Connie's clothes lay in a heap on the floor. Her moans increased in volume and intensity as she writhed underneath the frantic manipulation of her own fingers. Her body was a raging storm of self-abuse.
I had driven her sex mad and now, after six orgasms, I was incapable of satiating the lust that swept her body like a brush fire.
"Your mouth, Frank! Use your mouth!" she cried and in a moment I was on top of her, my eager tongue swinging south over her tortured flanks ...
The names of all real persons in both the report and diary portions of this book have been changed and certain geographical locations and identifiable incidents have been slightly altered, in order to guarantee the right to privacy for those involved.
Chapter One
A PROLOGUE
THURSDAY, Feb. 8-Jean came to work today, only 18 years old, body like a brick shithouse. Her thighs are full and so sexy they drive me nuts. Kid. First time in the big city. Just out of high school. Big hard-on watching her walk around office in short skirt. Those goddamn legs! So sexy and young! Innocent and a little stupid too. At ten am went to men's room and put on rubber, rubbed my prick up hard. Walked right past her desk hoping she would notice bulge in pants. She smiled. Reaction uncertain. "Jean", I said, "I want you to get the charts and financial study on the Belson contract and get me a total on the net profits." When she climbed up the ladder, I could see the creamy flesh above her stockings, the crease of her delicious young ass with only black bikini briefs. Working at the table across from me, she moved her legs until I could see some of the red pubic hair. Massaged my prick through my trousers and had a strong orgasm in the rubber. Went to men's room to clean up.
SATURDAY, June 15-New apartment has so many possibilities. Binoculars were a wonderful investment. Superpower. Fifty-eight dollars well spent. Across the court, watched three girls undress last night, one about twelve with tiny titties, delicious ass. Wanted to lick it all over. The married woman played with herself on the toilet after she was stripped for bath, husband still in living room. Bonnie and me? I started coming again. Had to use my hand to catch it. Tasted good. Used binocs this morning to look down from bedroom window, to view of back windows set very high in girl's bathhouse by pool in court below. Good view into four of the partitions. Saw forty-two girls and women naked while they changed. Masturbated nine times by two pm. Exhausted. Two lesbians in apartment on sixth floor. Only see tit-sucking. Will work on periscope idea next week.
MONDAY, June 17-Better than James Bond. 007 is an amateur. Success after two months. The mirror slips out on a swivel from the sole of my shoe. Perfect! Looked up six girls' dresses at bus stop. Spanish-locking girl had no pants on. Thick black hair on cunt. Saw pussy lips when she pivoted leg. Rubbed prick through raincoat pocket and almost came off. Will try mirror at library on Saturday when can stand next to plenty of high school and college girls at book racks. Will wear rubber for at least two good orgasms.
THESE are only a few of the relatively milder excerpts from the incredible and amazing diary of the man I will call Frank Moore, one of the most authentic representatives of the "dirty old man" (or DOM) complex whom I have contacted during many years of sexological research.
Frank is a forty-seven year old, college educated city economist working in a large office in a major city of the eastern U.S. His income is slightly over $16,000 a year. He has been divorced for two years. His wife has since remarried and his sons are now married and living in other parts of the country. This man presented me with the use of this amazing document (his daily journal), plus the story of his life, because he wanted to purge himself of the sudden eruption of deep-rooted guilt feelings he had experienced.
While Frank was a very introverted but brilliant individual and a "loner," he had met a woman whom he described as "very decent," and whom he wanted to marry. Yet he felt that matrimony to such a woman would be unfair so long as his sexual desires and activities might continue along the path to which they had turned for the past several years. Although his background and psychosexual development should have made the roots of his problem patently obvious to him, he was at a complete loss at first to explain why he had become, as he expressed it himself, "a typical dirty old man."
WHAT is a dirty old man? Is there a typical person in this category and is he necessarily "old" and by whose definition? Authorities and laymen are at odds over the age at which this complex may be most prevalent among men. A great many psychologists and psychiatrists feel that it occurs most frequently with men in their thirties, while the average layman seems to conjure up the image of a rather lecherous and drooling elderly type who thrives on looking up young girls' dresses and resorting to excessive sexual fantasies and solitary masturbation.
Police records, on the other hand, show that most sexual offenses resulting in arrest (other than forcible rape) occur among young men between the ages of 20 to 24. According to official F.B.I, statistics, 8,135 in this age group were arrested for these type of offenses in 1967 alone. From twenty-five to twenty-nine years of age, arrests in this category were 5,650. The statistics then begin to decline at close to the rate of 1,000 for each five year age group after that leveling off to merely a few hundred for the country as a whole after age fifty-nine.
A simple perusal of the daily papers or police blotters in any large metropolitan area will usually reveal that most men apprehended or sought for exposing themselves to girls and women and other relatively moderate sex crimes, appear to be in their twenties and usually married with one or two children. In the community where I live (a lower to upper middle class urban area), the three most recent cases of exposure to teenagers have resulted in the arrest of a twenty-two year old married serviceman with a pregnant wife, a twenty-seven year old salesman with a wife and two children and a twenty-five year old data processing programmer.
Are these then dirty young men? Or are dirty old men not really old? These men certainly fit the pattern of the DOM complex and the psycho-dynamics involved are often quite similar to those of much older men committing similar offenses. It seems almost certain that some of these young men, if not rehabilitated, will become eventually dirty old men, that they may remain in the mold throughout most of their adult lives.
After discussing the situation with several local and national police and investigative law enforcement officials, I have come to the conclusion that we are dealing with a matter of image rather than actual age, in many cases and that we should probably not really attempt to equate arrest statistics with the age-relationship that does exist in this psychosexual complex.
"The older a man becomes," a veteran urban vice detective explained to me, "the more careful and cagey he gets. He's more aware of what he can and cannot get away with. He's more concerned with security, losing his job, being a subject of scandal. We pick up a dozen hot-blooded kids in their twenties every week. Sure, they've got a problem and they can't go after a girl in the regular way, which is a psychological thing. They spot a hot-legged gal in a miniskirt or stake themselves near a field behind an apartment house and they act on impulse. They expose themselves immediately when they see the girl looking at them.
"But the guy in his forties and fifties, he's going to take his time, plot his moves in advance. He knows how easily a license number can be traced, an identity made if he wears conspicuous clothing. Maybe he's been arrested before when he was younger and he knows how the police and prosecutors operate.
"I would say you're probably right in assuming that your dirty old men types are found more among older men, but we don't find them too often. And when we do, they've usually got their defense figured out in advance, or else they're some nut of a mental case who can get by with about anything, so he's pretty much left alone unless he does something real bad. That's how your statistics on arrests can be misleading.
Although I have come across a few multiple-deviates in their twenties and thirties who operate with the surreptitiousness of the introvert, I would tend to agree that the older this type of pervert becomes, the more cautious he is in avoiding identification and arrest. As a crime statistic, he begins to disappear, but as a fact, he is there and probably to a more degenerate degree and greater number than the younger men of this complex, many of whom have matured, become rehabilitated, or work out their problems through self-help and determination. This is amplified when we consider the fact that the complex often is dormant in early life, but is stimulated sometimes with the psychological impact of the onset of middle-age or the senility of elderlines.
When it comes to the question of a clear-cut definition of a typical dirty old man, I would have to say that such definition would be almost impossible. But there are many factors of a psychosexual nature, plus the image applied by the public in general that can help us in arriving at a somewhat general, if not specific, characterization.
First of all, this type of individual is almost always multi-aberrant. His desires often range the spectrum from desire for erotic contact or viewing of naked children of both sexes to all kinds of variant acts with older girls and women. He is a great fantasist, one who can glance at the motion picture ads in a newspaper and be driven to immediate masturbation by the provocative pose of a scantily clad young actress. His imagination knows no bounds and while his hands and fingers provide self-satisfaction genitally, anally, or in both ways, his mind carries him away to impossible feats of sex with the world's most glamorous females and sex symbols.
The DOM (dirty old man) may or may not be a collector of pornography, female nude photos and hard-core "fuck books." But if he is, contrary to much popular misconception, many of the most competent authorities now agree that these items serve as a deterrent to his actually committing a sex crime involving another person. The man may be suffering from a mental illness, but it is certainly better for society in general that he stays at home fantasizing with nude photos and fuck books while solitarily masturbating than to go out and commit the bizarre and often criminal acts that already lay within the realm of his anomalous desire.
And certainly, the average DOM is more of a dreamer than an activist. He seldom, if ever, commits a sex crime of violence, such as rape. His illegal activities involving others are usually limited to peeping Tomism and exposure at the least and child molestation of a non-violent nature at the very worst. His remaining interpersonal contacts occur primarily with prostitutes, plus the occasional female whom he can seduce by various and often devious, means and rarely in a more or less normal fashion.
As the DOM is almost always an introvert, his main problem is in communicating with a desirable female and seducing her through courtship, prolonged dating and so on, as occurs in the usual male-female affair. He is afraid of women, afraid of nearly all personal involvement to some degree. He therefore must invent and scheme, plot and plan more unconventional approaches. He often makes obscene telephone calls, or merely introductory calls to strange women whose names he picks at random from the telephone book. Sometimes, if he screws up his courage or perhaps fortifies it with alcohol, he will seriously attempt to arrange a meeting with one of these females. In many instances though, he is too afraid of the personal involvement that may result and he accomplishes his orgasm coprolalically through erotic conversation.
"Obscene calls usually don't lead to anything more serious," according to Lt. Robert Caldwell of the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Police Sex squad. "These calls are usually made by people who get their kicks from talking dirty to females."
Again, here is confirmation of the fact that the DOM seldom presents a violent threat. He is a dreamer, afraid of, but desiring, personal contact. Lt. Caldwell goes on to report that "Most of the obscene calls to women are made by men who dial a series of numbers until a female voice answers the phone. According to the phone company, one series of calls stopped when a sixty-five year old grandmother told the man who had been harassing her that she was not as young as her voice."
Obviously, the caller's bubble burst. His fantasies of speaking with some beautiful young nude woman stretched out luxuriantly on a bed suddenly went up in smoke. Of course, there are now Federal laws as well as local ordinances and state laws against such calls. The phone company has a multitude of new technology to aid it in quickly tracing obscene, abusive and threatening phone calls and the new voice graph equipment has withstood some recent court tests in making positive identification of callers.
Formerly, in the case of persistent obscene callers that were reported, police would encourage the victim to make a date with the man. "If the caller shows up," according to one study, "police say his presence usually acts as court evidence that he knew about the telephone calls."
Some obscene callers claim to be conducting "Kinsey type" reports or surveys and many have been successful in duping housewives and others into giving all the intimate details of their sex practices. Other DOM callers may start off immediately with a barrage of obscene language and great detail concerning sexual acts. In the more serious cases, callers threaten women with reprisals or even terrorize them with some story about having kidnapped one of their children, all for the sake of forcing her into erotic conversation. The "breather" is a type identified by officials as one who says nothing, but merely breathes heavily and with erotic feeling at the sound of the designed voice at the other end.
In parks, playgrounds, theaters, public toilets frequented by very young boys, the DOM is often found to loiter, employing any number of ruses to satisfy his "secret" sexual obsessions. He situates himself so as to be able to look up young girls' dresses as they see-saw or swing. He "accidentally" drops some object as he walks in front of an attractive woman seated on a bench, so that he can peer up her skirt while leaning down to retrieve the object. He may haunt the nearby rest-room to observe the penises of young boys and often masturbates where they can watch him, hopeful of some reciprocal show of feeling.
The DOM meticulously studies the layouts of these parks, playgrounds and theaters. He knows the times of day, for instance, when young girls are most likely to frequent certain lonely areas by themselves or perhaps in twos or threes. He knows when the police or park patrols are likely to be at each area. And with all of this knowledge, he then determines the best time for him to expose his erect penis to a young girl or an adult female and perhaps to even masturbate in front of them.
In theaters, the DOM is known to remove his erect member from his trousers and masturbate during provocative love scenes. He does this particularly during sparsely attended matinees with the express purpose of being observed by a lone female down the same row of seats. The more daring man will sit right next to a female and make lewd remarks or more direct advances, but ones that may be quickly covered up or unproven. And he has also usually planned a quick exit, if necessary.
At his house or apartment, the DOM spends hours and days devising methods in which he may spy on the most private moments of his neighbors, peer into their bedrooms and bathrooms undetected. In cases like that of Frank Moore, he may deliberately select an apartment because of its particular vantage point, allowing a clear downward view into the partitions of the girls' washroom at the pool in the court of the apartment complex, plus a sweeping panorama of the apartments across from his, which he can search out individually with his binoculars for the best prospects.
Of course, the DOM, like almost all sexual psychopaths, usually has a childhood background and history of stunted or traumatized psychosexual development that has been responsible, in part at least, for making him the way he is. Often, he is a mother-dominated latent homosexual. (Many DOM's are overt homosexuals and their interest is in the male sex only; however, most are bisexual to some degree, particularly in their pedophilic urges.) Perhaps his father instilled in him too much of a fear of authority or "outclassed" him and made impossible demands of him athletically and/or scholastically. Certain traumatic or highly emotional and arousing experiences with brothers, sisters, relatives, other peers, or adults, may have fixated his sexuality at an infantile and polymorphous level.
No matter what the roots, the secret and introverted nature of the DOM's condition is almost certain to increase with age. He loses much of what little confidence he had. The pursuit of younger and more attractive girls, difficult for nearly any man of his age, becomes an even wilder dream. Often, he has spent a lifetime of marriage to a frigid or sexually repressed woman. She now becomes even less attractive and his desires may take a turn for the more vulnerable and nubile bodies of minor girls-teens, sub-teens, on down to five years old-so long as the body holds some picture of sexuality that, with the use of infantile memory or imagination, can inspire his twisted desires. His own wife's very attitude towards sex over the years may of itself have contributed substantially, I feel, toward his condition. And this was partially so with Frank Moore.
Again, the question that begs for an answer remains. What is the definition of dirty old man?
A twenty-two year old barmaid who displays as much of her shapely thighs as possible with premeditated provocativeness in a miniskirt thinks that any man who is over forty and gazes with pleasure at her legs is a dirty old man. An equally attractive and miniskirted waitress of thirty-five, however, gave me this definition: "Oh, you know- the old guys, bald headed old farts that stare and drool and lick their lips and kinda whisper suggestive things. They leave big tips and look at you real nervous like, praying you'll give 'em your phone number or something. The old farts fifty and sixty-that's my opinion."
"Oldness" is indeed a relative factor that is more often than not gauged by the eyes and mind of the beholder. A college boy of twenty-one in conversation with younger students may be called a dirty old man by them because he has a "leering" way of going after the favors of co-eds or because he frequents prostitutes or tells stories of offbeat sexual feats he has accomplished. A married man in his twenties or thirties who employs unconventional methods of approach or constantly masturbates and fantasizes about "unnatural" or "abnormal" sex acts may also be thought of in this category by his friends or co-workers, or perhaps by the prostitutes or other females whom he dates surreptitiously and to whom he very openly reveals his unorthodox sexual proclivities.
In the final analysis, however and after much thought, discussion with authorities of various related disciplines and concentrated research and study, I will have to come to the general conclusion that the "average" or "typical" DOM, in both image and behavior, is a man very much like the subject of this report and diary-Frank Moore.
He is not young in the attributes that we think of as belonging to the youthful. But he is not necessarily old in the sense of today's life-span and general public image and attitude. He is a man past his mid-forties. He may be married or single. If married, his sex-life at home has never been very meaningful or satisfactory, a fault that may lie with him, his wife, or both. If unmarried, he has been either widowed or divorced, or he has never felt the confidence to pursue sex relations in generally accepted ways, often feeling that he may reach his unreachable (in reality) goals more quickly and confidentially by devious methods and underhanded approaches.
The DOM is almost assuredly a chronic masturbator. He receives much or most of his sexual pleasure through fantasy, voyeurism and in other vicarious ways. Yet while he avoids personal contacts sometimes to the extreme, it is my opinion that this is the one thing for which he is really searching, but of which he has a great fear that is psychopathically phobic in nature.
Research has revealed that the DOM may often be impotent to some degree, but this too is usually of psychic rather than physical origin. He is usually capable of erection during masturbation and certain other conditions and most assuredly can achieve orgasm and ejaculation.
Thus, in many instances, the DOM uses his psychic impotency as an excuse for his abnormal desires and practices. Since he feels that he cannot satisfy a female normally, he is excessively bent to resort almost exclusively to orogenital relations, analingus, mutual masturbation, sadomasochistic situations, pedophilic encounters, use of devices and other forms of stimuli, visual (sometimes fantasized) and physical. He hopes that these modes will be as pleasing to his occasional partner as they are to him.
Sexually, as well as with much else in life that requires direct human interpersonal confrontation and communication, the DOM usually suffers from a rather serious inferiority complex. Yet he may excel quite well in certain professions and trades where such contacts are relatively unimportant to success. Many great men of science and letters, for instance, are very deeply introverted. However, I certainly do not wish to imply that introversion per se can lead to any conclusion that a man might fall into this category under study. While most DOM's may be introverts, not all introverts by any means may be dirty old men.
While the DOM complex or syndrome itself is not clinical, technical or scientific in generally accepted professional terminology, I feel that the set of factors as I have explained them, do very definitely form a psychosexual multi-anomaly that may be generally isolated and categorized. I also feel that today's so-called sexual revolution has not made any progress in freeing the DOM from his problem.
In the first place, most men of forty to forty-five and older are very much set in their ways. When and if a latent desire surfaces, it is one rooted not to the definition of this generation, but to that of their own. The realization that modern couples have "swinging" sex orgies and that campus lovelies have a new concept of morality that includes sexual freedom may only whet his appetite that much more and make him feel more deprived and motivate him to devote himself more excessively toward his illusory and phantasmagoric desires. To the older generation suffering from the DOM complex, the sexual revolution may become a "wet dream" nightmare.
Secondly and conversely, he may gain a new sense of freedom of exploration when he reads about the light sentences and acquittals that are often meted out to the much more serious sexual offenders-the rapists and lust-murderers. In view of all this, I would say that it is highly likely that the DOM complex may be more prevalent today than at any previous period and possibly for no other reason than that the country and the world is going through a great period of change. Some degree of sexual freedom might possibly eliminate a few of the DOM "hang-ups," while repression of the sexual instinct could probably result in its increase. But to the DOM of today who is approaching middle age, the factor of utter confusion may be a contributory element.
This latter would be particularly true in the cases of those few individuals who manage to effect a rather clear split personality and double life. We do find instances, though rarely, of the DOM type who is very confident and personable in public and business life. He may be "the life of the party" type at regular social gatherings, exude a great deal of charm and leadership abilities. Yet his sex life is just as secret and sordid as any other DOM.
When this type of man suddenly finds himself caught up in a crowd of less repressed people, those with whom he has socialized all his life quite successfully but have now become "swingers" of the sexual revolution, he almost panics. Sex has been his big hang-up, but had never been injected into his social life. He has really been an introvert at heart, probably and the side of his life that most people knew was a sham. Thus, as much as he might like to enter into an arrangement of free-wheeling and orgiastic sex, he is too repressed. And he becomes very confused.
In presenting the next chapter concerning the childhood background and psychosexual development of our subject, Frank Moore, which will be followed by the more pertinent portions of the incredible, bizarre diary he began to keep after his divorce, it is to be hoped that both the professional and lay reader may gain a keener insight and understanding into the much misunderstood complex of the dirty old man. In this way, future generations may well benefit by being more prepared to avoid the pitfalls (both as parents and subjects) that catapult so many unfortunate men into this category. As the diary itself represents and concerns itself largely with the behavioral events in Frank's life over the past two years, the account of his earlier life, as largely related by the subject himself, it is an absolute necessity for a meaningful overall study.
Dalton Edwards, Ph.D.
October, 1970
Chapter Two
Frank Moore: PSYCHODYNAMICS
Frank Moore is a very neat and efficient man in appearance and image. He is five feet eight inches tall, weighs 155 pounds, slightly chubby. He has graying black hair that is thinning quite noticeably. His face is drawn somewhat, but not ugly or sinister. Only his eyes reveal the intense nature of the excesses and obsessions that plague him mentally, the constant pursuit of sexual desires that he himself feels are "dirty, filthy and evil."
At the department where he has been employed most of his adult life since graduation from college with a degree in mathematics, Frank is regarded as a very competent, dependable and extremely hard-working economist and statistician. He has been commended many times on the brilliance and completeness of his statistical reports and surveys. He is known to work many weekends to be sure that his work has the mark of perfection upon which he prides himself.
Yet basically Frank is very much of an introvert and his work itself is performed largely within the realm of his own little world. He is accountable only to his department head and top management executives. Being primarily a "technician," he has no real administrative or supervisory duties. He works from his own desk at the back of a large office. The statistical clerks do occasional research for him, just as they do for the other top-level statisticians who also work largely in their own little worlds and are situated at other large desks along each of the four walls of the large room with its voluminous files of data, charts, contracts and reports.
After I had read Frank's private daily journal, I realized, of course, that it raised as many questions as it answered. Knowing that he had been divorced two years, that his wife was "frigid," but remarried very shortly after the breakup of their marriage and a little about his work, mannerisms and appearance, I was able to make a lot of educated guesses about his background. I knew in a very general way that certain elements existed, but I had no specifics.
In view of this, I decided to conduct a somewhat brief but revealing interview with him and to make this a part of the publication of his diary. I will repeat here only the more pertinent of the many questions and the often long and detailed answers, that resulted.
Q. Why didn't you keep this journal or diary before, Frank?
A. When I was married? Good Lord, where would I have put it? I couldn't risk my wife finding it. I couldn't risk it being found in my desk. If I had a safety deposit box, my god! If anything happened to me, it would have still been found. I always wanted to. I get a-a thrill out of writing it all down, living it over again before I go to bed each night or if I miss a day entering something really good, then I can look forward to writing it up the next day. Now it doesn't make much difference if it would be found if I died. No wife. No children to care.
Q. But I thought you told me you wanted to get married again-to a "decent" woman, you said?
A. Yes! Yes, that's right. But then I hope I won't be doing these things anymore. I'll burn the diary, throw it away, grind it up in the confidential file-grinder at the office some weekend. Oh, no, once I'm cured, no more diary. I want to leave all that behind me.
Q. Then this life that you lead that you consider to be that of a "dirty old man," it's not entirely a new thing, it didn't suddenly come about after your divorce?
A. Why do you say that? I was a model husband, a good husband and father. Both of my boys went to college, both have good military service records, both married to good, fine, decent girls.
Q. Frank, you're evading my question. You said to me a moment ago that you never kept a diary before your divorce because of fear of its discovery, yet you implied that you had experiences in a similar vein to those you have been recording in your diary over the past two years.
A. Well-a few things-they happened erratically, sporadically. I had one or two affairs with girls from the office. There was a waitress, a prostitute or two, a girl I met on the phone. But those were-well, most of them happened when I was a lot younger.
Q. You had a journal entry only last year, I believe, about looking up this female clerk's dress and masturbating behind your desk while wearing a rubber. Was that the first time you'd done that?
A. (After a very long pause and without looking at me.) No. I'd done that off and on for years-maybe twenty years. I guess I always had a talent-if that's the right word-for figuring out secret ways to see girls nude, couples screwing, up women's dresses. That goes way back. Ha? (a very nervous laugh of a guilty or insecure motivation.) I used to spy on my big sisters undressing when I was four or five years old and masturbate.
Q. How old were they at this time?
A. Ann was only about seven or eight-yes. Donna was sixteen. Her breasts were as big as a grown woman's.
A. You were sexually attracted to your own sisters then?
A. No! (long pause) Well, yes, but I never did anything about it. I never touched one of them in that way. Oh, my god, my mother would have killed me if she ever found out. No, I had to figure out ways to watch them so nobody knew at all. It had to be a very secret arrangement-nobody could know.
Q. Perhaps you'd better start at the beginning, Frank. Sum up your family situation, childhood and then bring in anything that you recall clearly about your awareness, your beginning awareness of sex and the arousals you experienced, the things you did.
A. Life story, eh? I thought you'd get around to that. Well, except for my parents getting divorced when I was ten-almost ten years old-I think I led a pretty normal and ordinary life. Childhood masturbation, the usual curiosities and all. I was an A to B student. Mother was pretty strict and very religious. Father was a professional man. Not a drunk, but he liked to drink socially and that was one of the things he and mother fell out over,
Q. Frank, relax a little bit. Don't try to cover up so much. Close your eyes if that will help and think back. Think way back, Frank. You let yourself go in your diary, even though you use incomplete sentences to hurry up sometimes. Here you're all "up-tight," as the younger generation says. Now you told me you had several drinks before you came here so that you could be more at ease. Relax and let the drinks go to work. Think back, far back. You were only four or five years old, you said, when you masturbated while spying on your sisters undressing. Why was it so sexy to you then? When did the first arousals begin stirring inside you? How did you connect the sexual feeling with the nakedness of your sisters? Which one aroused you the most?
A. (After a very long pause and closing of his eyes and placing his hand over them.) I think-only think-the first time I masturbated was when I was about three. I guess I just found out by playing around with myself that it felt good. And then my mother caught me. She beat the living shit out of me! "The Lord won't forgive fornicators, adulterers or abusers of themselves," she used to scream at me. I remember those words like yesterday. I don't know if I remember them from when I was three, or maybe later. She used to sneak around and spy on me when I was a lot older too. She probably caught me half a dozen times all together.
Wait now! I know you're probably going to say that she misinterpreted that Bible quote-used it in the wrong way. Yes, I know that now. But it stuck with me then. I guess I've never been able to shake it. But that's not important. Anyway-
Q. Actually, it's very important It helped to mold your attitude, an attitude you can't shake. Go ahead though, Frank. How did you connect masturbation and the sexual feeling of it with naked girls?
A. Well-of course! Yes! (very excited at his discovery.) Mother made a big to-do about being clothed. I had it drummed into me. My sisters had it drummed into them when I could hear it. She gave them hell about letting anybody see them naked above the waist or being careless when they dressed or undressed at night. And then, at school, in kindergarten, I can remember the other boys, how they used to kid about some girl not wearing her pants and trying to look up her dress. This made me very excited. It was sexy-yes, it was sexy. That was why masturbation was bad too. It was sexy and evil to play with your sex parts, or to see the sex parts of girls. Good Lord! My sister had a thirty-six inch bust-Donna did. And Ann didn't have any hair on her cunt-uh, vagina-oh, hell! Cunt! I think we called it pussy or something back then. I was born and raised in a good suburb of a big city. Anyway, as I was saying, I knew it felt good to masturbate and that was with my sex part, the forbidden and bad and evil thing.
My sisters' sex parts were evil too, don't you see? And the way the other kids talked and joked about it. To me it just made it all seem sexy. Yes, sexy, because if my playing with it was so bad and if mother warned Ann and Donna so much about not letting bad and evil men look at their sex parts-hell, maybe it doesn't make any sense, but-
Q. On the contrary, Frank. It makes a great deal of sense. That's what we call "the attractiveness of evil." But in your case, the sexual feeling had already been established by your accidental discovery of masturbation. Did you spy on your sisters often?
A. Ann was easy to get to look at. I remember in the afternoons, I had a box outside the bathroom window and I would just stand up there and watch her take a piss a lot. See, the bathroom was just a few feet from the garage and nobody could see me unless they came through one of the two gates between the house and the garage. I watched her almost every afternoon.
With Donna, I had to be more careful. She was very much aware that I wanted to look at her. She pulled down the shade each time she went to the bathroom. I finally worked out a better deal than that for seeing both of them. When I was alone one day, I took dad's brace and bit and I bored a hole from the back wall of my closet right through to their room.
Q. Couldn't they see the hole?
A. Ha-ha (a bit of bravado in his voice) No, indeed. I had it figured so the hole would come through where a small piece of wallpaper was very worn and had partially peeled off right where it joined the next strip. I put the hole right at that spot and I was careful never to have any light on when I opened the closet door at night, or else I had a flap of paper over the hole so that they would never notice the difference or see any light.
Q. And you were only five years old when you did this-plotted it and everything?
A. Uh, five or six, yes. Why?
Q. Well, I think that's a pretty young age to have the motivation and the ability to be so sneaky.
A. Christ, I had to be sneaky! I never would have been able to do anything that was fun my whole life as a kid if I wasn't sneaky. With my mother and two sisters keeping tabs on me all the time, I had to be pretty damn clever to do anything except breathe and eat.
Q. Did you masturbate each time you saw either girl nude?
A. Hm-mm. Just about. After I got that hole fixed up, it was every night. I went out of my mind watching Donna sometimes. When she was alone, she used to masturbate and play with her titties and admire herself in the mirror. Like it was yesterday, I can remember seeing her sitting on the side of the bed and opening her cunt-lips and rubbing it wet and juicy and rolling back and forth on the bed, grabbing her tit and squeezing it. Oh god, when I think about that today, it even shakes me up!
Q. And Ann?
A. She was getting some fuzz before we moved and mother and father got their divorce. But Donna had a lot of pussy hair. Ann-she was more quiet. What used to excite me the most about her was to watch her walk around the room completely naked. She wasn't like Donna-never played with herself. The sight of her doing nothing but walking around by herself, absolutely naked. That's what I remember most of all about her.
Q. Did you try to look up other girls' or women's dresses then. How about your mother. Be honest now and don't take offense, Frank. I only want-
A. No, no, no, no! Maybe the idea was there, I don't know. But mother was a sexless or anti-sex creature. I never dreamed of the fact that she was ever capable of being sexy at all. After I learned about how babies were made, I think I thought I must have been Jesus Christ or something. I never could imagine my father screwing my mother and I always, even to this day, believe that he probably screwed her a grand total of three times and it took each time. I'm sure my mother was much worse than my own wife about that.
Q. How did you manage to spy on other girls or women as a child?
A. Part of it was luck. The way the old schoolrooms were laid out in those days and with my being in the middle of the alphabet, which was the basis they used for seating us, I always wound up in front of the teacher's desk. I dropped a pencil or something. When I reached down or got down on the floor to pick it up, I took my time and got as good a look as I could up the teacher's dress.
Q. Didn't they wear pretty long dresses then?
A. Some of them. The only memorable teacher in the way of sex was Miss Mercer. God, she was a beauty. That was third grade. I remember dropping something every day and I could get a good look all the way past her stockings, all the way to her crotch. God! The creamy white of her thighs above the stockings had me going-naked thighs! I would always excuse myself to go to the bathroom after my good look up her dress and I masturbated twice sometimes in a period of just a few minutes.
I used to dream about her at night. I was only nine or ten, but I'd dream about her, wake up with a hard-on and then just think about rubbing her naked thighs and kissing and sucking them, how smooth and nice they'd feel. The big dream was what she looked like under her panties. She was a dark brunette and I could imagine that thick pussy hair, thicker than Donna's-Miss Mercer was about twenty-five or thirty, I guess. I wonder where she is today, if she's still alive. Let's see, she'd be sixty-three. I'll bet I could still get hot with her, especially if we could talk and I could tell her about how I really felt back then. I think she knew I was looking up her dress and getting my kicks. I swear I do.
Q. When your parents were divorced, do you remember much about what precipitated it? How your sisters and yourself reacted and felt?
A. Oh, they were all for it! Father was evil. It's all pretty vague now and of course they tried to keep as much of it as possible from us. Donna was in college at that time. Yes. It seems my father had been caught-or it was thought that he was having an affair with the eighteen year old daughter of one of our neighbors. She was a cheap tramp. I remember my older sister telling mother that the girl used to screw boys in the back of cars when she was only about fifteen.
Mother went to work and we moved to another part of town. But my father provided for us well and made some visits, bringing presents and all. He adored my sisters.
Q. Didn't he love you as a father?
A. I guess so. He never dis-loved me. It was just that-well, he more or less ignored me, as I remember. He provided for me well, sent me through two years of college before I went into service in World War Two and he gave me money afterwards to provide me with some extra-uh, you know, more than I was getting under the GI Bill.
Q. What about your psychosexual progress? When you were in junior and senior high school? Did you date-have any relations with your dates?
A. I dated some. Ann was only two years ahead of me, so I had to be careful. If she so much as heard that I had been talking or walking around the hallways with a girl who had a bad reputation, or one whom she personally thought had a bad reputation, she ran right to mother. Christ! There was one girl who I wanted to date so damned bad! I masturbated at night thinking about her. She was the sexiest thing in school. But she was Jewish and my mother told me I'd go to hell or purgatory or somewhere pretty bad, if I dated her.
I sat next to her in English class. Oh, shit, she was a doll! She knew I liked to look up her dress. And she wore those real short skirts. I guess-well, I didn't use the rubber then. Hell, I would have been afraid to get one. But I worked out this plan where I went to the boy's room right before English class and I wrapped up my prick very well in toilet paper. When I would look over at her legs, I could put my hand in my pocket and rub myself off. I got to where I was doing it almost every day.
Another girl I wanted to date, but she had a very bad reputation. I used to talk sexy with her on the phone whenever I could be alone there. She was torturing me and she knew it. She was asking me for a date.
Q. How old were you both?
A. We were both sixteen, maybe seventeen. It was in senior high. She had told me to call her during study hall Friday, told me she had a date with this married man who owned a variety store that night and if I called her Saturday, she'd tell me all about it. Mother was at work and my sister was out when I called. My hands were trembling when I picked up the phone. I was lying on the floor with my prick out, hard as a rock.
The sound of her voice was sexy-sexy as hell! She half-whispered to me about how this man pulled down her panties when they parked. She went into every detail of how he licked her legs and sucked her tits and pussy. And then she laughed when she told me he couldn't get hard without her sucking it up. I came the first time when she told me how she went down on him, the way she sucked and licked his cock.
We must have talked for two or three hours and I came three or four times.
Q. You never dated her?
A. No. I was too afraid my sister or mother would find out. I dated the nice girls, the kind you got to kiss goodnight-maybe. And then I'd go home and masturbate one to three times before I could go to sleep.
The only way I could make a sexual contact was to be very sneaky. I couldn't take a chance on any of the girls at school. What I did was to start going to movies on Saturday, either downtown or in neighborhoods that were less affluent. I had the biggest thrill of my life to that point when I sat down next to this girl with a very stacked body. I let my hand kind of fall to my side. It was shaking when she took hold of it. Her name was Carol-not a real pretty face, but nice and with freckles, long, curly brown hair.
She led my hand to her legs and I felt up under her dress. She put her other hand on my erection. I ruined my pants, but I got her phone number. After that, we met at the theater every Saturday. It was pretty strange. We never really dated. We only sat through a matinee way in the back and I played with her breasts and finger-fucked her and she would masturbate me into a handkerchief wrapped around my cock.
What impressed me about her was her thighs. They were so voluptuous, large and very shapely. I had to do more. We worked it out so that I could visit her when her folks were away one Friday night. I went off all over her belly before I could get it in, I was so excited. She didn't laugh. She felt sorry for me and she actually scooped it up with her hands and licked it off. It was weird, but so damned sexy.
She sucked on my cock until it was hard and then I had my first fuck. After I found the hole, it slipped in so easily. She loved it. Oh, goddamn, Carol was crazy about fucking and all kinds of sex. She sucked me and swallowed it all. She said it would make her strong. I couldn't wait for each weekend to roll around.
I was eighteen when she married this jerk, this goddamn gas station pumper! I was a senior in highschool. I just kept on masturbating, talking sex with a couple of girls on the phone. And then there was a college girl who lived next door. She had one helluva body. Every time I saw her out in the yard in her short shorts like they wore then, I'd run to the dining room window. When she crouched down to work in the flower bed, I could see her cunt.
From the kitchen window, I could see into her bedroom. Using binoculars, I could see the flesh of her naked thighs if she left a small bit of space open when she pulled down the blinds. Then I sneaked out and spied right up at the window. Goddamn! She was playing with herself-those long, beautiful legs, great-great tits. I think I jerked off three times on the ground there.
"She didn't date very much. Funny. She drove me by school sometimes on her way to the university. One time it was too much. Her skirt came over her stockings. She must have known I was looking down at her thighs. I just took my cock out and started beating it there in the car. I was scared to death. She raised hell at first until I blurted out about spying on her playing with herself. That was a weird compact we made. She agreed to leave the shade open enough on certain nights so that I could watch her. I tried to feel her and kiss her, but that was out. She liked the idea of being sexy and I know she came when she masturbated. She would go into frenzies and twist and turn all over the bed. God! It was insane! Fucking by remote control!
Q. Did you have any homosexual experiences-kid stuff, experimenting?
A. I don't guess I was ever that close or friendly with the guys. Only in a theater, when some man would try to feel me. Or I was hitchhiking to a football game forty miles away once and this fanner picked me up and tried to suck me off. He jerked himself off and I managed to get away. No, I was-well, I knew that homosexual stuff was really wrong.
Q. Did you ever spy on married couples in your neighborhood, or anyone else in a sex act?
A. Yeah, along the same time. We moved into the upstairs of a duplex. This couple left their window open next door a lot. I watched him go down on her, watched them fuck and watched her suck him off. That was enough to make me jerk myself off half a dozen times in a single evening.
This was fascinating, the way this man would fuck her like hell. He had a long, long cock and he just banged it to her. I could actually hear her scream sometimes when the orgasms hit her. Then he'd yank it right out as he was coming and I could see it shoot all over her belly. What a load that man had! And what a cock!
Q. Did you date much or have many sexual relations when you were away in college those first two years?
A. My goddamn sister went to the same school-Ann! She reported some gossip back to mother that was absolutely a lie. A goddamn lie! I dated the nice girls with the goodnight kiss. I masturbated a lot when I could get alone with the fuck-books some of the boys had. But to tell the truth, I had to study so hard that I didn't really try much else until I went in the service.
We had basic near this awful little town in Georgia. On weekends, I'd walk the streets of the suburban low-class areas at night. There was one house that I found I could crawl underneath and look up into the bedroom through a knothole in the sub-flooring that coincided with a crack in the hardwood. This married woman lived there. Her husband was overseas. She fucked GI's nearly every night.
A. The-uh, USO girls and all those-I never wasted time on them. I heard a lot about how they fucked, how some guys had said they made out. But I didn't believe it. My real find was this thirty-eight year old woman married to a GI overseas.
Diana-yes, Diana was her name. A little on the plump side and no dream-boat. She had a kid my same age-eighteen. He was in the service somewhere too. I met her by accident. I used to get a roll of nickels when I was in town and go to the most isolated phone booth I could find and dial numbers, try to talk up a date whenever a good-sounding female voice answered. I tried it for weeks and the most I received was a couple of women who would talk sexy, but they never would tell me where they lived or make a date.
When I met Diana, she was different from the very first. She talked in a kind of whisper. She acted like she knew me and that we had already had an affair. Well, when I finally had to tell her I wasn't who she thought I was, I thought sure she was going to hang up. She thought I was a friend of her husband's checking on her. I told her how old I was and she told me her age. Strange, the difference in age seemed to excite both of us. She gave me instructions on how to sneak up to the back door of her house that night, which she would leave open.
I was very nervous, as you can guess. Diana grabbed my hand as soon as I entered and she led me right into the bedroom where there was a light on the night table. We looked each other over. She was in a plain nightgown. Her hair was nice. She reminded me not of my mother, but of a mother, if you can understand. The pictures of her husband and son in uniform on the dresser, they made it seem so weird and incongruous in a sexy way. I was going to be a mother-fucker!
The word was associated then only with the lowest class Negroes. It was a word that the boys at school never used, not even in the most frank kind of talk that was otherwise filled with "fuck," "goddamn" and "shit." But the strange thing about Diana was the way she smiled at me so nervously and asked me if I liked her. I had the upper hand! She really wanted me and wanted me bad!
Diana couldn't get my clothes off fast enough. She marveled over my prick and began to kiss it and suck it. I remember I crawled up on the bed and she licked me all over. She was a sex-maniac, I kept thinking, putting her mouth and tongue all around and in my asshole. God! It was like everything I'd ever read or heard about.
She wanted to do a sixty-nine, begged me to get down there and eat, you know and I'd never done this before. I remember I was so damned disappointed with the taste of it that first time. It had a kind of gaseous odor about it. Later on, I began to like it-love it! I wanted to suck her pussy more every time I saw her. The trouble was that Diana was too much-wanted too much. On a Saturday night, after a full six days of drill and training, I was pretty pooped. But you know, I got my rocks off with her as many as five times at a session.
The woman had large thighs and large tits. She was very, very sexy, if not conventionally so. The way she would talk to me, god! "Suck my pussy hard! Goddamn, you're good. Your cock is the prettiest, most beautiful I ever saw. You ain't fucked very much and I sure love this cock. I bet Gary (her son) is gettin' himself a lot of that Italian pussy, fuckin' them young girls fifteen and sixteen. Oh, that Gary's a fucker."
I couldn't believe it then, but I found that it made it more sexy and exciting to think that her own son-and I could see his picture while I licked her pussy or sucked her-had been fucking her, too.
Q. Were you in combat or overseas, Frank?
A. Yeah, only about a year, maybe less. Oh, I had some foreign pussy all right, but we were fighting too goddamn much most of the time. I was with the Eighth Division in Huertgen and around there. When we were in a quiet area with some time off, I used to take long walks. It was the old story, you know. A few chocolate bars or a pack of Luckies or a few cans of beer to a young farm girl. Right on the grass, you start to feeling and kissing and licking and fucking. No way to communicate. You just grunted and panted and fucked.
That was like in a dream, too, the few times it happened. You were walking along a road and you trade smiles with a real pretty Belgian or French girl, show her you had some cigarettes. Like a dream. When she smiled back, I'd pull out my cock right in front of her and work it up hard. She'd still smile, then raise her dress to show you what she had. Just like a dream.
Q. And after the war, back at college?
A. Masturbation, day and night. And study like hell, plus a few dates with nice girls. That's when I met Bonnie. I worshipped her. She was a real beautiful girl, tall and built! She was a prude, not even a goodnight kiss until the sixth date. But I was drawn to this girl like a magnet. I worshipped her and I wanted her so badly.
We got married when we graduated. My cock wouldn't quit on the wedding night. I fucked her only twice and jerked off four more times by watching her lying there naked. She was cherry, sure. And she had ideas about sex. That wedding night, she called me a dirty old man. That was when I was standing up and jerking off. My god! I'd waited two years for that. She didn't know! She didn't understand! We were young and I wanted it every night.
Do you realize, doctor, that my own wife rationed me to once a week? It's incredible! We were twenty-three or four years old and she rationed me to one night a week!
Q. Why didn't you assert yourself, talk it over? Who was the boss? Or did she remind you of your mother?
A. Yes! Yes! Yes! That was the damnable confusing thing about it all. She was like my mother, but I never had any sexual feeling toward my mother. With Bonnie, oh, good Lord, I could have fucked and sucked that woman all day and night back then.
Sucking cock! Sucking pussy! Oh, no. That was perverted, according to Bonnie. When she called me a dirty old man on the wedding night, we were both so in love and she was half-joking, of course. Not later. After the kids came, I was a sex-fiend to her just about every time I wanted to plain fuck-once a week!
Q. Did your sexual feelings toward your wife begin to flag after that?
A. Yes, very definitely. In a very few years, I was masturbating again, trying to spy on girls and women, look up their dresses at the office. Somewhere in there was when I used the toilet paper wrapped around my cock to jerk off behind my desk while I looked up the clerks' dresses.
There was Laura, my first extra-marital conquest. It was like that dream again. It just happened. She was a girl in her very early twenties. Laura had long, reddish-brown hair, a very sexy figure, delicious legs. She was very well aware that my eyes followed her every time she moved anywhere around the office. I must have jerked off behind my desk half a dozen times when I could get looks at her thighs above her stocking before that hot night in August.
We were the only two in the office, working late on a report that had to be into the director's office the next morning. When she came right up to me and sat on the desk in front of me, she was holding a chart. I couldn't keep my eyes off her legs, the skirt above her knees. "Mr. Moore?", she asked very quickly and surprisingly, "Do you think my thighs are pretty enough so I could be a stocking model?"
I was flabbergasted. I couldn't think what to say at first. I mumbled around and said something in a breathless, nervous voice like, "Oh, yes, Laura. You have beautiful, sexy thighs."
"Do you really think so?" she asked me, knowing what she was doing to me, driving me crazy, "Look, Mr. Moore, don't you think they're a little too fat up here?" Oh, my god! Laura raised her skirt right up to her panties! I was like an insane fiend! I remember saying, "Oh, god, Laura, I've got to eat you!"
I went all to pieces, completely out of control. I pushed one leg over to the other side of me and I was in truth drooling on her naked upper thighs before my lips and mouth touched them. Then I went mad! I began to lick and mouth at the naked flesh wildly. I tried to get my tongue up into her crotch, past the elastic on her panties. She loved it too. Laura pulled the crotch aside and I feasted and feasted and feasted. She came a dozen times or more.
I took out my cock and she jumped off the desk and got down to suck me off. Oh, it was more than I dreamed would ever happen to me. And we did it dozens of times like that there in the office or out parked, finger-fucking in a theater.
Funny thing about Laura-that was all she would ever do-everything but fuck or really go to bed with you at a motel or hotel.
Q. Did your conscience bother you?
A. Not exactly. I felt guilty, but then I always felt guilty about something anyway. I justified that and the other times pretty easily. My wife I wasn't doing her duty by me. I always justified it that way. When I would sneak out a few dollars a week and save up to see a whore, I justified it that way too.
I became fairly well-acquainted with this woman who was a prostitute and also had some younger girls working for her. She was bisexual, just as filthy and perverted as I was. I liked her-uh, because we could talk the same language. I would listen to her tell about seducing teenage girls and licking the cunts and assholes and I jerked off at the same time.
I was completely free around her, nothing to be ashamed of. We took baths together. We played unbelievably childish games like "nurse and doctor." Can you believe that? A man in his thirties and a woman a few years older and we were like children playing sex games or playing house.
I would get silly notions and ideas. For instance, I wanted to pretend to be her son and she was to be Diana, the woman I fucked in the Army in Georgia. One night, I managed to sneak out my old Army uniform. I put it on in another room and then I knocked on her door. We had a regular scenario all figured out. "Gary! My son! You've come back!" she said. She hugged and kissed me, French-kissed me and I could feel the give of her breasts beneath that plain dressing gown.
"Mother," I said, "Oh, how I want to fuck you again. I've missed fucking you so much."
And she said, "But, Gary, you must have had a lot of good sex with those Italian girls-young ones too. Gary, sweetheart, let mother play with your cock and kiss it a little, while you tell me about them."
I dropped the trousers of my khaki uniform and she began to kiss and lick around my cock and balls and flick her tongue in my asshole. And I made up the wildest story I could think of. "Mother," I said, "You would just have loved to see these two young girls I found alone in a barn one day. They were about fifteen. I pulled up their dresses and played with their nice thighs and felt their pussies. Lots of hair on one, so I sucked it first. And mother! I could get my tongue way up into her asshole." Just as I said that, this woman shoved her own tongue as far up mine as it would go and I came all over her breasts.
I think she got as big a kick out of a lot of this as I did. She used to tell me I had the greatest imagination of any man she'd ever met. I was one of her favorites, I guess. I spent enough money with her, I should have been.
She let me have a fourteen year old girl's cherry once. It was a Negro girl-beautiful. It hurt her like hell and when she screamed and I saw the blood, I went wild. I fucked her all the harder. God, it was awful! I felt terrible afterwards. But I couldn't get it off my mind and neither could the woman. She said she knew I would like this new girl of hers, Sharon.
Sharon was a masochist, a tiny kid from the farm about twenty years old. I think she was on drugs, too. I used to tie her hands and legs and beat the shit out of her! When I fucked her, it was always in her ass where it hurt her the most. When she sucked me off, I rammed it as far in her throat as I could. When I came, I held her head there in an iron grip until she swallowed it all.
Q. What about the waitresses and other women you had some success with while you were married?
A. There was Ruth, about forty-five years old. She reminded me of Diana, big breasts and heavy thighs. She was divorced and had a son about twenty-eight. She worked at the restaurant where I usually ate lunch. I never directly approached her. I just didn't know how. We looked at each other in a way that told me something. There was something we saw in each other in a sexual way.
Well, I found out her phone number from an- other waitress and started calling her when I had a chance to. I didn't tell her who I was for over a week or so. We talked very much about sex. I told her I thought her tits must be the greatest things in the world. It built on up. We would masturbate ourselves as we talked. She would hold the phone down at her pussy so I could hear the juicy sounds. It was a tremendously sexy thing.
When I did tell her who I was, I was scared to death to go back to the restaurant for lunch. I usually sat in a booth alone, thank god. I was trembling all over and she was smiling very nicely when she brought me my martini. "Mmmm, so you're my passionate mystery lover," she whispered to me. "Listen, hon. When I turn around to get the soup off the cart, put your hand up to my pussy. No one can see. Go ahead."
My hand was shaking like a leaf, but I went ahead. The feel of those chubby thighs and the wet gooeyness between them made my cock jump up in my pants. She was like me. I felt so invigorated again with this new conquest. As she turned to look at me and put down the bowl of soup, I took my wet fingers and licked them deliberately, looking right into her eyes. I think it was about the most-well, daring thing, that I'd done in a long time. The way she looked back at me, oh, my god! She sighed and had an orgasm right there.
"Oh, hon, you are sexy!" she told me. "Can you come to my place for a little cozy loving tonight? Can you?" Of course, I told her I'd work it out in some way and I did. She was only wearing a robe when I got there. In a way, it was like Diana all over again. This time, the difference, the big difference was, that I was wild to eat her pussy. Oh, my god, I pushed her onto the couch and got down there and buried my head in it. I loved the taste of it. I couldn't stop.
Ruth was going crazy with it too. I had this total obsession with sucking her pussy and feeling her breasts. I could literally exhaust her, wear her out. I stayed down on her for three hours one night. I held it open as wide as I could. I stretched the lips apart until she cried but told me not to stop.
We would watch ourselves in the mirror while I sucked her and the thing that hit me one night, was when I had been sucking and licking her clit, all around her lips and then stretching those lips until I could get my tongue deep inside her vagina itself, for a long time and she said, "Oh, my sweet, darling boy ... oh, darling boy! I'm coming again!"
She lived far on the other side of town from me in a very modest neighborhood and I had this-this impulse one night, to leave the shades open and the lights on. She was so hot and a little drunk too. She would have agreed to anything. Oh, my god! The shades were wide open and the light on her dresser and night table both on.
In a little while, I could see that at least three people were watching us from the windows in the apartment building across the alleyway. I nearly went out of my mind with excitement. I went up her asshole with my tongue. I fucked her with more virility than ever. When she sucked me off, I pulled out at the last second, so that flooded her face with it. It was insane!
Ruth would only let me open the window shades like that if she was drinking and very hot.
Q. How long did this affair with Ruth last?
A. Over two years. I couldn't break away from her. The sexual attraction was too powerful. We had the same kind of minds about sex. We tried several times to pick up another girl, a very young girl. She was obsessed with the idea of wanting to suck off a young girl while I watched and you can imagine how wild I was for something like that.
The best we did was to get an eighteen year old girl up there drunk with us one night and I got her undressed. I was playing around with both of them, the most excited I'd been in ages, both naked and hot! Hot! I ate her pussy and she came once and then I started fucking her. Ruth got mad and pulled me off and went down on her like a mad woman. She was slobbering, mumbling, "Eat pussy-oh, goddamn young pussy!" she screamed. I stood up and started to jerk off. The sight was the answer to a million dreams and fantasies.
That goddamn kid! That girl sobered up in a second and called both of us perverts, queers. She really laid into us. She threatened to call the police. It scared the hell out of us both. The whole dismal episode sort of put a damper on our sex activities until Ruth called me at the office one afternoon and said I had to come by to see her that night.
Her twelve year old niece-quite a well developed and sexy twelve year old niece-was spending the night with her. The ideas that ran through my head were fantastic. But I began to worry too. A twelve year old girl! Oh, my god, I wanted to do everything with such a sexy child. But what if we were caught? I'd be ruined. My children would be disgraced for life and hate me. And I did love the boys. I wasn't the greatest father or a very close father, but the thought of their finding out-that they were old enough to fully realize the immensity of such a foul thing if I did get caught-it scared the hell out of me.
As it turned out, Ruth was smarter than I had given her credit for. She didn't have anything overt in mind. We sat there and looked at tv and Ruth and I felt each other up. The girl was sitting across from us. A mutual flood of ideas swam through both our insanely sexy minds as we looked at her delicious young legs.
When the girl went in to undress, Ruth and I took turns peeping through the old style keyhole. Oh, my god, what a beautiful sight. And then Ruth and I became so passionate, we decided to be partially undressed when the girl came out in her nightie. As it turned out, we were so far gone from all these sights and ideas, I was actually fucking Ruth on the couch when she came back out into the living room.
We had most of our clothes on, but we were obviously fucking. What the girl could not see, because of the semi-darkness, was that we were both watching her watch us. She was outlined by the light from the bedroom that shone through the hallways. The kid realized that she could be seen, but I don't think she knew we were watching-hardly that we wanted her to watch us. She very quietly tip-toed back and cut off the light, then returned to watch us.
"This made Ruth and I so damned hot that we took off the rest of our clothes and I sucked her pussy and she ate me before we started fucking again. We talked in very loud whispers so that the girl could hear. "Suck my pussy, darling," Ruth asked. And I said, "I'll suck out my come after I finish fucking you."
It was fantastic! And as our eyes became more accustomed to the darkness, we could see her standing there in a nightie, leaning against the door jamb and finger-fucking herself for dear life!
Q. It seems to me you led a pretty active sex life, extra-maritally. Women seemed to have been attracted to you. Right?
A. Not right-not really. Look at the type of women they were, doctor. Just as sex-crazed and fiendish as I was.
Q. Good. You realize that now. Fine. But you should also realize that if you did not have this personality problem that you could have had all the women you ever wanted. Correct? If you had been aggressive and been able to use a certain amount of charm and personality-
A. No! I couldn't let people know that I was the type who chased around after women. My god, there was my family and job. I had to do it very secretly and on the sly! I had to! Don't you understand?
Q. Of course, I understand, in view of your childhood background. Now, just take it easy, Frank. Tell me about the divorce, or first, tell me how long before the divorce you broke up with Ruth?
A. How did you know?
Q. Know what, Frank?
A. That Ruth threw me over when I got so that I had trouble getting hard and fucking her enough. Yes-and you know that from the time she threw me over until my divorce, I never lucked onto anything good again. For six years, I masturbated and looked up women's dresses and went to see sexy movies. Oh, shit! You know it all, goddamn you!
Q. Frank, you only assumed that I knew it all. Sure, I could have guessed at a few things. But you give me too much credit. I'm not your mother or your sister. I'm not snooping on you. Now tell me about the divorce. Why did you do it?
A. I'm sorry, doctor. The divorce? Ha! My dear sweet wife. I came in half loaded one night-this was after the kids were gone-and I told her that I was going to fuck the living shit out of her! I told her I was going to suck her pussy! I told her she was going to suck my cock and like it!
My god, she was my wife! I really wanted to go wild with her in sex. I wanted to eat her cunt! She wasn't that bad looking. It was just her attitude. Well, you can guess what happened. She told me I was drunk, which I was; that I was a sex-fiend, which I am; and that I had tried to force her into unnatural acts, which I had, according to the stupid, goddamn legal definitions.
We both hit each other. But I'll tell you one thing, I fucked her that night like she's never been fucked in her life! And never will be! But that was it. She liked the fucking. Oh, she loved it. It should have been the greatest kiss-and-make-up scene that was ever played. But no! The next morning, she had the preacher over. I felt like a bastard.
She got a lawyer and I got a lawyer. I knew I hadn't changed her. I had caught her in a weak moment, when I was drunk and had some guts. It would never work again. I was beat. The charges they had ready to file in that divorce suit would have made my boys think of me as nothing but a fiend all my life. My mother would have probably died from the shock-that was a little fact her attorney mentioned when he said that he might send a copy to my mother. Christ! My mother's over eighty and lives in a nursing home as it is.
So I took the easy way, paid for the three month trip to Nevada and didn't contest it. Yes, I was depressed and shook up for a little while. I didn't know what to do. But then when I masturbated by myself at night, I began to realize that I was free, free to start figuring out ways to implement things that had only been dreams and fantasies before. I was making good money in a good job and I was still in good health-not too old.
Q. Was that when you started keeping the diary?
A. Not at first. You see, it took me several weeks to realize that I was really free-well, I wasn't really free. I still had my reputation, my job, my two boys and their families, even though they were a long way off. Larry was with the army in Germany and Wayne worked out in California.
At first, I moved into a small apartment and acted pretty much as I always had. I worked a lot of extra hours. I masturbated a lot when I was at home.
I think it was one weekend when I had nothing to do at the office that I realized I could go out looking for sex, that my time was my own. The first thing I did was to go to a theater where they were showing one of those Swedish sex films and a short subject about a lesbian romance. I was so worked up after that, I knew I had to have a female.
I had lost contact with the prostitutes I'd known. Oh, I could have found out where some were and I certainly had the money to afford it. But that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted something different that I could achieve on my own. I wandered around aimlessly through a couple of downtown parks, and-ha! I was approached by three goddamn queers, hustlers. That made me mad as hell. I cursed them all three pretty severely-scum!
Q. Frank, I think you'll admit that you're not generally the aggressive type. Why-or how-did you get up the nerve to curse them out?
A. They were goddamn fags! Queers! You don't think I'm afraid of some goddamn queer, do you?
Q. Go ahead. What happened then?
A. Well, I tried everything I knew how. I walked through the parks and smiled at the young girls, kids mainly. I-uh-you know, I would look down at their legs or up their dresses, smile and lick my lips. They either walked away or just looked at me dumb, as if they didn't understand.
I went to another movie, a regular movie, but pretty sexy at that. I tried the downstairs and the balcony-must have changed my seat a dozen times. It was too crowded, too many ushers, hardly any women or girls sitting alone and far enough away from others. I had put a rubber on and I was rubbing my cock through my trouser pocket on the right. See, I had already cut out that pocket before I left the apartment that morning. Now that was something I could never have done when I was married because my wife would have seen it and known.
Anyway, with my coat on, I could play with my cock and keep it hard walking through the parks. In the sex movie I had almost come, but had decided to save it. I wanted something real so damned badly! Up in the balcony, I finally found a seat way on the back row behind this soldier and his blond girlfriend. They were loving it up. I could watch them easily by just leaning forward a little and resting my left elbow on the vacant seat in front of me.
He was kissing her very passionately and he had a hand up her skirt. I could just barely make out the flesh above her stockings. They were too hot to notice either me or the movie. I think she had a handkerchief or something holding it inside his fly. I could tell by their movements that they were working up to a climax and I went right along with them. I think we all three came at the same time.
When I was cleaning my cock off in the men's room and disposing of the rubber, I realized how nice it was to watch them and jerk it off so I could feel my naked balls and a lot of my cock. But I was not completely satisfied. I knew-somehow I knew that the day for me was not over. A sixth sense seemed to be telling me something. No, I wasn't ready to go home to my little apartment for the night and cook a little steak or tv dinner, hoping that maybe somebody across the street would leave a shade open. It was a long way across the street too. I had nearly jerked off one evening watching a person undress and I found out it was a man! I needed some binoculars, but I hadn't bought them yet.
I walked several blocks until I found myself in a pretty shoddy part of town. It was a heavily Negro neighborhood, just short of being a ghetto. I was becoming hungry too, as it was past eight in the evening. This smell, this beautiful smell hit me very suddenly. My mouth was watering! Coney Islands! You know, hot dogs with a real spicy chili sauce and covered with onions! I hadn't had any since I'd been a kid and we used to get them at these places downtown or from a vendor or at the luncheonette at the dime stores.
The place where the delicious smell came from was an awful-looking joint! Joe's Cafe. I looked in the window and saw an old, beat-up bar with about half drunks and the other half Negroes and pretty low-class people. But there were some women! The waitress was big-busted and not too old. There were two young and pretty good-looking Negro girls sitting at the bar! There were some women in the booths. No beauties, but not bad. And except for some of them in the booths, they seemed to be unattached.
When I walked in, it was obvious from my clothes and the odd way I'm sure I looked-nervous, unsure, maybe snobbish-that I wasn't the usual type character seen in there. I was nervous too. I ordered a double shot of Harper's and a beer. Ha! Of course, they didn't carry Harper's. Too expensive. I tried to make a joke about it and told the bartender to give me whatever he thought was good and a beer. I ordered two Coney Islands and told him to make the chili-sauce and onions thick. "Yes, sir!" The way he said it, made me feel good, you know. He was a middle-aged Negro and I think he owned the place. I think he took a sense of pride in getting the feeling that his Coney Island's smell had drawn me in there.
I ate them pretty quickly and I downed the whiskey first. I was into my second or third beer after that, when I began to feel very, very comfortable. I had looked over the people-all Negroes, working class whites. But they smiled at me or kind of nodded in a friendly way. I didn't want to overdo anything, but I felt so liked by everybody, I pulled out a twenty dollar bill and told the man to "set up the house-whatever they're drinking-or want to drink."
He came back with that very pleased, "Yes, I sure will."
The Negro man next to me thanked me-they all thanked me. But then he said to me, "Hey, mac, you must be celebrating. What happened. You just git a divorce from your old lady or some-thin'?" That did it! I burst out laughing and told everybody there that I had just gotten a divorce and that I was celebrating. I took out another twenty and set up the house again.
I became pretty high, of course and this Negro girl about twenty-five-her name was Linda-she sort of migrated to me. I have no particular prejudices. I work with Negro professional people as well as janitors. But I had never socialized with them. Never at all. Linda-she made me terribly excited sexually. She was pretty dark Negro, youngish and pretty face, thick and sexy lips. Her body was, well, it was just right. She had on a skirt and sweater, tits stuck out very cute, pretty. Her ass and legs-lovely!
Before too long, we were sitting in a back booth holding hands and I was kissing her too. It seemed very, very daring, offbeat, so sexy, so stimulating. When our lips met, Linda had a way of slipping her tongue right to my mouth. Her hands would slide down beneath my belt to feel my cock (and rub it. Finally she whispered to me, "You like Negro girls, don't you?"
"I like you," I squeaked, very nervous and then I felt I just had to tell her-had to. I said very bravely, forth rightly, "Linda, I like crazy things in sex. Maybe you won't like me so much if you know the things I like to do."
"Try me, darlin'," she whispered and I felt the tip of her tongue in my ear and her hot breath driving me to distraction, "Try tellin' me what you like. You like to suck black cunt, darling? You like to see my lips suckin' that sweet, hard, white cock? Mebbe you like what I like. Tell me?"
I told her, "Linda, I like all that and more. I want to put my hands all over your big ass and spread those beautiful cheeks, kiss you there. I'd like to masturbate in front of you and you masturbate, sitting on the floor, let me come all over your tits. Oh, Linda, I'd like to watch somebody else fuck you, watch a white girl suck your pussy. Oh, god, Linda, I'm crazy for you."
"Oh, you beautiful white fucker!" she whispered in my ear. She did it in a hissing way. It made me so goddamn wild, I almost came in my pants when she squeezed my cock real hard and said, "Lissen, darlin, I ain't no whore. I like you. You like what I like. I knows this man live in the same apartment buildin' I do. He got a daughter about sixteen. If you could maybe spare twenty or thirty, she'll come play with us."
I told her I was a little scared about being involved with a girl so young. She explained that the father was a drunk and would do anything for money. The mother worked two jobs, one of which she would be on until midnight. I took another drink. It seemed like a dream was going to come true. Yes! I had to go through with it. I would go through with it! I was about out of money, but I knew a drugstore near my apartment building that would cash a check for me.
The next day I began my diary. Oh, I didn't have a regular diary book, as you can see. And I certainly didn't start out with "Dear Diary" every day, like some schoolgirl. Sometimes I'd use up a whole note pad for one day. Other days, nothing. I just kept a good supply of those thick, lined note-pads on hand and when I finished one, I dropped it in my box there, all in order.
Q. When you wrote these events up, Frank, did you become aroused again-masturbate?
A. Yes, most of the time I did, to tell the truth. Sometimes I was too tired out, exhausted from sex, but I still wanted to be sure I got it all written down. I would become aroused, but I wouldn't jerk off. I'd finish writing it up, take another drink or have a beer and doze off to a very satisfied sleep. Uh-if it had been a particularly satisfying and unusual event.
Q. Like the time with Linda and the young girl?
A. Yes, that was quite something. I stayed with Linda all night, long after the girl had to leave. We had quite a little affair for a while. It was the next day, Sunday, when I got the idea for the diary. I was dead tired. I had some of these big notepads I'd brought from the office, just to doodle on or do some figuring. I started writing it up that Sunday afternoon and I kept drinking too.
It took me an hour or more to write it up with some pauses. I was so exhausted that I didn't really want to masturbate. I fell asleep with a feeling of great comfort and satisfaction when I finished writing about it.
Q. No guilt-feelings about the girl?
A. Uh-not really-not at the time. I rationalized it all. You've read the diary. I didn't do anything to her that was new. She'd sold herself for sex before. Only later, sometimes weeks or months, after that I would have guilt-feelings. Now I'm on tranquilizers, anti-depressants. Now I do have some very serious bouts of guilt. I can't marry this wonderful woman unless I become cured. Or unless I let her know what kind of a beast I am.
Q. You were forty-five years old when you started the diary and you're now forty-seven, right?
A. Yes-uh, it's been almost two years since I was divorced. The diary covers over eighteen months.
The things I've done! I can't believe it really happened. How could I have become so depraved and filthy? I'm just a typical dirty old man, I guess. I've got to stop it, but I can't.
The recorded portions of the interview just revealed should be of great help to the reader in establishing the psychodynamics of the case of Frank Moore. Here is a man who had to "sneak around" all of his life because of being dominated by an overbearing, overly-strict mother and older sisters.
The mother had so distorted and twisted her role as a parent and guardian of her son's morality, her personality had so clashed with his constitutional make-up, that we might almost assume this is the sole cause of his condition today. While Frank denies any thought of an incest-wish involving his mother, the idea of incest (auth. note: and inter-related elements of pedophilia) dominate his life.
While there was no time cycle discernible in Frank's various pursuits and the form of desire many of them took, they are distinguishable in many respects. His affair with Linda, his obsession with eighteen year old Jean, his peeping Tom project, his devious and inventive period, his private trip to Europe-all of these were, in a way, individual episodes or periods during the behavioral depressions of his DOM complex in its manifestation.
In view of this, I will present each chapter as a separate episode and include within each chapter the more germane entries in his diary. In some cases, there may be a slight overlap, but this is only natural, as he often seemed to evolve from one "kick" to the next.
The remainder of this volume then, is from Frank's diary, as he wrote it, with only minor editorial changes to conceal the true identities of those involved.
Chapter Three
LINDA
Saturday, Jan. 6 Not a bad looking apartment house where Linda lived. Old, well kept, nicely dressed Negroes. Very self-conscious. No need to be. No one looked at me funny or said anything. Linda told me many white people visited tenants there. White people used to live in some of the apartments.
My heart beat faster when we went in her small efficiency. Very neat. Linda was a typist and made good money for a young Negro woman. Watched ass. Let her walk in ahead of me. Flared skirt would sway at her shapely legs, but contoured over her big ass. I rubbed my cock through trousers. Hard as a rock.
"Jus' put the beer in the refrigerator, darlin'," she told me. She was very uninhibited, spirited, happy. I put the beer in the refrigerator and then I grabbed her and tongue-kissed her. I put my hands down back of her ass, pulled up her skirt and felt the naked, soft flesh of her upper thighs, slipped hands underneath pants to feel the young black ass.
"Damn! You hard so much you gotta watch it, darlin,'" Linda said. "You save the first shot for when I get Becky up here. You gonna love her little ass. An' she ain't got much fuzz at all on her little cunt."
I was beside myself! "Have you seen her naked before?" I asked.
"My boyfrien' that I broke up with las' week," Nancy told me, "He saved himself up some money so we could have her up one night. I sucked her cunt for him. That's what you like to see, don'tcha?"
I felt her delicious rounded ass again, parting cheeks to try to find the asshole. Told her for god's sake to hurry and get that young sex-child. Masturbated into Kleenex as soon as she left. Couldn't hold it. No problem, as hot as I was. I figured it would take a few minutes to negotiate with Becky. My mind was sexed to its greatest. No trouble in working up another hard before she returned. Flushed Kleenex down the toilet and milked out the remaining come. Not a strong ejaculation. Still hot and horny with the thoughts of Linda and Becky. Wondered, what would Becky look like? A sixteen year old Negro kid! Oh! What a sensation, looking forward to this!
Perspiring very much. Had another beer and cigarette. Wondered for one terrible moment if I had forgotten to give Linda the money. Remembered I gave it to her in the car. I jumped a mile when the door opened, Goddamn! Becky was standing there holding Linda's hand. Both smiling and looked at me so natural. Becky could have been Linda's sister! What a thought! A very cute and plumpish young colored girl in a very short dress. Nice legs! Very, very nice ass! Like Linda promised. Cute face. And so damned natural. Smiling.
"This here's my new boyfrien', Becky," Linda told her. They both advanced toward where I was seated on the sofa-bed. I wasn't trembling. Very consciously aware. Liquor had put me in just the right mood. I couldn't keep eyes off those legs in that short dress.
"How you do, sir," the lovely young Negro girl said to me.
"I'm fine, sweetheart," I replied. "And how are you?"
She looked at me the strangest way for just a moment. Replied, "I'm okay, thank you. Linda,' she tell me you'd think I had such pretty legs. You really think I got sexy legs, Mr. Moore?"
I was shook up then, plenty. I told her I thought they were just beautiful. No nervousness as I reached over and lifted her skirt to her hips. She stood still and smiled when my eyes devoured the dark tan nakedness of her shapely upper thighs, the rounded ass under a tight pair of white, cotton panties. "See, Frank? I tol' you that she was good enough to eat," Linda said. She closed the door quickly and came on in. I smoothed my hands up over her thighs and ass.
"Why don't you let me take off those panties," I told her. She helped me get them down to her feet, then tossed aside. Linda held up one side of her dress. I held up other. She was between us on the sofa-bed. Linda and I both took hold of a leg and gently pulled them apart. She had a pretty slit, longer than I'd expected.
Linda put her fingers down there and opened the other girl's cunt. Oh, good Lord! Those sweet pink insides. Becky giggled like the teenage girl she was. "You got it hard, Frank?" Linda asked me. "Come on, take that cock out so Becky can see what a nice hard cock a white man has, because she never seen a white cock before. Have you, honey?"
"No, Linda," she answered laughing. "I seen my daddy's, an' my brother's and I seen the one you other gen'leman frien' done had, an' I seen two what Daddy show'd me on his frien's when they was havin' a drink party."
I had been playing with it naked under my clothes, through my pocket. Coat was already off. I unbuckled trousers. Stood up and pulled shorts and trousers to the floor. Beautiful hard-on. I felt very proud to see it sticking up so straight. "Oh, sweet white man!" Linda exclaimed. I saw the sudden fury of a savage passion in her dark eyes. They broadened, became bigger when she saw my cock. She leaned all the way across Becky, grabbed it and took it in her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down. A real cocksucker. I was in heaven!
Becky watched with wide eyes. She looked at me, then down to Linda's sucking. "I can suck it too," she told me in that cute voice. With her saying that, I could feel cock stiffen harder. This child actually licking lips, leaning over to kiss me on mouth and grabbing my neck. Linda so good on cock. Big lips very sexy. Tongue working too.
I had Becky lie on sofa-bed next to me so I could kiss her legs. I kissed thighs very high, Delicious. Turned her over. I parted the big cheeks. I licked wildly and as deeply as I could while grasping at her thighs. She giggled more. What a sex child. To think! So young, only sixteen!
I was obsessed to eat her. Had to suck her pussy. She turned to face me and pulled off dress. All naked! I licked her sweet tummy, tongued her navel, went down. Funny feeling, very little hair at all. Nothing but soft flesh until the slit. Slipped tongue in slit right at top and began to work it fast, hoping to get at clit. Success!
"Oh, Frank!" the girl said, "That feel pow'ful good! You better than anybody I ever had!"
What a chick, I thought. What experience! Unbelievable!
"Umh-um!" Linda objected with a grunting noise. Her lips slipped off of my cock and she moved back. It was as if she were jealous of my eating Becky. Within seconds, Linda had pushed me away. She had Becky half-reclining up at the end of the sofa-bed, legs apart. Linda was eating her as if she had gone mad for it. Her big ass up in the air. I was so hard. No problem. I got up behind her and slipped it in from the rear. She was so wet! So ready. She ate and ate on Becky, but moved her big ass so much I knew she loved my fucking. Easy to tell when she would have orgasms.
What a delicious sight! Me fucking from rear and watching her eat Becky, the younger girl looking at me so intensely, both of us trying to stretch across Linda's back to kiss on the mouth. No good. When Becky leaned over, Linda could not keep her mouth and tongue at Becky's cunt. I began to ram much harder, getting ready to come very strongly.
"Don't do that yet-wait a minute!" Linda called out. She reached back to try to push my cock out. "Let's see how far you can get it in her!" she asked. I wasn't afraid. I thought of how many times this girl had been used and abused. Her life was ruined anyway.
Difficult to get into position. Becky was so tight, it must have hurt her. She grimaced and grabbed hold of Linda's hand. Linda told her, "Don't you worry, jus' let's see how far in he can go. You tell me how bad it hurts." I moved slowly in and out of the girl. I was mad with passion. I wanted very, very badly to ram it into her and come. God, I was so ready!
"Don't go no farther in," Linda told me, "I want to take it-pull out when you come-real fast. Okay, darlin'?"
I nodded. Linda got down and began to look at us fucking from just a few inches away. She was licking her lips, mumbling something and moved in closer, her tongue was licking all over my cock's three or four inches that I didn't have in Becky. She licked equally sexy on Becky's lips that would pull out with my outward stroke. Linda's delicious brown body was moving and swaying. My left hand on her underbelly, her cunt! Oh, what sex! Like a dream.
Linda mumbled beautifully wild obscenities as she paused between licks. My finger slid from her wet cunt to her asshole. Pushed two wet fingers in asshole. Linda was at peak. So was I. Felt myself getting ready to start coming and pulled out. All of this happening at once!
The come started flowing and gushing and Linda tried desperately to get her mouth on my cock. She sucked me almost dry. Licked around Becky's belly. She fingered Becky a moment. All sitting on sofa-bed, Linda brought our three heads together and we exchanged kisses, hugs and caresses. My hands kept playing over their two bodies. Relaxed, beautiful feeling. We drank beer, talked. Becky had chocolate milk. Funny. Almost the color of her naked flesh.
I couldn't believe it! Becky's lips on my cock. Linda talking sex to her, telling her what to do. As if she needed instruction. I was getting so hard again. Idea in mind-shoot off hard in her mouth! Ram that cock in down her throat and make her take it all! Hold her head until she sucks every last drop! Insane, beautiful. Who cares?
"Darlin'," Linda said to me with a frown on her nice face, grabbed my shoulder, "This girl got to get back before her mother gets home. You come on now an' save that load for me. I want to get fucked by that white cock." She had to push me away, or I would have let go in Becky's mouth.
Disappointed, only temporarily. Becky got her clothes on very quickly and let her out the door. She spread her delicious body out on the bed in front of me. I stroked my cock to keep it hard, throbbing.
"Sweetheart," she called to me, arms outstretched, "Fuck me. That's it, keep it stone-hard, fuck me!" I guided it into her. Went slow to keep from coming too fast. "Oh, shit! Oh, fucker, motherfucker Linda started crying, "Fuck me hard, hard!" I rammed it up her pussy until it couldn't possibly go farther, stroking hard. Threw both arms around me talking of sex and love, biting my ears and neck. Fingernails clawed my back. Felt her thighs wrap up around my ass.
"Hold 'em up! Get it deeper! Then come, come!" Linda screamed at me. She threw her legs up and I helped her place them up against my shoulders. Wonderful fucking position. I could ram deeper, but not much longer. I used all my strength and rammed hard until I was coming strong, very strong.
We lay there in each other's arms. Talking. Smoking a cigarette. Naked bodies wet and warm. "You got a wife, I bet," she said quietly, "This gonna be it-no more?" I replied, "No, Linda, I want to see you again. I'm not married, but I can't-"
"Don't say any more," she told me, "Jus' tell me if you'll come see me again? Have a drink with me and buy me dinner at Joe's or something. It won't hurt you. Nobody gonna see you there. You like things I like. I want me a white lover for a while."
I told her I would see her more, I meant it. Rubbed her body. Hot and horny, but erection difficult. We lay side by side. She twisted around. Sixty-nine side by side. Her thigh over my shoulder. Mine over hers. Very easy and leisurely. Long session of sucking, licking, pausing to say things, talking trash, she called it.
One hour, maybe two, we were both in heat again. I was very hard. Momentum picked up, both sucking hard again. Beautiful. Tired, but beautiful. That one last climax to draw out, drain out. Very good, very mutual.
Sunday, Jan. 7 Better start new day. Not too accurate. Sunday actually started during great fuck right after Becky left, shortly before midnight. It is now after two pm and I am very sleepy. Had bacon and eggs, two cans of beer writing this. Very good feeling. Not horny. Ready to go to sleep. Office early tomorrow. Big project.
Monday, Jan. 8 It was hard to concentrate on work this morning. Very uneasy and nervous. Liquor, too much, had its effect too. Back to reality-Frank Moore, senior statistician. Had I really gone down to that Joe's place with its drunks, working class Negroes? Had I really been with Linda and Becky? Incredible. I had to knock it from my mind to concentrate on work. Awful.
At lunch time, I had a quick sandwich and salad at the cafeteria, then walked down the street. Linda and Becky clouded everything else from my mind. No awful feeling. Tender and sexy feeling for Linda. A very pretty Negro girl. Clean, exciting, fresh, young! A Negro and a little clerk-typist working somewhere in the huge maze of buildings probably right down town here.
Crazy idea in front of jewelry store window, remembering the cheap watch with a leather band Linda wore. Saw they had my credit card service. Impulsively bought $89.50 watch. Crazy?
Drawn like a magnet after my tv dinner and looking at tv news in apartment. Took a cab to within a block of Joe's Cafe. Could have called. Had her phone number. But knew she would be at Joe's. Knew it instinctively. Yes, there she was. Sitting at bar dressed up, one Negro man at each side, talking and laughing. I clutched at the little box in my pocket that held the watch. I shivered a bit in the cold.
I was not afraid of the two Negro men, their being jealous. What if Linda just looked at me and said, "Hi" and that was it. Stupid, crazy me! Had I been crazy to go out and spend ninety dollars on a watch for some cheap, lush, drunken tramp of a sex perverted Negro girl in her twenties? Me-Frank Moore, senior statistician. What a fool a man can make of himself, I thought, what a fool!
Shivering again, needed a double of that good whiskey Joe had. To hell with it. I walked right in and sat down at the very front of the bar, looked out window, away from Linda and her friends. Joe greeted me like an old friend. Served me the double and I asked for another. No other talk. He sensed my strange feeling. I peeped slowly to my right. Looked in bar mirror. Joe saying something to Linda. Her face lit up! She smiled so pleasantly!
"Hey, sweetheart!" she called to me, "You try t'call me at home? I tol' my neighbor to watch out for the phone and I give her my key so she could tell you where I was. Come on over."
She felt great, looked great. Introduced me to the two men. I shook hands. Felt very uncomfortable, but admired her body in the tight sheath dress of many colors. She was a beauty of a Negro woman. I felt a tingling sensation at my cock. Felt better after I finished second drink. We excused ourselves and went to sit together alone in back booth.
"You wanted me to come, call you?" I asked her.
"Darlin', I want you to come in my pussy or my mouth or in my ass (she squeezed my cock and pushed closer to me), I don't care where. You can come all over my titties, if you want. I been so horny all day, I had to go to the ladies' room twice to wipe off my hot cunt. Goddamn, you make me want sex. You the sexiest fuckin white man I ever had-jus' about the only one."
"Have you had others?" I asked her. I was becoming very excited. The people weren't watching us anymore. There was another man, a white man in a booth loving up a Negro girl. I wanted her to tell me about sexy things. Linda's voice was as sexy and obscene as her body when she whispered to me like this.
"I had two others," she told me, frowning, "But you don't care?" I assured her that I did not by saying, "No-no, baby. It makes me sexy to hear you talk. Tell me about them, please! Were they good? How did you meet them? How big were their cocks?"
"Down, boy," she told me with a laugh, squeezing my hardening cock, "Darlin,' I do anything for you. You wanta hear me talk trash, you jus' call me on the phone. You wanta hear about those other two white men, just you ask me. You want me tell you here, or up in my apartment?"
"We can go to your apartment later. Tell me now," I asked her. I wanted it this way, the secret feeling of each other, being almost out in public, sneaking sex kicks in front of everybody.
"A white man got my cherry when I was fourteen," she told me. Her voice was straight, not sexy, until she got into the story about it. She went on, "No complaint, darlin'. It jus' happen that way. I was going aroun' this place after school t'watch the boys from the white high-school play football. This was down South, honey, an' this white man, he was always teasin' me with talkin' trash. He was a nice guy, buy me candy or somethin'. He was about thirty-five, maybe forty year old.
"He'd say, 'Girl, you sure got a pretty ass on you,' an' I'd say, 'Aw, white man, hush you mouth or I gonna tell your wife.'
And then one day, he look at me real funny, an' he say, 'Girl, I got twenty dollar here says you ain't got no cherry.' The goddamn mothah!
I got mad, but he says the only way I could prove was to let him fuck it. Darlin'? Do you know what twenty dollar mean to a girl in a little cotton mill town? My father didn't make much more'n that in a week! So I'd fucked around suck-in' off boys an' playin' with cocks. Shit, I seen my mother and father fuckin' a dozen times. I said to him, 'Okay, man. But where you goin' t'do it?' He tol' me he'd meet me nine that night in his carpenter shop an' he give me the address.
"That son of a bitch. That was the first time I learn some real freakish things. He got his money's worth, I tell you. Darlin', he had a cock bigger'n my father's. He dropped his pants an' I get to feelin' it up hard. He took off my clothes. I thought I was in a beauty contest. He ask me walk aroun' an' talk trash about my sexy ass an my titties, an' he get these two wooden tables together and I knew he was up to somethin' crazy!
"He pull them tables apart about two feet, an' he walk me in between them. He make me set up on one. Then I lie down an put my feet and bottom legs over on the other one. An' he was standin' on the floor between my legs! I was buck ass-nekkid, an' he slip his fat cock in my little pussy. He take it easy an' slide it around. That felt good, 'til he start pushin' more in. But he also have his arms down around under my ass an' was sticking a finger in my asshole. Fuckin' my ass with that finger too.
"Oh, shit, it hurt! He busted through my goddamn cherry. Blood all comin' out an' me scared. He jus' fucked away. He wouldn' stop. An' he picks up a great big candlestick he had there jus' ready, an' he jam that thing all the way up my asshole. He say it feel good to feel where that candlestick hit the head of his prick inside me. He kept on fuckin' an' fuckin' an' fuckin' I don' know what hurt worse, my asshole or my pussy. When he come, he still fuck it hard! Some men like that, they come an' stay half hard 'til it stiff up again.
"I was cryin'! Oh, shit, I was cryin'. He don' care. He turn me over so I was hangin' off that table, an' he kick back that other table. He pull out that candlestick, an' he jam the head of his dick in my asshole. 'No, godammit!' I tol' him.
" 'Fuck your ass, nigger girl,' he said to me. An' goddamn, he jam that fat cock up in my ass 'til I was bleedin' at both holes.
"Oh, yeah, he get his cock off. He clean me up an' put on some medicine that burn like hell. An' he was honest and faithful. He gimme the twenty dollar. Now, darlin', you happy I tol' you about that mother-fucker?"
"Yes," I told her. I was panting, hot, ready to go off in my trousers, her hand rubbing it so hard, "God, Linda, tell me more. Tell me about the other white man?"
"Naw, you gotta fuck me first. I want that cock, darlin'. Come on. We goin' t'my rooms and fuck like shit!" I held my coat in front of my bulging trousers when we left. In the cab, we kissed and fingered around. Her panties were soaked. My cock was dripping from the glands that precede orgasm.
When we got to her apartment, it was strange that she had to suck me up again. She sucked it and talked trash. "Looka that cock. Ah! That cock gonna fuck my cunt and fuck my ass. We gonna fuck an' suck all night. Ya-ah!" When she did get it hard, no problem. I fucked her almost half an hour. Wonderful control. In side position, from rear and from front. I told Linda I had to go to work and could not stay all night. She was crying. Wanted my cock in her asshole. It was awful for me. Terrible trouble to get hard and stay hard to get in her asshole. I couldn't do it. Gave up. Cried like a goddamn baby at my failure. Linda finger-fucked her asshole while I sucked her cunt. I finger-fucked it too. She said she had a terrific orgasm. She loved my brand of sex.
Before I left, gave her the watch. Felt stupid and like an idiot. She cried. She said it was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to her. She told me-can't forget it, worried me, made me feel strange-"I love you, Frank. No, don't say nothin'. You don' have to love me, jus' fuck me an use me. I don' ask nothin'. You give me that watch, darlin'. That wasn' no money. That was from your heart. You don' need t'say nothin'. I love you, Frank. You white fucker!"
I'm drinking too much tonight as I write this in my diary. New project at work. Resolved: Work every night this week. Forget Linda. No good.
Saturday, January 13 Worked all day today on new project. No contact Linda. Many thoughts each night. Too much masturbation. Called her at eight pm. Girl answered, told me to call her at Joe's. I called her and told her to get a cab to my place, I'd pay.
Very strange feeling to have her walk in my little apartment and look around. "You been real busy all week?" she asked me. "Too much work," I couldn't help it. I ran to her and threw my arms around her. Told her I'd been going crazy thinking about fucking her, sucking her. No trouble with getting good erection, thirty minute fuck. Then talk.
"Tell me about the other white man who fucked you?" I whispered that to her. We were naked and still feeling each other's wetness. My come was in her pussy. My fingers sluiced through it. I felt very excited still. My prick was limp but wanting to go on to something else. Strange feelings.
"Okay, darlin'," Linda said, "I need to go pee, but I gonna tell you this first, then when I go pee you gonna hold my hand an' watch me piss it." What filth! I loved her ideas. Her mind was filthy as mine. I had three fingers working her. She moved around as she told me about the man.
"I was a file clerk in this office when I first come t'town. I couldn't type or nothin' else. My boss, he was a big man about fifty year old. Ugly? What a ugly mothah, he was. Aw, he like my ass! He love t'watch it wiggle when I walk aroun', an' I let him get his sees when I was workin' on the file cab'nets.
"Jeff-that was his name but I called him mister then-he tol' me I could make a grade three if I could type, so he start give me typing lessons after work until I could pass the minimum exam. He rub my titty a little and kiss aroun'. I don care. He got me that promotion.
"Aw, he was a big fat mothah! But his cock? It was about three inches long full stiff. When I feel down for it, he was so embarrass, he try to pull away. I didn' laugh. I felt sorry for him. That made him feel good when I took it out en' play an' kiss it. He tol' me, 'Linda, honey, you know why I been doin' all this for you, don'tcha?' I tol' him I reckoned he wanted some pussy, a piece a my ass.
"Crazy! That son of a bitch didn' wanta fuck or eat my ass or pussy! He want me to come to this room he rented and to whip the shit outa him! Goddamn! Jeff would get himself naked and ask me t'tie him up to th'bed and beat him 'til he cried! I thought it was crazy 'til after the first time. There I was a little ol' nigger gal from the South, an' he was the big boss. He was tied up there, an' he say to me, 'Linda, you got me where you can do anything. I want you to beat on me with that stick. Use that whip. Use my mouth for a toilet bowl.'
"Yeah, I got excited, darlin'. I got my lacks knockin' him aroun'. I whip his ass. I turn him over an' tie him on his belly. I whip his ass good again. I tie him on his back. Damn! I whip his tiny little prick, call him a no-good, mothahfuckin' son of a bitch white trash bastard! He love it. That little prick come up hard and the come start squirtin' out.
"I did that to him almos' every week for a while. Then he wants me t'git some little Negro boys so he can suck their dicks. I tell you, darlin', I wanted t'see that. I wanted t'see that. So I got some boys lined up, an' Jeff pay them boys five dollars a piece t'let me watch him suck those little cocks, while I was standin' there with my garter-belt and stockin's on, buzzin' myself off with a goddamn vibrator. Man! You don't think there some crazy people in this world?"
"You think I'm crazy too, don't you?" I asked Linda. I was hard again, my penis throbbing. I had the clear picture of this old man sucking off all those kids. Why it excited me, I don't know. I liked the idea better of having Linda let me fuck her in just her garter belt and stockings.
"No, darlin'," she answered my question, "I love you, jus' love you, that's all. We're like the same. Let's do somethin' different. Got any ideas?"
My only idea then was to do it with her stockings on. Exciting. Sexy. Wonderful.
Sunday, January 14 Still fucking after midnight. She had thrown the ball to me.
"Lick my asshole," I told her. Her tongue was soft and furry at my ass. Mouth twisted around between the cheeks. Great, wonderful feeling. Big hard-on coming.
"You got to fuck my ass too. You promised," Linda said. The poor girl was almost crying. My being master made me feel good. An impulsive idea exploded in my mind.
"Come on," I told her. "I'll fuck your ass."
I was insanely wild with passion and sadistic feelings. Goddamn her! That was the way I felt at that moment. But I really cared for her in some way I can never explain. I've tried to think it out as I write this, very sobered after much coffee tonight.
In the bathroom, I had her stand inside the tub at the side where one steps out. To get her into the position that was flooding my sex-crazed mind, she had to be a contortionist. But I made her do it. I made her do it. She leaned over as if to touch her toes. I spread her legs apart a little, forced her down farther. Very difficult. Tub so narrow. She was crying in a way that was telling me she was in terrible pain but that she loved it. Passions pain? Pain's passion?
I started very warm water running full blast in tub.
I spread the cheeks of her ass and saw the tiny puckered hole, spread wetness from vagina. The more she complained, the harder I got. Sadistic pleasure! I was panting, perspiring all over. Hot in bathroom. Only the head would get in a little way, only a little way into the pucker. I used Vaseline on my cock and pushed it up her asshole with fingers.
"Hurry up, goddamn you!" Linda cried.
"Shut your goddamn black nigger mouth!" I told her. I felt a surge of passion and hate roll up. I hated myself for allowing this stupid Negro girl to ensnare me, be at my apartment. I beat her across her buttocks without mercy as I cursed her.
Crying, she sobbed, "Oh, Frank! Frank! Fuck my goddamn nigger ass! Fuck it!"
I went mad and out of control. Grabbed her by the hips and forced with all my might. Cock slipped in anus muscles and pushed in. Linda screamed like she was dying. Began to moan like a maniac. Oh! Oh! What crazed passion. I held on tightly and rammed it into her asshole with deep thrusts. Her crying and screaming made it all more insane, water from bathtub now splashing out on floor.
When that was over, we showered together. Soaped each other's bodies and rubbed clean with wash rags, played and laughed. Put bar of soap all way into vagina. Linda pulled it in farther with vaginal muscles. I had to reach inside to bring it out. Put bar nearly all the way in. Linda made it move around and then could expel it from her cunt forcefully by using vaginal muscles.
Linda fixed a good meal for us at noon, following about six hours' sleep in each other's arms in my bed. Still uneasy feeling about Negro girl in my bed. Never thought much about bias or prejudice before. Wondered all of this to myself before she woke up. Why did I call her "nigger?" why did she call herself that?
I suddenly found that I could say nothing more to Linda. We sat there at the table after eating. We stared at each other. I think we both realized that sex was the only thing we really had in common. A very lonely feeling stirred inside me and remains there as I write this tonight. I will not call her again. I am tired of her. I feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for myself. Not seriously, but a thought of suicide flashed through my mind. It is flashing through it now. Since I took Linda home this afternoon, my life feels empty and useless.
Later, I took a very long walk, several miles, I think. It's almost midnight now very sleepy. Hard to write, missing punctuations, misspelling. Passed window of girl undressing. Future. Something to live for. New girl coming to work at office in two weeks. Very young. Saw her during joint interview. Young and innocent. Wears mini-skirts.
Chapter Four
JEAN
Sunday, February 4 In apartment most of day. Masturbated five times. Very regretful feeling over picking up the prostitute last night. Fifty dollars! What kind of man am I. Like new masturbating trick she taught me. Use Q-Tip with Vaseline to stick up urethra when penis is hard. Very painful sensation to keep it forced in there when coming. The ejaculation cannot come out or it slips around and oozes out.
Crazy. Sat on bed in front of closet door mirror to watch myself masturbate this way. Better idea when I brought legs up in air and grabbed them with my arms around knees, look between them at my asshole. Very stimulating. Slipped arms down. Slight strain keeping legs up, but not bad. Held open cheeks of ass and could finger-fuck my own asshole while watching. Got Vaseline to make it easier. Remembered candle Linda had told me about.
I dressed and went out to drugstore to buy one. Decided to have a sandwich. Very lonely, depressing. New girl will not arrive for work until a week late. Woman at cashier's cage in drugstore-luncheonette looks interesting. Wears glasses. About thirty-five. School teacher in appearance. She smiled at me and I returned it. Very unusual name on her nameplate above breast pocket of blouse-Betty Hanson. No wedding band. Idea to remember name and see if has telephone.
At apartment again. Naked again. In position to watch myself fuck my asshole with the candle. A little painful, but I slipped it in and noticed cock coming up hard, very hard. Very excited. With right hand, reached around to agitate cock and watch it go off on belly.
Damn the view from my windows! Why couldn't I just look out and see people fucking. Got to get a woman, I thought to myself with the greatest of intenseness. Too long. What to do?
I prepared myself again and masturbated with the candle fucking my ass. At least, this was something new. But still frustrated. Went down to bar across street and had several drinks. No food. Should have eaten. Tipsy, almost drunk when came back to apartment about eleven. For some reason, remembered name Betty Hanson when looking at tv news.
Number in phone book. Called her up. Crazy conversation, but interesting. Talked her into letting me come over to her place. Said she remembered me. Was impressed I remembered her name. I was very excited. Time almost midnight. How strange. How lucky.
Monday, February 5 Arrived in cab after midnight. Betty dressed up nicely. Small breasts. Nice legs. Several drinks and talk. No objection to kissing very much. She liked to "lolligag tongue kiss and get hot." That was the way she expressed it. Pulled up dress to find legs very beautiful in nice pair of dark nylons. Began kissing soft flesh above stockings. Very exciting.
Problem. Too much masturbating all day. Could not get hard. What to do? Made excuse about having too much to drink. Still obsessed with desire to eat her pussy. Was lapping up under crotch of panties when she grabbed me by my hair and started screaming! "You impotent bastard!" she yelled at me, "Just like my goddamn husband. You pervert! Putting your mouth down there in that dirty place! Get out of here! You men are all sick, inhuman! May god forgive you!"
Awful feeling. Impotent! And all that religious trash from her. Fuck her. That's what she wanted. If I'd have gone up there with a stone-hard, she would have loved it. Very little sleep. Depressed. Suicide thoughts again. Looking forward to a very miserable week.
Today at office, very tired and depressed, but somehow able to concentrate on work, think clearly. Work became more important than sex. Two projects assigned to me for completion by Friday. Worked tonight until ten. Great challenge. The director assigned them to me personally. Must rid mind of sex. Masturbation at minimum until weekend.
Thursday, February 8 Jean came to work today, only eighteen year old, body like a brick shit-house. Her thighs are full and so sexy they drive me nuts. Kid. First time in the big city. Just out of high school. Big hard-on watching her walk around office in short skirt. Those goddamn legs! So sexy and young. Innocent and a stupid little kid too. At ten am went to men's room and put on rubber, rubbed my prick up hard.
Worry about whether or not she might deter me from concentration on two big projects have to have out by tomorrow afternoon. Walked right past her desk hoping she would notice bulge in pants. She smiled. Reaction uncertain.
"Jean," I said, "I want you to get the charts and financial study on the Belson contract and get me a total on the net profits." When she climbed up the ladder, I could see the creamy flesh above her stockings, the crease of her delicious young ass with only black bikini briefs. So brief, I ventured to step over closer on some pretext and walked under ladder. God! I could see her navel above the briefs when she stretched to reach charts.
Working at the table across from me, she moved her legs until I could see some of the red pubic hair. Massaged my prick through my trousers and had a strong orgasm in the rubber. Went to men's room to clean up and dispose of rubber.
Wondered if she would be a sex-child type. Oh god, what a beautiful young body. But I had to remember that I could do nothing to jeopardize my job, had to get out report. To make sure, I had to return to office after supper. Idea! Ask Jean if she would mind coming back. Had to tell her it would be voluntary on her part. No overtime authorized.
She agreed! Obviously a girl who wanted to be on the right side of her boss. I was one of the four statisticians, the senior one. She wanted to play up. Good. But tonight, we had to work hard. It was difficult. She was so close to me, leaning over me so much of the time.
Dammit! I knew she was teasing me. But what was I to do. So afraid of scandal or trouble. She had me. I really did have to have her get several charts down. Each time she climbed the ladder, I found excuse to go under and look up, all the way past navel. God! How could I stand this?
Noticed she went to bathroom, ladies' room, shortly before we finished. Jean made a point, I know it, of telling me that she was going to replace the charts in the upper files. I walked beneath the ladder again. She knew I would. When I looked up, no pants. Goddamn her! The delicious little redhead! Real redhead. A large mass, triangle, of red pussy hair showing itself. Lips gaped open because she was leaning to right to push Tenley files in correct place, one foot spread away from ladder. She was deliberately torturing me.
Offered to drive her home. She accepted. I was in a quandary. What to do? Too absorbed with getting reports out to director. Perhaps promotion or commendation on these. I steeled myself against her. I let her off at her place, not too far from mine. She played up to me. I said to her, "Jean, I want to thank you very much. If tomorrow wasn't such a big day at work, well, I might ask you to have a drink with me. I want to repay you for your extra voluntary help tonight. Maybe we could have a drink some other time. Your work is very good, outstanding for such a young girl."
I was making an ass out of myself. That beautiful and delicious young redhead right there. The warm body teasing me, the smiling lips half pouting. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Moore," she replied. Her voice was innocence, innocence mixed with passionate warmth, husky. "I want to work very hard," she said, seemed to convey double meanings, "You seem to work so hard, Mr. Moore. Anytime I can help, well, you just have to ask. You know where I live. You've got my home phone number at the office. Just call me. Goodnight and thank you for the ride. I feel kind of helpless and scared in this town at night. I'm sure glad you brought me home. I feel safe with you."
I masturbated twice after I got home before I could manage to try to sleep. Now, I'm going for the third time. I have to get some sleep.
Friday, February 9 Goddamn that Jean! Her skirt was shorter today. Much chartwork at the table across from my desk. Smiled at me once while I was masturbating into rubber. Wondered if she knew, had any idea. Red hairs peeping out of crotch. God! All day, I was dreaming, agonizing over whether or not I could dare get the courage to ask this delicious eighteen year old redhead to dinner and for a show and drinks. Forty-five, almost forty-six year old man, sons older than her.
She had told me to call her any time, hadn't she? She had deliberately taken off her panties, hadn't she? She knew I was looking up her skirt when she climbed that ladder.
Reports to director at four-thirty pm. "Moore, you've done it again," he told me, "These are beautiful. Such neatness, preciseness, accuracy! and as usual, you knew how to come to the precise conclusions the department favors. You know, Frank, I've just got to see the budget people about slotting your job higher. You're the only person in the department who can do work like this and meet deadlines. It would have been impossible to expect such work from anyone else. I've got to get you a promotion. Here, I'll jot a note for Monday to see Thomas Tucker over at the head office about that."
"Thank you. Thank you so very much, sir," I told him. I was filled with that great sense of pride, that superb elation that had come so many times before and made me feel like a genuinely productive and needed man of superior production capabilities. But I also had another idea in mind. I said to him, "Sir, I think some of the credit should go to the new girl, Miss Marshall. She volunteered to work overtime with me on this last night, knowing there was no authorization for extra pay. In my opinion, she was hired at too low a level, sir. She has the ability and drive to be a regular statistical clerk rate, instead of a file clerk rate."
"Oh, the little redhead," the director said and I knew his mind was filled with dirty thoughts, "Frank, anytime you can arrange for me to work overtime at night with that little doll, just let me know. Ha-ha!" He winked at me and smiled like a lecher. He was no worse than I. No better than I. But then he told me in very thoughtful voice, "No, I could never get a rate like that for an eighteen year old fresh out of high school. With a year on the job and good recommendations from you and the other boys though, well, we might get her a double promotion. Ah, in the meantime, Frank, go ahead and tell her to put in for the overtime whenever you need her. I'll cover it with authorization. How will that do?"
Very nice gesture on his part. I was bubbling to tell Jean. She was only one left in office when I returned, cleaning off her desk. I told her about the overtime, the promise of a double promotion. I worked up to asking her out, fumbling in coat pockets. There was an answer! I drew out two tickets to French Children's Ballet that an accountant from the Consulate had given me when we worked on a joint report last month.
"Jean," I said, full of confidence then, "I wondered if you'd like to have drinks and supper with me. And I have some tickets here to the French Children's Ballet. It's a very, very popular event socially. I know you'll enjoy it."
Goddamn her! She hardly looked at me. She was putting on lipstick, licking it down. Delicious red hair and cute freckles. Such a darling-bitch!
"Gee, I'm sorry, Mr. Moore. But I met the cutest boy at lunch today in the cafeteria. Why, he's from a town just twenty miles from my hometown. I promised him I'd go to the movies with him, and-aren't you married, Mr. Moore?"
I told her, "No, no indeed, Jean. Divorced six months nearly. All legal. I have my own apartment. Perfectly free."
"Oh," she said. There was a look of surprise, a hint of promise in her halted speech, "Maybe you'll ask me out again. Well, I gotta hurry now, Mr. Moore. Thanks for the overtime. See you Monday."
Goddamn Jean. Tease! Bitch! Beautiful, fresh, delicious, freckled, young, redheaded cunt! I tried to visualize her naked. She had nice breasts. I would guess about 34 to 36, 23 or 24 in the waist, 36 in the hips. And those goddamn thighs! I wondered if she had freckles on them. I couldn't see them that clearly beneath her dress. Freckles on her butt?
French Children's Ballet, French Children's Ballet. The words kept running through my mind. Visions of beautiful young French girls in those ballet tights, like sheer stockings barely hiding the bare flesh up over half of their asses. The thoughts multiplied, amplified. They stimulated my whole body. Tingling feeling in prick.
Put in tv dinner and went back to the big old box of unpacked items in the storage closet. My old 35 mm candid camera. Had partial telephoto leas. Head swimming with ideas. Prick getting hard. Ate supper quickly and dressed up for evening. Bought a roll of super-sensitive film at drugstore. Presented tickets at the entrance to the small Dance Repertory Theatre and careful to ask if I could take some pictures, explaining was great ballet fan. The French woman seemed very flattered. It was perfectly all right, she assured me.
Had arrived early. No notice that I paced off distance from floor to my seat. Set camera as precisely as possible. When house lights went out, stage lights when on, took reading for the rating of film I had. Great relief to find there was plenty of light from stage. Did not have to open lens all way. Plenty of light.
Know nothing about ballet. What difference. My cock was hard in three minutes, stone-hard. (Where did I learn that expression? Was it from Linda?) Girls were seven to about thirteen. Most had beautiful legs, tights just as I imagined. Young breasts floating freely in costumes. One number, thirteen years old, had bad fit in trussed up outfit, breasts almost popped out. Took pictures when they did splits, several when they had ass to audience. Such sexy scenes. Only moments. Tried to catch those moments.
Intermission. Went to stall in men's room and applied rubber. Very strong discharge while watching three girls in a number that filled my head with ideas of lesbian children. My imagination soared. Instead of the tender dance with all its innocent symbolism, imagined the three girls, about ten to twelve, stroking each other's breasts, gliding around as they pirouetted and removed each other's costumes. Naked, they sucked and kissed at their bodies, sucking the wetness of young love from young cunts.
Grabbed camera quickly! Stockings or tights, whatever, split at middle of one girl's ass. Quickly took three shots while her ass was to audience. Very stimulated again. Rubbed penis. Could feel load of come swishing around in rubber next to it. Getting hard again. Lost in rapture when lights came on all over house. Show over.
Clerk at all night drugstore thought I was crazy, I guess, "I want eleven by fourteen enlargements of everyone of these that turns out," I told him. "But sir, these are COLOR!" he said, "We require a one-half deposit. There might be thirty-six good pictures on there. It could run a hundred dollars." I slammed my credit card on the counter and told him, "Write up the ticket then, you idiot! Are you trying to discourage a hundred dollar sale? Perhaps I should ask to see the night manager, and-"
"Oh no, sir," he cowered, the stupid young goon, "I'm very sorry, sir. Of course-" Stupid young goon!
Friday, March 22 First good sleep in weeks. No special reason. Jean still dating that stupid boy she met in cafeteria, going steady. Making me go crazy with teasing at office. Only my huge enlargements around the apartment to keep me excited. Such beautiful color, so clear. It had cost me a lot to have the five best blown up to near life-size. Such clarity that the girl with her tights split, asshole pucker almost discernible. So very sexy.
Another commendation this afternoon on latest reports. These were so spectacular in their revelations that our department might easily receive great budget increase. Promotion for me almost certain, director said. What a wonderful feeling of achievement. That fool wife of mine never knew, never realized that I was one of the most invaluable men in the entire department. Entire budgets, great decisions of immeasurable magnitude depended upon the accuracy and perfection, the very subtle conclusions of my reports and my genius as a statistician. I am a man among men, a giant of perfect workmanship walking through a sea of mediocre slobs and lethargic, bureaucratic bumblers with no ability.
I was undoubtedly smiling with pride when I returned to the office and saw Jean waiting at the door, purse in hand, preparing to leave. "Oh, Mr. Moore!" she called to me, "I thought you had gone. I hate to ask an important man like you such a big favor. But I did notice in the directory that you live pretty close to me and I wondered if you would mind terribly giving me a ride home. I just can't stand those crowded busses and well, my boyfriend and I broke up."
My heart leapt and was pumping so fast, so suddenly! With this new hope, Jean looked more deliriously beautiful and sexy than ever! I told her that I usually took the bus myself because of the parking problem, but that I had brought my car today because I thought I might have to stay late.
"Oh," she said, "Please don't let me keep you from your work. I know how dreadfully important it is.
"Oh, no," I assured her, "I'm all through. Going home right now. But I think I should try again for that dinner date since your boyfriend won't be taking you out tonight. Perhaps a drink and-"
"Oh, Mr. Moore, you are just too wonderful. Oh, I wish I didn't have three old roommates I lived with. I wish I had my own apartment so I could really cook a meal for you. I'm a very good cook, Mr. Moore. And I don't mean anything improper about it, but I feel like I just want to be cozy and alone with an understanding person. I'm pretty shook-up about what that boy did to me."
"What did he do?" I asked her. "No. Please don't ask, Mr. Moore."
It was then that the idea hit me. I suggested that we drop by the supermarket and get whatever she wanted and we could go to my apartment and she could cook. Her eyes lit up so beautifully. She seemed to stretch upward, as if she wanted to throw her arms around me and kiss me. It made her skirt come up farther when she finally plopped into the front seat of my car. Goddamn, what beautiful young thighs.
The day was warm enough to open the car windows. Breeze helped her skirt flow above stockings some, Oh, how thrilling!
Going up elevator to my floor with bag of groceries-horrible thought! All those huge blow-ups and enlargements of the little French ballerinas. Each one erotic pose, not artistic. I had taken every hint of sex from the childish ballets and lifted them onto color film. What to do? I felt great panic!
Laughed at myself. This innocent little country girl. She knew less about ballet than I. How would she know whether they were artistic poses or not. I would simply tell her I was a ballet enthusiast and a camera bug. I could put on a great act that would provide some very sexy thrills too.
"Oh, my goodness!" she exclaimed. Her green eyes lit up with great surprise at the sight of the huge color blow-ups and enlargements placed all around the big room, "What sexy pictures! I bet you took those at that French ballet. Why, look at the way those costumes don't even cover those girls' rear ends! And that girl's bosom is falling out! And that girl's costume is tearing apart!"
I hadn't expected that reaction at all, but I decided to play my part. I started talking very knowledgeably after I poured us a big drink each. I stopped by the near life-size blow up of the thirteen year old beauty leaning way over, the one where the pucker of her asshole was almost visible. I smoothed my hand across the area of her buttocks and I began to talk.
"Yes, Jean, I'm quite a devotee of the ballet. The French have a certain grace and charm that captures the complete essence of the dance. Notice the flowing lines of the girl's body in motion. And see here, the uninhibited way in which they become so engrossed in the dance that nothing else matters. One might see dirty sexiness in this, see how much you can see. But the artist, she is so absorbed, that none of this matters. The dance, the totality of dedication to ballet transcends all else.
"Now, this girl here is thirteen. Her very well-developed breasts are about to fall from her costume. But this is of no concern to her. She is absorbed one hundred percent in her art. Actually her breasts did come all the way out, but of course, I wouldn't have the impropriety to take a photo of that."
"Do you mean," Jean questioned me with a gasp of amazement, "that a thirteen year old girl was standing up there with everybody looking at her tit-oops, I mean, her naked bosom-and she didn't care?"
"Yes and they were quite beautiful tits," I said daringly, "Don't be afraid to talk openly with me Jean. And don't call me Mr. Moore except at the office. Okay, Jean?"
"Okay, Frank," she said. Oh, her smile was so moving. She looked from me to the pictures again and then she spoke again, saying, "Those French children are sure pretty. But they're so sexy and all. Why that little girl there is just beautiful, but she looks almost naked in that costume." When Jean leaned over slightly and gave a quick kiss to the cheek of the girl in the picture, I leaned down quickly to get a good look up the back of her dress. Oh, those thighs. I was almost sure I could see just a few of those cute freckles on them.
"Yes," I told her, very much in command and terribly excited, "The French-all the Europeans-are quite sexy. Some of the stories I could tell you about when I was in service in the war, you wouldn't believe. Well, you're too young to hear about such things anyway."
"Oh, I'll be nineteen next week, Frank," she told me. And then she went into the kitchen and became very busy with fixing supper, but she still talked, "My father was in Europe too in the war. He was a gunner in the Eighth Air Force. He was killed in Korea. I was only a baby then. Oh, now, don't say you feel sorry for me, Frank. Please. I don't want any sympathy like that. I just think being here to fix supper for you and be cozy like this tonight is the nicest thing in the world that could happen to me after breaking up with my boyfriend. Why, Frank, you could take the place of a girl's boyfriend and father and just a real close companion, too. You're so real good to me, Frank. Oh! And I never did thank you for all that overtime work last week. I bought me a new spring coat with all that money. I think you ought to get a kiss for that, if it's not too much trouble to come in here to get it. I've got my hands full of this roll mix."
I was standing in the living room. Oh, this was all going to be so beautiful. Heart pumping. I took a drink straight from the bottle of whiskey. Walked right into kitchen and put my arms around her slim waist. Could feel warmth of body beneath clothing. No girdle. I kissed her deliciously red lips hard. No, I figured. I relaxed my lips and parted them. It was incredible to feel this darling eighteen year old's soft, wet lips pressed to mine, the tongue just teasingly pushing its way in my mouth, then withdrawing. "Whew," Jean said. She quickly made some adjustments on the stove, then said, "You kiss as good or better than that boyfriend of mine. I bet you have been around, being divorced and all. You must be really experienced with girls. I better watch out-ha-ha!"
Oh, that girl, that darling girl. Here with me alone. And she was a good cook. Delicious pork chops, rolls, green peas and a tossed salad. Neapolitan ice cream for dessert. It was my idea to have liberal doses of Cognac in our after-dinner coffee, which impressed her as I explained this was very sophisticated and European. The drinks before dinner and the Cognac, they were getting to her. We kept kissing each other, taking time out for hugs and kisses while washing dishes together.
I offered to take her out, but Jean said she still just wanted to be "cozy." Suggested we look at some good tv shows together. Very impressed by my new color set. I noticed we were both breathing heavy through the movie on the independent channel. Sitting together, my arm around her. Her head on my chest, shifting to my shoulder. I scooted down. We became closer and closer. There was electric feeling that went through me. I know this feeling was felt by both of us with equal ferocity.
We kissed and kissed more. Our tongues fought to delve as deeply as possible. I moved my hands across her blouse. Felt like hardly any bra at all, very thin. Luscious! The feel of her tits gave me immediate erection. She pushed my hand away. Boy and girl on a date feeling. Return to youth?
My hand tried to get up her thighs beneath the skirt. It was push and pull. "No, Frank, please." That was what she would keep saying. There was doubt in mind as to whether she was serious or not. But I do believe that she is just so decent but very lonely. Very innocent. She had said that I could be like a father, a boyfriend and a confidant to her. What a confusing combination and for a girl who never had a father she could remember.
With each push up her thighs, I would gain an inch or half an inch. The feeling within me was growing. Such a pleasure, so wonderful. Me, nearly forty-six and this darling young redhead of eighteen. I felt my cock tingle when I first contacted the raw flesh of her soft young thighs above the tops of her stockings. I rubbed the flesh in a kind of circular motion, resisting easily her pressure to push my hand away. I went higher. I judged there was about four to five inches at least of naked flesh between her stocking tops and her panties. I was about half way there.
"Frank," the sweet precious darling whispered to me, "Will you promise me, really promise me one thing?"
I whispered, "Yes."
And then she said, "I just can't stay if I thought you would-would. Oh, I'm so mixed up, Frank. I like you so much and you make me have sexy goosepimples over my body. I want to stay here and be cozy and comfortable with you. I don't want to be afraid-"
"What is it?" I asked her, "What is it you want me to promise?" She relaxed and moved her hand away so that my whole hand was resting on that] wonderful naked flesh of her uppermost thigh, before she said, "Frank, please promise you won't put it in me."
Jean let out her breath quickly when she said it. I was sure I could see her blush in the light of the table lamp. I promised her faithfully that I would not put it in her. And that was all she needed. Jean collapsed into my arms, kissing me and hugging me. Her hand felt for my cock and she cared not a bit when I unzipped my trousers and led her hand to it. She pulled it out, stone-hard, fondled and caressed it. She said to me, "Frank, Frank, I like you too much. I need you. I need you to like me and do things for me. I'm so mixed up, Frank. One minute, I want to call you 'daddy,' the next minute, I want to say love me, darling.' Oh, just hold me and squeeze me tight. Do anything but keep your promise. Don't put it in me.
I promised her again faithfully. I meant it too. I was almost going to shoot off as she grasped my hard cock and squeezed, like a milking operation. At the same time, she would push and pull. Her grip was firm. It would then relax. It was different. It was innocence. She wanted to please me. I was about to go out of my mind. What was I to do with such a young and innocent girl. Eighteen! High school age!
"I promise you, Jean," I told her again, "You do believe me, don't you? No matter how I feel or what I do, I will not put it in you."
"I believe you, Frank. I trust you," she replied. Jean was genuinely relaxed. I moved my hand higher until suddenly, the tips of my fingers found the crisp red hair between her legs! She had taken off her panties! My fingers delved into the soft, wetted fleshy membrane of her pussy. Oh, god! The sensation was unbelievable. I'm coming- about to come again, thinking this happened just a few hours ago. Oh!
My hands and fingers were shaking when I took hold of her skirt and pulled it up to her waist. She did trust me. She moved her buttocks up to make it easier for me. There it was! Jean! Naked from the tops of her stockings to the garter-belt in the middle of her belly. There were those cute little freckles extending up on her thighs. From the sparse light of the lamp, I could tell there were some on her butt! On her precious, darling young ass!
"Oh, oh, Frank, you make me feel so good. Oh, you shouldn't-that's dirty!"
I had lowered my head and was licking like a maniac, licking and sucking the warm flesh of her thighs and going higher and higher. The touch of my tongue on her pussy was heaven. Oh, god! Unbelievable! I sucked the outside lips, but my tongue kept lapping inside. Jean was moving, twisting, moaning with all the joys. Her hand was still trying for my cock, but hard to grab onto now. I didn't care.
Her pussy hairs were in my mouth. I slobbered over her thatch of hair. I went back to her soft wetness of cunt and found the clit. Her taste was delicious! Her hairs were in my mouth and between my teeth. I was so enraptured, enamored, enthralled, that I didn't care. Nothing like before. I swallowed the pussy hairs, made deliberate attempt to work my mouth so they would go down my throat.
How long did I stay at that heavenly gate? It must have been over half an hour. I know she came, or nearly came, very many times. I pushed her head to my cock. Her lips brushed it, but her teeth were closed. In one fleeting moment, her tongue lapped out. I could not hold. Started coming!
"Mm-mm-umhh!" Jean grunted. Suddenly, her mouth opened and she engulfed my whole penis, I swallowing and sucking each drop. Oh! She kept on sucking! Her head was going up and down on me so very rapidly. It was a great, strong and wonderful orgasm, my hand and fingers caressing the long red hair and pushing her down.
Jean straightened up, hung her head back langorously. Oh, goddamn, what an expression! Indescribable. And she said, "Do you hate me, Frank?"
I assured her, "Oh, no, no, my darling Jean. I love you for it. You made me feel so very good." There was a slight pause while she swallowed hard. She opened her eyes. Face looked more beautiful than I had ever seen. I thought I could see a glow that radiated from within her very being. The expression was not a smile precisely. It was one of still more languor and very close, personal warmth. "Coziness," I know, would have been her own darling way of expressing her feeling at that moment.
"You kept your promise, Frank. I love you for that," she told me, swallowing with nearly every word, "as much as for what you did to me. You really wanted to kiss me there, didn't you?" I answered softly, "Yes," and then very awkwardly asked her almost the same thing, "Did you like to suck on me?"
"I can't help it," she admitted, almost crying, "I loved it. The feel of your hard strength in my mouth-it made me feel strong and wanted and needed so bad."
It was my turn to gulp and swallow. "Jean?" I asked, "Did you like to swallow it? Please tell me. No secrets. I must know. It's very important to me.
"Yes," she answered once again, her voice soft. Jean kissed my mouth gently and then blew into my ear, saying, "I love to swallow your come, Frank. I like to taste it. Do you think that's terrible?"
"No," I assured her again. My eyes were feasting on the nakedness below her legs. I impulsively opened her blouse and unhooked the front of her bra, saying, "Oh, my god, Jean. I think it was wonderful. I think you have such a beautiful, perfect, lovable, young body." I buried my head beneath the firm mounds that stood out so straight in their youthful fullness. I began to kiss and move my head around until I was suckling at each nipple in turn. Such young, fresh and precious nipples. The body of her breasts had those darling freckles too. Not like spotted ugliness, but like pure fresh beauty unspoiled by the evilness of man.
"Frank?" she asked, "Do you love my mind and soul too? Or is it all just sex?"
"I love all of you, Jean," I tried to explain the true feelings that flooded my brain and filled my cock once more with renewing strength. She touched it with her hand and she could feel its pulse beat. I said, "How could we help but love the whole of each other when we've been so close. We-I mean-I don't have to put it in, to fuck you to show you that I loved it and to know that you loved it too, in return."
"It doesn't sound dirty when you say it," she told me. I looked at the warm smile on her face, looked up from below her breasts where my tongue was exploring for the first time the deep indentation of her navel, licking its gentle roughness and enjoying the sort of strange hardness of that little dot of rough flesh in her otherwise perfect, slim waist.
"What doesn't sound dirty?" I asked her.
"Fuck", she answered me so very simply and in a way that gave a beauty to the word I had never in my life detected before or realized was capable, that the word was capable of conveying. "I want you to fuck me-sometime," she said with that same beauty, "I want to (she grasped my penis and began to move it, with her index finger probing my little hole in the middle of the head) feel this deep inside my body, pumping love and life into me."
"You mean you want a baby? By me?" I asked her. I was confused and dumbfounded. Marriage? Did she-was she trying to say that she wanted to be married to me? I was greatly relieved when she explained, "If you want to, I wouldn't care. But tonight, you gave me life when you sucked my sex.
"Your what?" I asked anxiously, almost panting audibly with new sensations at the sound of her lovely, innocent young voice, desiring to hear more, "Tell me what you want to call it. When you say things, Jean, they are beautiful-more than I could ever let you know.
"My pussy-do you really like to hear me say it?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" I assured her very positively, "Jean, just to hear you say these words of love and sex inspires me. Please say more, tell me more. Please?"
"I like for you to suck my pussy, Frank," she said.
Oh, god, what beautiful, naked innocence. To hear these words from her cherry-red young lips was an act of sex itself. I encouraged her. "Please, Jean. Talk all night. I want to hear you say these things, these words. I love you for it. Say the sexiest things you know. Tell me!"
"I love to suck your hard prick," she said. Jean paused a moment and swallowed. She then briefly demonstrated the truth of her statement by unbuckling my trousers and helping me remove my shorts and trousers. She kneeled between my knees on the floor, the lovely and delicious young face peering up at me. She grasped my balls with her left hand, uh-no, her right hand. She took my stiffening cock in her left hand. She licked and mouthed the head. Very swiftly and quietly, she sucked it between those precious lips. I could see her cheeks going inward. She then let her mouth relax. The head slipped out. She looked up with the most soulful, languorous expression. And she began to talk in that incomparable voice. This time, the words seemed to flow with such natural beauty.
She said, "This is my prick. I love this prick. I love to take this prick into my mouth. Next time, Frank, I want to take it freely and suck it long. I want to take it in my mouth when it isn't really hard yet, so that I can know that by my sucking on it, it will become very hard. I want to know the feel of it getting big and hard in my mouth. I want to suck your cock every time I see you. I've wanted to many times at the office. Yes, I mean that, Frank. When I see you looking at my legs and up my dress. Do you remember that Friday night when I took off my panties before I climbed the ladder to put away the charts? I had a prickly feeling and goosepimples all over my body. I wanted to see this big prick of a big and important man that night. I was so disappointed. I had wanted to love you there in the car. I had wanted to rub this prick, this delicious cock. I had wanted to unzip your fly and to bring it out. I wanted it to be soft so that I could suck, suck it up."
"Oh, god, Jean," I told her, "Don't stop. You're driving me crazy. I love it. Go on! Go on!"
"Your prick," she said, "Your prick in my mouths I wanted to taste your cock-do you like prick or; cock best, my darling?"
"It doesn't matter," I assured her, "Either way, when the words come from your lips, they are the most beautiful in the world. Go on. Go on!"
"I like it best," she went on, "when I can feel it moving of its own. I like to feel that gush of male power flow into my mouth. Oh, Frank, I had to pretend I wouldn't do it. But when I knew you were coming, I wanted it. It couldn't go to waste."
"Do you like the taste of it?" I asked her feverishly, not caring then that from the way she talked there must have been others, at least one. Nor as I write this now, with her gone, do I care.
"The taste is liquid velvet," she said. The expression seemed so sophisticated for Jean that it threw me for a moment. But it was still so goddamn beautiful, I listened and became more stimulated than ever.
"If you're a real man, Frank, you will never know the deliciousness of come going down your throat. It tastes so wonderful. It feels so wonderful. I don't know which I liked the best."
"Jean?" I asked her, "Let me hear you say 'fuck' again and tell me truthfully, I don't care what's happened before, tell me truthfully if you've ever been fucked?"
"Yes," she said. She avoided me with her eyes, but still kissed and caressed at my hardening cock, I was fucked six times in one night by my boyfriend. He took my cherry and made me very sick. That's why I broke up with him. I want to fuck again sometime. Not with him. With you. Will you fuck me sometime? And not think I'm a tramp?"
"Oh, god, Jean," I told her. My hands were rubbing her naked shoulders, my fingers caressing her hair. I said, "I'll never think you're bad. Anything you say or do is beautiful to me-never think you're bad."
"Someday," she said, "I want you to fuck me. I want you to put that hard prick in my cunt and I want you to fuck me, Frank. I know you want to. I know you want to kiss me all over. I love you to kiss and lick my body. The pictures of these French girls make me jealous. I know you probably have kissed their bodies too. You like their young bodies, don't you. Tell me the truth, Frank."
"Yes," I admitted, "I do like their young bodies." My mind was awhirl with wildest imagination. There was enough light on to see most of the pictures fairly clearly. I decided to be. Make up a very sexy story. She wouldn't care. She looked upon me as a man of experience. Much experience.
"I have a friend with the Consulate," I told her. "He introduced me to several of these girls. Being French girls, they are very sexy. They posed in these positions. See? See that girl? She knows that I could see her asshole in that position. She wanted to show it to me. And after we took the pictures, the fifteen year old girl with the larger tits there, she undressed so that I could see her whole body naked! I licked her young body from the hairs on her head to the flesh between her toes. I fucked her too, Jean. I was not the first. Her cunt was tight, so very tight. But I pushed my hard cock deeper and deeper into her, until she cried out for me to stop. My friend consoled her. He was naked too, watching, his cock hard. I fucked her in and out with my cock until I came. I pushed it farther inside her small cunt as I let go of my come! She screamed! Oh, god, it was so wonderful, Jean."
"Oh, my darling," Jean sighed with breathlessness, "You fucked that young girl!"
I was terrified for a moment. Was Jean going to class me as the filthy, dirty old man I was? Had I gone too far, Had I gone overboard? Had I misinterpreted her intense feelings of sex, her interest in my pleasure?
"Please, Jean," I pleaded, "Don't think I was so terrible, such a monster. I only meant that-"
I was on the very verge of telling her it was all a lie when she looked up at me again in that indescribably beautiful and innocently sexy way and said, "No, Frank. I think you're wonderful. You've really fucked a fifteen year old French girl. You did it to that girl in the picture. Frank, I've never met a man like you. I can't believe you're real! I wanted to believe you would be this way, would understand me and love me this way. Frank, have you ever done it with a boy or a man?"
"No!" I answered with a sudden and impulsive anger, "I'm not a goddamn queer, Jean. I love sex with females. I fuck them, lick them, suck them, eat them. I don't care. But I'm not a goddamn queer!"
At first, I could not understand at all why she began to cry. I begged her to tell me what was the matter. She would only shake her head and say nothing. She was sobbing. Her head was lying in my naked lap. The red hairs of her beautiful head were mingling with my pubic hairs. "Tell me what's wrong!" I demanded in a very stem voice.
"Frank, oh Frank," she sobbed, "I've sucked a girl's pussy. You'll hate me! Hate me! That's why I left home. I wanted to stay there with mother and my sisters and brothers. I was almost engaged to the boy I went steady with. He was in Vietnam and-his sister. His own sister! She came to see me all the time and treated me so nice. She was married too. When Jimmy got wounded and I was so upset, she took advantage of me. I needed loving and friendship. I went to her house and she loved me, Frank. She hugged me and kissed me and gave me liquor. I didn't know what I was doing. Next thing I knew, I was in bed with her. She said it would make us feel more relaxed."
"Did you like sucking her pussy?" I demanded to know, my cock about to burst.
"I got to be honest, Frank" she told me, she was frantic and passionate too, "I don't know how it happened. She was sucking and kissing my cunt. I was down by her. Her hand was pressing my head to hers. I just did it. I sucked her whole pussy and made her come. Frank? Do you hate me?"
"I love you," I said impulsively. That seemed to be all she needed. Jean's lips enveloped my hard cock and began to suck it like nothing before. She lapped her tongue down the side of it. She took my balls in her mouth. She literally lifted my ass and put her tongue deep in my anus and then before she took my cock in her mouth again, she looked up at me and said, "I just wish I could crawl all the way inside you there." When I came, I watched the muscles in throat working overtime. It was a very, very strong orgasm. I gave her everything I could. And she took it all as if it were the last nourishment a starving child ever thought she would receive.
We lay there in each other's arms, half lying, half sitting. We kissed and hugged and she kept telling me how much she needed me, how my come tasted so good and gave her strength. I had a sudden idea that seemed so ultimately sexy. How to approach subject? Could be degrading for me. "Jean?" I asked, "Tell me the truth and don't be ashamed. Do you ever masturbate?"
"Yes, I do," she replied with that simple and innocent honestness that made her sexual con-quest just that more appealingly wonderful, "I've always done it a little bit, since boys first started getting me hot on dates. Do you hate me for it, Frank? Is it wrong? Is it bad for me?"
"No, of course not, my precious," I answered her with an air of authority, "We all do it occasionally. Now take me, for example. Sometimes, if I'm not dating anyone, too much work to go out much, why I masturbate two or three times a day."
"Do you look at the pictures of those sexy French girls when you do it?" she asked me.
"Yes," I admitted, "Sometimes I do. Sometimes it just takes a thought, a look at your legs in the office. Do you know that?"
"Frank!" Jean interrupted my speech that was building up to my important question, "Would you-sometime when we're alone again, some night here-would you masturbate and let me watch? I mean, would you get hot enough to masturbate, watching me undress, walking around naked?"
"Of course!" I replied with enthusiasm, "Why, I'd even like it more if we could watch each other masturbate naked. Would you like that?"
"Oh, I'd love it!" she said. And there was so much devilishly sexy excitement in that sweet, innocent voice, "Let's do it the very next time. And you could be sitting on the toilet masturbating sometime and pretend that you don't know I'm looking at you."
Oh, my god! The girl's mind was on a par with my own. She had this same kind of fiendish imagination that was just wonderful. But I had to get back to my idea. "As I was about to tell you, Jean." I said, "When you sit across from me there at the table sometimes and I can see all the way up those delicious legs, do you know what I do?"
"What? What? Please tell me," she begged.
"Jean," I said slowly, "It makes me so hot to look at your beauty there that I go to the men's room and put on a rubber so I won't spoil my trousers and then I come back and sit behind my desk and I rub my cock through my trousers until I come!"
"Frank!" she said with new excitement, "Do I really do that much for you when I let you see up I my skirt? Would you like me not to wear pants I sometimes, just for you to see?"
"Yes, my darling Jean," I said. My voice was becoming hoarse and raspy as I worked up to the point. I continued: "And, Jean? Did you really mean it when you said you liked the taste of my come?"
She assured me very eagerly, hanging onto every word and anxious for me to continue, so I said, "The next time I do it, Jean, I'll go back to the men's room as soon as I come. I'll take the rubber full of my come and tie the ends. I'll slip it in an envelope. Later, in a few minutes after I return, I will very casually give you the envelope. And then you can go to the little girls' room, untie the rubber and suck out my come."
"Oh, Frank!" Jean screeched with devilish delight. "What a wonderful secret way! We can make love in the office and nobody will know!"
I added, "And I'll also save up all my come when I masturbate at home here. I'll keep it in a jar. And then when you come to visit me, the first thing you can do will be to drink it all. Would you like that?"
"I'd love it! I will love it!" she promised me. Then Jean looked at her watch and frowned and said, "Oh, darn! Frank, I'll have to get back to the apartment. If I stayed out all night, the girls would think terrible things. You do understand, don't you?"
I assured her that I did and I drove her home. That also gave me the ideal opportunity to say that even though I was unmarried, office romances were frowned upon by the director, so that our affair would have to be secret. She had no objection whatsoever. I was greatly relieved.
What would the other statisticians or my director think? Me, a forty-six year old professional man having an affair with this eighteen year old child of limited education. Yes, I adored her. But it would have to be a very private and secret affair.
Saturday, March 23 Exhausted when arrived back from taking Jean home, shortly after midnight. Slept very well. Very strange thing. Awoke at nine am with a huge erection! All I could think of was Jean. I had promised to take her to a movie this evening, although I really wanted just to have her here alone for sex and companionship. She was such a beautiful, innocent thing and I could impress her with any story of my experiences or desires, whether they were true or not.
I remembered that we had also discussed idea of masturbating together and that she had wanted me to take some photos of her in her new bikinis. I also had almost elicited a promise from her of letting me photograph her in the nude, with stockings and garter-belt only. She had seemed a little afraid until I told her that I would use the photos of her to make me hot when I was alone, instead of the little French ballerinas. Jean was actually jealous of those pictures of the French girls!
I sat on the side of the bed and looked at myself in the closet-door mirror. My prick was still stone-hard! Great! Oh, wouldn't Jean love to watch me masturbate in my asshole-viewing position in front of the mirror, I thought. I threw up my legs and got into position. I probed my asshole With my finger and the memory returned instantly of the way she tongued me there and said some-thing about wanting to crawl inside me.
I almost forgot, for the moment, the other important thing we had talked about and it had been my idea too. I got up and went to the kitchen. Found ideal jar, four ounce little jelly jar I had saved. Went to bathroom and masturbated into it.
At seven-thirty pm was dressed and ready to go. Pretty warm day for March. Looked at jelly jar. Six masturbations in it already. Came up about half an inch. Great. Once more? I took it with me and went to the front window and overlooked the entrance to the apartment building. It was dark, but this was my favorite spot to peer down at women in cars, or getting out of cars and cabs. Great source of inspiration for my masturbation. Took out penis and worked up another hard. Just in time. Beautiful woman with ash-blond hair in very short skirt alighting from cab. One glimpse of her shapely thighs above stockings. Number seven went into the bottle.
I should have been exhausted, sexless, I thought to myself. No. Still excited at thought of being with Jean. I took the bottle and put cap on it. Placed over pilot light area atop kitchen stove. That way, warm and easy flowing to pour in glass. Should be warm anyway. More natural.
The movie was atrocious. No matter. My hand was up Jean's dress. Her hand was on my cock. Necking on a rear row like two high school kids. She had to keep talking, whispering really. Told me about her going shopping, cleaning the apartment. I asked about the three girls she shared her I place with, she frowned, but then seemed very willing to describe each one in very, very intimate and personal detail.
Jean told me, "Sally is a cheap bitch from New York. She goes around almost naked all the time. She looks foreign, Spanish, land of. Oh, you'd love her titties. They're about forty-two. They roll around when she walks. Trixie is from way down South. She's a very sweet girl with blond hair and blue eyes and a darling figure. She's small, Frank. Only about five-one. You wouldn't like her figure because she's so slim. But Trixie has the prettiest face. Her pussy hair is almost blond too, but it's thin. Not like Sally's. She's got black hair that covers half her belly and it's so thick you can hardly ever see her cunt, unless she's peeing. Yeah, she leaves the bathroom door wide open.
"To tell the truth, I think my roommate-that's Eve-is a lesbian. She wears her brown hair short and she's kind of chubby. She has a cute pair of titties, but her waist is too much and her legs are a little fat for her height. She's been to college, does social work. She's not much fun. Let's see-Eve is over thirty. Trixie is nineteen and Sally is twenty-five. That makes me the kid and Eve the momma of the group."
I asked Jean why she thought Eve was lesbian and she said, "Frank, nearly every night she insists on tucking me in, giving me kisses and feel-ting my breasts. She makes it all seem to be funny and friendly. But I bet anything that if I kissed her with my tongue and felt between her legs, I bet she'd be all over me."
"Oh, god, I'd love to watch that," I whispered to her. And she said, "Hm-mm, maybe we can do something about that sometime."
That was what was so exciting about Jean. She always had made some new promise. I hope she continues like this. Oh, I hope she does. And after what happened when we got home, I felt a little guilty that I was leading her into all of this. She was so in love with me, I knew I could get her to do almost anything in the world that I asked.
When I showed her the little jar with the day's come in it, she was amazed. She couldn't believe it. I poured it into a martini glass. Scooped the last dregs out with my fingers. I watched her. It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. The look on her face is embossed on my mind and I can see it now and become excited. And after all the sex I've had.
Her sweet, innocent face lit up. Her eyes seemed to burn like fire. She looked at the come in the glass, twirled it around and seemed to be savoring it like a man does with a snifter of rare and expensive brandy. Then she drained the glass. Her tongue lapped and licked inside the glass. I was so hard that I took off all my clothes and began to play with my cock. Suddenly felt very peculiar. Realized that neither of us had seen J each other totally naked before. Her eyes were riveted to my cock.
"I'm going to strip for you, Frank," she said with excitement, "Would you like that?"
I replied, "Yes! God, yes! Go ahead. And then after I watch you a while, I'll go in the bathroom and sit on the toilet and do it, just like I do in the morning sometimes when I'm alone."
That sweet, crazy, darling Jean! She handed me the little jelly jar to take to the bathroom. She took off her jacket. Her breasts looked so exciting in the tight sweater. She removed the sweater and had on just a fishnet bra. Nipples sticking through-those tender, young, sweet nipples. She pulled down her skirt and half-slip together. No panties. Dark nylons with thin garter belt and garters. The red hair was beautiful!
I knew I could not hold out long. Went into bathroom and closed door almost all way. Tried to imagine I was alone, just like this morning and I began to masturbate faster and faster. Knowing she was watching made it all the better. She changed her mind, apparently. Jean came into the bathroom and sat opposite me on the side of the tub and finger-fucked herself until we came at about exactly the same time.
She had brought her Polaroid flash camera along too. Jean said that she preferred that because it would be safer and we could take any kind of pictures we wanted and not have to worry about the developing people seeing them. Smart idea, but the camera she had was not the type I was used to.
I took pictures of her, still in heels, stockings and garter belt, leaning over, from the rear, holding open the cheeks so that I could see clearly both her little asshole and cunt. Beautiful. Other pictures of her on bed, on her side, holding up leg. One picture finger-fucking herself. She had to have a picture of me playing with my hard cock too. And the most unusual shot was her on the bed lying down and playing with cunt, looking over at me. I was visible in the door mirror across the bed. What a sight!
We sucked each other off twice. It was delicious. I loved her taste too and I told her I wished there was a way we could bottle her wetness so that I could drink her sexual beauty, too.
Saturday, March 30 Woke up this morning feeling best in years. Feel better now that day is over and I have realized my dream to fuck and fuck like a real man that delicious, lovable, young, sweet cunt of Jean's.
Promise she made last night after we both worked so late led me to masturbate twice before sleeping. But what a sleep! And little jar almost three-quarters full of my come from this week's masturbating. No pretense of going to movie. As Jean had told me herself, "I want to come over and have a long fuck party with my sweetheart daddy." The "sweetheart daddy" was strange. She'd called me "daddy" once or twice before. The idea or the feeling, I guess, hit me as being very sexy. She wanted me to be her daddy. She wanted to fuck her daddy! The incestuous nature of her words gave me pictures in my mind of men fucking their daughters, sucking their pussies.
I thought of Mike, one of the other statisticians. I had seen his delicious fourteen year old daughter twice. Thought while masturbating of him fucking her, undressing her, licking her pussy and asshole. Best thought was to imagine his parting the lips of her little pussy and sticking his cock in it. Mike had very large cock. I had seen urinating in men's room. Daughter must have blond hair on pussy too. Fuzz stage. Very stimulating idea. If ( Jean would call me "daddy" while fucking, I would think of Mike and his daughter.
I drove over and picked up Jean at two pm. She was so lovely. Dressed in very short skirt, tight sweater, stockings, medium heels. Thought occurred-she looked so young, what if I could see Mike's big cock fucking her? Why such a thought? Unexplainable.
Jean went into a fit of sexual ecstasy when she saw the little jar almost filled with my come. "Oh, Frank! I'll have to have a highball glass for that! Did you think of me while you did it? Did you?" I told her that I would always masturbate at least once while talking to her on the phone. Other times, looking at photos we had made. Jean said she often sneaked the set of photos she had taken with her that night into the bathroom and masturbated too.
The come in the jar was warm. On top of stove. I poured it out into water glass, scooping last drops with fingers as before. I held it up to the light to look at it. Strange consistency and appearance. Jean came close to my side. Put arm around. Joined me marveling at appearance of so much come. My come. I could feel the warmth of her precious breasts next to me. Her right hand squeezed my cock through my trousers. She stood in front of me. She took the glass in her hand. Looked at it with a wild, inhumanly delicious expression. Then she drained the glass dry.
Oh, it was marvelous! The way she licked and lapped and attempted to drain the glass. Watching her make several swallows excite me more. I removed my hard cock and began to stroke it. I asked her, "Jean? Are you as ready as I am?"
She replied, "Yes, Frank. I want you to fuck me. My cunt is ready for you. I've been masturbating all week thinking about it."
We went into my bedroom. I had all prepared. Soft lights, velvetized sheets I had bought for the occasion. Lavender color. Our eyes watched each other undress until we were totally naked. I was so proud of my cock. Unfortunate. Once in bed with bodies together and kissing, I became overly nervous. Erection waned. I felt so stupidly inadequate. Darling Jean.
She thought nothing of it and began to suck. We did a sixty-nine sideways. Very leisurely. Cock soon very adequate for penetration. I moved until I was between her legs, facing her. I kept stroking cock to be sure of maintaining maximum rigidity. I also licked up those precious, freckled, young thighs. She moaned and sighed. What a joy of anticipation for both of us!
My tongue raved through the bright red hairs and my lips sucked. My teeth nibbled. I was driving Jean crazy, until she couldn't help saying, "Don't waste any more time, sweetheart daddy. I want your cock to fuck me, fuck me, fuck my cunt all the way."
I did not waste any more time. I moved up. Guided hard to wetness of lips with left hand. As it slid in the tight, young pussy, I lay down over Jean and kissed her young face and neck lovingly. I licked her ears and whispered sexy things. My tongue engaged her long, red hair and I mouthed noises of great passion.
Soon my hips were moving independently, pushing it in her to the very hilt and withdrawing ("Not too fast," I kept telling myself.) For a moment, I almost panicked! I had forgotten to put on the rubber I had on the night table. It was too late then. I would not have taken my cock out of that tight, moving sweetness for anything in the world. The concern passed from my mind rapidly as I recalled how many girls I had fucked in years earlier without ever using a rubber. These things worked out. She could douche when we were through. There was douche bag in the bathroom somewhere.
"God, I love it, Jean," I told her. She replied so very dearly, "I've always wanted this. Oh, Frank, that's what my pussy was made for-to be entered by you and fucked. Don't ever stop."
Her hips moved very slowly. The muscles in her vagina had a way of tightening. She had control over them. But, bless her, she was still so innocent and young. I wished she would even call me "daddy" again and I said so.
"Jean?"
"Yes," she replied.
"I want you to call me 'daddy' when we fuck now. I liked it when you called me 'sweetheart daddy.' Would it bother you to call me 'daddy?' I want to pretend I'm your daddy, giving you a fuck-lesson. Is it all right? I mean, it doesn't sound too crazy or offensive for you?"
"No, anything you want, daddy," she replied. Oh, god, I just can't put down on this paper how it hit me when she talked to me like that! The slow fucking. The feel of her breasts. Her freckled belly wet with perspiration and pushing into mine. She went on and talked to me. I think she liked it.
She said, "I like my daddy to fuck my cunt. I like my sweetheart daddy's big, hard cock inside me fucking. Oh, daddy! I'm going to come with you for the first time in me, together. Fuck me, daddy! Come!"
I would have wanted it to last longer, but I couldn't hold it. I let go with, an actual scream, as I had never done before. I kept ramming it, ramming it. My balls and cock both seemed to throb and pulse like never before. Jean almost went crazy! She pushed her body into me. She would not let go of my cock. She kept working and working to gain every drop. She was trying, I think, to get me up hard again. But we soon both collapsed and began to kiss and love and talk of endearing things.
It had been the most exhaustive and satisfying of all our relations. We fell asleep in each others' arms, not awaking until after eight pm. Jean fixed cube steaks, broiled tomatoes, corn and a bean I casserole dish. Such a good cook! Very talented in the kitchen too. Then drinks and watch tv. We remained naked. Found it interesting, mildly stimulating. I was satisfied enough not to get too gung-ho, as they say. But it was so beautiful to watch her walking around naked. With only apron on in kitchen was a beautiful sight. She took several pictures of me naked in apron and vice versa. We each kept some. One of me showed apron resting on most of cock.
Later in evening, we became very passionate again, very much so. I showed her my position of masturbating myself, with legs up, while inserting finger in asshole, laying on edge of bed, watching self through legs in mirror. She was absolutely entranced. Took pictures of it and said she would look at them while masturbating herself.
I asked her to get in same position. About the most beautiful sex-sight I had ever seen. I took two pictures. I could not resist getting on floor by her and licking asshole, sucking pussy, inserting tongue deeply into asshole. I cannot describe it in words. The fresh, young, freckled, beautiful ass. The small and puckered hole. The sweet taste of her everything.
I then stood up. Too high. I brought out three pillows and put them on floor under me. Held her up this way and fucked her again. The sliding, slipping, slushing. Oh, my god! I looked down to see it going in and out so clearly. Me? How could I have ever dreamed of such lovely sex. I came with full force. She was very uncomfortable. No matter. Her inside muscles trapped me and kept me going until I was hard again.
"Let's He down," she finally said. She had to give in. Too much strain in that position. "Not lie down," I told her. My mind was wild with ideas. My prick was maintaining good, controlled hardness, stone-hardness.
I had her get on her knees on floor, leaning upper body across bed. Knees on pillows finally, to adjust position. I rammed cock into pussy from rear. She jumped, saying, "Be careful, sweetheart daddy. Be sure it's in the right place." This immediately inflamed me.
I said, "What if I fuck your ass, my little girl. Fuck your asshole!" She made some objections, but I was too inflamed. I slipped my wet cock out of pussy. Felt certain would never really get more than head into muscle-ring. Surprised to find that after initial push, my cock slipped right in over half way.
"Oh, my god!" I yelled. "I'm fucking my little girl's asshole!"
Jean squirmed and wriggled, then said, "Yes, daddy, fuck my ass. It's all right. Fuck my ass, but fuck my pussy too. Your come feels so good and warm in your little girl's pussy."
We kept talking. In frenzy of it all, Jean told me that in high school two boys had ganged her on a sandwich date in car one night. She begged them to save her virginity. They fucked her ass. Three or four more times in similar situations, she said she was helpless and had to allow boys to do that, else would lose her virginity. I didn't care. It only made me hotter and wilder when she told me.
As she wished, replaced penis in cunt and worked her up until we had beautiful mutual orgasm (she had several while fucking ass and I played with pussy, pinched clit, etc.)
We were both exhausted, lying in each other's arms. I begged her to sleep with me overnight. We thought up story for her to tell roommates. She said we could do this every weekend. She would tell them going home on visit, trip to New York, etc. She called to tell them she was staying with girlfriend tonight.
Jean is now sound asleep in bedroom and I will soon join her. We went to sleep in each other's arms. Something woke me up a few minutes later. Restless. So writing today's entry here at desk in living room. Will now return to bed with my darling girl who calls me "daddy."
Wednesday, May 22 Goddamn Jean! I am just a stupid old fool! Today she was even more nervous and fumbling around at the office than any day this week. Now I know. Now I know why. Also know why she wanted me to fuck her all the time, never a contraceptive. Luck ran out.
At her insistence, we had a drink together after work at back booth, of very quiet place. She showed me the lab report. Pregnant! She told me her doctor said she was two months gone. We had to be married right away, she said. Big argument. Oh, I didn't know what to say.
She said, "Frank, there's no reason why we can't get married. We're both of age. We're both single. We both love each other." I had no logical argument except to say that it would look bad for me. The people in the office would know that we had been going together, had to get married. What would director think. Difference in ages.
Made me madder, not panicky, when she said, "But Frank, why won't you marry me? With the new raise, you'll be making nearly twenty thousand a year. You told me you had more than that in bonds and savings."
"What are you trying to do?" I asked her with much daring, angry, "Are you trying to buy me off, blackmail me? Do you want me to say, 'Here, here's ten thousand dollars, have an abortion, go to a receiving home, keep the change for your trouble?' Is that why you bring up my money?"
Not like me. I did not feel guilty. I did not feel anything but anger until she said, "Frank, you made me what I am. I've done things with you that not even married people do. Frank, you've done things with me that are criminal and I agreed to do it, because I loved you. The pictures we made. What would your damn director think if I showed him those?"
She cried. Cried. Cried. We drank some more, argued more. I'll never sleep tonight. Dirty old man? She liked it. She encouraged it, dammit! Fuck her. Fuck all the goddamn women in the world!
Thursday, May 23 Some relief. Great surprise. No sleep last night. First thing this morning, in to see director and confess my sins, offer resignation if necessary. Reaction certainly surprising.
"Frank, for Christ's sake," he told me, "straighten up. Do you think this is the first time some little file clerk has been knocked up by one of her bosses? Good Lord, man. I've seen this same problem a dozen times, fifty times. We all lose our head over a young piece of tail sometimes. Unfortunately, you got a scheming little bitch."
"But what can I do?" I asked him, still in terror, but so grateful for the lack of any threat so far of losing job or reputation.
"It's not all that difficult, Frank," he told me, looking so confident and masterful, "The first thing to do is to get her to see a doctor you can trust. Hell, all you've got is a piece of paper that could be filled out by anyone with access to those lab forms. You don't even know she's been to a doctor. Here, I'll write down the name of a doctor who knows how to take care of these things and-"
"You mean abortion?" I asked.
"No, no, godammit, Frank!" He was a little angry at my naivete in a matter like this. "First of all, you tell her that this doctor is the very best and that you demand she get the very best care. He'll find out if she's really pregnant. If she is, well, with the new laws in the next state, he can take her over there, get some psychiatric and general medical reports worked out and she can have a legal abortion right in the hospital. If she's not pregnant, well, then you know she was really trying to play you for a sucker."
"Uh-" I tried to speak up, swallowed with difficulty, then told him outright, "She-she has some photographs of me that are-uh, well, they're very compromising. She threatened to show them to you. What if-"
"She is a cool one," the director said and he scoffed at the idea, "That's fine. Frank. You just let her do that. Act scared as hell. Then when she brings them to me, I'll act horrified. I'll take them from her and tell her that I have to show them to some of the agency heads so that we can fire you for such a terrible thing. And then, I'll burn them up. The next day, Little Jean will find that her job as file clerk has been abolished in favor of a slot for a qualified statistical clerk. I've got the authorization now, so it's as simple as that. Okay, Frank? Now, I've got to go upstairs to see the brass on a new project. Let me know how things work out."
How callous. How crude and heartless. Perhaps that's the reason the man is as high as he is and only thirty-six years old.
Called doctor for appointment Saturday for Jean. A very understanding man. He told me not to worry about a thing except the cost. If she was not pregnant, $35.00. Legal abortion including all the experts' fees, about a thousand dollars.
At drinks after work, acted very serious and concerned. Jean absolutely refused to see the doctor I wanted her to see. Cried a lot, said I didn't trust her. I pleaded and begged. She threatened again to show photos to boss. I acted quite scared, but I also left her with these words, "Jean, I think you're a lying, scheming, conniving, no-good bitch of a female. I don't believe you're pregnant. We're through. But for god's sake, Jean. Don't ever show those pictures to the director. It would ruin me. I'd lose everything, my job, my reputation. Me! A forty-six year old professional man involved with a cheap slut from the backwoods, like you."
I'm drinking now as I sit to write this. I should feel either very sorry for Jean or very sad that I lost such a great sex piece. I feel neither. I only hope that she falls for my trap.
Monday, June 3 Fuck the whole world of women! I did. It's all over. Just exactly like the director said. I'm the luckiest man in the world. Jean was still on probationary employment status. He pulled it off beautifully. What a wonderful man! He didn't burn the photos. He gave them back to me. Played up this morning to Jean. She came back smiling that shitty-bitch smile at me. Thought she had me. I was going to be fired, ruined, scandalized.
This afternoon. Very different story. Jean called to personnel. When returned, downcast. I could tell she wanted to spit on me. Cleared out her desk and left. End of that goddamn bitch!
The director is the most understanding man in the world. Called me in to tell me that personnel had called Jean in to tell her job was abolished. Gave her two weeks' notice. She got mad. Cursed out personnel man and then burst into director's office and accused him of stealing, etc. Threw bookend at him and said she was leaving. Report was amended to show that she was grossly insubordinate and emotionally unstable too.
"When you've been in this business as long as I have," he told me, "You know how to take care of these things, you can spot a bitch like that a mile off. She had to get her hooks into somebody. Lot of times they go for the older married men and blackmail them directly or indirectly, take them for as much as they can get. With you, Frank, she thought she was going to get a real prize, or at least a nice settlement figure.
"Anyway, Frank, that's not the main thing I called you in about. At the same time I told Tucker what I had to have done to the girl and quick-see, when you know how to handle these things, it's quick and clean, no red tape-I told him the budget had approved the new money and I had to have your job upgraded a notch. First of the month, my man and you can add about three thousand a year to your income. Not a man I know who deserves it more, either."
On third bottle of champagne now. All by self. Fuck all the women in the world. This is my celebration. All my own. I'm going to move out of this apartment building too. Man making well over twenty thousand a year, including investments. No family to feed. Big new high-rise with swimming pool. Start looking for ideal set-up tomorrow. Good possibilities. Must be near pool to watch young girls and women. Also finish working on shoe-mirror idea. Will buy thick-soled shoes tomorrow too.
Chapter Five
VANTAGE POINT
Tuesday, June 4 What a day! Three new projects to finish by weekend. One extra job on side for director. I sure owe it to him, but will have to work every night this week. So what? Director gets full credit if I can swing report to prove subcontractors errors caused gross cost expansion in Watson's development project. Know that overruns will be easy to prove. Rest is figure juggling. Let the director get the credit. He's the one who deserves raise now. Fuck the women. Plenty of time for new plans in that line.
New statistical clerk must be 901 transfer from records section. What a bag. Now only one decent girl in office-Rita-and married to a plumber or some jerk. Big tits. Wears dresses too long. Good. Concentrate better on work.
No time for serious apartment hunting until Saturday earliest. Bought pair of very thick soled shoes at chain store tonight, $15.95. Will have to use steel plate in sole to stabilize, prevent mirror breaking with movement. Walking will be awkward. No matter. Need more time to figure how to get steel plate machined to conform to sole plat-tern, then get jeweler to fix mirror. Think up reasons for request.
Saturday, June 8 Most interesting day. Slept like a log after four masturbations watching girls get out of cars and cabs at front door below. After midnight, three girls in cab. All short-skirted. Each one scooted out to let skirt come almost to ass. Drunk. Been to party. Strong orgasm on that one. Then slept until nine-thirty am.
First apartment quest no good. No apartment available near swimming pool. Views to other apartment windows all at angle. Resident manager had very big tits. Good look up dress while I leaned down to check bedroom furniture, her at my side.
Strange emotions. Had two Coney Islands at Joe's Cafe for lunch. He asked where I'd been. Told him some lie. Said Linda had moved or something. More interested in Coney Islands and other women in place. Had two beers and went to men's room. Remembered some joker had punched a hole from toilet stall wall that went almost through to ladies' room.
Still there. No noise in ladies' room. One little push with finger and plaster cracked. Could see clearly into ladies' room toilet stall. Pulled back plaster so hole very small. Played with cock to good, stone hard. Waited. Drunken brunette from bar came in. Nice, big thighs. Her back was to me. She raised her dress up over ass. Leaned over and pulled down panties. Asshole wide open. Big and ugly. Bet she's had cock up there as much as in her pussy. Interesting enough view of bare legs and ass. Good orgasm.
Very embarrassed feeling when I walked out past Joe. Why? How could he know what I had done. He said "goodbye" to me and looked at me as if he was looking right through me, knew everything I had done. How could he know I had pushed that wall through the extra slight millimeter that would allow someone to see through? How could he know that I had masturbated in there? Glad to get away and get to next appointment at Belle View Towers.
Beautiful apartments. Good prices. Waterfront suite furnished at $290.00 a month, with balcony overlooking river and marina. Problem. No interest in boats. Rush hour route into downtown very congested. Driving time on Saturday over twenty-five minutes. Good view of swimming pool from kitchen window. Possibility, I thought, until I made next stop.
"Hamilton Manor-Country Club Living. Walk to work. Greatest value. Furnished and unfurnished apartments for singles and families of distinction." That was the way the ad read. Distance to work was nineteen blocks. But good bus service. Had heard of the place. Always considered too expensive.
Resident manager a woman about my age. Slim. Good tits. Very passable legs. Fashionable and a little snooty. "I think I have just the apartment you'll love, Mr. Moore," she told me. The damn woman looked as if reading my mind. Uncomfortable feeling. Eyes staring into my brain? Must have been. God, what an ideal apartment. Large I Beautifully furnished (and I wanted to throw away all of the crap I had that reminded me of Bonnie and those awful years.)
"Unfortunately," the resident manager told me, "this one is without a balcony and it's only on the third floor. But then, there is the compensation in price. Only $320.00 a month, everything included. Year-round air-conditioning. The large picture windows are Thermopane. Lovely view of the big Olympic size pool, the tennis courts, the putting greens, all in the court below."
She kept on talking. Why shouldn't I pay $320.00 a month rent? With my salary and interest and dividends, I could afford more. I was being stupid for living in that third-rate building. This was for me!
The Hamilton Manor was an immense U-shaped high-rise with a huge court that contained the pool, tennis courts and putting greens. A very high fence completely blocked off the court from view of others. From this apartment, I could look across at a hundred or more bedroom windows. Pool directly below. Bathhouse in even closer view. Could peer down back windows of bath house. Pity pool not open until fifteenth because of repairs. Lots of girls on grass in bikinis taking sun-baths. Wonderful. Young women in shorts and other abbreviated costumes walking about, sitting under umbrellas drinking. God, what a life. Real "Country-Club-Living." Ad was correct.
"I notice you have a lot of foreign gir-people here," I said. I botched it up and had to stand there while the snooty resident manager looked right through me. She could read my mind expertly. I had only noticed two delicious little Oriental beauties in bikinis. Why had I blurted out such a stupid statement?
"Yes," she replied (her smile was a goddamn leer), "We have some young girls from the foreign delegations, embassies, consulates. And we have some of the better paid women employees. Some have their own apartments. Others share. We never allow more than two singles to share, however, no matter how large the apartment Uh, I think a gentleman of your means and demeanor would find living here most pleasant. Would you care to fill out an application? Of course, we do require a minimum income of at least fifteen thousand a year for this apartment."
That rattled me. My nerve grew until I broke out with, "Madame! (and I made it sound so that she could take it either way) Do you think that I would even consider a residence like this if I made a paltry fifteen thousand a year? Give me your application. Check my references, credit, employment, investments if you like. When may I move in?
"Yes, yes, of course," she said. I felt very good. Had the old bitch shaken up. She was apologizing so much she was nearly 'sa-laming' me and bowing to me. Cheap whore! She was selling sex as much as a real madam would.
Nice, sunny day. Parked car and went into camera store. Fifty-eight dollars I For binoculars on tripod. Very super-power. The salesman told me I was actually getting a bargain because it was military surplus, with the field-artillery sight or scope-sight. Would be wonderful for new apartment. Take me inside the bedrooms across court. Very promising.
Limped into metal shop to pick up heavy soled right shoe. Had explained to man needed for health reasons, injury to foot. No suspicions at all. Good job too. He had replaced slice of leather next to bottom of sole with perfectly patterned sheet of metal. Unnoticeable. Still great thickness of sole above metal plate. Rest up to me. Not much of a mechanic. But I will work it out. Have four little mirrors specially cut. Now will work on metal pivot. Also have to remove piece of leather sole above metal plate. Will it work? Very exciting to think about. Should have it completed in a week or two.
Shorter skirts, mini-skirts coming into fashion. Beautiful to walk down streets on Saturday afternoon. Beautiful legs showing. Rarely breeze blows above stocking tops. Damn! Too many girls wear pantyhose things. Disappointing. Think I will see naked flesh when I kneel down behind to pick up something, breeze blows strong, woman leans over. Nothing but stockings all the way. Still nice and inspiring enough. Thought I must have something for good masturbation or sex. Had to think. Think hard.
Wonderful to have pants pocket, right pants pockets in all suits, cut through. In bright, sunshiny afternoon, can feel naked cock in hand. Work it a little. Nobody knows. Walking down street mentally sucking those delicious young legs, breasts, pussies. Yum! Slurp!
Drove back to apartment about five or six. Still much daylight left. The park! Idea hit in middle of quandary while watching girl get out of car below front window. Why hadn't I thought of it before? It was a small park, just a couple of blocks away. Swings, see-saws. Just like the others. Great promise for a warm Saturday like this.
Wore long sport shirt outside slacks. Better sights than I expected. Very few adults, parents, etc. Very young girls, five to ten. See right up to their panties on swings and see-saws. One with beautiful legs, thighs like a sexy woman's. Had rubber on. Sat across from see-saw opposite her. Panties loose. Crack open. Little girl cunt. Worked up good hard and off it went.
Across street for a beer and to men's room to wash cock, discard rubber. Put on a new one? Yes, I decided to. Walked back through park. Oh, good god! The teenagers and preteens. Some in short-shorts, stretch material that stretched right up into crack of crotch-cunt. Oh, my god! See-through halters on these teenagers. Fishnet bras underneath. How do they keep from getting raped?
One girl about seven or eight swinging. Sat facing her on bench. Good view, beautiful view. Delicious thighs. Probably from poor family. Hole in crotch. Promising. More teasing. Only thought I could see cunt-lips. Working penis very hard. Just on verge of orgasm. Oh, my god! She stopped swinging and scooted toward front edge of seat, drawing panties all way into cunt.
Suddenly! From left side. Two girls, fifteen to sixteen, dressed in those tight, stretch shorts, sexy-tight halters filled with young tit! Could see plenty cleavage on one. They were laughing. Looking at me. Giggling. Terrible embarrassment. Had they seen that I had been moving my hand around so much through my pocket, masturbating cock? Panic feeling!
"We know what you're do-ing. We know what you're do-ing," the more full-bodied girl who appeared to be a light skinned Negro sang out. Worst fears confirmed. But they were not afraid, not running for police. I barely noticed younger girl quietly walk away from swing area. The three of us were alone, almost isolated from rest of park by being in back corner of its "If shape. The cute little blond said to me, "Does it feel good to play with it. All men do it. My father does it all the time. So does my brother. Do you like to look at girls in shorts?"
My breath came very heavily. I was panicked still, but not as much. No fear of their telling on me. But still so young. Could be big trouble. I said to them, "I just had my hand in my pocket. How do you know what I was doing?"
"We're not that dumb," the light-skinned Negro girl told me with an air of knowledge so precocious for her years, "We been watchin' you. There's always some man in the park lookin' for young stuff. You was beatin' off watchin' that kid in the swing, I betcha."
"Well, what if I was," I dared, "She had sexy legs-like you do." I thought my heart had stopped eating as I looked at those two pairs of delicious legs. Bare midriffs with belly-buttons naked. Oh, my god! I couldn't help it. I kept looking at them and thinking of eating the pussies. Sucking their wonderful young nakedness.
"You got five dollars?" the blond girl asked me, swaying her hips to drive me mad! But I suddenly became mad-angry, in another way. Blackmail! "Why you goddamn little blackmailers!" I told them, taking my hand out of my pocket, very daring, bluffing, no confidence, all bluff, "You go ahead! Call the police. I'm no criminal. I'm a respectable and highly paid businessman. I'll have you thrown in jail before I'll ever be there!"
"Hey, cool it, man," the Negro girl said. She laughed nervously. The other girl looked as scared as I felt. The delicious young Negro with the full body and heaving, teenage breasts went on, saying, "You got the wrong idea, man. We ain't doin' no blackmailin'. We thought maybe if you like the ass on that damn little kid so much, maybe you pay five dollars to suck some real tit an' pussy. You spare five?"
"Oh my god!" I said aloud. My heart was pumping faster than my head could think. I was about to lose all sense of reason. The Negro girl leaned toward me. I could see nearly all of her breasts. So delicious. The blond nymphet stuck a finger under the elasticized crotch and pulled the material away from it in a way that could be analyzed as only an attempt to pull them into better shape, pull them down. I saw a generous peek of blond pussy-hair. It was real blond pussy-hair! Oh my god! I began to work my cock faster.
"You know, police come around here," I reminded out loud, "If they caught us, I'd be the one in trouble. Real trouble. You too. Delinquency charges. Oh, goddamn, I could eat both of your sweet pussies, but, oh, it's too dangerous."
"Naw, it ain't. No, man," the Negro girl insisted, "See them bushes back there? Okay, man. You an' Tina go back there for a few minutes. I stays out here. I see a cop, I start to whistlin' this song. (Whistle of some damn popular teenage song.) An' you come back there with me, Tina come out here to watch for the fuzz. Say? You ain't got no social disease, have you?"
"Of course not!" I replied angrily. I looked around. Nobody near. I pulled off the rubber with the hand inside pants. Unzipped pants and took out my three-fourths hard cock. I said, "There! Look at it! Do you think I look like I've got a disease?"
"No, man!" the Negro said. She seemed to be speaking less colloquially, very excited. The blond kneeled down to touch it very quickly. Turned the head to look all around it. (For signs of sores, I suppose.) "That look like a good cock!" the Negro girl said. She was still excited.
Tina looked more intrigued, interested. But no wild expression. She said, "It feels real soft, smooth, I mean. And it's sure clean and nice."
"For a extra five dollars," the Negro girl (I learned her name was Gail later) said, "we'll suck it off too. You wanna make a deal?"
"Both of you?" I asked, confused.
"Well," Gail explained (her goddamn manner was as businesslike as a professional or some land of merchant explaining his view of a contract), "You see, man, it cost five dollars if you go back there for a few minutes with Tina an' play with her titty and finger her pussy and suck and kiss a little. It cost five dollars again if you do that with me. It cost five dollars more, if you want one of us to suck it off. If you can go twice, once with each, then that's gonna be five dollars again."
"And you think it's safe?" I asked. Oh my god, I was in a stew. I could see myself being dragged off to jail. Director couldn't help me on this one. No security clearance. No job. Unfit for employment. What to do?
"I'll pretend to be your daughter," Tina told me. She spoke slower, more confident and with less excitement than Gail, "If a cop comes by and we hear a whistle, we stop and pull up our clothes. He can't do anything."
"Man, even if he did come back all the way here," Gail added, "By the time he's here, all he sees is a man sittin' on the park bench with his daughter or his daughter's friend. But if he do walk by an' the whistle come, that don't mean he gonna come back here snoopin'. I tell you it's one hundred percent safe."
My god, what experienced little tramps. What deliciousness tool I knew I had at least three five dollar bills. At least eight or nine ones. I could go all the way with these luscious things! Which to choose first? Quick decision. I motioned to the blond. I told them then, "What if I go all the way, ten dollars worth with Tina today. Tomorrow afternoon, I meet you here again. Okay? And then I go all the way with you for ten dollars."
"You go ahead, man," Gail said, "I can't make no guarantee about tomorrow. How we know you ain't a juvenile fuzz? I tell you what, mister. You go back there an' make it all the way with Tina. After that, I come back there. If I can't make you ready again to go all the way, you don't pay nothin'. Okay?"
Couldn't turn down that deal. Accepted. Very soft spot of grass and leaves behind bushes. Saw two used rubbers. What a spot! Tina stared at me Very strangely. She stood up tall and put her hands at each side of the halter. I scanned her luscious body and withdrew my cock and stroked it. She pulled the halter down.
Oh my god! Two delicious, blossoming, uptilted breasts! How marvelous. Incredibly and monstrously wonderful! I used all my strength to control an urge to lunge at her, bit her titties, tear off her pants, throw her to the ground and rape her. I moved forward and grasped her arms. Lowered head to little nipples. Licked them hard. Drew each nipple, sucking hard, into mouth. Again. Again. Again.
Awkwardly, I took out the five dollars to pay her, realizing should have done first thing. This seemed to relieve her mind. She unzipped her shorts at her side and pulled them down below her knees so that she could sit down and spread her legs.
"Do you like blond hairs-real ones?" That was about the first thing the child had said.
"Oh my god, I love that pussy, blond pussy!" I sat on the ground, kind of squatted, more or less, so that I could reach her body with my mouth. I tongued from her breasts to her belly button. Delicious belly button. So sexy. Tina, so young! Fingers preceded my lips through good field of blond : hair. Surprised (shouldn't have been) to find pussy almost dry. I licked through the hairs and let my own drooling saliva lubricate her lips and in-sides. Very tight. I paused to ask, "Have you ever been fucked before?"
"No," she told me. Quite honest, I thought, not really disappointing to me either, that she added, "I don't even like sex with men, I like girls. But don't let that fool you. I'll give you a good time, You'll get your money's worth."
Cold and passive. There was something fascinating in that. I licked more and more. I asked her to get in position on knees and elbows so I could lick her behind. Spread luscious cheeks. Beautiful asshole. Feasted until I was about to come. I couldn't wait! I told her, "Quick, suck it off! Now if you want that extra five dollars, hurry!"
That did it. She couldn't get turned around fast enough and get it in her mouth. She worked on it so wonderfully. Surprised how this darling could suck cock so damn good after what she'd told me. She drained me dry and swallowed every drop! Oh my god, what an orgasm!
I lay there out of breath, exhausted. Suddenly heard Gail whistling. Wiped off last drools with handkerchief. Straightened up. Both of us walked slowly out to bench where Gail was. No policeman in sight. She laughed at worried look on my face. Told me, "See, man? That fuzz jus' walk on by swingin' that billy-club. He ain't goin' snoopin' for trouble. He waits 'til it comes an' grabs him, 'til he hear somebody scream or complain. Well, he's gone now. No more fuzz for a hour or more, I betcha."
I was exhausted, but I had promised to try. It was just beginning to get dark. I liked the excited way Gail acted, the more fullness of her body, the way she didn't mind talking. She pulled her halter down over a big, beautiful pair of tits. The area surrounding her big nipples was very wide. I felt sure she had had a baby. I asked her.
"I had one when I was twelve, second time I was fourteen, two years ago," she told me outspokenly, "Sure and I'll fuck or suck for that extra five. Now, Tina, she don't let nobody fuck that pussy. She's a sissy-les. She tried to get me to suck her, but I ain't that way."
I thought to myself how beautiful it would be to watch this tan nakedness next to Tina, sucking pussy, loving. My eyes devoured her belly-button. Sucked hard on tits at same time. Too soon. Hard would not come up. "Here, man," Gail said, pulling off her shorts completely (I had been right, no pants and those stretch shorts had been right up into her crack, that means the mound I saw was hers, the uneven look was the pressure of the thick and crisp black pussy hairs I saw now). She said more. "Yah! There's that pussy, man. Now, I'm gonna suck on that prick a little. Now stand up. Stay there. I fix you up feelin' good, man."
I stood there naked from the waist down. Legs spread apart and straddling a small hillock. Gail sat between my legs sideways, on the slight rise of ground. Breasts rubbed against my left leg. Her hands both went to work. She spit and licked her right fingers and then jammed them in her cunt, finger-fucking hell out of herself, grunting, moaning, saying, "Fuck up the juice! Ah! Fuck it up. Ah! See that goddamn white cream I whip up, man? Yah!"
She replaced her hands, putting left hand to work on pussy. Right hand was soaked with her wetness. She slipped and slid it over my prick and balls. The feeling was great. Same time, Gail licked up side of right leg. Tilted her head back. Licked between balls and ass, also under side of balls.
In a simultaneous move that aroused me to a sudden and unexpected stone hard, Gail licked beneath my cock and pulled it all into her mouth, raising up slightly, while she took her sopping left fingers and began to work my asshole, first, penetration by one, then two fingers. The position was uncomfortable for her. We both dropped down onto soft grass and leaves.
Immediately, I buried my head in the crisp black pussy hairs, savoring the pungent smell and licking away ravenously at the slick wetness of her big cunt. "Oh, man, suck it! Eat it! Grab that button and eat a meal, man'. Eat me raw!"
Her chubby stomach was pulsing, throbbing, moving. I got her off twice. I licked up to the highly indented belly-button and feasted there. I sucked her tits hard. I bit the nipples. She loved it. I had the urge to bite very hard and draw blood! What a fool of a thought! Crazy! Out of my mind!
I got up and straddled her. Fed her my cock. Very good sucker, good nigger cocksucker girl! Let her suck it until I could take no more. Swiftly moved down body and "threw" it into her big cunt. It had plenty of room. I could barely feel the slick flesh surrounding my cock. I was in a rage of sex-madness. I rammed! Rammed! Rammed!
"Oh, man!" she whispered very, very loudly, "Oh, come on, man! Come. Oh ... Oh, no ... wait. Goddamn, man-oh, now-fuck it now-shit-coming too."
We came together. It was pleasant to leave it there in her a few moments and feel the last spurts and dribbles and drools ooze out into that fat cunt. Gail had a pocketbook full of paper toweling to clean us off. I was exhausted. She was talkative.
"Goddamn, man!" she said, cleaning us off at the same time as talking, "You can fuck! Mos' ol' men, you got to suck off before they get hard. You got a good cock, man! Say? You married?"
I told her that I was not and she said, "Man, listen. You tell me where you live at. I wanna come up an get me some more of that big ol' cock sometime. Well, I mean, it gonna cost ten. But man, that's cheap. These ol' whores charge twenty, thirty, fifty sometime."
I paid her the ten dollars and lied. Told her I'd lied about being married. Felt very satisfied. In control of senses. Foolhardy thing if I had her up to my apartment. Me! Frank Moore. Me! Forty-six years old. One of highest paid statistical specialists in the city. Among highest paid anyway. Gail! Sixteen or seventeen year old Negro tramp. No deal.
The memories of today will be good for tomorrow's masturbation. Probably carry me to when I move into new apartment next Friday evening or Saturday morning.
Saturday June 15 New apartment has so many possibilities. Binoculars were a wonderful investment. Super-power. Fifty-eight dollars well spent. Across the court, watched three girls undress last night, one about twelve with tiny titties, delicious ass. Wanted to lick it all over. Clarity and closeness unbelievable. I felt I could reach out and grab a handful of that young ass and spread the cheeks.
Full-length windows at dining area and in living-room area both. Wonderful conditions. Dining table against window is wonderful position to set up tripod mount for the binoculars. In living room area, marble table by window is ideal for this. Had both set-ups figured out and workable by midnight. After that, only one orgasm. Kept hard up with stroking for two hours. Would back off before coming, many times. Wanted to hold good passion in reserve for today's surprises. Wise decision too. Had come once earlier in evening.
Woman who really hit me, made me have to come off about two am was married. I had almost come watching this young man seducing his girlfriend in her living room. They had gone at it heavy. He had her bra off. Power of scope-sight binocs put me right there. Could actually see nipples harden, little bumps in dark area around nipples. Fantastic!
His cock was out with a stone-hard. He pushed her head down toward it (beautiful blond hair and nice body like most delicious airline hostess I'd ever seen). View blocked. She must have nibbled at it a little. Saw his head go under skirt. Skirt up past stockings. Beautiful! But could not see precise sex action. She got smart. Turned off lights. End of show, with cock stone-hard and was ready to go off and call it a night.
Scanned other windows until spotted married couple coming in apartment, switching on lights. On first floor. Good down view into high bathroom window. Husband went to bedroom and put on pajamas. Then to living room and viewing last of Late Late Show. The married woman played with herself on the toilet after she was stripped for bath, husband still in living room. Bonnie and me? I started coming again. Had to use hand to catch it. So worked up. Hadn't expected it so soon. Couldn't hold when saw her get off toilet and juggle her big tits around. Probably half loaded. Still excited, but not to go off or masturbate again.
Watched her play with self in shower. Woman about forty, built nice. Wild idea! Took handful of own come and licked it from palm. Swallowed all. Tasted good to me. Felt comfortable sliding down throat. Chased it with a bourbon and soda. Very tired and relaxed. Went to bed.
Used binocs this morning to look down from bedroom window to view of back windows set very high in girl's bath house by pool in court below. Good view into four of the partitions. Saw forty-two girls and women naked while they changed. Oh my god, what deliciously beautiful things. I can get good view into only two partitions from living room or dining room set-ups, because location of bath house. But bedroom setup now very fine. Switched small table from entrance foyer with console cabinet. Table just right height to hold binoc tripod so that I can sit down comfortable and have wide range of view. Also good because no need to hurriedly move furniture around if someone calls. Only need to fold away tripod and put it and scope in closet.
Interesting to study habits of females when changing clothes and assuming selves to be absolutely private. They are brought so close to me with superpower of scope that I can see detail of pussy hairs, freckles, slight blemishes. Light is best for bath house partitions between eleven am and about four pm. Shadows begin to cloud clarity after four. Same condition prior to eleven. Too bad. No good looks on workdays. Not even with daylight saving time. Not unless take off occasional afternoon. Perhaps take long lunch hour and take cab home for thirty minutes or so, if in very great need of stimulation.
Three girls of nineteen to twenty-five, by estimate, enjoyed bouncing breasts with hands, rubbing nipples with thumbs or fingers. All seemed relaxed, but sexy. Exhibitionistic, I think. Very suckful bodies. One is airline stewardess from fourth floor. Observed her later sitting with handsome young man under umbrella by pool, sipping drinks. He had his hand rubbing her delicious and naked thighs.
Girl of about nineteen is best. Accompanies man older than I. Daughter? Too loving, unless incest going on. Watched her apply sun oil over entire body while in partition. Seemed to radiate sexiness and luxuriate in feel of slithering her oily hands over own body. When passed hands near cunt, locked in binoc-scope on area. Could see one finger dart in. Whole body quivered. Did this two or three times. May have had orgasm. One of best sights for me.
I have started masturbating in wide-necked quart jar. Ah, memories. Will find girl again who will drink my collection. Will have a full jar in a month or so, perhaps.
Two Japanese or Korean girls. Sisters or roommates, I think. Used adjoining partitions to change into swimsuits. Very interesting. Kept moving scope from one to other. Had on sport-skirts and blouses when entered. Both naked and delicious at same time. Smaller and probably younger of two, very small busted. Uses falsies in regular bra and bikini top. Breasts just barely stick out when naked. Like small buds. When leans over, hang nicely. What wonderful thought of sucking, sucking with all of strength to pull breast in mouth and almost pull flesh from body. So delicately built.
Other Oriental girl had large breasts for her size and race. Locked in on nipples. Like older woman's. Seem to have been sucked much. This girl also has larger legs. Shapely. Liked to slide hands up and down sides of thighs and smile in that certain Oriental way. Strange. In bikinis, out by pool. They appear sexier than ever. Such small bikinis. Navels and bare waists give exciting, lewd and naked look in bikinis. Had orgasm from these girls after I had watched them nude and then saw them walk along pool and spread bodies out on adjoining beach towels.
Great subject for fertile imagination. Envisioned them in lesbian love together, sixtynining for my pleasure, enjoying their effect on me and watching me masturbate my cock and splashing my come all over their naked bodies.
Fatter women not too sexy, but interesting. One reminded me in appearance of Bonnie. Her tits were big. Thighs big. After naked in partition, took comb from pocketbook and combed back long, black hair, then began to comb big, black mass of cunt hair! Combed it down, then up. Then vice versa. Got kick that way, I'm sure. Zeroed in and locked on eyes. Could tell she was enjoying looking down at self doing this. Eyes tell great deal.
Binocs are too strong for wide-angle view at the close range of bath house. But during hours of good light, can see overall view fairly well with naked eye. Wonder if resident manager knew what I wanted. This must be only apartment so beautifully situated in all of building.
Teenage girls in bath house were rare. Most came to pool directly from apartments in swim-suits. But to pull them right to me in their tiny bikinis as they walked around pool, lay on towels, almost as good as seeing naked. Motions, movements of all these young bodies in so little were enough to make masturbate to orgasm at times.
Side thought. When shot off just as two teenagers moving out of view, looked down at come splashing into jar. Remembered licking come off hands. Maybe would enjoy sometimes swallowing shots of own come from whiskey shot glass while watching and jerking off? Had unusual taste. Really almost tasteless. But sexy thing about it. Mental or taste?
Masturbated nine times by two pm. Exhausted. Fixed lunch and sat at dining table. Ate leisurely and just looked down at panorama of sex at swimming pool. Idea occurred that I must go down there, spend time down there. But I would go crazy! Watching all this and not being able to masturbate. No way to hide masturbation if wearing swim trunks. Everything very cozy and comfortable in feeling. Lay down on bed and dozed off. Almost four pm when woke up.
Enjoyed waning good views inside partitions in bath house. Japanese or Korean girls returned. So satisfied a feeling, did not touch cock. Just watched and enjoyed beauty of their naked bodies. Saw girl of ten to twelve in next partition, along with younger girl of seven or eight. Older girl peeled off younger girls swimsuit. No hair on young kid's pussy. Slit only. Remember of Becky. Oh my god, I was getting hotter again! Thoughts of older girl sucking young girl filled mind. Older girl had titties as big, bigger than Oriental girl. Reality and fantasy fused. Did she play with her titties and encourage younger girl to play with them too? Yes? No? I'm not sure. Light was becoming bad. Shadows falling from leaves above high windows at back of bath house. Last thing, locked in on older girl's pussy. Peach fuzz cunt hairs.
Fixed long, tall gin and tonic. Air conditioning in apartment good. Checked reading-seventy-two degrees. But felt warm. Gin and tonic good for this time of year. Scanned pool again. Still entranced by all the young girls in bikinis.
Spotted him! Over on grassy knoll or bank, overlooking main part of pool. Man about thirty lying on stomach and observing girls. Zeroed in on hips. Movement definite. Was rubbing prick against ground, through bathing suit. In effect, masturbating prick by this movement as he watched girls and women. I could do that. I could do that after work any day. Sunlight until eight or later with daylight saving time. Yes, of course! I could do it that way. Watch close-up bikini clad nymphettes and delicious young women and girls, while jerking off that way into rubber. Who would notice? Nobody seemed to notice or care about him except me.
Had vision of his young stone hard cock inside those trunks. Rubbing against inside of jockstrap fortified trunks. Like an X-ray. I could use imagination and see cock shoot off. Did determine at which moment he came by observing hip motions, muscle tensions, also zero in on eyes. At that moment, a very unusually well developed girl of nine or ten in briefest of bikini was walking right in front of him, holding mother's hand. Mother was in twenties. Luscious body, large hips moving and undulating enough to inspire anyone. Both were blonds. Oh my god what ideas that pair gave me!
More gin and tonics made me feel so very, very good. Found that I could see fairly good into apartments across court in daytime. Not same clarity as with nighttime and when lights were on last evening. But saw party in full swing at big apartment directly across from me. Everyone loaded. In bedroom, a couple was fucking. Not too clear a picture, but made out flailing arms and legs of woman. Man was just fucking hell out of her. Watched them get dressed and rejoin party. One old man looked sixty, took girl no more than twenty to bedroom. Could see when he got her undressed, sucking pussy like crazy.
Too bad that all was slightly blurred. Best and clearest was to see in bathrooms where lights were on. Watched girl douching! Could swear it was older Oriental girl seen earlier in bath house. So damned frustrating! Watched her with fair clarity - in bathroom. Beautiful sight of seeing on toilet naked and ramming douche nozzle up cunt. Great! But nothing to see in other windows. What was going on?
Spent rest of afternoon, plus time over supper at dining table, making chart of apartments across way. Dressed at one point. Went out into hall and I copied down room numbers on my floor of all opposite apartments and the two side apartments that could see into pretty well from angle. Then knew numbers of each apartment's set of windows. Those on my floor began with "3". Others, I worked out according to floors. Also, could determine which ones were one, two, or three bedroom apartments. With chart finished, knew what each window represented. Start of a great plan!
Couple in 624 like to do sixty-nine, him on bottom. Twice today, once this evening with bedside lamp on. Zeroed in on woman's mouth. Throat muscles working very interesting to observe. Only saw his face buried in cunt. Assume cunt, in crotch at least.
Wife-swap couple in 322. Perfect view, directly across. She is the beauty I swear is an airline stewardess! Man was rubbing her thigh at pool this afternoon. Not sure if same man is husband. Watched them bathing-only could see heads through high bathroom window, obviously taking shower together. When dressed and in living room, second couple arrived. Drinks. Third couple a few minutes later. More drinks. Some kissing and snuggling openly with each other's wives. All very good-looking and sexy women!
More drinking, then set up movie projector and turned off lights. Disappointed until saw that they left drapes open and projected movies onto wall opposite window. How beautiful! My binocs locked into position just about exactly covered size of picture. Like in a theater. Color movies The most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Where in the world could they have gotten them?
One short movie about this Negro in GI's uniform. Started off, his walking down street of city. Met two delicious young blonds, then to their apartment. All three stripped. They began to fight over which one would suck big, black cock. He stood up. Both girls sat between his legs, facing each other. One sucked off cock, other licked rear and asshole. Wonderfully clear color photography. Studio quality.
Camera moved around to explore and get tight on each angle and activity. Very clear shots of teenage blond's tongue as it slipped in and out of his asshole. Blond in front, only little older. She had to get up on knees to be at correct angle for sucking cock. Beautiful to see come drooling and her trying to get it all. Other girl ducked under to catch some. I squirted off into my jar right then again.
Could see people in room moving around when I scanned area. Only silhouettes, dammit. One couple to bedroom. Blinds down, but left partially open. Tantalizing view of big man sucking and fucking hell out of airline stewardess doll. Delicious body. Only wished blinds were open.
In living room, another movie started. Three of the most delicious young blonds, one Negro girl. Top quality color film again. Thin story line. Opened with their sipping drinks at sidewalk cafe. Recognize city. Know European. Copenhagen, Stockholm, Hamburg, Berlin? Must be one of those. Negro girl and one blond supposed to be American schoolteachers on vacation. Two blond Europeans are working girls out for a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. European girls begin to look over Americans with great interest. Camera would pick up staring eyes of one girl, then move down to legs of Negro girl at which staring. Negro girl had hand in lap, rubbing cunt area, making skirt come up higher, to stocking tops. European girl places hand on Negro's. Camera went to faces. Smiling at each other, talking, tossing hair back, very sexy. Oh my god. The other European girl is suddenly shown with hand under table feeling bare, naked and delicious upper thigh of white American girl.
Scene shifted to apartment. All girls helping each other undress, kissing and sucking each other as they do. They walk around. Look at each other naked. Play with breasts. European girl first licks up to pussy of Negro girl. She goes bats. Begins to eat her white American girlfriend. Other European girl climbs in middle. Four such beautiful bodies. Look twenty to twenty-five years, no more.
Three girls, including Negro, left on tiny garter belts and dark nylons. Oh my god and the tight close-ups! It was so clear. Tongues in the cunts, lapping and licking. Most hot of all when blond European girl sucked Negro girl's pussy. White-blond on black, bristly-haired cunt. Tongue going in and out. White girl spread open Negro girl's pussy. Clit very clear. Tongue lashed at it Camera pulled back to show Negro girl sitting, leaning back, supporting self on hands, writhing, twisting, obviously screaming with passion. Other American girl licks ass of European girl sucking Negro girl's pussy. Fourth girl gets underneath and licks pussy of same girl. Camera works its way around for benefit of maximum coverage of each angle.
One more shot in the glass jar! Dim lights on in living room. Mainly silhouettes, but could make out clearer. Bodies entwined, everyone naked. Couple on couch fucking. Two men and girl working on other girl. Too bad light not better.
Two lesbians in apartment on sixth floor. Only see tit-sucking. Will work on periscope idea next week maybe. Can only get good view into apartments directly across and two floors below. Really exhausted before midnight. Quite satisfied feeling to know what I have in store here. And shoe-mirror should be ready for use Monday if work on tomorrow.
Goddammit! That was reaction to sight in first floor apartment when first saw it. Barely discernible in very, very dim light from background. But no mistaking it. Person standing at big living room window (saw this during last scan of windows for night) with pair of binoculars. Glass refractions indicated looking my way!
Impulsively decided to end night very unusually. Could swear that other person with binocs was a naked woman, rather tall. Chart showed it would be apartment 134. Something to look forward to in morning to go down and investigate for name on door. Big thing was to determine for sure that voyeur (hopefully female) was looking at me. Then took down own binocs and tripod. Turned on lights. Stood right by window and masturbated stone-hard cock into jar in state of great excitement.
Sunday, June 16 Slept like a top until eight-fifteen am. Very refreshed feeling. So quiet. Looked out into court. Pool not open. No one on tennis court. Of course, I realized people who live in a place like this don't get up early on Sunday mornings. Ideal time to sneak down and find name on 134. But wait, I reasoned. Why not take advantage of this opportunity to get names off all doors listed on my chart. Then able to tell at a glance when I watch through binocs who is doing what and possibly to whom. I laughed at this. Very good feeling this morning.
Forty-five minutes later, I had completed the task. Eating breakfast, I transferred names from list to apartment numbers on chart. "Mrs. Constance Walters." That was the name on 134. Familiar. I tried to program it through my mind. Nothing. "Mrs. Constance Walters." Who was she? She must have been the one who was looking at me with binocs, looking at everyone on this side of building.
Ran back to bedroom and zeroed in on 134. Drapes drawn in living and dining area. Blinds drawn in bedroom. It was a one bedroom apartment. Same floor plan as mine, except in exact reverse. Checked directory from office. No "Mrs. Constance Walters." Mystery deepened until I remembered silhouette. Tall woman, very good legs, fairly slim. I ran to my desk and pulled out the file folder with my rental contract. Of course! There it was: For lessor (Mrs. Constance Walters).
By god, she did read my mind, because her mind is the same, I figured immediately. And then I laughed. Too bad the old gal (not really so old and bad at that-ash blond hair, good and fashionable dresser, smart looks, slim and curved body) lived on the first floor. That gave her a very limited view into the apartments. Except for someone like me who would stand in the window and put on a show for her.
Or, I wondered, would she have preferred to see some lesbian action? Did she like girls? Was she divorced or widowed? What did she like to look for specifically through those binocs? Could her icy personality be broken down? What if I called her up and started talking friendly, not give name, tell her I watched her in nude looking through binocs from window? She must have been nude, from the silhouette I was seeing. I wondered then if she was alone.
Was she alone now? I looked up her number in phone book and wrote it on chart by name and apartment location. Scanned windows with glasses. Few people eating breakfast. Interesting ones were young women walking around dining area in thin, short baby-dolls. Oh, so nice. Prick began to feel good and harden as stroked. Saw people moving around in wife-swap couple's apartment. Recalled movies and prick swelled to stone-hard. European girls!
Why shouldn't I take a trip to Europe? Plenty of vacation time. Fly to London or Paris on one of the cheap twenty-one day rates around August or September? Idea grasped me firmly. Damn! Only silhouettes in wife-swap couple apartment. Seemed to be moving around, fixing breakfast. Only four people. One couple must have left Wife who lives there at window in baby-dolls. Nice legs. Damned nice!
I stretched and yawned. Fixed second coffee. Felt great. Relaxed. No use in hurrying things. Whole day of sex ahead. Took phone book out and began to look up numbers for each occupant on chart and enter them.
It was her! Mrs. Constance Walters. She was fully dressed and chatting with a young couple under a table umbrella at the pool. Small bag at her side. Hurry! Hurry, I kept telling myself. I wanted her to go inside the bath house and change. Oh my god, what an opportunity. She'd probably never leave her shades or drapes open. Wondered if she knew about my view into the four partitions in women's dressing room of bath house?
Grabbed come jar when I saw her go into bath house. Had to have an orgasm "with" her to see about after-effect. If lasting. What a goal to have! This woman was sexy, as filthy sex-minded as I was too. I would have to get to her some way. If I could get a good look-Instantly, I ran to the closet and took out my camera. Sneaky telephone calls could be dangerous. But if I had a photo?
I quickly tried to figure out settings for camera to take effective picture through one side of binocs. Chancy. But I thought I had it figured out after found both sensitized part of light meter and camera lens could fit snugly. Had to allow for distance as if figure was within approximately minimum footage. Could come out a blur. Stupid me! Grabbed camera case and put on zoom lens. Binocs too powerful. All I would get would be picture of face, navel, cunt, tit. No good.
Still used telescopic binocs to check on which room Mrs. Walters-hell, Constance-Connie-entered to change. Found her in second from left. Beautiful angle. Checked camera and brought her into beautiful focus with zoom. Just right to fill picture. Wonderful body! Slim, not usually to my liking. But very firm, distinct breasts. Firm and shapely ass. Took a dozen or more pictures. Good shots if come out. From front naked as jaybird. Leaning over to pull on bottom of two-piece swimsuit, cheeks of ass spread. Think enlargement will show asshole. Side shot of Connie undressing. In stockings. At least four other good shots showing open cunt. I think one picture will give appearance of playing with self. Think had on tampon or was changing tampon. But single picture will look like sticking finger in pussy.
Put down camera and followed her out to patio by pool. Yes, quite delicious. In early forties, but delectable.
Camera idea through binocs still feasible for shooting all way across court. With high-powered film, should be able to take shots at night with enough light. Will have to experiment. Problem? Where to get developed? Idea, but for then went ahead and tried taking shots through binoculars. Patio party of three girls in bikinis from apartment 226. Good shots of woman taking bath in 140. Wife-swap couple and others in shorts. Film used up.
Took cab after dressing and went back to drug store near apartment where used to live. Owner knew me. Very friendly. Gave him lot of business. Why not confide, ask him. I bought three rolls of very sensitive film, then dared to say, "Could I ask about something-uh-a little private, Mr. Turner?" He smiled and said that I could, but warned me that he could not give me anything to induce abortion (leering laugh, but so what). "I have some pretty wild films here. You know? Very private. Not the kind I could just send through the regular photo service for processing and I-"
"Say no more, Mr. Moore," he said to me, smiled, "I have a friend who does his own work. Cost a little more?"
"No matter," I assured him. He said cost about three times as much as regular. All right with me. Also told him I wanted eight-by-tens of all good, clear shots. Deposited twenty dollars in advance. He said he would call me when ready.
Lunch at new sidewalk cafe. Very nice to see the young women in mini-skirts, as usual. Two drinks. Thoughts as obtained very, very, interesting view of young woman sitting at table across. Big legs with great shape to them. Fantastically luscious thighs. Gartered tops only about two inches above knees. Much good, solid flesh. Ahh-h!
Idea! Went to men's shop at nearby hotel and bought very stylish pair of swim trunks, beach robe, towel. Returned to apartment by cab. Into trunks and robe, carried towel out to pool. Oh my god! Looking through telescope good. But to be so close to all this young, young, firm, delicious young flesh in bikinis, see-throughs, rear-cleavage showing, Damn!
Oh, damn, again! I wanted to reach out and grab. Blond, teenager, tiniest bikini. Hips swayed. Delicious little breasts. Hint of blond pubic hair at crotch. Eat it! Oh my god, I wanted to reach out and eat it, fuck it, suck it. Wanted to take out hard cock in center of all this flesh and jerk it off! Maddening! Wanted to masturbate so badly.
Recalled man on slope as he had watched girls, lying there moving hips. Went up to grassy slope and put towel on ground. No others too close. Who would notice or care, anyway. Removed robe and lay on towel so as to just be able to peer over slope at all the bathing beauties. What a delicious sight. All so close and in flesh!
Cautiously, reached down to adjust prick right up against stomach. Moved hips slightly, side to side. Rolling motion, rotating. That was best. Stone-hard in minutes watching airline stewardess and friend. Blond and brunette. One, blond, wore small bikini. Brunette had on very new and daring one-piece. Came down so far in back could almost see separation of cheeks. Beautiful ass. Small bosom, but very, very shapely. No bra or support in suit. Breasts moved freely. Much showing in front from low-cut design.
Eyes went to midriff of the blond, followed every move of navel, sway of ass. Getting ready to come. No damn rubber on! Couldn't help it. Had to! After excitement over, idea, got up and ran quickly to pool, jumped in. Nobody noticed spot on front of trunks, I hoped. Swimming around, adjusted cock, let come flow out of suit. Swam width of pool several times to be sure come rinsed out. Whew! Exhausted.
Looked up to see a long pair of legs. Face of Connie looking down at me. Snobbish smile, more of smirk, on her goddamn face (little did that bitch know how I had plans for her). "Well, good afternoon, Mr. Moore," she said. I replied with something. Oh my god, what an angle to look up at that body! "Glad to see you enjoying our pool How is your apartment? How's the view?"
"Very good-uh, yes, very good," I told her. The sexy bitch. I wanted to ask her the same question, but I dared not. I was too shaken up by her sudden appearance, that goddamn dominant, haughty quality about her. I ducked back in the water and swam to the other side. Retrieved robe and towel. Returned to room.
"That cunt!" I said aloud to myself. I watched her every move in the bath house through binocs. Lovely black, full growth of cunt-hair. Nice tits. Just wait. Have to wait. Watched her go into building. Zeroed binocs on her living room window. Sun just right. All drapes and blinds open! Watched her come in apartment, head for bathroom. Oh my god, what a perfect view. I loaded my camera as quickly as possible and took readings, made adjustments. She was naked and sitting on toilet when I returned to binocs. Took several shots. Beautiful! Just like I was in the bathroom with her. Two shots of her wiping her ass. One shot of her taking out tampon. Three shots of her douching. Did not replace tampon. Must have finished period.
Should have expected this. Sunday night dullness. People going to bed early. Careful about open drapes or blinds. One good-very, very good-sight of girl about twelve as yesterday. Same girl. Taking a shit. Wiping. Very small titties. Best was next. The girl rolled around one nipple with finger of left hand and began to masturbate. Delicious sight. Toilet in master bath of three bedroom apartments (she lived in large apt. with parents) faced window. Could see right into her cunt. She rubbed and rubbed, moving around. I could tell when she made it come. I deposited another contribution to my jar.
Scanned for other three bedrooms. Young boy jerking off in one. About fifteen. Good size cock! What the hell would I be interested in watching him for? Moved on. Wheel Big, fat woman of thirty to forty, sitting awkwardly on pot. Husband or some man, watching her and playing with tits. Good sight while it lasted.
Finally spotted a new and delicious Japanese or Korean girl, very slim. This was weirdest sight yet. View was so close. Her legs slightly parted.
Oh my god! The two lesbians. Wish I had that damned periscope! Too high except to see above waists. But sucking tits and hugging in bed like crazy. Can only get good view when they rise up slightly or sit up on bed. Still good enough for excellent come.
Almost eleven pm. Most lights out. Some tv's on for news. Zeroed in to investigate Connie's apartment again. No lights. Stayed on living room window until eyes became better adjusted. Yes I there she was. Just a silhouette, but looking right up to my apartment. Wondered? No, her binocs were not powerful enough to make me out in the darkness. Or were they? She did not have to use a tripod as I did. They couldn't have more-or as much-as half the strength of mine. If superpower, must have tripod to keep steady.
But I would please her. I would put on my little show. I was naked, tired, ready for last shot. I walked into living room, turned on lights, quickly went to window and masturbated, thinking, "Oh my god, it would be just perfect, if by some miracle, I could see what you are doing, cunty bitch!"
Took a shower and put binocs away. Going to bed.
Chapter Six
INGENIOUS PEEPING TOM
Monday, June 17 Awoke at six forty-five am with terrific hard-on. Almost complete daylight. Put binocs up by bedroom window and there she was! Connie was sitting in her bathroom, on the pot, masturbating away! She was in wild throes of passion. Her hand was gripping towel rack until I could see her knuckles turn white. Expression on face marvelous.
Better still, to watch the way she had legs spread and seemed whole hand was working on cunt. Shame had to be only side view from down angle. Connie jerked and twisted and almost fell off toilet. Then very quiet. Lay back, sat back, dreamy look. Smiled. Not her snobbish bitch smile. Very real. I had a great, strong, wonderful orgasm. No time to get jar. Right in hand. Tasted it again. Enjoyed it. Sexy.
No use to try to sleep any more. Too excited and awake. Ate breakfast. Still almost hour before time to get bus to office. Idea hit. The shoes. I had all the parts. Just need to assemble. Took small steel pin and placed up near front of hollowed out area of thick sole and above steel plate. Used paring knife to get inside shoe and cut hole in right place so that pivot would stick up through remaining sole and between big toe and one next to it. Good. Fit fine. Worked with small drill (very hard to pull back upper part of sole and shoe, but made it) to make bottom seat for pivot. Good. Very tight fit.
Removed pivot and slipped through hole in specially cut section of highly polished pocket mirror. Replaced entire unit in sole of right shoe. Tense moment. Will it work? Will have to walk with slight limp. Take other shoes to change at office or before. No problem. No one would dare ask the recently upgraded senior statistician why he changes shoes at office. None of their damn business. Or may wear them all day. Mention sprained ankle, foot, or something else if anyone mentions it.
Hurry to bus stop downstairs or would be late. Good crowd, many girls and young women waiting for buses. Oh, beautiful! Oh my god, I'm better than James Bond. Stupid! Success after two months. The mirror slips out on a swivel from the sole of my shoe. Perfect! Looked up six girl's dresses at bus stop. Spanish-looking girl had on no pants. Thick black hair on cunt. Saw pussy lips when she pivoted leg. Rubbed prick through raincoat pocket and almost came off. Will try mirror at library on Saturday when can stand next to plenty of high school and college girls at book racks. Will wear rubber for at least two good orgasms, maybe more. Something about coming more than once, working up cock in swishing come of used rubber. Sexy.
So elated by my ingenuousness. The shoe-mirror works so perfectly. The Oriental girl was my first real try at the bus stop this morning. I stood very close to her, she at right. So simple. Lift right foot and twist at ankle. Mirror falls right out on same level as sole of shoe. Set foot back down. Move it over until it is underneath her dress. Flared skirts by far best for this. Depending on position girl is in, can see anywhere from inch or two of thigh, all way to pussy.
Oriental girl had legs half apart. Very good. Could see past tops of stockings, much flesh of sexy upper thighs and see hint of crotch area. Blue panties, very snugly tight and outlining mound of cunt. Ah!
Keep cautious watch. I must. Anyone appears to notice anything or looks down, I simply twitch angle of right foot to left. Mirror falls back into place in thick sole of shoe. Steel plate keeps sole stiff to prevent sole bending, breaking mirror.
Blond girl. Airline stewardess look. Beautiful hair. Very, very sheeny. Face of an angel. Angel with a hot cunt! Hot, hot cunt! Beautiful and stylish dress. High heel blue pastel shoes. Sheer, dark-brown nylons. Especially noticed how fullness of lush thighs came out naked above stockings. Could have almost come right then. But the stupid bitch! Stupid hillbilly bitch! All of that natural beauty. All of that outside attention to style! And she was wearing a cheap pair of white, cotton panties coming apart at the elastic edges! What a dumb broad!
Spanish-type girl with open cunt undoubtedly best.
Limped into office and decided to keep on shoes. Director saw me in hall and asked about limp. "Sprained my foot. Slipped running around the pool at my new apartment house," I told him. "Oh? Where'd you move?" he asked. "Hamilton Manor," I told him.
"Hamilton Manor!" he exclaimed, "Oh, you lucky divorced cats get all the breaks. I hear that place is teeming with young stuff. Great place for a bachelor, single man. You watch out, Frank. Don't get yourself another Jean. Ha-ha! You old cockhound. Ha-ha."
Why did I hate his attitude so much? He was really envious of me and with good reason. He had a frumpy wife and six kids. He had some girls on the side. But he knew that I had an edge on him. I was in a single status. He really and truly envied me. He had also saved my ass. He was an understanding man. Human. But he liked his cunt too. He was as much a dirty old man as I was, but he wouldn't admit it. Well, he didn't have the opportunities I had. He wasn't as clever either. Could he perfect the shoe-mirror so that he could look up at just about any girl's crotch he wanted to?
Bus terminal near office very crowded after work. Almost impossible to get into position for long, good look. Waited for two buses before I took one because short looks proved most interesting. Concentrated on married woman. Looked first to see if had wedding ring, then moved to right and slipped out mirror from shoe.
Looked up thirty-nine dresses beyond stocking tops. Of that number, saw twelve crotches, six very clearly, three of those wore no pants. Two high school age girls excited most. No stockings. All fresh, naked leg. Sheer panties. One was one of three with no panties. Long blond hair worn tied back. Full body. Wanted to-imagined sensation of licking up those thighs from knee to crotch of sparse, brownish-red cunt hairs. Only very slight view of lips to pussy.
Very hot day. Perspiring through suit after twenty minute bus ride through rush hour. Could have walked it just as quickly, but would be more hot and sticky. Noticed "Club Bar And Lounge" off lobby of main entrance to Hamilton Manor. Filled with young women. Many standing about bar chatting among selves or with men. Notice the older Japanese or Korean girl who had watched changing clothes in bath house. No sight of her younger friend.
Walked into bar very casually and stood next to her. Ordered Harper on rocks. Ah! Refreshing. Moved closer and dropped out mirror. Lighting in bar was bad. Still saw well above stockings. Just delicious. I remembered so well how she looked completely naked, so could visualize open crotch and cunt hairs.
"You are new in Hamilton Manor?" she asked me.
Oh my god! I nearly froze or panicked. I had been staring unmindfully down at the mirror. Quickly tilted shoe. Mirror fell back to place. I felt very panicky. Wanted to get out quickly. Answered, "Yes, just moved in over the weekend. I think I saw you at the pool over the weekend. Lovely, lovely swimsuit." I was choking. What else could I have said? No reason to waste time being friendly. Let her know of interests right off.
"Glad you like, Mr-" she said. I lied and told her my name was Chuck Murar. She was Miss Yamamura, a translator and bilingual secretary in a large Japanese-American import-export facility. I felt awkward enough, panicky, as was.
When she opened her mouth next, I wanted to run. Said, "American men like Japanese female body. But why use mirror to see legs. Ha-ha. See much more in bikini."
I excused myself and left after gulping drink. Panicky and sweaty in room. How many people would she tell? Would my shoe-mirror be known to everyone? Oh my god, I guess very lucky she is Japanese. Not so upset as American woman would be at discovery. She seemed more amused than bothered. Shoe-mirror out until Saturday. No chance letting her catch me with them on.
Quart jar becoming fuller after the four good masturbations from evening's watch with binocs. Weekday nights should be very good for watching girls and women undress and in bathrooms. Twelve year old child masturbating was still hottest thing of all. Wonder what goes through her sweet, sexy mind? How often does she masturbate. Very tired by eleven. Took over half a roll of film.
Idea! Will set clock for six forty-five am. Get good pictures of Connie masturbating. Must be daily morning ritual for her. Will take up full roll of her masturbating. Take film by to man at drugstore before work. Very anxious and optimistic about outcome of photos. Casual conversation with other photo buff (colleague at work) revealed he had taken similar pictures through telescope. Not similar content. He was interested in astronomy.
Saturday, June 22 Went to main library with special shoes on shortly after breakfast. Full of high school and college age kids. Great. Very relieved to find them in summertime. But large summer school program in high schools of cities, plus local colleges and some on quarter system.
In sociology section found intellectual appearing types. Girls with glasses, long hair, serious looks, flared or loose type skirts. Wonderful hunting grounds. Immediately picked very absorbed girl near back of racks. She was perusing first one book, then another. Easy to stand right close to her and do same.
I thought of her as being named Ellen. Don't know why. Full-bodied. Not standard-sexy. Intellectual. Stockings were not sheer and sophisticated. But very, very sexy to me. Light good. Oh my god! Excellent view of very thick, naked, upper thighs above stockings. She was awkward, stood with legs apart. Good look at crotch. No pants, I thought at first. But wrong. Very pinkish and sheer panties. But saw long strands of pubic hair sticking out. Wondered how edible her big pussy must look when naked.
She moved away. I took book and went to look for spot to sit down and try new idea. Librarian was seated at one readers' table marking a stack of books. Area was quite crowded. No suspicion if I sat beside her and pretended to be very engrossed in the book I had selected. Forgotten name of it. Did I know the name of it this morning? Hope I didn't have it upside down.
Librarian was kind of dumpy and dowdy type. Why this appeal of intellectual and non standardly-sexy types? Must be reason. Probably because bodies are full and they have air of inaccessibility, disinterest in sex. Challenging to a male? Wonder?
Sitting immediately to her left, stretched feet under table. Crossed feet, right foot over left. Shook out mirror and held out with toe of left shoe. Repositioned self at slight angle. Voila! By leaning back and pretending to be deeply absorbed in book held in lap, could keep eye on mirror until adjusted to light.
Librarian had very thick and juicy thighs! Yum yum! Legs well apart. Crotchless girdle, no panties. Difficult to see as light not perfect. But abundant pussy hair. Terribly exciting! I was overwhelmed. Excited! What to do. Great desire to masturbate!
Went to men's room after very deliberately asking her where it was. She told me quite unashamedly. Put on rubber. When returned, she was gone. Went to literature section. Back to racks by high school girls. Better light. Rubbed self off easily when found redhead about sixteen with freckles! Good view up to crotch of panties. No stockings. All fresh, young, delectable, delicious thighs and visions of red pussy hairs. Cleaned up and left during visit to men's room. Cleaned up in men's room, should say, then left.
Stopped for lunch and drinks at very posh cafe and bar. Delicious looking, full-bodied, brunette, Irish-type young waitress had area of booths and tables near back right. Wonderful! Took booth at very end, but sat at edge. Slipped shoe-mirror out. Kept foot under table until she came up and stood right by me. Deliberated over menu. Light was bad. Could see juicy thighs over top of stockings. Was not sure, but thought she wore no pants. Crotchless girdle like librarian.
Had a very nice looking club sandwich and chefs salad. Drank beer. Atmosphere nice. Good air-conditioning. Waitress did not seem to mind lingering around. Seemed very friendly. Talked a lot to me after noon business tapered off. Would stand right there where I could get best look until -oh my god! I realized that she knew I was looking up her dress!
Strange. No panic like with Japanese girl. Reason obvious: never have to worry about seeing this girl again if no sex-take interest. No worry of exposure. If she were going to scream or call vice squad, would have already done so. I wanted to say something. Couldn't.
"You like to look at my legs, don't you?" she whispered to me.
"Yes, beautiful, delicious!" I said boldly, daringly.
She looked around to see that everybody was minding own business. They were. She looked back at me and said quickly, "Listen, honey, I'll be off at four, but I'm supposed to meet my old man at six after he's off work at the department store. Could we go somewhere quick?"
"I-uh, my apartment. Only ten minutes in a cab," I said. I was so excited, so confused. She bought the idea immediately. I drank four more beers.
Mary Alice was very impressed by my apartment. She must have thought I was a millionaire. But there was little time for small talk. She was thirty-five, married seventeen years to shoe salesman, four children. But what a body! I praised it and she did slow strip to panty-girdle, stockings and bra. I sat and watched. Played unashamedly with cock. She was entranced. Her eyes lit up at sight of my slowly stroking my own cock, admitted, "Goddamn, honey! I love to watch a man do that. Do you like French love?"
Silly question. She walked toward me. I grasped delicious big ass. Licked the sexy thighs from tops of stockings. She pulled and tugged at girdle to get it over her cunt. Lots of thick, black hair on pussy. Held lips apart and I ate her up.
She kept talking, telling me. "I love it, love it, love it! Suck my pussy, honey. Oh, my goddamn husband's a fucking nut. All he does is fuck me like a stud. I want French. God, I love French. I'm coming again, honey!"
Great! With one hand, she was holding up girdle and holding open cunt for me. I was hitting clit just right, nibbling it too. That got her! Her other hand, wet with own cunt wetness, grabbed my head from behind. She leaned back, still standing. My head was driven into her pussy.
Not much time left, but what an understanding girl. She asked me, "Would you like for me to get dressed all the way. You know, honey, like I was waiting on you. You can put a light down at the floor to shine up my uniform to my pussy. It's all wet and gooey. You do that and I'll play waitress. You can jerk it off good.
We did just that, sitting at dining table area with drapes drawn. Put table lamp down sideways on floor and took off shade. So wild! A perfect view through mirror to her glistening wet pussy as she stood there fully dressed. I worked and worked on cock so freely. (No trousers or undershirt on. Had good, strong come into jar.) She thought jar was a very sexy idea. "Gee," she told me, "If I could swallow the stuff, I'd have me a ball with that."
Felt lonely when she left. Kept stroking cock up to good hard again, looking down at pool, at fresh, young bodies. But memories lingered with her, looking up dress with all that light, beating myself off into jar in front of her. She accepted me. A married woman. Children. That made her more exciting, for some crazy reason, than all this young flesh at the pool.
Connie was having nice party this evening. Lot of guests. She was so goddamn much the personality snob! Watched it all. Knew more about her now. A widow. Husband had been high-ranking military officer. Son, aged twenty-two, senior in college. He was on tour of Europe for summer. Fuck her! I just wish I could get those goddamn pictures. A son in college. I had this snob of a bitch over a barrel. Once I had the picture, she would be mine, have to do anything I said. Social position, son in college, general's or something widow.
Chapter Seven
THE NAKED LANDLADY
Sunday, July 7 I was so excited, shaking all over. Looked over all the beautiful pictures when arrived back at apartment. Connie was the best. Oh A my god, what perfect pictures of her. Looked down and saw her at pool being very snobbish and personable with the richer residents. Little did she know!
Several, good, clear pictures of her in bathroom masturbating. Joy of joys! Face completely recognizable. Only little blur from magnification. Shots in bath house even clearer. Fingers in pussy inserting tampon look very much like masturbating. Other pictures very stimulating too. Oh my god, I thought, I could end up blackmailing half the residents of Hamilton Manor! And if I could work some more on the periscope idea?
Had to think hard on plan of action. Act now! Looked through desk drawer. Took large, blank manila envelope. Addressed it simply, "Mrs. C. Walters, Very Personal". I inserted two poses of her masturbating, completely naked, in the bathroom. I took two of the enlargements of her in bath house and clipped off edges that showed outside of window. Bathroom pictures did not show outside. No way for her to prove precisely then where pictures shot from.
Wrote on plain piece of paper, "Please do not worry. No one else will ever see these or the other copies. I merely enjoy the beauty of your features. You are a very beautiful and charming woman." I inserted in envelope with pictures, sealed.
Connie still down at pool. Idly talking with some couple. Looked as if might be getting ready to leave. Zeroed binocs in on her apt. Drapes open. Good view. Sun just right. Hear beating of heart. What perfect time for execution of plan, I thought.
Quickly went down to first floor hallway. No one in sight. Envelope slipped neatly beneath door. Back to own apt. in hurry. Mrs. Walters leaving pool area alone. Cock very hard. Stroking it hard. More excited than ever! Oh my god! The wait was interminable!
Watching her walk in apt. and casually pick up envelope, I glanced to other photos of her I had spread on table. Working up to strong orgasm! She tossed her robe and bag onto couch, tore open envelope. Look on her face one at first of raging terror! I ejaculated strongly into jar. She leafed through photos. Still terrorized. Very strange. Thought I detected a very momentary, very shortlived smile.
Connie stood up. Full, haughtiness of expression and manner. Walked to windows and pulled drapes closed. Two seconds later, blinds in bedroom closed. Two more seconds and I saw her in bathroom, pulling little curtains across small top window.
I began to feel panicky. What if she called police? What if she asked advice of lawyer friend? What could I do? What if she and police or lawyers set a trap for me? I could be at end of my road! I quickly gathered up all photos and put them in envelope. Had impulse to run and put them all, including rolls of negs, into incinerator chute!
Oh my god! I jumped a mile when the phone rang. Was it her? Quickly, I began to think. If it was her, she had not yet had time to contact anyone else. Thus hoped it was her. Immediate contact with me could mean safety. Mean that she knew or suspected. But also safety.
"Hello," I answered. Used all energies to control voice, act normal, casual.
"Mr. Moore?" the female voice asked me. I was sure it was her. I replied affirmatively at once. Perhaps too anxiously.
"This is Mrs. Walters, the resident manager," she said. The haughtiness was gone from her voice. But good control. Apparent confidence.
"What a pleasant surprise to hear from you," I said, acting, "Or has some neighbor complained of my noisy parties?"
"Quite the contrary," she replied, "You seem to be one of our more quiet tenants. What I did want to ask you, Mr. Moore-or rather invite you to-was for-is for- Oh, what I'm trying to say is that I usually like to become acquainted better with new tenants. I thought you might like to come down for a drink, if you're not too busy?"
"I'm not very much the party-going type," I replied deliberately. Her answer reassured me, answered my indirect question, "Oh, there's no party, Mr. Moore. Nothing formal at all. In fact, I'll be wearing shorts. So dress very casually. Will I see you?"
"Yes, yes, I'll be down in a few minutes," I replied. Oh my god! Was I giving myself away? I quickly added, "Well, I presume, as resident manager, you do have an apartment on one of the lower floors?"
I detected what I thought was a very smirking laugh as she gave me the apartment number. Oh my god! I was shaking all over. I took three double shots of Harpers hundred proof. Quick shower and shave. Into sport slacks and shirt. Another drink. Yes, much better then. Felt more confident. Locked envelope with photos in desk drawer. Also locked camera, binocs and the table tripod in desk.
Walked down the two flights and around the hallway. Knock immediately answered. Her smile seemed very warm and intimate, only slight bit of aloofness. She looked so delicious. White, stretch, short-shorts. Tight and sporty tee shirt. High heel clogs. What a lusciously, well-preserved body!
"I hope you'll excuse my becoming so tongue twisted on the telephone," she said, "It seems every Sunday, I have a little too much to drink. Simply everyone at the pool invites me to sit and have a drink with them. Why, do you know, Mr. Moore, I've even been tipsy one or two times."
She was talking too fast. Obviously to hide nervousness. Closed door. Drapes open now. Asked what I wanted to drink. Poured us two very, very generous portions of hundred proof bourbon on the rocks. I marveled at the beauty of her body, the firm ass, the tits I knew so well. My imagination soared until I could conjure up the mound of pussy hair covered flesh that enveloped her cunt. The air was tight with anticipation, I think, on both parts.
"I have no complaints from the tenants, Mr. Moore," she began again, looking a little more snobbish, "But I did happen to notice quite by accident that you-you leave your drapes drawn back during some of your-uh-moments of privacy."
"How terrible," I said. My confidence was coming back to me. A feeling I had not known in months was making me feel so masterful, so powerful. I went on, "To tell the truth, Mrs. Walters-or may I call you Constance-or do you prefer Connie?"
"Connie is just fine, Frank." There was a very indescribable and short smile on her face.
And then I continued to unload myself, break the ice. I said, "To tell the truth, Connie, I happen to have an old pair of binoculars, very superpower. I was just gazing up at the stars a few times, when I chanced to look down toward this apartment. I saw you looking up toward my apartment with a pair of binoculars. So I decided to make it worth your while."
"I understand you're quite interested in photography too, Frank," she said. Was she changing the subject? Or pursuing it? Was she trying to trap me? Was a tape recorder on? "I dabble in it occasionally," I said, "I used to be quite a hobbyist at it, but not very much recently."
"Do you think that I enjoyed watching your spectacle at the window?" she asked me.
"I really have no way of knowing, do I?" I replied, staring at her. I stared very strongly, daring her, putting her on the defensive. I felt so glorious in my role. But I did not expect her next outburst.
"Oh, this is the most fabulous thing that's ever happened to me," she said, laughed, "Hoisted on my own petard, aren't I. Here we are, Frank, two peeping Toms, caught by each other. Your photos of me are lovely." She spread them out on the coffee table. "I'm sure you've checked on my vulnerability to scandal. I'm sure that you could send these to my boy at college, to the apartment owners. So Frank, does it surprise you that I'm throwing myself at your mercy? What do you want?"
I was too stunned to speak. Connie stood up and closed the drapes. It was becoming darker outside now. She put on two small table lamps. Drank heavily from her drink. Refilled both our drinks very full. Her face looked different under the light from the lamps. She seemed very tired, a little older. No smile. No snobbishness. She almost cried, hid face in hand as began to talk.
"Do you know what it means for a woman married to a virile man for so many years," she started, "to become a widow, to have to remain respectable. My husband taught me to love sex. God! He taught me to crave, crave oral sex, the most powerful strokes of fucking! Yes, I rather imagine you like to hear me talk this way. Yes, yes, every night, I search the windows over there. I see a man masturbating sometimes, a couple making love.
"You know my other habits by now-the morning bathroom ritual. But what you don't know, Frank, what you don't know is this. You've heard the expression, I'm sure, 'It takes one to know one,' and that explains why I gave you that apartment. I had no idea how soon you would act, what you would do. But I did know that from that apartment, you could see into the windows of the bath house partitions. I knew you could, by using binoculars, see into my apartment, particularly the bathroom.
"What really shocked me, Frank, was your positive deviousness for evil! I never suspected that you would have such powerful binoculars. Or that you would take pictures."
"Do you mean," I asked, confused, "that you wanted me to look at you, see you naked, masturbating?"
"Just as much as you wanted me to see you!", she replied firmly. Connie stood up and came to where I was still standing. Her slimly curved body swayed teasingly. She asked me, "Does a woman of forty-five appeal to you, Frank, a woman who has not had sex with another man in years? Go ahead, Frank. Tell me. Talk to me. Talk filth to me!"
Oh my God! I was torn up and twisted inside. My hands were shaking so much, Connie had to grasp me by my arms and yell at me, "Talk filth to me! Take me. Do whatever it is you want. For god's sake, Frank! Don't you understand that I hate you, that I hate the awful, filthy evilness of sex! But I can't help myself, Frank! I teased you! I gave you that apartment when I saw the way you looked at me and at those other women out there. You're evil, rotten, perverted! I've got to have a man like you. I can't have an affair with some respectable man in the building, who would-"
She stopped talking, seeing the anger and fury well up in my face. I slapped her hard, right on, right across her tits. I was ready to tear her clothes off, but she jumped back. Connie was a fast person, agile. She took off her clothing quick, while dodging my advances. She had probably planned this too.
I had to chase her, or rather she led me in chasing her into the bedroom, sprawled open-legged on the bed. I had a terrific erection and I vowed not to let this one go down. I was upon her in a second. Her pussy was wet and slimy. Not too tight. Not too loose. Different feeling. I fucked, fucked, fucked. She was like an insane person. No nymphomaniac could react the way she did. She kept yelling and screaming, straining so hard for orgasms.
"Oh-oh-ohohoho-talk filth to me, Frank!" she screamed, "Talk to me, you rotten bastard!"
"You tramp!" I yelled. My mind was boiling over, just couldn't seem to command the right words. Couldn't hold back come. Let it go. Oh my God, my cock stayed about half-hard. I felt satisfied in one sense, but kept ramming. Suddenly, I found it very easy to give her what she wanted, really tear into her. I hated her filthy, goddamn whorish guts!
"Talk filth to me, you dirty bastard!" Connie yelled still again. Then I was ready. I kept my cock moving in and out, knowing that even its semi-hardness was giving her something she had been craving for so long. So I was so dirty and evil that she could let me fuck her, eh? The other men were too respectable?
"You cheap, common cunt," I told her with vitriol filling my tone of voice. I made my diatribe a low-key presentation. I felt it was better that way. Like twisting the knife as I stabbed her vanity and feelings.
And I continued: "You put on that haughty show by day, that respectable widow's veil. Underneath, Connie, you're the trashiest land of whore-cunt there is. If there's such a thing as a dirty old man, a dirty-old-woman like you is worse. You put on a front of respectability-a false front. A common whore charges cash for the temporary enjoyment of her body. She pleases a man in return. You're sick, Connie. You're hungry for cock, cunt, assholes, anything. I think I'll have you eat out my asshole, maybe fart in your beautiful face. You have the mind of a sex-fiend, Connie. You are filth incarnate! You are a human beast in the guise of a decent woman. I know you. I have photographic proof of the filthy kind of cunt you are. Go ahead! Cry! Suffer. Go kill your rotten self! You cheap, goddamn cunt!"
"Fuck my filthy cunt, Frank!" Connie railed back at me, "Put your filthy cock in my filthy cunt. Shoot your depraved juices into my cunt! Make me suck your depraved cock."
When I pulled out of her cunt almost stone hard at that moment, there was a loud "slop-pop" sound. How deliciously evil! I moved up over her body until I was straddling her at the breasts. I took her hands and showed her how I wanted her to press her breasts inward against my cock. We were both perspiring heavily despite the efficient air-conditioning provided by Hamilton Manor. My cock slipped back and forth between her breasts. Her stylishly fixed ash blonded hair was mussed up in the pillow folds.
"I want to suck it!" she yelled at me, "I want to suck your cock, prick, balls, ass!"
I promised her, "You will. You'll do more than that. I have a bottle of come collected in my apartment. You are going to come up to my apartment and drink it all! Do you hear me? Cheap cunt!"
I couldn't hold it any longer. I didn't care. If she wanted to taste my come voluminously, she would have to drink it from the quart jar. I wouldn't give her the decency of putting it in a glass. I let go with a strong orgasm that splashed over her face and neck. "God damn you!" she screamed, "I wanted to swallow it!"
I wiped the droolings of my cock on her belly and got up from the bed. I told her to get some clothes on and come with me to my apartment. There was no argument. I showed her the jar, the quart jar with all the slimy come in it, the thick, creamy tentacles swimming in the lighter liquid. "Drink every goddamn drop," I told her.
"I want to be naked first with you," she said.
I loved that. We both undressed ourselves. I liked that better than undressing each other. I brought out my binocs and the tripod and set them up on the table by the bedroom window. We stood together a few minutes, scanning the windows. My hand was rubbing her bare ass, feeling with fingers into the crevice and wiping the wetness from her freshly-fucked cunt up to the asshole.
"Look!" I told her, "The young girl there in the bedroom. She can't be over twelve. See her playing with her titties under her gown. I've watched her masturbate in the bathroom too. Delicious."
"Little Hazel Tabler?" Connie gasped, her body moved and twisted, "I can't believe it. Such a sweet child."
I told her, "She's a chronic masturbator, just like you and me. But come. You have some drinking to do."
This was the most sexy thing I have ever seen in my life! Connie took hold of the quart jar with clenched fingers, knuckles white. She took one look at it, said very loudly, "I'm going to drink your come!"
Connie lifted the jar to her lips and began to drain it. Her body shook and trembled. Her face was that of a sex maniac. She gulped and gulped until the filth of the collected semen was all inside her body. Remaining were only the slimy dregs. She took the jar in the kitchen and flung it into the wastebasket. Her eyes were still filled with that look of being in a possessed or dream state, in an incomprehensible daze.
"Lie down on your bed, Frank, please," she asked me, "I want to bathe you."
"Oh my god!" I said aloud. I knew instinctively what was coming. I lay on the bed and she pounced upon me like a sex-mad tigress. Her lips and tongue began at my toes. She licked the soles of my feet, my legs, my cock, my asshole, my ass, sides, back, belly, chest, shoulders, arms. Her tongue lashed out at my naked body like a demon serpent's. She moved back down to my nipples, sucking them one by one.
"Frank, fucker, sucker, cock, shit, eat, fuck!" she cried out. Her perspiring, naked body twisted and slithered over mine. There was a difference between the feel of a woman Connie's age and a real young girl. The flesh was different. But Conine's flesh was so smooth and her need for sex was so great. I moved my body at the slightest gesture from her that she wanted access to a different place.
I turned over when she got down near my cock again. Greedily, she parted the cheeks of my ass and explored the innermost portions with her velvet, wet tongue.
I twisted my torso across the bed as she continued to lick and suck my ass and the backs of my thighs. I felt my cock about to explode. I turned over to watch it tower in the air. Connie looked at it as if it were the end of her quest for pleasure. Her small, wet, taut lips covered the head. I could feel the tremendous suction as she pulled it into her mouth while simultaneously going down until it was all the way in. She gagged and almost puked. But she would not let it go until I shot my load of semen and she consumed it with the hunger of a starving child.
Thursday, Aug. 23 My fingers sluiced in the wetness of her insatiable cunt. Her hand stroked my cock. We watched the two Japanese girls undress, knowing this was a night they would have sex. The view was perfect. Directly across from her apt. We knew them like a book now. Every Thursday, they seemed to come into heat spontaneously and they did again.
The older girl with the larger breasts began to kiss the younger one. They were fully clothed. The kisses grew warmer and stronger. Older girl took off other's blouse and was kissing and sucking those small buds, pulling them into her mouth. They were on the couch and we could see their searching hands and twisting bodies.
On weekends, they would act like a normal married couple and ritually undress each other. Often closed blinds. Sometimes forgot. Their sex would then be in bed and wild and naked, as noted last Saturday.
Their hands groped to denude one another as they continued their strongly passionate kisses and embraces on the couch. "I bet they use the bed tonight," Connie ventured.
"No," I said, "There's something about the way they're going at it. I can tell, dammit. They're going to sixty-nine on the couch."
"I hope so," Connie replied breathlessly, "We can see so much more through the full-length window."
And soon enough, clothing on floor, their naked young Oriental bodies were locked in a naked sixty-nine. I adjusted the binocs slightly so we could see the older girl at work. She was on top. Fingers of each hand stretched open the gaping cunt of the younger girl. Older girl had a way of gobbling or pecking at her pussy. It was a sexual delight to watch.
Felt Connie's sex-crazed body quiver and shake as twelfth orgasm of evening resulted for her. Moved scope to watch younger girl's face. Not as clear a view of the pussy. Only the young tongue lapping out.
"Frank, she's going to suck him off again!" Connie squealed with depraved delight. I adjusted the focus after zeroing in on Mrs. Helper's window. Mrs. Helper was slim, middle-aged divorcee who owned a large French poodle. She was a bestialist whom we had viewed before. Oh my god! Mrs. Helper had the damned poodle sitting up in the chair. She sat on the floor, then moved up. She was playing with the mutt's cock, red and stiff and wet.
I could feel Connie's cunt become more slushing and filled with liquid when her body convulsed in orgasm again. "I think I'll make you fuck a dog, Connie," I told her, "I'd like to watch those nice little lips of yours going over-"
She stopped me with, "Look! There she goes, fucking him. Oh, Frank, eat my pussy!"
I threw Connie to the bed and pulled her legs wide apart, downing my head into the cunt I knew so well. I sucked and sucked. I drew the wetness from her. She twisted all over the bed in fits of sexual madness, uncontrollable. "Oh, shit, fuck, suck, eat my cunt, you bastard!" she shrieked at me, "I have to keep coming. Don't make me stop. Keep it up. Go! Go! Go!"
I sucked her to so many orgasms that I felt as if my jaw would fall off. I worked my cock to a good hard, then rammed it to her. She was insatiable! Twice before like this. But able to bring under control. But too exhausted this time to do morel "Fuck me, you incompetent, impotent monster! Fuck me!"
"I can't," I told her, "Honestly, Connie. I can't do it anymore. I'm worn out."
She yelled back to me, "I don't care! If you can't do it, I will!" Many times we had watched each other masturbate with wild delight. But this was so different. Connie began to tear at her cunt lips. She dug her fingernails deeply into the flesh. Blood began to appear. I was in a panic. She was really going to do something to hurt herself.
I drew a glass of cold water from the ice tap. Threw it on her face. And another. And another. Her passion would not subside. I slapped her hard across the face. I did everything I knew. And she would still only tear at her cunt and curse me.
"Impotent bastard! Dirty old shit! Cunt lapper!" she screamed, "Fuck me. Eat it! Suck it!"
"Yes, yes," I promised, tried to think of something, "Just stay right there, Connie. I'll bring something back that will fuck you all night long. I have a vibrator like a cock. You'll love it. Wait right there."
Perspiration poured from me, but I ran back into the living room and quickly put on all my clothes strewn across the floor. I collected my binocs and tripod. I took the envelope of pictures from her desk. I could still hear her screams of anguish, her filthy sex talk, her curses and cries.
Safe in my apartment, I immediately dialed the number of the resident physician. I disguised my voice as cleverly as I could under the circumstances of panic. I said, "Quickly, doctor. Don't ask who I am. Get to Mrs. Walter's apartment at once. She's in some land of fit." I hung up. I raced to the window to set up binocs. Realized all drapes in her apt. closed, all blinds closed.
Friday, Aug 30 Talked to man at night desk for latest gossip. Oh my god, am I glad Connie had sense enough not to involve me. Safe, I think. If she admitted liaison with a man, it would only complicate things for her. Knew I had photos too. Must have told them she went into unconscious fit or something.
Man told me this evening that Connie had been released from hospital previous day and was moving to live with son and his wife in California, where he was finishing college. Yes, she had moved. What great relief to my mind.
And then I met Kristine on the elevator. We had a cocktail together. The conversation was quite interesting. She had never been married. She knew a great deal about my old hobby, photography. We shared too in a business way. In my statistical work, I had done much in the way of studies on pupil enrollment, class sizes, construction costs, cost per pupil.
It seemed that we never stopped talking until very late. My attraction for this woman was so dynamic, but not all just sex. I made a date to have dinner the next day and was the one who asked her.
Kristine reminds me of Bonnie in a way. Such a decent and respectable woman. But Kristine has never been married. I can't get her off my mind tonight. Saw a few good views of married woman masturbating across court. Masturbated self, but difficulty with strong erection again.
Can't get Kristine off my damn mind. Why?
(Editor's Note: Kristine is the "respectable" woman with whom Frank became so infatuated that he sought professional help in changing himself from an avowed dirty old man. Only time and a great deal of effort and will on his part, will tell if the change is possible and more importantly, if he really should marry this woman. He may be only seeking a retrogressive form of escape from his underlying problems. His equating of Kristine with his former wife and with what he thinks of as a "respectable" woman is not altogether a good indication that such a marriage would be beneficial to either.
(However, if he is able to effect a change in his life pattern and reorient himself to love and marriage with Kristine, it may be that two relatively lonely lives can be salvaged. Kristine is not without her own problems, though of a different type. It is possible that with some guidance they could be very good for each other. Let us hope so.)
