth was pussy, and I wanted his cock there, too. My whole body was one pulsing, white-hot organ of pleasure.
I think I came with a small wave almost right away. My whole body trembled and I was crying with joy, while he lay on top of me, his cock resting quietly in my cunt, allowing me to get used to being stretched like that.
Then he began fucking me, moving in and out of my stretched snatch, slowly, softly, opening me wider and wider. I threw my legs around his waist, feeling his cock plow through my soft, suppurating flesh, then feeling the long fuck-shaft abandon my deepest womanhood for a moment, before he pushed back into me again.
The feeling was like-I don't know-like silk on silk, or velvet rubbing against my skin. Like many things that spell pleasure, all wrapped up in flesh, his cock buried in my palpitating cunt.
I had my hands resting on his ass, feeling the muscles ripple as his buttocks arched out and up, when his cock pulled out to the tip, and then pushed in, slowly, rhythmically, over and over. I didn't want it ever to end. I wanted it to go on forever and ever. I wanted to spend the rest of my life fucking.
I had never felt such delirious joy in my life.
I closed my eyes, and surrendered to the passionate pulsing of his cock in my pussy, surrendered to the white-hot waves of heat that were burning me up, extirpating all the gross things in my body, burning them away in fine, undulating waves of heat and passion.
He kept fucking me for the longest time, his head resting on the pillow beside my ear, whispering strange things in French that I did not understand. Of course I wouldn't understand. When I asked him afterward what he had been saying, he smiled and translated them into English. I must say the French language for fucking is far more erotic than the American language, which does get to be repetitive.
I was grinding my hips passionately up into his hairy groin. I could feel his pubic hairs, matted and sticky with my cream, which was pouring in large masses from my well-fucked pussy. As I ground my pussy onto the base of his cock, my pussy lips spread even farther, pressed against his massive, grinding man meat.
Then, as his cock was plowing through the deepest caverns of my pussy, I felt the slow, ponderous waves of passion growing, becoming more insistent, like a hot-breathing monster, the white-hot eaves took possession of me, cradled me in its arms, and threw me up on the frothy crest of a wave. I came in a writhing screaming, creaming mass of flesh, clutching madly at Maurice, anywhere I could find flesh. I grabbed his buttocks and squeezed hard. I raked my fingernails over his rippling back, as he continued to grind into me with harder and harder strokes, which struck sparks from my pussy which inflamed me to a mad passion.
The spasms which gripped me and tossed me like a twig in a stormy sea, lasted a long, long time. It felt like time had stretched out like a rubber band, longer, and thinner, until I could hear the whine of the seconds flowing around my ears, piercing my brain, turning me into a madwoman. And then the waves rippled away, rumbling in the depths of my belly. When I finally collapsed, with Maurice still humping madly into my creaming cunt, my body was still twitching, and it kept twitching sporadically, somewhat like after-shocks from an earthquake.
I lay gasping under Maurice, sweating, and feeling his copious sweat pouring over me. He was gasping heavily, and his movements had also become sporadic, almost spastic, as his hips swiveled with maddening speed against my still pulsing pussy. It felt glorious, being under him while he labored to achieve his own orgasm.
He worked his hands under my sweaty, sticky, trembling back, and held me tightly to him, working his cock in gyrating motions in and out of my pussy. His grip was powerful, and I relaxed, letting myself be a pawn to his passion, as he grunted, like a rutting pig.
Finally the thrusting of his cock became short, and quick, and I felt the first gush of his spunk wash over the walls of my woman-cave, melting me with its warmth, and filling my belly with its sticky life. He came in great, massive gushes, his cock flushing his passion out of the piss slit, the opaque fluid melding with my cream, and rolling down my pussy walls, spilling in a great pool on the bed.
The sheets under my ass were soaking wet, with a big, dark, sticky pool of come. It only added to the sensuous delight of fucking him, of achieving womanhood in the magnificent arms of this man.
Finally, with a last, prolonged groan, and one final hard thrust into my cunt, he collapsed on top of me, breathing heavily. Our limbs were still entwined, and we lay like that for a long time, caressing each other, whispering obscenities into each other's ear, kissing and licking our bodies all over.
Then we fell asleep. It was the best sleep I ever remember, and I dreamed all sorts of wonderful dreams. I suspect that at least one of the dreams was a wet dream, because I awoke with a start, shaking, and my pussy creaming.
Maurice's cock was lying, warm and soft on my thigh. Our limbs were still entwined in a carnal embrace.
INTERVIEW TWO
I had to interrupt Lorene, as she was telling her enchanting story of her deflowering. There are very few women in the United States, who have had such fortunate experiences.
Curious as to the reasons for her parents insisting on her coming here, and unable to determine from our first interview just what the problem was, if there were one, I insisted on a second session.
She continued easily from where she had left off.
Well, Doctor, I can't tell you how wonderful it was to wake up the way I had. I looked over to the window, and saw from the dim, gray light that the dawn was coming. I felt wonderful, refreshed, and happier than I had felt in a long time. I was looking forward to a wonderful year in France, and it had only just begun.
I realized that my nose was cold. That meant that the room was cold, no doubt from the cool morning breezes blowing through the open window. I was still fuzzy from sleep, but I wondered, since I was naked, although warmly embraced by Maurice, who was snoring softly beside me, why I should be so warm. Surely those parts of my flesh which were exposed to the dawn coolness would be cold.
And then, I jumped, startled. I realized that Maurice and I were not alone in the bed. Nestled up, beside me, her tiny head just under my armpit, was Claire, Maurice's baby sister. She was only ten years old, and a perfect specimen of budding womanhood. She already wore bras, she was so well-developed, and she was petite, which contrasted strangely with Maurice's tallness, and my American lankiness.
I realized, too, that the warm, sensual pressure on one of my tits, was not Maurice's hand, but Claire's. I was shocked, dumbfounded. I didn't know what to do, as I looked down into her turned-up, dimpled face. She was smiling at me!
"Maurice," I husked, alarmed at what kind of impression the child was getting. "Maurice, wake up! Your sister ... "
"Hmmphh, what ... ?" Maurice raised his head, looked down at me and smiled, kissing my lips, and then reached over and kissed his sister, as if it were the most normal thing in the world!
"Good morning, ma petite," he smiled. He reached across me with one hand, and tweaked his sister's nipple. Claire giggled, and I could feel her pussy hump against my haunches. Her pussy was wet. She was creaming!
I felt very strange, and I looked at Maurice, with bewilderment. Maurice responded to the expression on my face by laughing.
"Well, why not?" he asked, shrugging in that inimitable Gallic style. "She is entitled to her pleasure, too, no?"
"Well, I guess so."
"My little sister likes you," Maurice purred, still fondling his little sister's nipple.
"But you're her brother!" I exclaimed. "How can you ... !"
"Tut-tut!" he said. Can you think of anyone better to pop her cherry? I am older, and know my way around, and we love each other. We have been playing in bed in the morning for several months, now. And," he said, leaning over and smiling at me, before kissing me again, deeply, "I think it is time she had her lesbian experience, don't you?"
"I don't know," I said, thoroughly out of my element. I grant you, my element was extremely one-sided, moralistic, and narrow, but this was over-programming of the sort that I thought I couldn't tolerate. My ears were buzzing with the shock.
Maurice was asking me to make love to his sister. Maurice admitted, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, that he had been making love to his very own sister, for months!
It took awhile for this to sink in. And then I thought to myself, well, why not? What is wrong for a brother as accomplished as Maurice was, to deflower his little sister. It's very good training, to be well-fucked the first time. That way, your choices of bed partners become more suitable to your needs, and you develop and instinct for the right stud.
At least, that has been my experience.
In the meantime, I was aware of the growing pleasure mounting in me, as Claire softly fondled my breasts. Then she reached up and kissed my nipple, sucking on it with her little-girl mouth, and tonguing it. My nipple puckered with passion, and I realized that it was a unique experience to be made love to by a child.
I had never even considered making love to a woman, but this little woman knew exactly how to please. Maurice had got up, and was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was smiling and fondling his cock.
"I would like to see you two make love," he husked, passion making his dark eyes glow luridly in the dim dawn light.
I was filled with a special love for this little creature, who was fondling me so expertly, who seemed to sense every nuance of need my woman's body had. Her little hands had teased my belly, and were now buried in my snatch. As I said, I think I had been awakened by the aftermath of a wet dream, so my pussy was ripe and ready.
Without further ado, little Claire squirmed along my body, until her face was right at my snatch. She wiggled her little ass in my face, her pussy lips creaming just in front of my mouth. She smelled so sweet, and clean, and her body was so soft, and alive with eagerness, that I did not need a second invitation.
Her warm, moist breath on my pussy, as she eagerly explored it, was driving me crazy. And I fell into the pleasure, as easily as one falls into a pool on a warm day. And it felt as refreshing, as zestful.
My whole body felt light and alive. I felt as if I were actually shooting sparks, there was such a glow in me, as her little, moist, soft tongue gently fondled the folds of my swollen pussy, easing into all the little ripples of red, moist flesh, lapping up my come juices with an appetite that spelled pleasure for the both of us.
I flicked my tongue out, and touched her tiny little clitoris, which was already swollen with passion. Her pussy juices tasted so sweet, and there was so much coming from her that it was like drinking from a cool fountain. I kept lapping up and down, thinking what I would like, if someone were eating out my cunt, and I was rewarded for my loving care, by feeling her little pussy grinding eagerly into my sucking, licking mouth.
Her grinding motions became faster and faster, and harder, and her pussy juices were flowing more copiously, as my tongue circled her little clit, and I strove to fuck her little girl hole with my tongue. She was squealing now, as she licked me, and I was arching my hips up into her cute little face, as she licked and licked.
Then she did something extraordinary! She took my clitoris into her mouth, and started to suck on it as she had sucked on my nipple, administering soft little bites every now and then.
That was driving me more insane than ever. My hips were swiveling non-stop up into her face, and my pussy juices were pouring down into my ass cheeks.
As my excitement increased, so did my sucking on Claire's pussy. I opened my mouth wide and buried her whole sweet little snatch in my mouth, spreading my tongue flat against her little labia, spreading them with the pressure of my tongue. She started humping heavily into my tongue, and I could tell by the way her pussy was twitching, that she was about to come.
Then her pussy muscles were almost vibrating, and her juices were coming hot and heavy, dripping down my chin, and filling my mouth. I swallowed that sweet nectar, as it gushed out, being driven wild by her moaning, her moaning vibrating my clitoris to the peak of ecstatic perfection.
Finally, I felt the moistness of her breath, as she let out a gasp, her breath whooshing from her lungs. And as her breath moistened my cunt, and made it hotter, her little body collapsed on top of mine. She relaxed so completely that I could feel the plane of her body spreading, covering mine.
She felt so warm and sweet, that I couldn't help myself. I kept tonguing her, and lapping up her juices.
Finally I felt my own orgasm approaching. My pussy muscles were twitching madly. I felt a great cry tearing out of my throat, as my hips humped up spastically into her little girl face. I felt my juices pouring out of me in great gushes. My body was as taut as a drawn bow, and the arrow of my orgasm was shooting through me, piercing me with its keen pleasure, as the spasms rippled from my cunt up to my very brain.
I closed my eyes, and surrendered to the sweet anguish of orgasm, my eyelids dancing with multi-colored sparks of light that were dizzying in their variety and intensity.
I felt as if my hips were separated from the rest of my body, and sprung on coiled wire. I never would have believed, had I not experienced that orgasm that my hips could move with that speed and that intensity for so long. I could feel the pressure in the small of my back, and even my sphincter muscle contracted with the sympathetic effects of that monstrous, glorious, wild climax.
Finally, I too collapsed, and the two of us lay there, panting heavily and groaning.
As I opened my eyes, and looked down at Claire's adorable little fanny, and rubbed her ass cheeks. Then I heard Maurice moaning. I had almost forgotten about him, and I looked in his direction.
He had been watching us, and beating his meat, and now he was in the throes of his own orgasm. I watched as the sperm arched from his cock, in a long, milky-white, viscid arc, glowing in the growing light of morning. It was beautiful to watch, as his cock spewed gob after gob of spunk out onto the floor.
Finally, he too collapsed, breathing heavily. He was lying on the bed, with his feet planted on the floor. I watched his thigh muscles trembling with the aftermath of his orgasm. I reached over with one hand, and placed my hand on his sweat-soaked shoulder. He reached up and held my hand in his.
The three of us lay, soaked in our pleasure, and our sexual memories for the longest time, until the maid knocked on the door and informed us that breakfast would be served in half an hour.
And that, doctor, was the start of the most wonderful year of my life. Maurice and Claire and I were a menage a trios, and every day was a new sexual adventure.
Of course, I was spoiled sexually. How could I have led such a rich sexual life for a whole year, and then come home to nothing?
Unfortunately, the nothing applies also to the cultural life in this hick town, and the men are awful-crude, unsensual, interested only in getting their rocks off. It's almost like a form of mutual masturbation, to fuck with some of the boys in our town.
I have been working part-time after school, trying to save my money. I'll die if I stay in this town. In the meantime, I make it with whoever I can, whenever I can, just to keep the pussy juices flowing. I certainly don't want to dry up and die, just because their isn't adequate cock.
My parents are very worried about my reserved manner. They wonder why I don't date, or go out with my girlfriends, but spend most of my time, when I'm not out prowling for cock (usually in the seamier side of town, where at least, the boys are slightly less inhibited), at home, reading, and listening to records, and practicing my French by carrying on long conversations with myself in the language.
But I'm going to die if I don't get out of here. I intend to leave as soon as possible, after I graduate.
Well, Doctor, that's my story. As I said, I don't think I'm sick. I think my parents are. But that's my story. And I would be curious to hear what you have to say about it.
CONCLUSION
I didn't have too much to say about her sexual life. Lorene had two years of school left before she could leave. She did intend to go on to college, so it was necessary to get her diploma.
I told her that her attitude was not necessarily the best one. That it was necessary for her to socialize with her peers, and not to be a recluse. She disagreed with me, arguing hotly that they bored her.
I told her that if she expected to be bored, she would inevitably be, but that even the narrowest and simplest of us have something to say, and some unexpected reserves of wisdom or intelligence, and insight.
She was being unreasonable, after her extraordinary year in France, thinking that she could match the culturally enriched atmosphere of a highly accomplished family in her small town. I told her she should be grateful she got the year in France, and the insight to know that she wanted better from her life, than mere servitude to common conventionality.
She was finally mollified a little, and some of her stubbornness dissipated. She agreed to try to socialize more with her peers, and also to be patient with her young boyfriends.
After all, her French family had been as sexually precocious and unusual in that respect, as they were culturally and intellectually astute.
Aside from that problem, which she promised to work on, there was nothing more I could do for her, and I dismissed her.
I wrote a long letter to her parents, explaining that she was having growing pains, was perfectly normal and bright, and that they shouldn't be so possessive of her.
After all, she was a new generation, and a new breed of woman, and who knows what benefits she might leave behind for evolving mankind?
GENERAL CONCLUSION
As these cases show, sex is a vital part of any human being, under all circumstances. It is indeed the universal language, and no matter what the differences in culture, or sexual mores, sexuality will be met with in all of them.
These cases were unique in that they show a good cross-section of what happens when cultures meet, and clash. Sex was a good bridge to close the gap occasioned by the differences. In each of these cases, I was able to assist the patient by reminding him or her that differences will exist always, but there are always ways of overcoming them by communicating in the one language that every man and woman knows, the language of sex.
None of these patients was severely traumatized by their being transplanted from one culture to another, and in many cases, the softening of the blow occurred because of sexual liaisons.
I firmly recommend it to all and sundry. Sex is good for allaying anxiety softening aggression, and making people feel much closer than they ordinarily would.
