Research has uncovered on numerous occasions the fact that traumatic reactions occurring during early and sometimes premature coital experiences often create predictable patterns in future sexual behavior. The old saying "as the twig is bent, so grows the tree" is quite accurate in many instances of sexual development among adolescents of both sexes.
In the two previous decades, the "In Crowd" discussed sex. In this permissive age, the talker has been pretty much replaced by the doer. People are more intimately involved with sex than in any time in history.
The ultimate purpose of this book is to inform the concerned or involved reader of various aspects of early seduction and the traumatic effects thereof.
It is hoped that the reader will gain, through the case histories presented in this book, a deeper insight into one important cause of sexual hang-ups. Through any knowledge gained, it is my sincere hope, the reader will be able to increase the value of his own sexual experience.
Sheridan Granville
San Marino, California 1970
1.
It is generally accepted that sexual traumas are rooted in an individual's first sexual encounter, an encounter that often creates an indelible imprint on the mind of the individual in question. Subsequent sexual activities involve a predictable pattern of motivation and method designed to achieve a complete and satisfactory orgasm.
Some years back one seemingly normal young man was unable to achieve complete satisfaction during coital congress unless there was a third party present to rain continual blows on his buttocks with birch rods. Through analysis a repressed sexual incident that occurred during his early youth and that triggered this unusual need was finally brought to light.
This young man, during puberty, spent the summer months at an all-girls' camp operated by his parents in the Berkshire Mountains in New
Hampshire. Awakened to the youthful joys of masturbation, he proceeded to station himself daily outside the girls' shower room. There, unobserved, he peeked through a large crack in the wall and masturbated while watching the nubile nymphs in the process of their daily ablutions.
Watching these young things, whose ages ranged from fourteen through sixteen, caress their vaginas and breasts with the warm, soapy wash-cloths aroused the boy to extreme heights of passion. Sometimes he would bring along a wet soapy rag himself and use this aid to conjure up a sensation of actually being in the shower room with the unsuspecting teen-agers. This activity continued on happily, and undiscovered, for several summers. Then, one unfortunate day, the boy's father happened to pass by and observe his son's frantic action by the bath-house wall. Intending to teach the boy a lesson, he seized some nearby birch rods and struck his son repeatedly across the buttocks. The beating caused the boy to have a greater ejaculation and created pleasure-pain syndrome. Deep guilt resulted, which was later to affect all of the boy's sexual relationships. In early adulthood and marriage he was unable to achieve complete sexual satisfaction with his wife and was therefore driven to frequent brothels in order to achieve, with the assistance of blase prostitutes, erotic fulfillment.
Counseling, and later group therapy, eventually effected a beneficial result, and the young man is now enjoying a guilt-free and happy sex life.
This particular case is a good example of how a first sexual encounter can affect future sexual experience. Many a young woman has similarly encountered an unpleasant sexual experience during, her formative years, and has suffered emotional damage which left scars on her psyche. These experiences sometimes occur under the most pleasant of conditions and therefore cause confusions that can result in anything from frigidity to nymphomania.
Most city-bred children are pretty knowledgeable about sex by the time they are in their teens. In rural areas, however, sexual education is generally quite different from the so-called "street-corner" variety encountered in urban environments.
Growing up on the farm acquaints the individual with the reproductive efforts and methods of a variety of domestic animals. These activities are performed in their natural element, and therefore do not seem "dirty" to farm kids. The purely physical aspects of sex are obvious but none of the subtle potential aspects of sex is impressed on the farm-reared individual. The unfortunate result of this dichotomy is that the affective and spiritual aspects of sexuality are often ingrained in farm youngsters by the restrictive teachings of parent and preacher, while the physical aspects are learned from animals.
The combination of fundamentalist religious teaching and strict parental repression often confuses the maturing mind. Surrounded on the one hand by abundant sexual activity in the barnyard and receiving on the other constant brainwashing by parents and preacher to the effect that sex is dirty and only correct when sanctified by marriage, the child is bound to be confused. It is rare that a human being raised in this environment can enjoy a happy and meaningful sexual experience.
Jane F., a young girl from a farming community in North Dakota, explains how she found sexual fulfillment without ever leaving the barnyard.
* * *
I'm a country girl, seventeen years old. I have lived on a farm all my life. I have a cousin, Helen, two years my junior, who lives in Chicago.
Late last May my mother received a letter from Helen saying that she was coming to visit us for a month. Naturally I was excited at this news; I hadn't seen Helen for over five years, and living out here as we do we don't get many visitors from the city. On the day Helen was to arrive Dad and I drove down to town to meet Helen's bus. It had been so long since I had seen her that I thought if two girls were to get off the bus I wouldn't know which one was Helen. Luckily, Helen was the only girl to get off the bus, so that problem was avoided.
Helen was just beautiful. Exactly the right height, with a beautiful body, she was wearing a micro-miniskirt, and her blouse was so tight that I could see the outline of her nipples. They seemed to want to burst out through the bra she was obviously not wearing.
She hugged Dad with fierce welcome, and I could see the poor man break into a sweat as he nervously looked around to see if any of the other church deacons were observing this grand reunion. Helen, after greeting me warmly, looked around the general store, which is also the bus station. She eyed a couple of hired hands who were lounging by the coke machine. It was obvious that good old Helen liked boys for sure. In fact on the drive back to the farm she asked me if there were any good looking "dudes," as she called them, around our place. Now, I must tell you that Mom and Dad are very strict, Dad being a church deacon and all, and I told Helen that I wasn't allowed to be alone with boys, and that the only time I even talked to them was when we were at Sunday school. Helen kind of laughed at that and said, "Things must be kind of dull around here." She was sure right about that.
After supper the family sat around and discussed the topics of the day, like how much Ed Prentiss got for his prize bull and how old Esau Calwadder came home drunk and fell in the pig sty and slept in the slop all night. Helen seemed bored by all this gossip, and at about nine o'clock she yawned and said she'd like to turn in. Since Helen would share my room with me, I excused myself also, and we went up to my room and undressed. Helen put on a very sexy-looking pair of PJ.s and I donned my raggedy old flannel nightgown.
We laid on the bed and talked about things in general. It was a warm night and all the windows were open and there wasn't even a scant breeze coming in off the prairie. I noticed Helen was perspiring, and I wasn't too cool myself. She suggested we take off our nightgowns, which suited me fine.
This was the first time I had ever seen another girl naked. Helen was really beautiful. Her legs were long and exquisitely tapered, topped by well-rounded buttocks. Her breasts were like two perfectly formed peaches with strawberries for nipples. The hair below her pelvis was silky and curly, like a French poodle's. I got all tingly inside and felt a slight burning and itching sensation between my legs. Helen was looking steadily at me and saying not a word.
Suddenly she turned toward me and, seizing me in her arms, she began kissing me passionately on the mouth. I was so surprised that I did not respond, and as she slid her little red dart of a tongue between my lips I felt her hand reach between my thighs. My crack was dripping wet. By this time I was no longer tense, but I felt like I was burning up with fever. I could feel my heart beating loudly in my ears. I felt that at any minute I would swoon.
Helen's tongue and mine were tangling and her fingers began to go in and out of my pussy. I began to tremble with excitement of a kind I had never experienced before. I reached out with both hands and seized those two gorgeous breasts of hers and began to massage her nipples hard. Helen stopped kissing me and sighed in rapture. Then she did a thing that seemed strange at that time: She dropped to a lower position and started to lick my flaming pussy. I was in a daze, I was so excited. I found myself forcing her into position so that her thighs were over my head alongside of my ears. I reached my arms around her buttocks and pulled her fragrant and pungent pussy down over my mouth and nose. I sucked and sucked, crying out occasionally with delight.
We held each other so tightly that we were gouging scratches in each other's backs. We were sweating so profusely that the scratches filled with sweat and stung.
All of a sudden Helen stopped sucking and raised her head up and, gasping for breath, started to moan. I thought she was having a heart attack or something. I asked what was wrong and she said she was having an orgasm. I didn't know at that time what an orgasm was, so, since I didn't want to come down off this fantastic high, I continued sucking Helen's pussy. Her creamy fluid was running down my face into my eyes and my nostrils. I could have drowned, but I didn't care.
Helen started sucking my cunt again and I felt myself shaking with ecstasy. The whole world could have blown up that minute and I wouldn't have cared. I spread my legs as wide as I could. I felt my hips reach up through my insides to seem to touch my shoulder blades. I kept wishing Helen's tongue were bigger, bigger, bigger. I wanted something large, hard and round to punch and punch the aching walls of my vagina until they were black and blue. Then I thought of Ed Prentiss' prize black bull, that big bull with his thing hanging down almost a foot. I thought of Ed Prentiss and wondered if he were hung like his bull.
Suddenly it was over. I felt like I was on a gigantic maple leaf fluttering slowly to the ground. Helen had stopped and rolled off me and was lying alongside me. The sweat on her beautiful body glistening as if she were a crystal doll reflecting the moonlight. We lay there together, breathing heavily and holding hands very tightly. I looked at Helen. I said, "My God, that was really something." She smiled at me and said, "Wait till you get the real thing." I was soon to find out what she meant.
The next morning Dad had to take Mom over to the neighboring farm for a sewing bee. They wouldn't be back for most of the day. It was a miserable, drizzly day, like the early part of June can be, and there were not too many chores to do. I mentioned to Helen that we had a new calf and she said she'd like to see it. I took her out to the barn to show it to her.
We have two hired hands, Herman and Vernon; they are brothers. They are nice and well-mannered. They've been at the farm for a number of years. Herman is the older of the two, and is stocky and not very tall. Vernon is a couple of years younger and is tall and skinny. They don't talk much and they work real hard.
I asked Herman to show us the calf, which he did. Helen looked at the calf and then at its mother and remarked, "How could a thing like that get out of such a small hole?" Herman replied with a laugh that "A thing a lot bigger than that hole got in it in the first place." I laughed because I thought of Ed Prentiss' bull which, in fact, did. I felt a little embarrassed at Herman's getting so uppity, but Helen's eyes just sparkled as she took in Herman's big body. Vernon just stood there and giggled. As I said, on rainy days there ain't much to do in the way of outside chores, so the boys were husking corn for chicken feed. Helen and I sat down to watch for a bit. Helen sat down on an overturned bucket. For all her big-city-upbringing, she did not sit like any lady. She sat there on that bucket with her legs spread wide apart so the whole world could see what she had in-between. Herman, sitting across, could see everything that was there. I know he could because the front of his pants was sticking out half a foot from his belt buckle.
Helen jumped up and stated that she would like to see the hayloft. I offered to show it to her, but she wanted Herman to be his guide. I watched them ascend the ladder to the loft. Herman followed right behind Helen and he could look right up her dress as she climbed above him. It was funny, because Herman stuck out so much in front he could barely climb the ladder. At each rung he would let out a little "oh-oh-oh." They were up in the loft for a few minutes and I couldn't hear what was going on. I was, curiously, worried.
Vernon and I started to climb up the ladder. I didn't look down, but I could feel Vernon's piercing eyes viewing my pussy as I proceeded ahead of him upwards. I felt that strange, tingly feeling that I had known the night before with Helen. Once in the loft, and after my eyes got accustomed to the gloom, I could see why there was no sound coming from Helen and Herman-Helen was lying on her back, her legs tightly wrapped about Herman's thick torso, and Herman was fucking the hell out of her. Helen started to gasp and wriggle until the hay flew every which way. I was so entranced at the sight that I didn't feel Vernon's calloused hand work its way up the inside of my thighs until it started to enter my trembling cunt. "Oh, God!" I yelled as his strong arm encircled my waist.
I started to scream for Dad to come to my aid, but realized that he wouldn't probably be back for hours. With his other hand Vernon quickly fumbled with his belt buckle, letting his pants drop to the floor. As we fell into a mound of hay he deftly kicked them free. In an instant he was forcing entry from behind, barely missing my ass-hole. God, it hurt as he entered, but in every other way it felt good. He was humping up and down so hard and fast I thought my ass would wear off.
He had seized my breasts with his hands so violently that I was sure he would rip them off. Sinking his teeth into the hair at the base of my neck, he kept pumping and pumping until I thought I would scream-I knew if I did it would only be "don't stop, don't stop." I felt its tip even reach into my aching womb. The feel of that gigantic cock in my insides drove any thought of Ed Prentiss' prize bull, or of Ed himself, from my mind.
Finally, after what seemed to be hours of glorious ecstasy, he stopped. Though I could feel his cock shrinking, it still fitted snugly into my blazing cunt. I looked over at Helen. I had been aware that they had stopped fucking minutes ago, but, of course, being so deeply involved in my own delirious delight, I had paid no attention to my cousin.
Herman was lying on his back and Helen was lying across his legs licking his cock, which was standing up like a Texas cucumber. The sight of Herman's enormous tool excited me so much that I dislodged Vernon, crawled out from under him, and ran to Herman. Herman looked like he was just ready to come. Pushing Helen to one side, I sat right down on the surprised Herman's cock. It was even larger than Vernon's. I started to wiggle my ass rapidly as Herman started to come. His hot sperm erupted with such force that I nearly lost my balance. By this time Helen had started to suck on my nipples. I was in the midst of a glorious climax when I saw Vernon crawling up to Helen's ass and start to suck on her pussy.
So involved were the four of us that no one heard the creak of the ladder that led to the loft. I looked up and saw Mom standing there, right next to a large pitchfork. I was scared for a minute that she was going to use it on us, but I noticed a peculiar grin on her face. She commenced to undo the buttons down the front of her dress. She said, in a laughing voice, "I hope you boys have some left for me," as she threw herself down into the hay. Vernon climbed on top of her and it was very evident that he was fully recharged and ready to go. As his big prick found its way between her quivering thighs, Mom explained that Dad was at a meeting of the deacons and wouldn't be home till after nine o'clock that night. Between gasps Mom explained that she had been taking these trips to the hayloft for several years. Now I knew why Mom has seemed so content all these years out in the wilderness. Helen plans to extend her stay to several months, which is all right with me.
I reached up for the lantern, for it looked like this family was going to spend a lovely evening together in the hayloft.
* * *
As seen in the experience of Jane and Helen and Jane's mother, it is possible to have an exciting sex-life without the illusion of love. Love-sexual relationships are the weapons of the moral repressionists to combat rampant promiscuity. In the casual sex act love is as unnecessary as a bucket of cold water. In the case of lovers, the sexual consummation is a pleasant climax to a tender, emotional situation, and of course preferable. But in the strict "biological relationship" between bodies of different sexes, or even of the same sex, emotional love is not at all necessary for mere sexual release and-or orgasm. In the case of this North Dakota farm girl, complete satisfaction in an animalistic way was achieved. No sense of guilt was observed owing to the awareness by the individuals of the fact that "biological" sex can be both healthful and gratifying.
Sexual encounters should be pleasant and gratifying. They are not always pleasant, however. In many instances the reverse is true.
In our research we come across many situations far from ideal, and in our quest for sexual perfection we do come across unusual episodes well worth inclusion. The following case history involves a young British secretary, Moira S. Moira comes from a lower-middle-class London family. Her father is a letter-carrier for the G.P.O. Her mother maintains the household, which consists of a brother, currently in the forces, and Moira and her two younger sisters. During World War II her mother worked in war production while the father was overseas in the Army. Moira cared for the younger children during this period. Family relationships were happy and well-adjusted. After attending secretarial school, Moira found an excellent position with a firm of solicitors. She is unmarried, still lives at home, and was 33 years old at this writing. Moira's story is thus:
* * *
I had developed by the age of eighteen into a perfect woman, or so I believed. My face was pretty and my brown eyes fascinating. My mouth was made for kissing and my figure left nothing to be desired. My breasts were fully rounded and oven I was thrilled to view those two ripe raspberries peeking coquettishly from atop the surrounding ivory hills. I even found intrinsic beauty in the fine crop of silky chestnut hair that grew from a few inches below my navel down to the swelling velvet lips of my eager pussy. I was in fact a cherry ripe for plucking, or I should say fucking. I still considered myself innocent, as I had not had a sexual experience at this time. I was completely ignorant, though full of childish curiosity. I read every sexy book or magazine I could lay my hands on. I dreamt erotic dreams.
My parents had a caravan that they kept in a holiday camp down in Brighton, and since term was over, Mom and Dad thought it quite all right for me to spend a week there to bathe and soak up the sun; the weather was balmy. This was an opportune time since Felice, a French pen-pal with whom I had had an active and lively correspondence, was going to be in England for a month of holiday. We had never actually met, but we had exchanged photos. Felice was a year older than I, and was petite and voluptuous and had flaming red hair. She was to meet me in Brighton and spend the week with me. I thought Felice would like to meet a properly bred young Englishman, so I rang up my cousin Roger. Roger was twenty-three and up at Cambridge. I hadn't seen Roger for many years, so I invited him to come to Brighton and have a grand reunion and meet Felice to boot.
I met Felice at Brighton Station the following Friday and we went immediately to the caravan. Felice was just as cute as her picture, but she did have some odd habits. For example, she used to wash and sponge what she referred to as her petite chat every night and morning, and tease and comb the thick mass of crimson curly hair that covered it. After this ritual she would splash perfume all over it. She was extremely proud of her sexual accoutrements and advised me that if a girl kept these parts clean and smelling nice, her lover would rather kiss her there than upon the lips. I thought she was joking at the time. It sounded rather depraved and perverted.
Roger arrived the following day, and a fine young man he was. I would have loved to have been his sweetheart, if he weren't my first cousin. Roger and Felice seemed to hit it off well immediately. We wedged ourselves in the little MG and proceeded to drive back to the camp. After we had driven a few miles Roger said that he needed a smoke; since the MG had no top, would I mind stopping by the long hedge that lined the road so he could light his pipe? I pulled off and stopped. Roger climbed out and went around to the far side of the hedge. I felt that he had some other reason than just to light his pipe, and I think Felice thought that too. Anyway, I whispered to her that we should get out and peep. A curious desire to see what Roger's penis looked like took hold of me and I could hardly wait to get up close to the hedge and peek through.
My suspicions were correct, for there he stood, legs spread apart, pissing up a great puddle. He did not have the shrimp of a thing that I remembered from our childhood. Now it looked as large as my wrist and fist. A torrent of urine was streaming out, and in the rays of the setting sun it looked like a miniature rainbow. As he finished and started to shake this magnificent mauve banana, Felice and I, giggling, fled back to the car.
We continued a rather uneventful drive back to the camp. As Roger helped me out of the MG his forearm accidentally pressed hard against my breast. I felt rapture at that brief contact. I was much disturbed that whole evening, and hardly heard or joined in on the lively conversation that evening.
There was a vacant caravan next to the one occupied by Felice and myself. Luckily I had been able to book it for Roger. It would not be at all proper for two well-bred young ladies to share the same caravan with a gentleman, even if he were a relative. I still felt nervous and tense because of the encounter getting out of the car, and bewildered that I should have had an erotic reaction to my own cousin's touch. I think I was really more ashamed than anything else. I felt hot and uncomfortable in the caravan, and the smell of Felice's perfume as she lavishly applied it to her groin was overwhelming. I decided to step outside the caravan for a smoke and a breath of night air.
Our caravan did not have bathing facilities, but the management of the holiday camp had placed private bathrooms about, spaced evenly between the rows of caravans. Roger's caravan and ours were assigned the same facility for joint use. I noticed that Roger's door was open, so I strolled over to chat. He was nowhere about. It was then I noticed the light was on in the bath. I've always said I was a curious person, and at this moment I couldn't resist the urge to peep in to see if Roger was bathing. I had such a lust to see that magnificent penis of his again. I found a stool nearby, and standing upon it I could just manage to peek over the window-sill of the bathhouse. I stretched my legs. Standing on tiptoe I could look down upon the whole interior. He was lying on his back in the steaming tub and I could see all of his beautiful muscular body. He had his eyes closed and seemed to be dozing.
I saw his magnificent penis. It was about seven inches in length and the head of it was floating like a fishing bob on the surface of the water. I felt an itchy feeling in my groin and by gently rubbing my vulva I relaxed a bit and continued to enjoy the lovely scene. There was a big horsefly buzzing around Roger's head and I hoped it wouldn't disturb him for if he opened his eyes he would see me gazing through the window at him. I felt I would just die of embarrassment if that should happen.
Then Roger did a strange thing. Suddenly his hand shot up and, forming a cup, he captured the buzzing fly. He did not look in my direction, so I was sure he hadn't noticed me. I was shocked to see what he did next. I thought, quite naturally, that he would kill the offensive insect, but he did nothing of the sort. He did a cruel thing. He pulled the wings off. Then, holding it between thumb and forefinger, he sank down lower in the bath water till just his face and his penis-head were above the surface. He then placed the mutilated horsefly on the head of his penis. Then he started to pull his penis down under the water, ever so slowly. This panicked the poor horse fly; being incapable of flight, it could do nothing but run in frantic circles around the head of Roger's penis. Every time it stopped Roger started to submerge this tiny island a bit further. The terrified insect would then run rapidly over the flesh remaining above the surface. Roger was getting some kind of pleasure out of this as he started to puff great gobs of air. His penis grew larger. It was almost plum-colored now, in his passion, and Roger was beginning to squirm about and splash water over the edge of the tub. Then he shot a tremendous load of white, creamy stuff into the air. It hit and splattered onto the pane of glass I was staring through, and I could see the horsefly entrapped in all the gooey mess. I felt a little sick at this exhibition, and, nearly falling off the camp stool, I lurched back towards my caravan.
Felice was already in bed when I entered. She noticed at once my pallor and asked me what was wrong. I tried to tell her, but then burst into tears at the thought of my beloved cousin's being so perverted. Felice tried to calm me down by inviting me to crawl into bed. I disrobed and, not bothering to put on a nightie, dove into the comforting arms that Felice held open towards me. She held me tightly to her naked breasts as I tried to sob out what had occurred. She stroked my hair and I relaxed. I told her in detail what I had observed. Felice was so tender, so reassuring. She kept caressing me, and when her hand touched my breast I did not try to draw away.
In fact I felt warm and suddenly affectionate. I felt Felice's nipples grow hard against my body as I related the scene with the horsefly, and then her hips began to slowly gyrate. She was breathing deeply, and so was I, as a matter-of-fact. Then she kissed me passionately on the lips. By that time I was aroused and mechanically reached over and started to rub those flame-colored cunt hairs of hers. Soon we were rolling from side to side in violent ecstasy. I shuddered as I felt my first climax approaching.
Felice unexpectedly drew away from me. I couldn't understand what was wrong. Had I done something to offend her? No, I guess I hadn't. For Felice was standing by the bed, smiling down on me, while strapping on a contraption that looked like an enormous rubber penis. This, I was to discover, was an invention called a dildo. Then she descended upon me and, forcing herself between my quivering thighs, rammed it into my vagina. I almost screamed with pain as the thing ruptured my hymen. Then I felt a wave of satisfaction as the thing plunged in and out rapidly. I dug my nails into poor Felice's back in my erotic frenzy. It felt good.
I had forgotten completely about the experience with Roger until I chanced looking up and saw Roger standing at the foot of the bed. His face was flushed and he was pulling his pants off; as they passed his pelvic area his penis sprung up like a gigantic coil-spring. Felice didn't even know what was coming. Roger couldn't penetrate her cunt as the straps of the dildo were in the way, but that didn't stop him. He shoved it into her rectum. Felice screamed and then resumed fucking me. Three people in ecstatic rhythm. Pulling back on me, she pushed her ass into Roger; on the return, she shoved the dildo deep inside my steaming vagina. I came again and again.
I was so excited I did not want to stop, but Felice gave a shudder and suddenly pulled out. She forced herself backwards until she was sitting on Roger's lap, his big penis still stuck in her, and she was digging her fingernails into his thighs. I had a delicious urge to have my pussy sucked. Roger was about a head taller than Felice in this position, so I stood upon the bed and, stepping over Felice, I positioned myself so Roger would have my pussy in his face. He took the hint and forced his tongue through my soggy pubic hair until he found my clitoris. Felice managed to turn around enough to put her tongue in my ass-hole. The sensation was divine. Finally Roger came, and we tumbled among the bedclothes. We lay there panting and wheezing for a few minutes. Then Roger, realizing that he was temporarily spent, put on the dildo and climbed aboard me for another joy-ride.
I could see that the dildo wasn't as big as his penis, and I prayed that strength would return to him soon so he could give me the real thing. Felice, laying to one side, complained that she was feeling neglected, so Roger put his face among that glorious red pubic hair of hers and started sucking her pussy like mad. I started to come again and felt like I was in heaven. I didn't know whom I liked better, Roger or Felice, but it really didn't matter at that moment. Finally, utterly exhausted, we fell into a tranquil and contented sleep.
When I awoke I found I could not move. I was bound, spread-eagled, to the bed. Felice was gone and only Roger was there. He was standing over me with a peculiar expression on his face. He had a riding crop in his hand. Before I could speak he started to beat me across the breasts with it. He was still nude, and that penis that I had admired so much on previous occasions was shriveled like a dead thing. I managed to cry out for Felice, but Roger said that he had sent her into town for groceries. Then he took a six-inch piece of surgical tape and affixed it across my mouth. He kept hitting me and hitting me on my belly and breasts until the red welts that soon arose became bleeding lacerations. It was at this point that his penis began to get hard again. Finally I fainted in agony. Before I completely passed out, I felt him try to enter me, but I fought as best I could, being bound hand and foot as well as being gagged. The last thing I remember was Roger screaming. ...
When I awoke Felice was holding me gently in her arms. She explained that upon returning from the greengrocer's she had come upon Roger torturing me. She returned to the car and opened the boot, removing a spanner. She came in just as Roger was about to enter me and brained him with it. He wasn't dead, but had been removed to hospital in critical condition. I told Felice I couldn't bear to face any official inquiry, so she suggested I accompany her to Paris. I thought of Roger, whom I had felt such a great affection and desire for, and then of the gentle Felice, whom I found now I loved. I looked forward with great passion to our life together in Paris.
* * *
Moira returned from Paris about four years ago. She had tried on numerous occasions to maintain effective sexual relations with males, but always unsuccessfully. Constantly in terror of being abused, she returned again and again to Felice and her successors.
Moira is not a confirmed lesbian. This is evidenced by her repeated efforts to seek a rewarding heterosexual relationship. This always seems to be beyond her grasp. At thirty-three she seems to be resigned to a lonely spinsterhood.
This again gives substance to the theory that when the coital conditions are traumatic and the subconscious state is disturbed, a predictable and often harmful emotional pattern is established in the psyche of the person involved.
Moira, physically as well as mentally hurt, found comfort and secure sexual fulfilment in the arms of the protective Felice. In the rewarding sexual intimacy between the two girls, Moira also found the solace of symbolic return to the all-protective womb.
2.
As we have seen in the previous chapter, the first sexual encounter can produce negative as well as positive results. In the foregoing case histories, the individuals involved in the seduction were, for the most part, the victims, and not necessarily the catalysts. But what about the aggressive seduc-tee? The most common of these is the woman who seeks to entrap the unsuspecting male into a forced marriage or relationship by purposely allowing herself to be impregnated. The case is reversed when an unscrupulous male conspires to achieve his ambitious desires by the same methods.
For example, let us consider the case of Gabriel
A. Gabe, as we shall call him, is a stunt man employed at a large "Old West" type of amusement park located in one of the larger states in the Southwest. Gabe is twenty-three, intelligent, and darkly handsome. He lives with his widowed mother in a small two-bedroom house in a dusty tank town not far from the amusement park. He is a high school graduate and was very popular in his class if on occasion thought to be aloof. He took the stunt-work job for the summer in hopes of earning enough money for college the following fall, but he found he enjoyed the work so much he decided to remain at the park on a full-time basis. Gabe relates the following:
* * *
I liked working this place from the first. There are lots of employees here and at least half of them are young chicks. I think the longest I went without a piece of ass was two days, and one of those days don't really count 'cause I was nursing a sprained ankle caused by falling off the stagecoach.
I remember the first girl I scored with. Her name was Dinah, and she was a beauty. Long blonde hair and blue eyes and a figure that would make you pop the buttons off your fly. She sold popcorn near the stage depot. The park had a rule that you weren't supposed to talk to the help during working hours, but hell, none of us stunt men paid much attention to that rule for we were the horniest bunch of mavericks you ever did see. I think any of them would fuck a rattlesnake if somebody would hold it still. But let's get back to Dinah.
She was a high school kid about seventeen, and I asked her to meet me down at the trolley barn after she got off work. She agreed to, so I set out walking down there about six o'clock. This trolley barn was an old shed down by the south end of the park. It used to house one of the rides, but they built a new barn for the ride and this one was just used to store hay for the horses.
Dinah was there when I got there, sitting on top of a bale of hay munching popcorn, pretty as a picture. I sat down beside her and reached into the box and grabbed me a handful of popcorn. As I leaned over I looked down into the neckline of her calico dress. I could see all of her pretty little boobs since the dress was heavily starched and stood out. They were something to see, let me tell you, and it was all I could do to keep from reaching out and grabbing me a handful.
We sat there talking for a while and watched the sun go down. Every once in a while she would glance down at my tight-fitting jeans and fix her eyes on the bulge made by my cock and balls. This affected me quite pleasurably, so I put my arm around her waist and kissed her full on the mouth. The half-empty popcorn box went flying as she put both arms around my neck and pulled me down on top of the hay bale. I lay on top of her and then she started to put her hand down my pants. She was breathing hard and yanking like hell at my pubes. I started to pull up her dress, and it seemed to take hours, as she was wearing one of the ankle-length period outfits.
I got her panties off and gazed upon her pink little cunt topped by hair that looked like corn silk. I ran my fingers into it and it was already sopping wet with her come. She gasped with delight as I increased the friction. She sighed and said stop the preamble and get on with the constitution, so I stood up and undid my pants. Before I could get them off over my boots she reached forward and started to suck my erect and vibrant cock.
I lifted back the little poke bonnet she was wearing to better observe the action. What a pretty sight it was, too, this cute little blonde head with shell-like ears just a-going up and down to beat the band on Old Trusty there.
I was ready to come any second, but with great force of will I restrained myself. I shoved my hands down into the top of her dress and grabbed a tit in each hand. Oh, she moaned and groaned something awful. I knew any second I was going to blow off, so I gently removed her head from my throbbing dick and laid her back on that bale of hay. Within seconds I was in her all the way, pumping and pumping to beat the band.
It felt grand. This little gal had what I refer to as a "snappin' pussy." And I was sure it was gonna eat my old dick right up. I felt her muscle tightening and relaxing at a rapid rate. God, it was exciting! Here she was biting at my ears and yanking at my hair and then shoving her tongue halfway down my throat. I couldn't hold back a second longer, and as the sperm surged forth through my aching balls and shot out of my swollen head I grunted like a stuck pig. At the instant of my coming her whole body shook like she was having a fit. She sighed and she cried and she moaned and she dug her nails into my butt and pulled me up so hard and close to her I thought my pelvis would be black and blue for a month. I was wringing wet and my throat was so dry I thought it would crack any minute.
Finally she relaxed and I started to pull out, but she stopped me and begged me to stay inside her for just a few more minutes. Well, this I didn't mind doing; I needed a second to catch my breath. We lay there together. She started to stick her tongue in my ear and that aroused me a bit, but though the spirit was willing the flesh was weak, and I could not get a full hard-on.
Seeing that she wanted more, I did the best I could and dropped down on my knees and started to lap that little old pussy. It was greasy and sticky at the same time and I didn't know whether it was my come or hers, but at that moment I couldn't have cared less. She must have come at least three times more while I was so delightfully occupied. Finally my dick felt hard enough to try again, and I mounted her.
She grabbed my dick and guided it into her ass-hole. I wasn't so sure I wanted to do it that way. But, dammit, her ass-hole was so tight around me I started pumping again like all get-out. She was running her hand in and out of her pussy real frantic-like, and I helped out the best I could. We lay there, me fucking her up the chute and both our hands working that cunt like mad. Finally I came again, and those ass muscles tightened around my dick so tight I was sure that it would be wrung out dry. It wasn't, but it sure was sore when I finally managed to pull it out.
It was nigh on to eight o'clock when we left the trolley barn. I was sure plumb fucked out, but Dinah, she had a lilt to her step, and I was sure she would be ready to go again at the drop of a hairpin. We agreed to meet again the following night, as we did just about every night thereafter.
She was such a pretty little thing and had such a sweet nature, outside of when she was getting fucked, I felt I was losing my heart to her. But every time I tried to talk serious to her, like about going steady or having at least an outside regular-type date, she would change the subject. When I'd see her at the popcorn stand during the day she would be cordial but impersonal. I couldn't fathom it. In the trolley barn she treated me like I was the sole delight of her life, but when we weren't fucking it was as though I was a complete stranger.
Then one night she wasn't there to meet me. I was panic-stricken, hurt, and jealous. I searched all over the park, but was unable to find hide or hair of her. I must have looked for an hour or so, to no avail. I finally gave up and headed for the locker room, where I kept my street clothes. I opened the door to the locker room, but before I could switch on the light I saw there, in the semi-darkness of twilight, an overturned box of popcorn and a little calico poke bonnet. It was then that I heard the scuffing of leather boots on the hardwood floor. I rounded the corner of the first row of lockers and there on the floor was my Dinah. Her legs were spread wide and her eyes were screwed shut. The expression on her face was one of total abandon. Her mouth was wide opened and formed a beautiful oval. She was breathing noisily and quite obviously having a complete and satisfying orgasm. Then it dawned on me who was fucking her so industriously. My rage turned to laughter-it was none other than "Nugget" Charlie.
Nugget Charlie must be all of seventy years old, half-toothless, and with a flea-bitten Santa Claus beard. He used to be an authentic gold prospector up Death Valley way, but for the past ten years or so he worked the phony gold mine at the park. Nugget Charlie's skinny ancient ass was bobbing up and down between those lovely white young thighs to beat the band. They were so busy neither of them saw or heard me come in. Nugget Charlie was wheezing and puffing as he plunged his antique prick in and out of Dinah's pretty little cunt. He still had his old corn-cob pipe clenched tightly between his teeth. I sat down on the bench to watch.
Dinah must be a nymphomaniac. I'd read quite a bit about them, and I kinda felt sorry for her. I thought to myself that were I able to fuck 23 hours out of 24, I still wouldn't be able to satisfy her. Besides, I thought to myself as I watched old Nugget Charlie collapse upon her, there's a least fifty chicks here on the farm that I stand a good chance of satisfying. ...
* * *
Gabe was lucky. His abandonment by Dinah could have had a traumatically adverse effect on his psyche, causing a feeling of sexual inadequacy that would affect any future encounter with the opposite sex. It has happened on many occasions to a lesser man.
David L., a well-known movie actor, is an example. In an industry extremely sex-oriented, David felt he had to create an image of a great lover. On screen he was successful, but in bed he was a miserable failure. Over six feet tall and built like a Hercules, with a deep, sonorous, sexy voice, his on-screen virility thrilled many a maid from New York to Keokuk. But in his twenty-room mansion in Bel Air, David L. moved about from room to room night after night, alone and sunk deep in despair of a type that only the very lonely can understand. His account:
* * *
I was on my way to Europe, and the night before I was due to sail I stopped by a friend's house for a drink or two. There were several people there besides my friend, but I wasn't upset or anything, which was unusual as I am ordinarily very nervous around strangers. Well, more and more people arrived, and soon it developed into a regular party.
Finally, after some drinks, I became relaxed and started being real sociable. There was this one girl who no matter where I went or whom I was conversing with seemed always to be at my elbow. She was of average height, fairly pretty, and had soft brown hair which hung to her shoulders. During the course of the evening I had to relieve myself, and in order to do so I had to pass through the bedroom to reach the John. As in most cases where parties are in progress, the bed was a catch-all for overcoats, jackets, umbrellas, and purses.
As I was coming out of the bathroom this girl was standing in the bedroom taking a pack of cigarettes out of a purse. She asked me for a light. The bedroom was quite dark, and in the flame of the lighter she looked smilingly into my eyes. "I think I'll take you to bed with me before long," she purred. "How long?" I replied. "Why not now?" was the answer.
She was breathing hard as she threw her arms around my neck and we fell in a tumble atop the bed. I felt her hand rip at my belt buckle and it was obvious as hell she was turned on and raring to go. I managed, in that awkward position, to get my pants down to below my knees, just as she was locking her legs around my waist. I could feel my hot cock slip between the moist lips of her twitching cunt. I started to pump like mad. She made little grunting sounds as I spewed forth my searing sperm. Then all of a sudden she went limp in my arms. "How was it?" I asked. "You son of a bitch!" she answered in a disgusted tone, glaring contemptuously at me. I rolled off her, alarmed and wondering what in hell I had done wrong. "You left me hung up, you bastard!" she snarled. She sat up, threw her legs over the edge of the bed, and picked up the cigarette she had placed in the ash tray earlier. "What the hell did I do wrong?" I asked, innocently. "If you don't know, you stupid ass, I won't tell you."
I felt a twinge of nausea at this obvious put-down of my sexual prowess. She rose from the bed and stalked off towards the bathroom. I paused, lit a cigarette, and pulled up my pants and fastened them, pondering how I had turned into a ass lay. A buzzing sound from the bathroom disturbed my melancholy, so I ventured to the door of the bathroom, which was partly open. I looked in. The girl was seated on the toilet, skirt up around her waist and legs spread wide, and she was masturbating with an electric toothbrush inserted in her pussy. Her face was flushed and had an expression of ecstasy.
I returned to the living room, where the party was still in progress. Fixing myself a double scotch and soda, I mulled the recent experience over in my mind. Was I really a bad fuck? No one had ever complained before. And I'd had the pick of the best starlets in Hollywood for the asking. And this insatiable little bitch wasn't even half as pretty as the worst of that lot. I was disturbed and dejected. Perhaps it was the booze, but I didn't relish the feeling.
The girl rejoined the party in a few minutes, but from then on always managed to be at the opposite side of the room from me. I caught her eye several times, and though she stared at me with a seemingly blank expression, I could sense derisive and scornful laughter behind her placid face. I soon left the party. I spent an uneasy night. I had trouble sleeping and tossed and turned, tried to read a magazine, took several more snorts of scotch, but was generally miserable the whole rest of the night. I was in one hell of a shape when I caught a taxi the next day for the pier. I didn't even know this chick's name, and by the time we reached Le Havre I thought I had forgotten the incident.
I proceeded on to Rome, where I had contracted to do a "spaghetti western." The first night in Rome one of the assistant directors fixed me up with an Italian chick by the name of Marlena.
She was a good-looking gal in her early twenties. She came to my room in the Hotel Excelsior about eleven o'clock. It took a couple of glasses of wine and some small talk before we finally got in the sack. She immediately started to give me a head job, and she was a master at it. She ran her tongue up and down the shaft of my pecker with little in-and-out motions that made me want to bust my cord. When her full lips started to descend over the head of my prick I felt my ass-hole screw up tight and felt cramps in the calves of my legs. She went down so far that her nose buried itself in my hair. When she pulled back very slowly and descended voraciously I thought that if I came it would be at least a quart of come.
Then she stopped sucking and worked her way upwards on my torso, using her tongue as a feeler, until she reached the sensitive parts of my neck. The effect was maddening. She plunged her tongue into my ear, and my reaction was to squirm halfway out of bed. Then as she was kissing me all over my face and neck I rolled her underneath me and plunged my hot, impatient cock into her swelling sexhole. An odd thought occurred to me. Here was this gal, obviously a professional, turning me on to the highest sexual frequency, but doing such a mechanical job of it. I decided to do a turn-about and turn her on. The memory of that degrading experience in New York the night before I had sailed came back to me in all its horror. I'd show that little fuckhead, whatever her name was, that I was the best thing in bed on two continents. I started in on Marlena.
Working tongue and mouth on all the feminine erogenous area, I worked down to her cunt. My tongue eased its way into her vagina, which was creamy and pungently fragrant with excretion. I felt out every ridge and curve. Her clitoris was like a tiny mushroom, distended as it was from the top of her vulva. I seized it between my teeth and gently took tiny bites of it. She responded by grabbing my head and pulling me closer to her. This was a new feeling for me. All of my active adult sexual life I felt I had been taking and not giving. I now wanted to give, give pleasure. Marlena responded quite well. In fact, she experienced orgasm several times during our encounter.
Soon this sexual activity became an obsession with me. I found myself determined to give complete satisfaction. In my heart I soon became a male whore. My techniques were molded into perfection and I became quite a V.I.P. in the Sex-Set. But something else happened to me also. The more I copulated with this determination, the more I sensed a lack of pleasure. like some phallic Don Quixote pursuing an impossible dream, each conquest became a chore. It soon became a challenge. I had to prove I was the best cocksman in the world, and deep down inside I knew this was something I could never really be. In keeping up with this strenuous schedule my health became affected. My stamina declined. I found myself looking at my watch, timing my copulative actios. I counted to hundreds, constantly struggling to keep from premature ejaculation. I was getting disgusted with sex. This inner struggle was somehow communicated to my sex partners, and gradually my conquests diminished. Word got around that I was "weird."
I threw myself into my work. There I succeeded. I got better roles, better productions, better percentages. I moved from the Valley to Bel Air. I still had all the women I wanted, but they would drift away after one night of love. So here I sit in my Bel Air mansion, having more fame than I would ever need and more money than I could ever spend. It all seems hollow, in a way. I have no one to share it with. Why?
* * *
David L.'s problem is not unusual. There are many cases throughout medical science similar to his. What is unusual about David himself is that the traumatic effect of only one unpleasant, or shall we say disappointing, sexual experience produced a traumatic psychological impotence. This sense of inadequacy can happen and quite frequently does happen to some married males after ten or fifteen years of routine sex. Sexual boredom sometimes occurs after years of fidelity to one's mate or lover; loyalty sometimes induces frustration.
David never loved. David's sexual athletics were used to feed his own ego. As an actor he felt he strove to create an image on the screen of a sensual, virile, masculinity which he did. When he tried to carry this over into his private life he failed. It was performance only that counted. David L., movie idol, could never get into the role of David L., human being.
Sex without emotion is as coldly a biological function as urinating or blowing one's nose. Without the spark of emotion to create tenderness, violence, aggressiveness, or inspiration to the psyche, the sexual act becomes nothing more than a physical release of tension.
Sexual satisfaction is spiritual as well as physical. Seduction as a weapon is sometimes the deadliest weapon in the arsenal of sex. It ruined David L. and yet it failed to affect Gabriel A. Why? To Gabriel A. sex was fun, a normal way of life, and therefore fulfilling. David L. considered sex a commodity to be used to attain, in his case, stardom. He used it as a front; like a $10,000 wardrobe or a $25,000 car or his mansion in Bel Air. In his love affair with himself he had little left for anyone else.
It is little known to the public, but incest is a lot more prevalent in today's society than in earlier periods. Of course in some primitive societies it has always been a dominant factor, but in Western societies it has been severely frowned upon. Owing to the new freedom to talk about sex, a lot more is known about this ancient practice.
Murray M. is a nineteen-year-old stock clerk from the Bronx. He relates this experience to the interviewer:
* * *
It happened on the morning of my sister Becky's seventeenth birthday. I went to her room, clad only in my pajama bottoms, to offer her my congratulations. I entered her room, as was my habit, without knocking. She was lying on her bed naked and running her finger in and out of her pussy as fast as she could.
The sight of my sister lying there in the throes of erotic excitement was too much for me. I had yet to get my first piece of ass, and when I used to jack off I always let sexy thoughts about Becky occupy my mind. Until I was thirteen, Becky and I shared the same bed, as the folks were poor and we only had a two-bedroom flat. Becky had a beautiful body. I always thought she was prettier than any other girl in the high school.
My prick began to get hard as I stood there gazing at her. Her pubic hair was all gooey from her orgasmic excretions. She was still breathing hard from her recent passion, so I bent over and kissed her hard on the mouth. She responded quite un-sister-like. I took hold of one of her large tits and began sucking it. I put my left hand in her crotch and began fumbling for entrance into her hot, sticky cunt. While I was doing this my prick got so hard it forced its way through the fly of my pajamas. It seemed to find its way into her hand and she began to move the skin back and forth. My prick began to throb and I knew I would have to come any minute; so, using my free hand to undo the drawstring, I awkwardly slipped out of the pajama pants.
Becky moaned with delight as I slipped my tool into her welcoming crevice. I started shoving in and out with frantic pleasure, and Becky kept muttering, "Faster, faster, faster." I could feel every curve and fold of her glorious organ. I was fucking so violently that I started to get dizzy. Becky had her legs wrapped around my shoulders and neck so tightly I could barely breathe. Then I came. My prick was a flame-thrower. It burned and I let out a cry of pain. Becky sighed and released me from the stranglehold she had held me in.
I rolled over, gasping for breath, and my prick slid slowly out of her cunt. We lay there for a minute. Only the sound of our heavy breathing disturbing the silence. "Happy birthday, Sis," I said.
She smiled and leaned over and took my prick into her mouth. As she started sucking on it, I felt a twinge of pain. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, so sensitive was my prick's surface, but I did not want her to stop. I was beginning to get hard again. Suddenly Becky threw her leg over my head and lowered her fragrant pussy onto my face. It was warm and drippy from our ejaculations. I started to use my tongue on the lips of her vulva. It trembled with ecstasy. I wrapped my arms around her hips and pulled her down to me as close as I could. I was sucking so hard that I thought her pussy would turn inside out.
She was going up and down on my cock so intensely that I thought at any moment it would be uprooted. My cock was so swollen I thought the veins and arteries in it would burst. Becky's perfect white teeth were delightfully tickling. I finally came and I felt my hot sperm fly out and hit the back of her mouth. She gagged a little, but then made gulping noises in her throat as she swallowed the hot stuff. We continued like this until Mama called up to us that breakfast was ready.
* * *
Murray M. continued intimate relations with his sister for several years, always with complete satisfaction. Discontinuance occurred when Becky married a young lawyer and moved to Long Island. Murray has had various sexual encounters in recent years, but only fully enjoys them when he conjures up erotic images of Becky. In Murray's case the early masturbatory images, compounded by the actual intimacy with his sister, created a permanent pattern of his sexual motivation. At this time Murray is engaged to a girl who he says, "Looks just like my sister."
Sexual encounters often produce rivalries. In Murray's case his sister Becky was the unknown rival of every sex partner Murray happened to encounter. This was unfortunate for the girl involved, for no matter what she did she could never measure up to Murray's sexual ideal. While Murray's partners were condemned to competing with a "ghost," so to speak, in most cases the "competition" is very real and poses a constant threat.
The case of Ellen and Sandy N. involves the classic "eternal triangle," but with a different twist.
Ellen is 37 and Sandy is 16. They are mother and daughter. Ellen is divorced and lives together with Sandy in a small two-bedroom apartment in downtown Hollywood. Ellen works occasionally as a movie extra. She had been at one time a contract-player at one of the largest movie studios in town. During the late 1950s, while actively pursuing an acting career, she had affairs with most of the male stars around town, as the autographed photos on her living room wall testify.
Ellen is a beautiful woman. A torrent of flaming red hair tops a voluptuous figure that always draws whistles and admiring stares from males from one end of Hollywood Boulevard to the other. Sandy, on the other hand, is not so fortunate. Plain of face and with dull, dishwasher-blonde hair, she is tall for her age and quite gawky. Fatherless since the age of three, she grew up aware of the constant stream of males coming to and from her mother's bedroom. As she entered her teens and was able to take care of herself, Sandy was left at home alone feeling neglected and rejected while Ellen would take off for romantic weekends with her lovers.
Because of this resentment Sandy's feelings turned to jealousy and hatred. Sandy felt ugly compared to her mother, and felt the only way to compete with her successfully was sexually. Sandy relates the success of her campaign:
* * *
I had come home one night about 10:30 P.M. from our high school football game. It was quicker to come in through the kitchen door than to walk around to the font of the building. Besides, I was starving, and wanted to fix myself a snack. The house was quiet as I entered, but as I was pouring myself a glass of milk from the refrigerator, I heard a noise coming from the living room.
Venturing down the hall, glass of milk in hand, I looked into the living room. Mother was on the couch, stark naked, and this man was on top of her with his head down between her thighs. His body was turned so that Mother could suck his penis while he was munching on her pussy. They were really going at it.
I quietly sat down in an armchair and watched the show. Mother's arms were around his hips and her fingernails dug deeply into his buttocks. I could see her head rising and descending off the pillows as she sucked away at his tool. The muffled sounds of pleasure coming from beneath the head ensconced between her thighs started me trembling with pleasure. I put my hand under my skirt and down inside my pantyhose until I could feel my warm pussy. It was moist. I sat there quietly massaging my love nest and slowly sipping the ice-cold milk. The action on the couch was reaching a feverish pitch and I think I must have reached orgasm at least twice while watching.
Then this guy started to come. I thought my mother would choke to death as the hot sperm erupted into her trembling mouth. The guy raised his head up out of Mom's groin with a sigh and turned his head toward me and opened his eyes. When he saw me sitting there calmly staring at him he muttered, "Holy Jesus Christ!"
My mother, on hearing this exclamation, disengaged herself from his suddenly limp cock and looked at me with a startled expression. She really looked funny, staring at me with those wide blue eyes and those gobs of sperm dripping from her lips and down her chin. The guy was really embarrassed now, and he groped for his trousers and shorts.
Mom's surprise turned into anger, and she yelled, "Get to your room, you little bitch!" I did, but not before I telegraphed a look to this guy, telling him that I could give him a lot more than he could ever get from my old lady. He got my meaning and I was sure he'd be back soon, and not to see her. That was for damn sure. Mom was so pissed off at me that she took this guy into her room with her and slammed the door. I went to bed that night with a feeling of real triumph.
Mom had a seven o'clock studio call the next morning, and I heard her moving about the kitchen about 5:30. Putting a robe on over my naked body, I made an appearance in the kitchen. Mom was putting toast onto a plate and this guy was seated at the table, fully dressed, sipping a cup of coffee. He was a good-looking dude, I guess about six feet two, with a cute face and a build like Superman. He looked about twenty-two. Too damn young for Mom, but just great for me.
Mom growled something like, "Getcherself some coffee, if you want it," and continued messing with the toaster. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite the guy. He introduced himself as Steve and said he was a second assistant director on the TV series that Mom was working on. I smiled and didn't say anything. Steve's feet were touching mine under the table and I smiled and quietly sipped my coffee as I felt his foot slowly work its way between my ankles and proceed slowly and determinedly up the inside of my legs. The cool feel of leather against my tender flesh made my goose bumps rise.
When Mom went into her bedroom to dress Steve rose from the table and came over to me. Standing behind my chair, he bent over and nuzzled the back of my neck with his lips. I felt a strong tremor of excitement, and as he slipped his hands under my armpits I guided them to my eager breasts. As he cupped them in his hands I placed my own hands on his and pressed them tight against me. I felt my nipples grow hard and pop out against the satin lining of my robe. It was all I could do to keep from squirming off the chair.
His hand now wormed its way through the opening in my robe and wound its way to my throbbing cunt. His fingers entered gently and I experienced an instant orgasm. I wanted to scream, it felt so gratifying. If I hadn't been sure that Mom would be back any second I would have laid right down on the kitchen floor and let him put it to me right then and there.
I reached back and placed my hand on his penis. It felt enormous through his trousers. I rubbed it gently and felt it grow larger. After several minutes of play he came with such force that sperm came through his trouser leg. He went over to the cabinet and attempted to clean himself. As he was doing this, Mom re-entered the kitchen.
Steve, red-faced, was standing there trying to blot the spots off of his pants, and I was sitting there with my face very flushed and my robe hanging open. There was no doubt that Mom guessed what had happened. Steve blurted out a feeble excuse about having dropped jelly on his pants, but without success, because Mom told him rather coldly that there wasn't a bit of jelly in the house.
It was time for Mom to leave for the studio. Steve was going to drive her there. I whispered to Steve that I wasn't planning to go to school that day, and he winked in acknowledgment. They left. He was back within the hour. I was waiting for him in Mother's bed.
It made me feel so good to have her man in her own room. I had lavishly sprayed myself with her most expensive perfume. I lay there watching de-liciously as he undressed, and I felt my heart beating loudly with anticipation. He slipped into bed beside me and I started rubbing my hand over his handsome body.
I could see his penis start to rise and I leaned over his chest and started to tease his nipples with my tongue. Working my way down his hairy chest, I reached that miraculous organ and slowly parted my lips as I lowered my head down over it. I felt him tremble with delight. While I slowly sucked away, I took my fingers and gently inserted one of them into his ass-hole. I could feel his arms encircle my hips as he steadily pulled them into position so his tongue could glide easily into my pussy.
He started to dart it in and out violently and the rhythm of his motion made a beautiful counter to the concerto I was playing on his cock. I felt him start to come. As he did so he stopped sucking my pussy and moved a few inches to the north and jammed his tongue into my tightened-up ass-hole. The sensation resulted in wave upon wave of exquisite orgasm.
We lay there in each other's arms, breathing heavily. As soon as Steve caught his breath he started sucking on my pussy again. I hadn't had enough, I found out to my delight. I writhed in pleasure as his educated tongue found each secret place of titillation. I lay there with my head resting on the inside of his thigh, engrossed in studying his pubic hair. Every once in a while I would stretch my tongue out and lick the wrinkled sack that contained his testes. He would tremble in response.
Before long his penis was standing erect again. I desperately wanted it inside of me, shoved in up to the hilt. I maneuvered into position so that he fell into my waiting arms. I felt his big cock slide into my slippery pussy, and the sensation made my ass-hole screw up tight. He started pumping, slowly at first, but gradually increasing in tempo until the excitement caused a ringing in my ears like an ocean's roar. I reached a climax and raised my ass up off of the bed, lifting Steve with me. I yelled, "Don't you dare come!" and the darling didn't, but kept on shoving it into me till I thought I must die.
I raked my fingers down his back until he whimpered in pain or ecstasy, I don't know which; I couldn't care less. I was in heaven.
Finally he couldn't hold back any longer and he shot off a load that caused my whole body to shake. I grew dizzy and trembled like a leaf. He rolled off me and lay on his back, gulping great gobs of air. I raised up and looked at his half-hard penis still dripping its hot juicy sperm. I didn't want a drop of it to go to waste. I seized it and went down on it. Steve cried out in delighted pain. It was so sensitive that I knew it hurt, but I was still so horny I wanted to just suck and suck and suck on it till it shrank like a lollipop. I asked him if he enjoyed me more than he did Mother. He said, "Oh God, yes."
It was then I realized that even though I hadn't Mom's good looks, I still could take any man away from her. We were together most of the afternoon and managed to fuck a few more times. Steve left to pick up Mom at the studio and take her out to dinner. He still takes her out to dinner on occasion, but he doesn't fuck her anymore. Mom can't understand it, but I do. Any fucking Steve gets from this family will be from me. Mom brings home a new one every once in a while, but it all ends up the same. It went for Allen and Pete and George and Carl and Terry and Ted and . ...
* * *
Sandy got her revenge and had a good time doing it, but in accomplishing it never experienced a lasting or meaningful relationship. Sandy used sex as a weapon to get even with her mother. The fact that she wasn't as pretty as her mother made her feel that she could only compete in the sexual function. It hasn't dawned on her yet that she hasn't been able to attract men on her own, so to speak.
As a matter-of-fact, several of her "conquests" participated only because of the novelty of having a "mother-and-daughter team." Sandy wants to be as beautiful and desirable as her mother, and the heart-breaking knowledge that she can never be had created a subconscious desire to be her mother, and the only way her immature mind could conceive of doing that was by seducing her mother's lovers. In a way this is an odd form of incest. The term "fuck somebody" also can mean "mess something up" or even "destroy something." In that sense Sandy's seduction of her mother's men is, in a way, seduction of her mother too.
In the curious by-ways of the world of sex, nothing is too bizarre, at least not to the researcher.
Several years ago certain elements of the music world were stunned by the suicide of the tenor, Ferdinand F. Though little known in this country, he was quite a favorite in the opera houses of Europe. This man was in excellent physical shape and, as far as voice and career were concerned he was, as the local critics claimed, on his way to the top of his profession.
Several days following his death a tape recording was delivered to the office of his physician. The kind doctor, aware of our interests turned the tape over to us for study.
So, with permission, we are including the text of the recording, nearly as the late singer dictated it:
* * *
I'm sitting at my desk in front of this goddam tape recorder hoping that I can put down with some clarity the facts concerning this awful condition that has been plaguing me these last few years. I've kept it a secret all these years, but since I am going to make my final trip to Valhalla tonight, I want you to know the leitmotif of my life. Doctor, you remember Lily, my wife?
Of course you do. Sweet, beautiful Lily. I had her for ten beautiful years. I never wanted another woman during that time. Our life was beautiful, spiritually as well as sexually. I never had a need or desire that wasn't met. My God! Once we fucked all the way up the Rhine and back again. But, as you know, shortly after Sybella was born, Lily was killed in an auto accident with that Roumanian conductor. I didn't know that he was her lover and that he had stolen her from me. My God! My Lily!
I raised Sybella the best I could and she grew into lovely young womanhood. She was the image of her mother. I was a very possessive father, and when it came time for Sybella to go out with young men I was reluctant to allow it. She didn't seem to mind my keeping her home all the time; after all, we were so close. Then one night it happened.
We had gone to the hunting lodge near Ober-salzburg at the close of the Berlin season. I drove myself and Sybella because Franz, our chauffeur and servant, was ill with pneumonia. We got to the lodge after midnight on Christmas Eve. Sybella had just turned nineteen a few days previously and we were going to celebrate the two holidays together. I guess I'd had one or two many schnapps, because when I looked at Sybella that night I saw Lily.
I don't know what made me do it, but I took my daughter in my arms and kissed her passionately on the lips. To my later horror Sybella responded. Pressing her body close to mine, I felt her breasts against me-Lily's breasts. In my drunkenness she was Lily. "Lily has come back to me," I thought as I ripped off the buttons that held the front of her dress together. Sybella didn't offer any resistance, she just stood there, smiling, as I took those two beautiful globes in my hands and smothered them with kisses.
The next thing I knew we were lying on the bear rug in front of the flaming fireplace, and Sybella was tearing at my fly with great fury. The more the old passion for Lily was aroused, the more Sybella became Lily. I struggled out of my pants as Sybella-Lily lay on her back, spreading her legs wide and reaching towards me with welcome. I mounted her, my penis ready to burst. As I entered I cried out in ecstasy. I could feel the contractions of her vagina caressing my throbbing penis.
I was lost, lost in a remembrance of things past. "Lily! Lily!" I shouted as I plunged deeper and deeper into that golden crack. She cried out, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," as I ejaculated my stored-up sperm. "What, Lily?" I cried, as it cruelly occurred to me that this was Sybella, my own daughter, that I was fucking. She was crying out "Daddy" not in fear but in ecstasy. She wanted me, my own daughter was having orgasm happily with her own father. I felt nauseated. I pulled out and returned to the sofa, where I sat down.
I looked at Sybella, lying there on the bear rug, glassy-eyed, with a look of extreme pleasure on her face. Her legs were still apart and her pubic hair was gold in the firelight. I saw the residue of my semen dripping out of her vagina onto the fur. I was sick with self-disgust. Sybella smiled at me and got up off the rug and sat down beside me. I shivered and drew away from her, but she held onto me even tighter. "Oh, Daddy," she said, "I've wanted you for so long."
I was in no mood to be consoled. I, to my own sense of shame, had committed the most horrible of all offenses. How could I, even drunk, be insane enough to mistake my daughter for my own long-dead wife? I must be insane. Sybella was telling me that everything would be all right. She told me that she had wanted to have sex with me from her earliest sexual cravings. She did not feel guilty about it, so why should I? I stumbled off to my bed. My sleep that night was troubled by the most erotic of dreams.
I awoke the next morning with a tremendous hard-on. I wanted Lily-oh God! how I wanted Lily. I wanted Sybella! I ran to her room. Throwing open the door, I beheld my daughter. She was awake, lying spread-eagled on her bed, reading the paper. I saw that golden-tressed vagina smiling at me, and beyond that the two gorgeous mounds of her breasts. She put the newspaper aside and said, in the softest of tones, "Come lie down beside me."
Numbly, guiltily, I did as she bid me. I still had this big erection, and it didn't take her long to go to work on it. As she gently tickled my balls with her delicate white hand she placed her tongue against my throbbing shaft. It quivered with delight. "Conscience be damned," I thought. "This is great, and I'm keeping it in the family."
Just as I was about to ejaculate Sybella stopped her tonguing titillation and swung up and over me, sitting down on my surging cock. I had no intention of pulling out this time. Her vagina closed tightly around it and held it fast as she bounced up and down as if she were riding a trotting horse.
I was in absolute ecstasy. I plunged up again and again. Surely in my passion my cock would burst or break off in that gorgeous hollow of pleasure! When I finally released my surging juice Sybella gave out a groan of total satisfaction. She collapsed atop me, burying her face in my neck and shoulders. She started to sob-not tears of heartache, but tears of happiness. She said that she was the happiest she had ever been in her life.
And I was happy, too, in that moment. I never had been able to recreate Lily, and now here was Lily in the flesh, Lily's own flesh. I was deliriously nappy.
For the rest of the season Sybella and I stayed holed up in the lodge. Christmas became an orgy for two.
I never worried about Sybella and other men now. I realized that my protectiveness was just a mask for my incestuous jealousy. To put it into blunt words, I had always wanted Sybella for myself. I just hadn't realized it all those years. We remained inseparable from that time on.
One time in Vienna our delicious secret was discovered. In the Prater amusement park there is this giant ferris wheel. The passengers who take this thrilling ride enter individual little cars a bit like railway compartments. Sybella and I were snuggled together in one of them on a cold November Sunday. As we were reaching the apex of the ride Sybella suggested that we have sex. I couldn't help wonder if anyone else had ever screwed while spinning over the rooftops of Vienna, so I laughingly said, "I'm game." Sybella got down on her knees in front of me and, drawing the blanket over her head, bent down and unzipped my fly. Her hands were cold and I jumped a bit as she pulled my penis out from its warm hiding place. She kissed the tip of it several times as it grew hard. Then she opened her mouth and let her lips surround the head and shaft. Slowly she began to suck on it. I felt it get bigger and bigger as she concentrated on her pleasure. I let me head rest against the back of the seat, and was so engrossed in my pleasure that I didn't know the ferris wheel had stopped.
I was just in the process of coming into Sybella's hungry mouth when the attendant opened the door to the car. I jumped and so did Sybella. The blanket fell off of her shoulders and poor Sybella looked right into the face of the startled attendant and two octogenarian ladies who were waiting to board the car. At that instant I shot my load. It caught poor Sybella right in the face. I hastily zipped my fly, and we made a dash for a taxi that just happened to be nearby. We both started to laugh and I said, "Sybella, now I know what a person with egg on his face looks like."
"It isn't egg, darling," Sybella replied with an impish grin.
Well, Doctor? Sounds like we had a fantastic thing going for us, doesn't it? But all good things must come to an end. That is the usual trite saying, isn't it? Do I sound bitter? I am. I made a mistake.
I always had a great fear that someone who knew us might find out about the intimate relationship between my daughter and myself. It was fear, not guilt, that prompted me to find a husband for Sybella. No one knew anything for a fact-but there were backstage whisperings going on and I dreaded any scandal that might hurt Sybella or my career.
I had a pupil, a handsome and wealthy young American baritone who had come to Wiesbaden to study with me. He seemed infatuated with Sybella and she found him quite pleasant. I encouraged them, and soon everything fell into place according to plan. They wanted to get married. I gave them my blessing. I thought smugly, "That will stop those dirty minds at the opera house." It worked, for all intents and purposes. They had a beautiful wedding well covered by the press. I looked like the happiest of fathers of the brides. But inside I was dying. After the reception, when the couple had gone to their new apartment to pack for their honeymoon, I devised a fiendish plan: I called Sybella and told her I was ill and asked her to come to me.
Within minutes she was at my flat. Still dressed in her white wedding dress, she looked like an angel. I was burning with passion and jealousy. I wanted her. I had to have her at least once before that young pup violated her on their wedding night. I seized her and began to tear the wedding gown from her shoulders. Her lovely breasts heaved into view. I smothered them with kisses as
I had done hundreds of times before. She started to protest and cried "No, Daddy." but I paid her no heed. I bent her down to the floor without even knowing that she had begun to scratch my face. Pulling the wedding dress free, I mounted her trembling body. It took less than a second to insert my hot, eager penis between her lovely thighs. I wanted to come immediately but decided to hold off forever if need be. Sybella was trying to free herself and was screaming and crying in the process. I heard these sounds only vaguely, so engrossed was I in plunging my hungry penis into that well of happiness that was my daughter's cunt. Then something hit me on the side of my head and I passed out. When I came to a few minutes later I was alone on the floor.
Bewildered, I looked about for Sybella. She was still in the room; she was standing by her husband, crying into his shoulder. He had one arm around her, holding her tightly, and in the other hand he held a slightly bloodied brass candlestick. His face had an expression of horror and disgust. Sybella raised his tear-stained face from his protective shoulder and sobbed at me, "Daddy, how could you-on my wedding night?" I was dumbfounded.
Then it dawned on me. Sybella loved him! No more would we know moments of erotic bliss. No more would I experience the feel of the warm lips on my flaming penis. No more nights and days of bliss. I was alone. I hadn't lost her, I had given her away. I watched them slowly walk out of the door and out of my life.
* * *
That's the end of the tape. Ferdinand's confusion and inability to differentiate between Lily and Sybella posed a peculiar problem. In the beginning, owing to his intense loneliness, he was able to fantasize his daughter as Lily. As Sybella grew into young womanhood and developed into almost a reincarnation of her late mother, her father developed a strong sexual desire for her. When his senses were numbed by drink, this strong subconscious urge resolved itself into action. The fact that Sybella was willing to engage in and even encourage this incest make us a bit curious about her underlying motivations. Sybella was devoted to her father. Being the daughter of a fairly famous person exposed her to women of all types who were willing to throw themselves at her father's feet. Naturally she felt the bitter pangs of jealousy. None of the young men she knew or grew up around could match her father for charm or virility or fame. Many a pre-adolescent daughter has said, "When I grow up I'm going to marry Daddy." But this feeling usually stops at around the age of eight. Sybella carried it through adolescence, and it got out of control. When Sybella matured enough to look around for an unrelated sex partner of her own age she no longer desired an image of her father.
Little is known about Sybella. Unfortunately her marriage did not work out, and within three years after her father's death she divorced her husband and drifted into obscurity.
3.
"I never should have kept that appointment with Roger." This statement, made by Marylou C, a twenty-two-year-old salesgirl from Atlanta, introduced this researcher into a peculiar aspect of the world of sex. Marylou grew up in the calm atmosphere of a happy home. Surrounded by the love and understanding of her well-adjusted home life, she had no traumatic experiences which would cause rebellion or alienation. Before she was twenty she had experienced two love affairs. Seduced in the wee hours of the morning following the senior prom by her high school sweetheart under the most favorable of circumstances, this proved to be both satisfying and beautiful. She continued sexual activities with this boy till he left for college in a distant city the following year. Owing to the separation they drifted apart. Her second romance involved a young G.I. from a near by missile base.
This affair continued until the soldier completed his tour of duty and returned home. Marriage was not considered in either situation and Marylou had a healthy attitude toward sex. Bright, alert and somewhat adventurous, Marylou decided to seek her future under the bright lights of New York City.
Upon arriving there she found a delightful apartment on the Upper West Side and a position with a large department store as a salesgirl in the women's gloves department. Once settled into the routine she became one of the faceless multitude of single girls who crowd the subways twice daily to and from the spires of downtown Manhattan. Marylou was happy in her new environment, but-we shall let her tell you in her own words what happened to shake her tranquil world to its very foundations.
* * *
It all started one night at Chubb's Pub. This place was a cocktail lounge frequented by single white-collar working gals and young up-and-coming executives. Not a pick-up joint by any means, but a place where you could meet nice people. If after spending the evening with a handsome fellow you felt the urge to leave with him, no one frowned on that. No one frowned if you declined the invitation, for that matter.
On this particular night I met Roger. He was rather tall and dark and well-built. He had a New England accent, which I found charming.
He said he worked for an advertising firm on Madison Avenue as a junior account executive. I didn't even flinch when he casually placed his hand on my knee. I hadn't been to bed with a man for some time, and Roger was easily the best-looking man in the bar tonight. We chatted on many subjects that night and during the whole time he only removed his hand from the inside of my thigh once, to light my cigarette. When he offered to take me home I eagerly accepted.
We arrived home by cab. As Roger walked me to the door I suggested that he come up for coffee. He promptly paid off the cab driver and sent him on his way.
Once in the apartment I told him to make himself comfortable in the living room while I put the coffee on. As I bustled around the kitchen getting out coffee cups and so forth I occasionally glanced into the living room where Roger was sitting. He looked absolutely fascinating sitting there.
I felt a twinge of excitement between my legs as I imagined how he would feel inside me. I was getting aroused just thinking about the possibility of his balling me. Surely the actuality would far surpass my wild imaginings.
I returned from the kitchen bearing two cups of steaming coffee. Placing them on the coffee table in front of the sofa, I sat down closely next to Roger. His arm went gently around my shoulder and I snuggled close to him. As I laid my head down on his shoulder he leaned over and kissed me. Tingling sensations coursed through my body as I felt his tongue force its way between my lips and then search out my own. I felt myself breathing harder as his hand found my breasts.
I reached down toward the crotch of his trousers and felt his penis growing rapidly erect. Within seconds it felt like spring steel. I wanted him immediately. I felt his free hand reach under my sweater and stealthily work its way up my back and fumble with the catch on my brassiere. It seemed like hours before he released the catch, and my breasts started to swell with freedom and longing once they had escaped from their cotton cages. I withdrew from his tight embrace long enough for him to help remove my sweater and bra.
Then, standing up in front of him, I undid the zipper and let my skirt fall down over my ankles to the floor. Roger leaned forward and gently pulled my panties down. I saw the longing in his eyes as he reached forward and stroked my pubic hair.
I took a step forward and practically pushed my pussy into his face. He acknowledged my intent as he place a hand around either buttock and drew me to him. At the first contact of his tongue on my tingling clitoris I experienced orgasm. It felt fantastic! He pulled me to the couch and without removing his mouth from my groin he managed to tumble me among the soft pillows. He stopped just long enough to take off his clothes. I lay there with my eyes tightly closed, not daring to risk distraction. I felt his perspiring body let itself down on top of mine and spread my legs wide to accommodate his surging hips as his penis found my aching vagina and slid its rigid length into it with increasing passion. As I felt him plunge deeper and deeper into my boiling box I dug my fingernails hard into his back muscles, so sweet was the pain of his penis filling my tight vagina. I wrapped my legs tightly around his back so that at the precise time of his downward plunge I could meet him with my hungry vaginal lips. During all this he was running his tongue in and out of my ear, and the tickling was just about driving me nuts. I felt that any second I was going to black out.
Just then he started to come. I groaned with pleasure as I took his hot, creamy sperm. I felt him sigh with pleasure as he pushed against me. I wanted to suck up every drop of semen that he poured into me. Roger relaxed, and we lay there very quietly, enjoying the well-being we felt.
Roger pulled his tired penis out of me and arose. Sitting on the side of the sofa, he reached for the cigarettes. Lighting two, he held one out for me. I took it and inhaled deeply. I felt so good, so exquisitely satisfied, that I didn't want to move. Roger took a long draw on his cigarette and looked at me with a grin on his face.
I asked him how he felt and he replied that he felt swell. He then asked me if I were free for the weekend. I affirmed that I was and he invited me out to his place on Long Island. I said I would be delighted to come. I thought it would be some weekend, having that stud horse all to myself.
Roger said he would have his driver pick me up at my apartment on Saturday morning. I was a bit impressed when he mentioned "his driver." I wondered if he was an heir to some immense fortune or otherwise independently wealthy. Most Jr. Executives didn't have chauffuers. I asked him why I couldn't go out there with him. He replied that he had to go out Friday evening to "make arrangements," as he put it. I was so very happy the next day, which luckily was Friday. I bought two sexy-looking nightgowns and some tooexpensive perfume. I had visions of a beautiful romantic weekend. Roger was just about perfect for me, and I found myself hoping that this weekend would develop into a really long-lasting affair.
The doorbell buzzed at about ten o'clock Saturday morning. I grabbed my overnight case and ran down the stairs to the front door. Sure enough, standing on the stoop was a uniformed chauffuer. "Good morning, I'm Maxwell." I was a bit startled, for Maxwell was the evilest-looking man I had ever seen. He stood about five feet, and he was slightly hunchbacked.
Maxwell took my bag and placed it on the front seat of this large black limousine. Then he returned to the stoop and escorted me to the car. As we drove out the Expressway towards Long Island he spoke very little, and my efforts to stimulate a conversation met with no success. I contented myself with looking out the window at the passing scenery. The sky was very gray and it looked like it was going to rain. I hoped that bad weather would not interfere with the delightful weekend I was looking forward to.
After about two hours of driving we turned off the Expressway and proceeded along a narrow two-lane road for another twenty minutes or so until we drew up before a pair of massive wrought-iron gates. Maxwell pressed a button on the dashboard of the limousine and the gates opened up to admit us. After we drove through they automatically closed behind us with an ominous clang. It was getting chilly, and the sky was getting darker every minute.
We drove up this winding driveway for a few hundred feet and stopped in front of this enormous gray stone mansion. Maxwell got out with my bag in hand and escorted me to the large oak front door. He rang the bell and a butler answered and admitted us. I looked around for Roger, but he was nowhere in view. Maxwell handed my bag to the butler and disappeared through a side door. The butler led me upstairs to what was to be my room. Setting my bag down at the foot of a large bed, the butler withdrew silently. I looked around at my surroundings. The room was sparsely, but expensively, furnished. I noticed that the large single window was barred. I saw to my left a small bathroom. I was in the midst of freshening up when there was a knock at the door.
It was Roger. I was so glad to see him I dropped my towel and threw my arms around his neck. Our lips met in a passionate kiss. I smiled at him and glanced obviously toward the bed. The old, not-quite-subsided fires of erotic anticipation were aroused and I wanted Roger to pick me up bodily, toss me on the bed and throw a fast one into me. He understood my intent, and smilingly said that there would be plenty of time for that later, but now luncheon was being served and he wanted me to meet some of his other guests. I was quite dismayed, as I had assumed that we were to be alone this weekend. I smiled in order to conceal my disappointment and took Roger's arm as he led me out of the room and down the hall and stairs and into the dining room.
The dining room was large and oblong. In the center was a table about ten feet long. It was bare; not even a tablecloth was covering it. There were about twenty chairs surrounding the table, and seated in them were nineteen men. Only the chair at the end of the table was vacant. The curtains at the windows were drawn and the room was lit only by candles placed in enormous holders made of wrought iron.
As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim light I noticed that the men were all dressed in black and were wearing the kind of masks that one would buy for a masquerade party. I turned to Roger for some kind of an explanation, but he had disappeared.
Suddenly strong arms seized me, holding me fast. Maxwell the chauffeur suddenly appeared in front of me. Seizing my blouse in his hands, he tore it apart and pulled it off of me. I started to scream but a coarse, calloused hand stifled me before I was able to utter a sound. Maxwell tore at my clothes until I was totally nude. Then I was lifted into the air and held high above their heads-I was being held aloft by Maxwell and the butler.
They carried me to the long dining room table and laid me upon it like some great centerpiece. Before I could move my hands were placed in handcuffs that were attached to the table. My feet were also shackled.
As I lay there on my back in this spread-eagle position the butler served glasses of blood-red wine to the men seated around me. They suddenly arose as if to offer a toast. It was then that I noticed that their pants had no fronts to them.
Just penises. Large ones, short ones, thin ones, fat ones. Just then the sound of a door opening and closing made me crane my head back and I could see, although upside down, who had entered the room. This person was dressed in bright crimson and wore a mask of the same color. The disguise was ineffective, though, because I immediately recognized Roger. I knew it would be to no avail to ask him to help me. I was beginning to feel terribly afraid. No one said a word as Roger picked up his glass of red wine and took a small sip and then turned the glass upside down and spilled the remaining contents onto my face. The others followed suit and I was soon drenched hair to toe in the liquid. One enterprising gentleman even went to the trouble of splashing his wine into my vagina.
Then one of the men climbed on top of the table and started a frantic dance around and over me. I could see his exposed sexual organs flopping about in frantic choreography. He stopped his mad dance and got down on all fours and started to lap up the spilled wine that clung to my body. As his tongue approached my left breast, and in spite of my terror, I felt a twinge of excitement. As soon as his tongue reached my nipple I felt it standing straight up. His mouth closed about it and he bit! I screamed in pain. I managed to raise my head and look down. The nipple was bleeding. By this time the man's penis was quite erect. He got into the proper position and stuck it into me. I squirmed to get free, but this only increased his excitement. Finally he came, and withdrew.
By this time a second man had jumped up on top of the table and had begun the same frantic dancing. But this one stopped and stood with each leg just outside my shoulders. I could look up into his face as he stood there grinning down at me. His eyes were shining with delight behind that evil black mask. This one started playing with himself. I found myself fascinated as his penis started to respond to his stroking and got very hard and erect. I saw the head of it get red and swollen, and I figured that any second he would be ready to ejaculate. I was just about to wonder if he would make it to my pussy in time when suddenly he bent it down and shot its contents directly into my face. There were roars of delighted laughter from the other men.
A third man then jumped upon the table. He had some sort of gaily-colored canister in his hand. The others were keeping time with his frantic dancing by loudly clapping their hands. Just as this one's dancing reached a feverish pitch he suddenly stopped and bent down and placed the canister between my legs. I felt something smooth and cool foam into my vagina. He then buried his head in my crotch and started to lap up the substance. I felt his tongue reach into my organ and was just beginning to get a bit aroused when he stopped sucking my pussy and jumped off the table. I found out later that it was whipped cream that he had injected into my pussy. Even though I was scared half to death, I found that I was enjoying this erotic activity.
Then the forth man mounted the table. He wasn't too inventive. He performed his little dance and then mounted me. I guess he was made slightly shy by the onlookers' presence, as he failed to get a full hard-on and did not accomplish orgasm. He climbed down off of me with good-natured chidings from his amused companions. At this moment I chanced a look around. I saw Roger standing in a corner of the room, arms folded across his chest and a mild look of annoyance in his eyes. I wondered if this mood was motivated by his concern for me or the unsuccessful copulation of his friend.
Then the fifth gentleman bounced upon the table and started his little dance around me. I wondered how inventive this one would be and hoped he would be a bit more successful than the fourth man. He stopped dancing after a minute or two and knelt down over my head. He took his penis in his hand and started to rub it around my face and neck.
I found the sensation quite pleasant, and as his dick approached my mouth, I impishly stuck my tongue out and touched it. He quickly jerked it away and slapped me so hard across my cheek with his hand that I thought for a minute he had caused several teeth to be loosened. I started to sob as he started to rub it against my face and neck again. He ejaculated all over my breasts and then took his hand and massaged the sperm into my flesh. It was warm and sticky and the friction of his hands caused my skin to burn. After he had finished his little rub-down he jumped off the table to the loud applause of his friends.
The sixth one jumped up on the table, and after finishing his little dance he slid down on his knees and, lifting my buttocks from the table, inserted his penis into my rectum from underneath. My rectum was very tight and it took him several minutes to penetrate it. Accomplishment of this feat brought cheers from the audience. I was in this awkward position, with his thighs and knees under my butt and his penis ensconced in my ass-hole, when Number Eight jumped on the table and started his satyric jitterbugging.
Finishing his dance, he swung his body over me and somehow managed to insert his penis into my pussy. When Number Six would push Number Eight would pull, and the effect was devine. Oh-I forgot to mention Number Seven! Number Seven was there, alright. After finishing his little bit of dancing he had sat upon my chest and shoved his penis in my mouth. Taking me by the hair of the head, he pulled me to and fro. All this time Six, Seven and Eight were humming the "Song of the Volga Boatman."
The effect of being fucked from every angle was quite a sensation. I don't know how many times I managed to reach orgasm. My muscles were all cramped and my left breast was hurting like hell, but for some reason I didn't seem to mind. I know for sure, though, that if I had not been manacled I would have tried to flee the room in absolute terror; but since I was tied down I was reconciled to at least enjoying it as much as possible.
Number Nine was pretty much a repeat of Number Three. The exception was that he brought a bigger supply of whipped cream. I was covered with the stuff and imagined I looked quite a bit like a snowman. I guess the combination of wine, sperm and whipped cream was too much for his digestion, and he was helped from the table, retching, by two of his obviously disappointed buddies.
Number Ten was a real bastard. After he finished his ritual of dancing he started to beat me severely with a wet towel. He would only stop to masturbate. Then he started laying it on again real heavy. The wet towel left severe welts but no bruises, luckily. He kept this routine up till he failed to get an erection.
As soon as Ten had finished all the members of this happy little group left the room quietly. I lay there on the table listening to the raindrops beating against the windows and the occasional crash of thunder roll in from the Sound. I wondered what else was going to happen to me.
Maxwell quietly entered the room, carrying a pan full of warm water and with several clean white towel slung over his arm. He gently began to wash me off. I asked him what this was all about but he would not answer me. He only smiled sadly and continued the clean-up work. Then the butler entered and, taking a key from his pocket, unlocked the cuffs from my hands and feet. My flesh was raw underneath from where the cuffs had dug into my wrists and ankles. My vagina and rectum were sore, and I didn't realize what a weakened condition I was in until I tried to sit up. I must have fainted or something, because when I came to I was in the bedroom upstairs. I imagine Maxwell and the butler carried me up there. There was a gentle knock upon the door and I bade whomever was knocking to come in. I was hoping that it would be Roger. It was only the butler bringing me a cup of hot tea. I tried it. It was sweet and good. Suddenly I felt extremely exhausted and fell back on the pillow and drifted off to sleep.
The tea must have been drugged, because when I awoke it was morning. I arose and dressed in my prettiest frock. I went downstairs to look for Roger. No one was there. The house was deserted. I went into the dining room. The table was still there, but this time it was covered with a spotless white tablecloth and there was a centerpiece of gay flowers.
It was hard to imagine that yesterday the centerpiece had been me.
I walked out to the front of the house. Looking out through a window, I could see Maxwell leaning against the fender of the limousine. I went back upstairs to the bedroom and collected my belongings. Maxwell was waiting with the door to the car open when I descended from the doorstep. I stole one last look at the house as we drove down the driveway and back to New York.
My dream of a romantic weekend sure took a turn for the worse. Besides, that skunk Roger never once spoke to me again.
One time, though, I did hear of him. For months I had believed that I had been the toy of some sinister, Satanic cult of devil-worshipers, or at least something equally as devious. I found out differently, though. One night I dropped by Chubb's Pub with a couple of girl friends. I casually inquired of Don, the bartender, whether or not Roger had been in recently. Don laughed and said that Roger and nineteen of his fraternity chums were all in jail. It seems that they had kidnapped a young girl for some sort of hazing at their frat house out in Long Island and the girl had died of a heart attack. They had explained to the judge at their trail that they didn't usually resort of abduction, but the last girlfriend of a member had been too cooperative and had spoiled their fun. Good clean college humor. I really felt that I had been had.
I can assure you I've had my fill of sex. I don't want to see another man-at least for a month.
* * *
Marylou, it seems, has a very healthful attitude about sex. This gang rape she encountered fortunately left no traumatic scars.
In today's era of sexual liberation one hears conflicting stories about group sex. Victor H. had an experience that is grist for any sex-mill. Let's let him tell us about it.
* * *
I'd drifted into town the previous week, hitching rides with people from all parts of the country. All of them were heading for the "Promised Land"-California. The most pleasant encounters I had along the road were with the hippies. If a VW bus with a driver with long hair and a drooping moustache drove by me, ten to one he would stop and pick me up. Most so-called "straights" would blast by me, damn near knocking me off the shoulder of the road. An occasional truck driver would stop and pick me up, for company, hoping that conversation would keep him awake. But I was usually as tired as he was, and as soon as I would drop off to sleep somehow the ride would terminate, and I would be dropped off in the middle of nowhere. Then, sure enough, a hippie would come chugging along in his bus and pick me up. As soon as I would utter a single yawn the hippie would say, "Hey man, you want to crash? There's a pad in the back-help yourself." By the time I got to California I was pretty favorably disposed towards hippies. They would share anything they had with you, booze, grass, even sometimes their women. One of them scribbled the location of a commune in L.A. that I'd be welcome at should I ever care to drop out for a while.
After a few days in Los Angeles spent fruitlessly searching for a decent job I was pretty disgusted with the Establishment. I decided to hell with the whole bit and struck out for Evening Star, the hippie commune I had been told about.
I found it in a canyon northwest of Los Angeles. A bunch of shacks were clustered in among the boulders and shrubbery. About thirty people lived there, the majority girls in their late teens or early twenties. I entered the encampment with my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, and no one looked at me like I was some kind of an intruder. A tall guy with shoulder-length red hair sauntered over and held out his hand to shake mine. He introduced himself as Redfern and said he was the elected leader of the commune.
He didn't ask me why I had come or where I was going or where I had been. He directed me to one of the shacks and told me to drop off my gear there and then come and join them for dinner. I entered the shack and as my eyes grew accustomed to the dimness of the interior I almost dropped my duffel onto two people earnestly fucking away on the floor. The girl, who was on the bottom, looked at me with a large smile on her face and said "hi." The guy looked up and proffered his hand, introducing himself as Charlie. I shook his hand briefly and got out of there as fast as I could. I was acutely embarrassed at having interrupted their coitus. I was surprised when Charlie's voice boomed out of the window between grunts assuring me that I would see them again at chow.
After a dinner of excellent beef stew and salad I had an opportunity to meet the rest of the commune. They seemed to be nice enough kids, but totally unlike any I had ever met before. Some of the members contributed to the support of the commune by manufacturing leather goods, while others dealt in marijuana and other narcotics. We spent most of the evening sitting around strumming guitars, singing folk songs, putting down the Establishment, and discussing the Indo-China War. Toward midnight some of the kids drifted off to the shacks. I was pretty pooped myself, so I wandered over to the shack Redfern had assigned to me. I entered rather apprehensively, hoping not to interrupt anyone this time. With a sigh of relief I observed that the place was empty. I took off my clothes and lay down on a mattress that was conveniently in one corner. As I pulled the blanket up over my naked body my thoughts journeyed to the scene I had butted into before. The thought of that girl laying there with Charlie's prick plunging in and out of her conjured up very pleasant sensations. I felt my prick begin to harden and the coarse fibers of the blanket tickling it as it rose against it added a delightful stimulation.
As I lay there thinking deliciously sexy thoughts I happened to glance towards the door. She was standing there, the girl that had been with Charlie earlier in the evening. She looked beautiful standing there with the moonlight reflecting on her face and hair. She couldn't have been more than sixteen and even the baggy clothes she was wearing could not hide the gorgeous breasts that stood out so invitingly. She walked over to me until she could look down at me huddling shyly under the blanket. She pulled her dress up over her head and dropped it to the floor. She was wearing absolutely nothing in the way of underwear underneath. She smiled and asked me if I would like her to sleep with me. I nodded yes, and added vocally "Aren't you Charlie's girl?" She replied in the affirmative, and asked what had that to do with it? As she lay down beside me and I pulled the blanket over us, I inquired as to whether Charlie would be furious if he found out I was making it with his woman.
She couldn't seem to understand why I was so concerned. She said she liked me; didn't I like her? I said of course I did, but I presumed that she loved Charlie. She said she did and that he was her man, but she was not his property and that if she felt drawn towards someone sexually she was free to indulge her urge. She snuggled closer to me, and when I felt her hard little nipples press against me I threw ethics to the winds and reached down and fondled her warm cunt.
She sighed with delight as my fingers entered that warm, moist place. Her hips began to gyrate as I manipulated her clitoris to arouse her fully. Her hand descended until it surrounded my stiff prick. I thought it would burst, so delightful was the sensation.
I raised myself and gently lifted her until she was underneath me. She spread her legs wide to receive me, and as I entered she shuddered with ecstasy. As I pushed my shaft all the way in I felt her vaginal muscles tighten around it. The effect was maddening. We rocked there together for what seemed like hours. I finally came with great force and the girl let out a squeal of absolute delight. We lay there holding each other tightly until my exhausted prick returned to its normal condition and dropped out of her cunt. I fell asleep cradling her in my arms.
I awoke to the sound of Charlie's voice telling us that we'd better hurry if we wanted breakfast. As she arose and put on her dress I said, "Hey, what's your name?" She replied, "Laughing Fawn." She then informed me that many in the clan chose Indian names.
I looked after her as she strolled out of the door. Charlie was standing out in front of the shack waiting for her. With arms around each other's waists they proceeded towards the breakfast table.
I felt very uncomfortable for most of that first day. Every time Charlie would speak to me I would drop my eyes, mumble a reply, and look for an excuse to get away. I was quite upset that he didn't seem the least bit jealous of the fact that I had screwed the hell out of his chick the night before. I think I had even begun to hate him. The fact that he considered my copulation with his woman as of no consequence was an affront to my manhood. I would have felt a lot better if he had tried to slug me or something.
I sought out Redfern and told him what was troubling me. He patiently explained to me the philosophy of the new life they were trying to build there in the commune. He said, for example, that the system of fighting over women like stags locking horns was a typical symbol of the decadent society they had fled from. Only when man did not have to violently compete with his fellow man could he live in complete harmony with his neighbor. The fact that Charlie and Laughing Fawn meant something special to each other did not mean that they had to have a bond of fidelity. As Redfern put it, "What she gave to you did not take anything away from Charlie." It was a little hard for me to accept, but I did admit that there was some merit to the concept.
As the days progressed I began to feel the harmony of the people and of the surroundings. I was less tense, and I found myself looking forward to the various duties assigned me. I found that if any female member of the commune liked me as a person and I approached her with the desire to sleep with her she was my partner as long as it pleased us.
If my offer was declined I found to my delight that I did not feel rejected or put down. The real freedom at the commune was the freedom of choice. Though the womenfolk performed mostly traditional feminine chores such as mending clothing, cooking meals, and cleaning the shacks, they still were completely liberated from the type of chattels they would have been in the Establishment's society.
One day I was out chopping firewood when Lotus, a Nisei member, joined me. I had often observed her with the thought of what a lovely lay she would make. Several times I had asked her to bed down with me, but she had refused, politely. We were about a half mile from the encampment and I had just stopped chopping and was sitting under a tree taking a slug of wine from my canteen when she approached and sat down beside me. I said, "Hi Lotus, what brings you out here?"
She said that she had a great desire to be with me. I said that this pleased me greatly and offered her some of my wine. She accepted and as she took the canteen to her lips some of the wine trickled down her chin and dripped on to her breast. I took out my bandana and gently mopped up the wine. As my fingers brushed against her flesh I felt a tingle run up and down my spine. I looked into her almond-shaped eyes and saw a look of complete surrender.
I took my hands and loosed the draw-string at the top of her dress and slid the frock down from her shoulders, exposing two of the most exquisite breasts I had ever seen. Her skin was the color of amber and the nipples were nut brown and as delicate as two tiny rose buds. I buried my face in their glory for a few seconds and then took one of them between my lips and gently massaged it with my tongue. Lotus threw her head back and shuddered with pleasure.
I continued this activity for a few more minutes, then pulled her dress down over her feet and bundled it up as a pillow and placed it under her head. I already had my shirt off, so all I had to do was remove my pants. Standing there nude in the middle of this beautiful wilderness I fully appreciated a complete freedom that I had up to now only imagined could exist. I looked down at the lovely girl at my feet, and I dropped to my knees beside her.
She reached up and took my prick in her tiny hand and started manipulating the foreskin to and fro. I felt blood surging down the shaft and watched it rise to the occasion in happy anticipation.
Lotus raised herself on one elbow and placed her lips around the head of my cock and started, gently, to suck it. I reached down and seized her by her shiny ebony hair and pressed her head close to my belly. She had the full length of my prick in her mouth now. Without causing her to miss a stroke, I then lay down so that my face was opposite her tiny pussy. She did not have much pubic hair, and I could see the lips of her vagina clearly. They were tender and moist as I kissed them and inserted my tongue in the crack that separated them.
We rolled about in our excitement heedless of the sharp twigs and leaves and the chiggers that bit us.
Soon we were gasping for breath, and I took the opportunity to right myself and mounted her.
She held her arms and legs wide apart to receive me. Even though her pussy was tiny and tight I had little difficulty in inserting my throbbing prick. She sighed with pleasure as I pushed my way in. She held me tightly as I plunged deeper and deeper into her. I felt her reach orgasm again and again as I writhed with pleasure. I could feel myself preparing to ejaculate but I held off as I didn't want to end this ecstasy too soon. Lotus was whimpering with sheer abandon and I thought she would black out. Her mouth was wide open and sucking in breath at a rapid pace. I felt as if my prick was going to break off at the roots. I felt the head of it grow so large that in spite of all of the lubricating fluid pouring from her vaginal walls it would stick in place permanently, and I wouldn't be able to withdraw it in one piece.
Lotus and I came together. I felt her body arch to meet mine as I ejaculated a massive dose of sperm into her womb. I knew I had reached the entrance to her womb as I could feel the hard ends of it against the tip of my prick. We sighed and relaxed after our mutual orgasm. I lay alongside her, gazing at our two sweaty bodies glistening in the sun. I had never been so happy in my life. Lotus was looking at me with a smile of complete satisfaction. I realized now what complete contentment meant.
We arose, and I helped her to put on her dress.
I dressed myself and bundled up the firewood I had chopped, and together we carried it back to camp.
We arrived back in camp at about suppertime. I had just time enough to add the firewood to the fire when the noise of an approaching vehicle alerted us all. Suddenly two police cars and a truck full of deputies entered the clearing. The cops poured out of the cars and out of the truck and surrounded us menacingly. Redfern walked up to the officer who seemed to be in charge and asked, "What's the trouble, officer?" The cop growled something about "Goddam hippies-trespassing-corrupting society-stealing and dope peddling. You all have to pack up and get out of here-now!" Redfern tried to reason with him, but the cop raised the riot gun he was holding and brought it down savagely on his head. Blood spurted as Redfern collapsed at the cop's feet. Then pandemonium broke loose. The guys stood there paralyzed with shock and some of the girls ran into the shacks. Some of the cops followed them and dragged them out screaming by the hair and threw them up into the truck. Other cops were busily putting handcuffs on the men. One burly cop ordered two of us to pick up the unconscious Redfern and put him on the floor of the truck.
I heard a scream from one of the shacks. It sounded like it was coming from Laughing Fawn. I picked up a small log and ran across the clearing toward the sound. I dodged several cops and knocked one down before I reached the doorway. I looked in with horror and rage as I beheld the scene before my eyes. Two of the cops were holding Laughing Fawn down on the floor while the third was ramming his billy up her vagina.
She was screaming in agony and the cops were laughing. The cop who was administering the billy club was yelling: "You like that big dick, huh, you dirty little slut?" I swung the log I was carrying and it bounced off his helmet and struck a glancing blow on his shoulder. The cop turned and snarled at me. "Another one, eh!" The two who were holding Laughing Fawn released her and seized me. The third cop, holding his club like a rifle, jabbed it into my stomach repeatedly with great force. Before I lost consciousness I saw that the front of my shirt was all bloody-Laughing Fawn's blood.
I awoke in a jail cell. My body ached, and I could breathe only with difficulty. Two other men of the clan were in the cell with me. Both had been badly beaten and were swathed in bandages. I didn't know where the women were.
The next morning we were taken before the judge. One hundred dollars or thirty days. None of us had that kind of money so we did time.
We were forbidden to return to Evening Star and were told that when we were finished with our sentences we had to be out of town by sundown.
After our release some of us made it to New Mexico, where we started the commune all over again. Though we encountered little hostility from the local gendarmes or populace, somehow the heart was gone out of us. Lotus showed up shortly after my arrival, but Laughing Fawn never did appear, and we never did find out what had happened to her.
Life went on as usual, but we weren't as happy as we had been before. Lotus presented me with a baby boy that Fall, and two of the other women, I am reasonably sure, are carrying babies of mine. I am hopeful that we can bring them up in an environment of happiness and love. Our way of life is different, but it is divinely given, and I wouldn't trade one minute of it for all the so-called material benefits of the cruel, inhuman world outside.
* * *
Victor is trying to re-assemble his shattered life in a remote commune in New Mexico. We wish him luck. Though his chosen life form is different from the accepted norm of society, who is to judge the morality of it? As you have seen, sex in communal life is freely shared. Petty jealousies and conflicts are almost non-existent. If proof is needed to show that man can live in peace, the rise and fall of Evening Star has shown it. And yet it, too, was imperfect. Victor found the peace and security he always wanted and yet was always threatened from the outside by people who in their fear of something alien to them sought to destroy the commune because of their own fear and, perhaps, jealousy.
Redfern's philosophy had a certain validity. Perhaps it was a step in the right direction for the salvation of mankind. Who knows? Mankind can only try.
Sexual freedom of the type encountered in the so-called hippie commune is just a symbol of the total freedom attainable by man. Once he doesn't have to compete against himself he can grow in harmony and satisfaction in the joy of just being alive.
4.
A young man's primary introduction to sex can occur in a myriad of ways, among them childhood experimentation with a girl several years older "who knows the ropes." This method is quite common. A typical such experience was related to us by Hubert A.
Hubert was born and grew up in a fairly large city on the Florida West Coast. During the time he was in grammar school and junior high he lived with his family in a small house on the outskirts of town. Hubert's home wasn't actually a farm, but the family raised a few vegetables and kept ducks and chickens and a couple of goats. Most of Hubert's school-chums lived farther in towards town, and therefore it was great fun for them to gather at Hubert's house after school and on the weekends, because of the attraction of the animals and of all the room. Some of the games they played were rather enlightening. Hubert explained it all in detail:
* * *
There was this creek not far from the house. The fellas and I used to go down there quite often to fish or catch tadpoles. We occasionally went skinny dipping, too. But it wasn't too safe. Oh, the water wasn't deep or anything, but once in awhile we would see a water moccasin, and it would have to be a powerful hot day to make us brave enough to jump in. Besides, there was this railroad bridge that crossed it and every once in a while a passenger train would stop on it, and if we were in swimming we would get awful embarrassed and duck down until just our heads would stick out of the water and have to stay there until the train started moving again.
One time when we were down there swimming Roscoe suggested a jacking-off contest. So we all laid down on the bank of the creek and started pulling our puds. The object was sometimes who could shoot off first and other times who could shoot off the furthest. I was champion of the latter event most of the times. I'll never forget the time the train stopped while we were engaged in a contest. We all heard the train grind to a halt and quickly flipped over on our bellies. All of us, that is, but Albert Kramer. I guess he figured that it was a freight train, because he just lay there with his eyes shut tight, jerking away at that pecker of his to beat the band. We just lay there laughing till tears rolled down our cheeks because of the startled looks on the faces of the passengers aboard the train.
Finally the conductor came out on the platform of the car and hollered, "Hey, boy! What you doing there?" Old Albert, he jumped up and lit across the field stark naked and didn't come back for his clothes till almost an hour had passed.
Sometimes when we were lying there catching our breath after one of these exhausting contests the conversation naturally turned to girls. At this time of our life none of us had ever been with a girl. We sure wanted to, but most of us were scared. There had been some rumors that several of the eighth graders had made out, but for us of the sixth the thing had yet to come. We talked for a while about the possibilities of approaching one of the eighth grade girls. Albert Kramer piped up and volunteered the information that his sister Angela put out.
Well, this information fell on anything but unwilling ears. The Angela in question was thirteen years of age, blonde and blue-eyed, and had the cutest little tits in the school. We said, "Aw, come on now, Albert, how do you know?" and he said, "I know it for a fact, 'cause she tried to make me do it to her." He then commenced to tell us how she had come to his room one afternoon and told him what she had learned from Shirley and Dorothy Price, two high school girls who lived next door to them. It seems that Angela had dropped over next door and the Price girls were seated on the floor of the living room playing spin the bottle with three boys she had never seen before. They asked her if she wanted to join them in the game. Angela said she would love to.
The game had started innocently enough. You know how the game is played: someone spins the bottle, and whoever the bottle points to has to do a stunt or something. It started out with silly stunts, but got quite in earnest when the bottle pointed to one of the boys and Shirley said, "Take out your thing and let us see it." Well, this was the first time, as Angela tells it, that she had ever seen a boy's "thing" other than Albert's. And she said Albert's never made her get goose bumps all over. Well, pretty soon the bottle part of the game was forgotten and the game changed to "You show me yours and I'll show you mine." Pretty soon the suggestion "Put your thing into mine" came up, and the motion passed. As soon as the game was over Angela, much impressed, hurried home to initiate Albert into the joys of intercourse. Albert said he was scared, because he heard that was the way people had babies and he didn't think it proper for his thirteen-year-old sister to have a baby.
She teased him into trying it, and he agreed, but only if she would keep her panties on. (Albert had thought that just penetration and not ejaculation caused pregnancy.) So Albert described how he put his pud between her legs and wiggled it a bit. He said he had gotten a hard-on, but was so nervous that he hadn't done much. Angela didn't like this futile exercise and said she liked it the real way better. Albert figured that by telling us about it, he was doing his sister a real favor. We appreciated his concern and put our heads together on how we could entice Angela down to the creek the next day.
It really posed no serious problem. Albert just invited his sister down to join us in a tadpole hunt. She said she'd be there as soon as she could complete her chores.
Our whole gang was down at the creek waiting. Spooner, and myself. We were engaged in a lively and erotic conversation of an acutely speculative nature. Our speculation reached its peak when Angela arrived with the Price sisters in tow.
Roscoe, who was a natural leader, suggested that we all go skinny-dipping. All of us quickly started to undress. I couldn't keep my eyes off the girls as they stripped down to their panties. I could see the little bush of Angela's cunt-hairs push out against her almost sheer pink panties. The panties were a bit small for her, and over the top seam a half inch or so of blonde and kinky hair was exposed. I felt my pud start to tremble and get hard.
I went over to where Angela was standing and put my arms around her and gave her a hug. My pud was pressed real hard against her crotch. Her panties felt icy cool against my hot pud. As I held her Vise to me I could feel her little tits against my chest. The nipples were hard as pebbles. I started breathing hard because I was so excited. Angela suggested we go into the bushes. As I pulled away from her, I found that I had leaked a bit; my pud stuck briefly to her panties. I looked down and saw a small stain right in the center of the triangle. It made her panties completely transparent in the area, and I could see the outlines of her cunt. This excited me even more, so I took Angela by the hand and we dog-trotted out behind a big clump of palmetto.
Once behind the palmetto and out of sight of the rest Angela lay down in the sand on her back. I bent down and started to remove her panties.
She made it easier by arching her back and thus raising her ass off the ground. I lay down on top of her and tried to push my pud into her, but could not find the hole. I felt her finger touch it and she slowly guided me home. What a wonderful feeling it was to feel my rigid thing slide slowly into that warm, juicy cunt! Instinctively I began pushing in and out. Angela was breathing hard herself now, and she started wiggling her butt, first from side to side and then up and down. I thought I would go crazy from the delicious sensation. As I was busy pumping away I looked down at her. Her beautiful tits were standing up in the air with the tiny pink nipples distended. I felt the urge to suck on one, so I bent my head down and put my mouth over one. Angela sighed as I did this. Then I couldn't hold it anymore; I shot my load. Angela cried out "oh-oh-oh-oh" and relaxed her tense body.
Angela's cunt muscles started to squeeze my pud with tiny grabbing movements, and though my pud was getting soft it was still very sensitive. The sensation almost hurt. Finally after a minute or so of this activity, I pulled out of her. She laid there like she was asleep, with a slight smile on her lips. I looked down at my pud. The head of it was all red and shiny and a bit sore. But I felt so damn good. This was the first time I had screwed, and it far surpassed anything I had imagined. I turned, took one last look at Angela, and went back to the creek bank to see what the others were doing.
Roscoe was on top of Shirley when I got back. He was pumping away like mad, and Shirley had her legs locked around his waist in a tight scissors grip. But, the sight that attracted my attention and filled me with wonder was what Dorothy, Shirley's younger sister, was doing.
Dorothy was seated on a tree stump and Albert was standing in front of her. He had his hands on her shoulders and she had placed her hands on his hips and she had his pud in her mouth. She was sucking on it like it was a chocolate-covered banana. Fleetwood and Bruce were lined up behind Albert holding onto their puds. "Get in line," Fleetwood hollered at me. "I'm going back for seconds." I obediently took my place behind Bruce.
Roscoe and Shirley had finished by this time and they walked over to watch what Dorothy was doing. Angela had joined us at about this time, too. Shirley explained that what her sister was doing was called "Frenching," and that all the French people did it.
Angela said it looked like fun and asked Bruce if she could do it to him. He said sure. So Angela got down on her knees in front of him and took his erection into her mouth. Bruce giggled with delight.
I asked Shirley about this "Frenching" and if this was what French girls did, what on earth did French men do? She replied that they did the same thing, only differently. She said, "Come on-I'll show you." She lay down on her back and spread her legs wide apart. She beckoned me to get down on my hands and knees and put my mouth on her cunt. I was a little scared, but the tingling sensation I felt throughout my body encouraged me to try it. I put my lips against it and it was warm and moist. It tasted funny, but not at all unpleasant. I soon began to run my tongue in and out of it. I began to enjoy it, and I could feel my pud begin to get hard again. Suddenly I felt someone's lips surround it, and I raised my head from Shirley's crotch and looked down between my legs. It was Dorothy. She was laying on her back propped up on her elbows, and she was sucking away like blazes on my pud.
I returned to my lapping of Shirley's cunt. I was getting thoroughly excited by Dorothy's ministrations to my lower extremities. The next minute I looked down again and past my balls and Dorothy's head I could see Roscoe's head bobbing up and down on her pussy. Before long Angela was latched on to Roscoe's pud and Bruce was mounted on Angela. We looked like a train. Poor
Albert was standing there looking very lonely, so Shirley, whose mouth was unoccupied, invited him to come over and squat down over her face. He quickly did just that. Shirley guided his pud into her mouth and started sucking with long, slow motions. I think all of us came at the same moment.
I don't know where in the world the girls learned all these things, but we were sure glad they knew them. The fellas and I got more imagine screwing before we were fourteen than I think most of us ever got since. When we got into senior high school and started going steady and things like that, it got more difficult. The old gang sort of drifted apart. Some of the fellas got very possessive of their girl friends, and vice versa. I guess the grown-ups would have frowned on our juvenile orgies, but in looking back on them there was a kind of equality and even, I feel, a harmonious purity.
* * *
Hubert's introduction to sexual life did not have any adverse effects. No guilt feelings or repressions were to cause any future hang-ups. In fact, the absolute opposite happened. His experience down by the creek left him with a happy nostalgia, and the awareness that sex is supposed to be a delightful, satisfying, and happy experience. He has carried this opinion throughout his life, and is a well-adjusted member of society, successful and well-liked.
Hubert was fortunate to encounter during puberty an excellent heterosexual outlet for his burgeoning sexual desires. Starting out as mutual masturbation among his friends, it fortunately developed into contact with the opposite sex. During this early stage of development, under different circumstances it could have easily turned to homosexual experimentation and possibly resolved into future aberrations. The case of Melvin B. is a typical example.
Melvin B. was an only child of a widowed mother. His father had been killed in an auto accident shortly after his birth. For a while he and his mother resided with her invalid father. His mother was devoted to Melvin. From the time he was old enough to remember, he was aware of the smothering possessiveness of the woman. She continually impressed upon him that she would meet his every need. This caused dissension in the home and alienated his grandfather, who complained constantly that she was spoiling Melvin. Shortly after his grandfather's death Melvin's mother remarried. The marriage was a total failure and ended in separation. The mother constantly impressed on Melvin that she had married this man solely for the reason of giving him a father, and that she really did not love his stepfather at all. Melvin's relation with his stepfather was excellent, considering that his. mother was always the final high court in any altercations. Since Melvin was always the catalyst in this troublesome triangle it was decided to send Melvin to a military school of excellent reputation located in a Midwestern state. Melvin was twelve years of age at this time, and small for his age and frail. It was while attending this particular school that Melvin first encountered the traumatic effects of the sexual activities discussed here:
* * *
I really liked the school, after I got there and got acquainted with everybody. It wasn't a terribly large student body. About two-hundred cadets made up the school battalion. I was assigned to the first platoon of G Company which was composed of eighth graders. We were located in the same residence hall with the third and fourth platoons of C Company, comprised mostly of freshmen and sophomores.
Each floor of the residence hall had an instructor's apartment, and the instructor's wife acted as housemother to the cadets under her jurisdiction. Ours was Mrs. Eckhardt, Lt. Eckhardt's
-the math teacher's-wife. She was a gorgeous red-head with beautiful knockers. They stood out so prominent in the tight-fitting sweaters she always wore that most of the guys could hardly refrain from whistling or letting out wolf-calls whenever she would pass by. We didn't dare to, as anyone caught doing so would get ten demerits, and instead of getting to go into town on Saturday or Sunday to the movies you ended up on the parade ground walking punishment tours. They were also called P.T.s or physical torture.
I used to lie awake after lights out hoping my roommates were asleep so they wouldn't hear my bed squeak, and jack off with nude visions of Mrs. Eckhardt dancing in my head. I remember how I used to get a bar of soap, rub it on my hands with a little spit to make them foamy, and massage away with a delicious slurping sound until I ejaculated. I used to catch my sperm in an old dirty sock I kept under the mattress. This was a nightly ritual, and I continued this activity for months under the illusion that I never was observed. But one night the cruel awakening happened.
One Friday night I was bouncing on my bed with sheer ecstasy and was just ready to come when I heard my two roommates start to giggle. As I started to shoot off they hollered, in unison, "Thar she blows!"
You could imagine my embarrassment. I ducked down and pulled the blankets over my head, ready to cry with shame.
My roommates wasted no time in yanking the covers off me and making all kinds of derisive remarks, it seemed that they had been aware of my nocturnal habit for some time and had derived great amusement from watching and listening to me. They said they would lie there wide awake waiting night after night for the show to begin. I was mortified.
They told me not to feel too badly as they had found a better way to have fun, and I was welcome to try it. Drying my tearstained face, I informed them that I certainly was interested. I would have done anything at this time to restore my self-esteem.
Bob, the taller of my two roommates, asked me if I had ever sucked a peter. I felt a twinge of nausea at being asked this question. I had heard of people who did that sort of thing, and I felt that this was the dirtiest thing a man could do. I replied with the most distasteful tone of voice that I could muster up that I would never think of doing something as awful as that. Bob said that there was nothing to it, and offered to show me how it was done.
I said no thanks, but he insisted, and threatened me with exposure to the whole Company if I didn't play along. I was so scared about being laughed at that I reluctantly submitted to his request. I got out of bed and stood up alongside it. Bob squatted down in front of me and undid the snaps on my pajamas. They fell down around my ankles.
Bob gently placed his fingers around my peter and pulled it back and forth slowly. The strange touch made it respond quickly and it started to harden. Then he leaned forward and put his lips around the head of it. His mouth felt warm and sticky.
The sensation was certainly thrilling. I put my hands on his shoulders as my body started to stiffen. Back and forth his head bobbed as he quickened the rhythm of his sucking. I soon noticed that I was standing on tiptoes as I felt my come ready to force its way out of my peter. I asked him if I was supposed to come into his mouth, and he nodded yes. I let go and felt him gag a little as I shot into his mouth. He immediately withdrew from me, and grabbing my pajamas started coughing into them and spitting out my semen in little stringy gobs.
I asked him if he was okay, and he replied that he was just fine. I also asked him, after catching my breath, how he had come by doing this. He told me that last year one of the seniors had given him a comic book if he would jack him off, and had complied since comic books were rare around campus. Then one of the other seniors offered him a quarter if he would do him, too. Bob felt that there wasn't anything wrong with it, and besides thought of all the extra ice cream sodas he could buy with the money. Well, soon enough these seniors weren't satisfied with just being masturbated, and they offered him more money if he would go further and give them blow-jobs. Bob found out after a while that he got quite a lot of pleasure and satisfaction out of performing this act. This year the seniors that introduced him to this deviation were gone, and so he had talked my other roommate, Clyde, into letting him continue the practice. Bob then asked me if I liked it and I said I liked it fine. Then he asked me to do it to him. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I felt a chill go up my spine. I remarked that I would prefer not to, but he said that since he had done me it was only right that I should reciprocate.
At that he took off his pajama bottoms and lay down on my bunk. He grabbed hold of his peter and started jerking on it till it started to get rigid. Fighting back the urge to throw up, I leaned over the bunk and slowly lowered my face down to his peter.
I was trembling with fear as my lips touched the head of it. But I shut my eyes and continued my descent. It did not taste as bad as I had anticipated. It had a slightly salty taste which faded considerably as I began moving my mouth up and down the shaft. As I felt it swell in size I had the urge to stop and pull away, but Bob seized my head in both his hands and started pushing and pulling. I felt him coming and with a violent motion yanked my head away. In doing so my upper teeth scraped the head of his peter and he gave a yell of pain. He came before I could get completely free and his sperm hit me on the edge of my mouth. I gagged a bit and felt my gorge rise. I got to my feet and ran from the room, trying to get to the latrine before I barfed over everything.
In the days that followed we continued our sexual experimentation, and before long I was able to swallow sperm without any ill effects. Sometimes Clyde would suck me and sometimes I would suck him off. Bob taught us how to blow one another simultaneously. That was really fun. He called it sixty-nine, and watching Clyde and Bob do it together I could see why. Once or twice we tried buggering each other in the ass, but it never worked out very well.
Clyde left school at the end of the year and we never saw him again. Bob and I were lucky enough to be assigned as roommates again in the Fall, and what was even better, we fell heir to a two-man room. We really had become great friends over the last year, and we were inseparable. We'd go into town together on the weekends and Christmas vacations I would spend at his home or he at mine. I don't think any two buddies in the school were closer than we were. My mother didn't like him much, and the thought of that even made me feel better. I often wonder what she'd say if she knew how close we really were.
When we graduated from G Company and were transferred into C Company we had the privilege of attending school dances. There was this girls' school across the river and the faculty arranged monthly dances. Bob was a great favorite among the girls. He was the best dancer in the school, and besides the girls thought he was handsome. I was rather shy and usually ended up with the ugliest girl. I found I didn't really care that much for girls; in fact, it had been months since I had fantasized about Mrs. Eckhardt. I soon began to be a bit resentful of all the flattering attention that Bob received from them. I found that I was getting a strong sense of possessiveness towards Bob, and would get a bit upset whenever he indulged in anything more than a passing conversation with a girl. Or another cadet, as a matter-of-fact.
Bob and I continued our close association until we graduated. Bob's parents had arranged for him to attend a university in the Northeast. Mother couldn't afford to send me there, so I had to settle for a state university. I saw Bob every weekend I could get away. We took trips together during our vacations.
Bob was majoring in literature and journalism and I was majoring in art. We decided that after college'we would collaborate on children's books, he doing the text and I the illustrations. We had great luck in that endeavor, and today our joint output can be purchased in every bookstore in the country.
We purchased a three-story brownstone in New York City and things were just going great for us.
Then the unexpected happened. Bob started staying out nights and sometimes for whole weekends at a time. I couldn't understand what was happening. At first I was just plain worried, but then my concern became jealousy. I found myself hitting the bottle quite frequently, and then, half-loaded, I would cover all the gay bars along Third Avenue hoping to find him. I began suspecting all kinds of things, but my greatest fear was that he had taken another lover somewhere.
My fears and suspicions turned out to be valid, but certainly not in the way I had feared they would. One Sunday afternoon a cab pulled up in front of the house and Bob and a woman got out. This didn't upset me, as Bob brought colleagues home occasionally. But, when I saw the cabbie open the trunk of the cab and remove seven or eight pieces of very feminine luggage, I felt sick inside and my heart sank.
It was more than having my worst fears realized. The one thing had happened that I never would thought of in a thousand years. Bob had gotten married. The horrible thing about it was that she was moving into our home.
I fled upstairs almost in tears. I stood in the hall on the third floor, looking down the stairwell and listening to the excited talk of the bride. She was raving about how delightful her new home was. I must admit I have excellent taste in interior decoration. I decided I must be brave, so I went downstairs to meet them.
Helen was a charming girl, and in spite of my apprehension we hit it off quite well. Bob was obviously madly in love with her. Of course he never had the fear of women I seem to have. I could never bear to have a woman pick my life to pieces like Mother has tried to do all these years. I don't know how a person can love and hate equally, but in my maternal relationship it has always been like that.
I respect my mother to a great extent, naturally, because of the sacrifices she made in bringing me up; but I never received any approval for anything I accomplished in life outside our personal relationship. She always expressed distaste for the relationship that existed between Bob and myself, but I honestly think she preferred it to having me married to some woman.
Things are still going well. Bob and I still turn out the books once or twice yearly. Mother wanted me to move back with her to Indiana, but I am perfectly happy living in the guest room here at the house. It's funny. Though I am a confirmed homosexual, I have no desire for any new affairs. In fact, lately I have been having some pretty sexy dreams about Mrs. Eckhardt.
* * *
At thirty-three Melvin is finally growing up. The twenty-year relationship with Bob supplied Melvin with the father image he was never otherwise able to obtain. His relationship with his overly possessive mother made it psychologically impossible to maintain a normal relationship with a member of the opposite sex. No doubt, had he become involved with any female he would have incurred the disapproving wrath of mama. His devotion to her was more a sense of obligation than love. He deeply resented the loss of his father and the sending away of his step-father. His mother never really allowed the cord to be severed. When Melvin embarked on the homosexual journey with Bob, though the thought of her son being "queer" disturbed her, she did not let the discomfort nullify the feeling of triumph she received knowing that no woman had taken her son away from her. Melvin was afraid of women mainly because of the hatred he felt toward the smothering possessiveness of his mother, and he was terrified that the same condition would be prevalent in a relation with a female he might fall in love with.
After an emotional split with Bob he suddenly became aware that he could stand alone, free at last of his mother's invisible presence. The resumption of erotic fantasies involving his "dream girl," the sexy Mrs. Eckhardt, shows that a latent heterosexuality may be developing. Melvin still has a long way to go, but there are positive signs that he may get there yet. The absence of any inclination towards homosexual promiscuity is important here.
No matter how deeply two homosexuals are involved, even after a relationship of many, many years it is really impossible for them to reach complete fulfillment, as no matter how passionate their sexual relations become it is still basically mutual masturbation, and that can never be completely satisfying.
Women are also known to maintain homosexual relationships for long periods of time. These relationships have their own particular difficulties and obstructions. Men have always been able to play the female role with greater success than woman have been able to" play the male role. For example, sometimes female impersonators are undetectable. But for a female to masquerade successfully as a male seldom fools anyone. The use of the artificial penis (or dildo) only makes the attempt that much more ridiculous. Take the case of Adele L.
* * *
I was born of Russian-Jewish parentage in Berlin in the late twenties. I was always proud of being a German. My father was a professor of chemistry at one of the largest universities. Life was very good to us, and in spite of the chaos of the times we had an abundance of the good things in life.
Then the Nazis came to power. When the persecution of the Jews became the order of the day, Father gathered his family together and we fled Germany as refugees.
We settled in Indianapolis, Indiana. Father tried to obtain a teaching position at the University, but the hostility of these middle-western Americans almost equaled the anti-Semitism of the New Germany. Father finally managed to obtain a position as a janitor in a Synagogue. This shattered my mother completely. We had never considered ourselves Jews racially, only religiously. The Jewish community tried to help, but we were unable to assimilate. We were just too German. All the zest for living went out of my parents. My mother seldom went out of the basement apartment we were occupying, and father seemed to age rapidly. From a proud, successful educator he was transformed into a stooped, sloppy, unshaven little man with a push-broom. And I too shared in the misery.
I was never really very pretty. And to make things worse when I entered high school I started putting on weight. The fact that I was a bit nearsighted and had to wear glasses didn't enhance my appearance, either. I tried to make friends as best I could, but with just a few exceptions I was a total social failure.
During my first three years at school not one boy asked me for a date. I was a total outcast and I was terribly unhappy. Then, during my senior year, something astounding happened. Clarence asked me out for a milkshake after school one spring afternoon. Clarence well, I supposed he had the same problem of acceptance that I had. Of course, I was so desperate, I accepted the invitation. Clarence was gentle, considerate and generous, and soon we were dating quite frequently.
It was the night of the senior prom that I gave myself to Clarence. Over the time we had been going together we had indulged in the usual petting, but Clarence had never made any overt demands. Of course if we had attended the dance everyone would have been scandalized, so to avoid any unpleasant confrontations, we decided to go out to the lake.
We were sitting in the back seat of the old beat-up car that was Clarence's pride and joy when the irresistible urge to have Clarence inside me surged up and made me want to throw all caution to the winds. I was laying there with my head on his broad shoulder. It was one of those moments when neither of us was saying anything.
I reached down and placed my hand on the area where I presumed Clarence's penis would be located. He stiffened a bit at my touch, but didn't say anything. I felt his large penis flex against the pressure of the tight grip I had on it. I then unzipped his fly and reached in and pulled it out through the opening in his pants. It stood there before me in all its glory.
I felt the urge to bend down and cover its large pink head with kisses. I lost no time in doing this. As I started caressing this magnificent organ with my lips and tongue I felt it swell with great intensity. Clarence was now breathing hard, and his hands found the way towards my aching vagina. With my free hand I helped him remove my panties. His searching fingers found their way inside me and I trembled with delight. I couldn't wait any longer so I stopped tonguing his penis and straightened up and swung my legs over and sat on his lap, facing him.
His penis slipped easily into my eager cunt. For a second I suffered a bit of pain, but that was soon over, and all I could feel was the surging drive of his penis shoving itself into me with fierce abandon. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and raised myself up till I felt the head of his penis touch the inner lips of my cunt. Then I let myself down very slowly over the length of it, cherishing every inch of it as it reentered my hot body.
I continued this passionate activity until I felt Clarence start to come. As he started to ejaculate I pushed myself down hard against him till I could feel the bones of his pelvis hard against my own. He gushed forth such a load that I thought my vagina would explode from the pressure. I almost fainted.
I rested against Clarence's heaving chest and started to sob with delight. Clarence asked me if he had hurt me, and I replied, "Oh, God no!" He was still very hard after ejaculating, and he started to rotate his hip ever so gently. I began to be aroused once again. We started to move in rhythm again and before long he was ready to come once more. It took a little bit longer this time, and I was enjoying every blessed minute of it.
When I finally lifted myself off of him I could see in the moonlight a small amount of blood on his penis and on the front of his pants. I took a tissue out of my purse and cleaned him up as best I could. Then he drove me home. On the way home Clarence said he had wanted sex with me for a long, long time, but hadn't wanted to offend me by even hinting of it.
Clarence had a brother who worked for an airline as a pilot. His brother was out of town all the time and his apartment was free for us to use when he wasn't there. We spent many happy moments there together.
It was there that Clarence first went down on me. I cannot describe the rapture I felt as he slid his tongue inside my moist cunt with amazing artistry. I don't think he missed a single area that was capable of response. I also went down on him when the urge hit me. It gave me such great pleasure to see his eyes roll with delight when I would sneak a glance upwards with sucking on his enormous penis. The expression of absolute gratification on his sweating face was reward enough. It felt so great to have the knowledge that even I, fat ugly Adele, could give a man pleasure. I think at that moment I became an altruistic whore.
We managed to keep our affair pretty secret. Only a few of our most liberal friends knew we were so deeply involved with one another. But then I missed a menstrual period, and I was terrified that I might be pregnant. When the second one did not appear I frantically sought out a doctor. After an agonizing three-day wait for the test results I was informed of the bad news. I was six weeks gone. Afraid of what my parents would say, I made plans to leave town. Clarence's brother arranged a pass for me on the plane to New York City. So I left Indianapolis with the clothes on my back and twenty-five dollars that Clarence had scraped together for me. He was going to follow me later.
Clarence never did show up in New York. My letters came back marked "addressee unknown." In the meantime I had panicked. I had to terminate my pregnancy. I went down to Greenwich Village, hoping that there some kind soul would direct me to the local abortionist. I was lucky. A waitress in a coffee house directed me to one. I didn't shop around; time was running out. So I had my first abortion on a kitchen table in a basement apartment on East 135th Street. My representative of the "Mayo Clinic" was a hospital orderly employed at Bellvue. The charge was $250.I think at that time I had something like $3 left out of my $25.
I told my benefactor I had no way of paying for the service and he told me not to worry about anything, that he would find me a job. He sure did. He obtained a small room for me in a six-story walkup on a side street. I was in business. It took me three days to earn the abortion fee, at $20 a crack. I thought it would be clear profit from then on, but I hadn't figured on the 50-50 split I would have to make with my pimp-protector. Still, I was making up to $50.00 a day clear, with five dollars extra for blow-jobs. I kind of preferred that as it was clean and quick. Most of my customers for that service were sailors from Brooklyn Navy Yard hustled by my pimp.
There was another hooker working in my area, Amelia, an Italian from Mulberry St. We became good pals, and so as not to take unfair advantage of one another we took the same days off. We usually headed for the Village, where we frequented the lesbian establishments.
We preferred these places mainly because of self-protection. Neither of us wanted to see a John for a couple of days. A hard-working whore needs rest.
One morning about 4:30, after the bars had closed, Amelia and I headed for the Three Brothers' Restaurant on 6th Ave. We'd had a few drinks too many and were rather loud and boisterous. We somehow got on the subject of cocksucking, and Amelia said she gave the best blow-job in town. I quickly took exception, and a lively debate started to take place. This caused amused snickers from the natives and startled stares from the visiting firemen.
We were getting quite loud in our insistences on who was the queen of fellatio north of 125th Street when a gent sitting in the next booth, who had obviously been taking the whole discussion in, stuck his head over the back of his booth and said that he would be glad to judge a contest and that he had $10.00 for the winner. I said, "Mister, you got yourself a deal."
I at once got up out of my seat and went to his booth and slid under the table. On my knees, I leaned forward and un-zipped his fly and took his cock out. Within a couple of minutes it was hard and stiffly erect. I put my lips over it and moved down the shaft of it until my nose was nestled in his pubic hair. Then, gripping it tightly between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, I slowly and laboriously applied suction as I retreated up the full length of it. When I reached the head I let my teeth touch it ever so lightly and made little biting motions. He tightened up so quickly that his knees flew up and hit the underside of the table, rattling the silver and the dishes violently.
I continued this method until I felt him start to come. Then, I increased speed until my mouth started to burn from the friction. He sat there moaning with pleasure as I sucked every last drop of sperm out of his cock. Finished, I asked him please to pass a napkin down to me. I crawled out from under the table and faced a small crowd of people who had gathered around the booth to see the outcome of the contest. I turned smilingly to Amelia and said in my most cultured tone, "Your turn, Dearie." Whereupon the guy in the booth cried out "No more, for god's sake!" Amelia said I had won the contest by default, as the judge was in no condition to render fair and unbiased judgment. I took the two five-dollar bills he handed me. After we left the restaurant, I gave one of them to Amelia, which adequately soothed her vanity.
I continued hustling around Lenox Ave for several more years. But a strange thing happened-the clientele took a change for the worst. Up until now quickies, blow-jobs, and once in a while all night stands were the routine. But now there was an influx of weirdies. These were masochistic types who liked to be beaten and burned with cigarettes and all kinds of other deviations and wild perversions.
I didn't mind too much as long as they were willing to pay for their pleasure. The sadists were a different story. I didn't like them a bit.
The first one I encountered started out like a routine blow. It started out as usual with him lying down on the bed cross-wise, his feet touching the floor and his head and shoulders propped up by pillows. Most of these guys like to watch me go down. It was a Saturday night, and I usually request, on these head jobs, that they keep their clothes on. I can run 'em in and out faster that way.
Well, this john was dressed fit to kill. He even had a cane with a gold handle. I'd opened his pants and pulled them with his undershorts down below his hips and was sucking quite earnestly on his cock. It was taking an unusually long time for him to reach climax, and I was thinking to myself that if this keeps up I'm going to lose a lot of money before the nights over. All of a sudden he makes a quick movement with his arm and brings his cane crashing down across my buttocks. I yelped and almost bit his cock off. I started to raise my head up and he yelled for me to keep on working on him. I said "Not on your life, buster, if you're going to hurt me!" Then all of a sudden he turns real sweet and says, "I'll pay anything if you let me beat you." I replied, "Fifty bucks," and he said O.K. So I continued on sucking away as he lambasted me with his cane until he ejaculated, which seemed like hours.
My butt was black and blue by the time he finished, but I was $45 richer. And that was sheer profit, as I sure wasn't going to tell my pimp about this bonus. I'd just split the standard five dollar blow-job fee. Amelia was getting a few customers like these too, but she didn't have the stomach for it, so I worked out a referral system that netted me a damn good profit weekly. I was beginning to wonder whether or not I could stand the physical strain, though. I went to sleep morning after morning with an aching back and bleeding tits, and on many an occasion a sore jaw. Something else was bothering me, too. I wasn't enjoying it all very much any more. In the beginning I managed to have quite a few orgasms, and this wasn't happening any more. I couldn't even remember when I'd had the last one. And I figured that when the racket ceased to be fun I'd get out of it.
I wasn't too bad-looking now. Over the past year or so I had invested some of my income in reducing treatments, and was down to a svelte 135 pounds. Also, I had taken time off for a nose job. My hair was now blonde and I sported a very expensive wardrobe. I was even thinking of moving downtown and soliciting a more genteel clientele. The way it was going up here, it would only be a matter of time before some bastard flattened my new nose, and I would be out $2500 smackeroos.
I moved to a nice apartment in the swank East 60s and worked through an answering service. My normal fee was now $100 per trick, and I had no lack of customers. I even had more leisure time and spent it at my favorite lesbian hangout in the Village. I was even getting passes from the butches, which did my ego one hell of a lot of good.
One night when I was having a scotch at my favorite place, a good-looking butch sat down next to me at the bar. She was a real bull dyke, very masculine. Henceforth, I shall use "he" or "him" to refer to her-out of respect, of course.
We hit it off pretty well from the start. He said his name was Carl, and I bet it was originally "Carla." Carl worked as a waiter at Club 69 over on Ave. B. Club 69 was a drag palace-you know, female impersonators, etc. All the waiters there were bull dykes. They wore tuxedos and wore their hair in mannish style. Carl said he made close to three bills a week there. Which was pretty good, by my estimation. I said, jokingly, "I wouldn't mind getting a job there." and Carl replied, "Honey, with a body like yours, you'd never get hired."
I went home with Carl that night, just for a lark. I'd had a few lezzies as a matter of business, but wasn't much impressed. They didn't have the cock that was so necessary to my pleasure. But Carl was different, in a way.
Carl's apartment was furnished as if a he-man " had been the interior decorator. You'd never think a broad lived there. We went to bed immediately on arriving there. Carl was very gentle. In fact, I hadn't encountered anyone since Clarence who was so considerate.
We lay in bed together, Carl caressing my breasts and every so often kissing me soulfully on the mouth. As we proceeded in petting I felt myself getting aroused. This hadn't happened in quite some time, and I was thoroughly enjoying it.
Carl said he had something in the bathroom that he thought I'd really dig, so he got out of bed and went there. I heard the sound of water running, and in a few minutes he returned.
He was wearing a big plastic penis, balls and all, strapped in front of him. I thought "this is going to be fun" as he climbed back into bed and mounted me. I felt the thing slide into my anxious cunt. It was warm and slippery, and bigger than any real cock I had ever had in me. Carl started to push it into me; it felt so good I wanted to scream. He kept the plunging motion going for at least a half hour, and I had orgasm after orgasm. Never before had I experienced such pleasure. "If only it could come," I sighed as I was reaching my umpteenth climax. Carl astounded me by squeezing the balls of the thing: it ejaculated warm hand-lotion into my yawning cunt. It felt just like real sperm.
Carl and I are now living together. I don't hustle any more, because he gets real jealous. But we're doing fine on just one income-his. Carl is a damn good "husband," and we are thinking of getting married soon in a church just for gay people.
5.
Having been involved with socio-sexual research for a number of years, more than one time have I had to refuse an eager friend's desire to volunteer his own personal experiences to my compilation of sex-histories. I have also had problems in the past with the arrival in the mails of unsolicited "confessions" in manuscript form. On almost every occasion I have been adamant in my refusal to accept such offerings. There have been a few times, though, that I have come across intriguing cases that I couldn't resist including in my files.
On a visit to New York City several years ago I checked into a big hotel. The gentleman who occupied the room opposite mine struck up a friendly conversation with me one afternoon in the elevator. He was a photographer by profession and was in the city for a convention. He remarked that in his youth he had been a bell-hop in this very hotel. He invited me to have a drink in the hotel bar. Since I was facing a rather dull afternoon I accepted his offer. He was very charming and quite lively in conversation. During the course of our socializing, he inquired about my vocation. Upon telling him, I was surprised and delighted to find that he had read several of my books. It was no surprise when he came forth with the usual offer to supply me with a testimony of his sexual prowess. I was about to refuse when he mentioned that he had written them into memoirs.
I at once became intrigued, for this was an unusual case and one that might prove valuable to my research. He invited me up to his room. There he reached under the bed and pulled forth a small suitcase. Opening it, he produced a dog-eared manuscript in long-hand. He had modestly entitled it, "Memories of a Hotel Man." I took it from him and promised to read it that very night.
I stayed up till nearly four A.M. the following morning, entranced by this record of the social and sexual mores of the late thirties and early forties. The gentleman's memoirs were voluminous, and only a very small part of them appears here.
* * *
Having spent fifteen years as a bellman in one of the largest hotels in the East, and upon reaching the age of thirty-five, and having made quite a tidy sum of cash, I decided to retire.
After such an active life, I found that I had too much leisure time, and decided I needed some hobby or activity to reduce the boredom.
I had always been interested in photography, so I invested in cameras and all the other necessary equipment, and my hobby soon became a new career.
One Summer I started a tour of the South to find material for my photographic endeavors. While browsing through a bookstore in a small Alabama city I came across a couple of books that interested me. While having them wrapped, the clerk asked me if I had ever read Fanny Hill?
I replied that I had never heard of her. He suggested that I would find the book pleasurable. He reached under the counter and produced a copy. When I left the store I not only had that book but was the proud possessor of four similar books.
My next week was spent in reading. I found this "new" field of literature quite exciting. It occurred to me on many occasions, as I perused through these amatory and erotic passages, that my own experiences as a bellman could quite possibly make for interesting reading. I had gone through myself, or witnessed, many erotic adventures and I thought to set my hand down as an author to relate these experiences. I can assure the reader that these encounters and adventures are factual, and in no way a figment of my imagination.
My first hotel job was acquired at the tender age of thirteen. My position was as bellman in a two-hundred-room hotel in a large city in Pennsylvania. At this time of my life I was completely innocent. My innocence proved easily expendable.
Within six months I knew the name of every madam in town. This city an eight-block red-light district. The main thoroughfare was known as Cherry Alley, but I sincerely doubt that many cherries could be found there. I knew all of the hustlers, pimps, and fags. At this time bootleggers weren't even thought of.
In this particular hotel part of the bellman's duties were to man the elevators. This activity put us in close contact with the help as well as the guests. Part of the work-force included eleven young waitresses, and it is with these damsels I shall begin my story.
On one unusually hot June evening the head desk clerk had dispatched me to the storeroom for the purpose of obtaining a fresh supply of stationery for the desks in the lobby. The storeroom was located on the top floor of the hotel. Upon reaching there I found the moonlight so bright that I found it totally unnecessary to turn on the electric light. Finding the stationery two boxes of envelopes, I turned to exit when the light from a room directly across the air-shaft attracted my attention. It was from one of the rooms occupied by the waitresses. Naturally I was infected by the voyeurism that runs rampant in every early-teenager, and I stopped and put down the stationery and peeped across the way.
There were two girls in the room. I have forgotten their names, but I will never forget the scene. They were both seventeen or eighteen years of age, and were really stunning. One, a blonde, was seated on the bed with nothing on but a sheer silk slip, which was pulled up high over her thighs. Down where her under panties should have been were nestled the curly raven-hued locks of her roommate. The scene sent torrents of red-hot blood coursing through my body. I quickly found a better position so that I could better observe this exotic eight. I found that by standing on a box I could see everything that was happening.
The blonde, wriggling in delight, allowed her shoulder-straps to slip, exposing two absolutely gorgeous white breasts surmounted with nipples of the finest coral hue. I wish I were capable of putting into words the feeling I felt at that moment. This was the first time I had ever seen a woman nude. She exceeded my fondest hopes.
From my vantage point I observed that the brunette's tongue was extended and like some small, pink snake was darting in and out of what lay behind that mat of honey-colored pubic hair. I was beginning to perspire with excitement. I noticed the brunette had her own hand down between her legs and was rubbing the triangle below her pelvis.
Pretty soon I saw the brunette stick first one, then two fingers into the slit that lay hidden behind the carpet of her shiny black cunt-hair. She started to move her hand in and out as rapidly as her tongue moved in the other girl's cunny. I put my own hand down my pants and was molding and caressing my prick with increasing passion. It felt very good indeed.
The blonde seized her partner suddenly by the hair and pulled her tight up against her groin, all the time giving out these little squeals of delight. The other girls was sucking away so furiously that her mouth made great smacking sounds all the way across the air-shaft.
This action continued on for several more minutes. Then the brunette, obviously tired of the squatting position she was in, stood up and then lay down across the bed. Her companion had by this time removed her slip, exposing her most beautiful white body to my lustful secret eyes.
The brunette, lying on her back, opened her arms invitingly to the blonde. The blonde to my astonishment invertedly lay down on top of her roommate in a position that allowed them to suck at one another's cunny simultaneously. My prick at this time began to throb and ache tremendously and I just managed to unbutton my fly in time to whip it out and shoot a bursting load out the window.
I was breathing hard and felt quite dizzy. I had to grab the edge of the window lest I tumble out and fall several stories to my death. I recovered quickly enough and was able to continue my observance of the enlightening and extremely exciting scene opposite my perch. By this time the blonde had placed her hands on her ass and was spreading her cheeks widely. I thrilled to the sight as I watched the brunette's tongue inch its way up to her rectum. Her tongue quickly found the tight little hole and began licking at the sparse little hairs that surrounded it.
I could feel myself getting hard again, and I gently increased the manipulation of my organ until I could feel the urge to ejaculate all over again.
The brunette, now working her way back from the blonde's ass-hole, started penetration into the cunny again. The blonde was trembling with fierce emotion and was sucking away at her partner's cunny with gusto. Suddenly they both stopped trembling and in one moment appeared to be frozen in mid-action. I shot off my second load of the evening, and as I watched them collapse on the bed in a tangled heap my knees grew weak. My body felt like putty and I sank to the floor silently. I think we had all achieved orgasm at the same time. It was a good feeling. I felt just as if I had been in the same bed with them. They got up and poured some water from the porcelain pitcher on the dresser into a basin, and, dipping towels into it, they started cleaning themselves off. I realized that the show was probably over, and that I'd better do some cleaning up myself, and then get the hell downstairs with the stationery.
The following night after the dining room closed I hurried back up to the storeroom to see what kind of demonstration would be on the agenda tonight. I was disappointed. The brunette was fully dressed and was putting on her make-up. It was obvious that she was planning an evening out. But the blonde? That was a different story. The blonde was walking around the room with nothing on but a short jacket that barely reached her waist. It wasn't fastened, and her glorious titties were sticking straight out and up through the open front. She was also wearing stockings, and that made the view even more exciting. The brunette picked up her purse and started for the door. She stopped for a moment and bent down and planted a kiss on the blonde's cunny. Then, giving each of her nipples a little squeeze, she went out the door. I had just enough time to get back to the elevator before she swung around the corner and entered it. I was out of breath and possibly a little flushed. She asked me during the downwards trip how I liked my job. I replied that I liked it very much, but that I was very lonely, as this was the first time for me away from home. She smiled and moved close to me and reached down and took hold of my prick and gave it a tight little squeeze. "Just wait till some of these hussies around here get wind of the size of that thing you've got there between your legs-you won't be lonesome for long, sweetie."
I blushed, and I felt a tear detach itself from my trembling tool, causing it to adhere to the wool of my uniform pants. It tickled and the friction of the wool aided in its rapid erection. As you know, I'd never had any experience, and the touch of this girl's hand had an effect that I had never felt by my own hand. We reached the lobby and she departed.
A few hours later things were very slow. I pressed the electric throttle and rode to the top floor again and bee-lined right to the storeroom to assume my position on the box.
My blonde Venus was still there, dressed-or should I say undressed-exactly as she was before. She was posing before a large mirror that hung on the wall, and the various positions she assumed would do credit to the finest of French post cards. When she turned around I could see all of her beautiful equipment. I was aroused instantly by the sight of the honey-colored hair that barely concealed the tiny pink lips of her distended vulva. Her hand reached down and started to massage that golden triangle. Obviously this did not satisfy her too much, because she stopped and went over to the dresser and opened a drawer. Reaching into it, she brought out a long feather. It was mottled gray with a white tip. Then she went over to the bed and lay down upon it. What she did next caused the hair to stand up on the back of my neck and goose pimples to rise up my spine. I felt my prick surge with blood and eager sperm as the scene unfolded before my eyes.
Lying on her back, she let one leg hang over the edge of the bed. The other leg was raised and bent at the knee in order that her cunny would widen to the greatest degree. Touching this area with the feather, she moved its tip around its edges. She started to squirm. The feather continued its roundabout journey down the insides of her white thighs, into that area betwixt cunny and ass-hole, then back around the lips of her love-nest. Then she guided it up her abdomen, stopping briefly for a twirl or two in her navel. The journey continued up to her breasts, on which, I could see, the coral nipples were fully erect. She teased them for a minute or so before moving the feather up the side of her neck to her face. When the feather reached her mouth she dampened it with saliva and then repeated the whole operation. My prick was so hard I just had to jack-off at that moment. But suddenly the elevator started buzzing. I shoved my reluctant prick back into my pants and made a dash for the lift.
I reached the lobby and breathlessly opened the elevator doors. It was the brunette. "What in the world have you been doing? I've been ringing for five minutes," she exclaimed. Then, she glanced down and saw the enormous bulge in my tight uniform pants.
"And what a magnificent hard-on you have." she sighed, touching it. I decided I had nothing to lose by telling her how I had arrived at this state. On the trip up I explained that I had been peeping at her roommate playing with herself. The brunette raised a questioning eyebrow and ventured interest in observing this ritual. So upon reaching the top floor we went into the storeroom together. The blonde was still lying on the bed, madly twirling the feather around in her cunny and at the same time writhing with passionate pleasure.
I was again standing on the box, but my companion, being somewhat taller than I, had no need of such aid. The brunette again took my prick in hand, but this time she had already unbuttoned my fly and was skinning it back and forth with quick motions. I felt the blood once again course through my veins and my prick mutely beg the privilege of exploding.
The blonde had by this time discarded the feather and was using a large carrot. This giant orange "prick" she was shoving into her cunny deeply and with violent motions and nearly rolling off the bed in her sexual abandon. Before I could stop it I shot a tremendous load into the hand of my delightful torturer. She was rather angry, and scolded me for not informing her that I had intended to come. She said she had a better use for my hot sperm and was annoyed that it had gone to waste.
My prick was now soft, and she released it. Putting her face close to mine, she kissed me full on the lips, forcing her tongue into my mouth at the same time. She drew my tongue from my mouth into hers by sucking it madly. The sensation was slightly painful, but so new that I allowed her to continue as long as I could stand it.
Out of the corner of my eye some wild movement from the room across the air-shaft distracted me. I pulled my lips free from my passionate companion and directed her attention quietly to the action I had noticed.
The blonde had taken the carrot out of her cunny. Turning over on the bed, she rose up on her hands and knees. Her ass was raised impudently in the air and her marvelous titties hung down and swung slowly to and fro. She had taken the carrot and was slowly inserting, into her ass-hole. Her head was thrust upwards and her mouth was open in a wide oval. I found myself wishing that I could have the delight of putting my prick into that seductive orifice.
By this time my friend was playing with me again, but I could barely respond. Finally, getting up my nerve, I placed my fingers searchingly into the mass of raven-hued pubic hair I had seen the night before. My fingers finally discovered what they had so eagerly sought. Since she was not wearing panties the operation was a cinch. My fingers entered that hot, moist cavern-it was quite large-and rotated slowly, increasing speed along with my partner's heavy breathing. I knew that any second she was going to reach her climax. Her sharp fingernails dug into my sadly soft prick deeply enough to draw blood, I was sure.
By now the blonde object of our erotic observation had withdrawn the carrot from her ass-hole and had plunged it once again into her eager cunny. She had obviously come again and had let herself slide forward to sprawl spread-eagle on her tummy. She lay there as if asleep for a minute or two and then sat up and wiped the carrot dry on the corner of the bed sheet. Picking up a hairbrush from the dresser, which was within her reach, she started vigorously to brush her hair and then began to eat the carrot at the same time.
The brunette was still playing with my prick, but not having much luck with it. I had stopped finger-fucking her when I got more interested in watching the blonde munching the carrot. I guess the brunette was still pretty hot from all the action going on around her, because she started looking around the store-room for something through which to vent her passion.
She spotted this old upright vacuum cleaner standing in the corner. She asked me to bring it to the center of the room and to unwind the cord and plug it into the wall socket. I complied curious to see what new exhibition would unfold for my education.
Quickly stripping down to just shoes and stockings, the brunette lay down on the floor. Spreading her legs wide apart, she asked me to pick up the vacuum cleaner and point the handle of it toward her cunny. It was very awkward, handling the machine in this fashion, but I finally got the handle in position at the entrance to her cunny. The handle had a ridged rubber grip, just about the size of a well-developed prick. She seized this and slowly inserted it into her love-hole. Then she flicked on the switch, turning the machine on. It made a loud sucking noise, because the suction end was about three feet in the air. The whole thing almost shook itself out of my hands. It vibrated tremendously, and this was the effect the girl desired.
I gazed upon this girl, lying there with the handle to the machine up her cunny, and had the urge to bend down and kiss the magnificent breasts that were jiggling in chorus to the vibrations. The brunette seemed to enjoy the idea also, as she took one hand away from the machine and put it around my neck, drawing me close to her. In order to accomplish the feat of mammary-sucking I had to lay the vacuum cleaner on the floor. It was making one hell of a noise. I stopped it by pulling out the plug from the wall-socket. The brunette threw me a look of disappointment and I felt that maybe I had done something that I shouldn't have. Then I got a brilliant idea. I carefully helped her to her feet, making sure that the handle was still intact in her cunny. She was now standing there with her legs spread apart, the vacuum standing between them. It almost looked as if she were impaled upon it.
I picked up the plug and replaced it in the wall-socket, making sure, first, that the machine was switched off. She looked at me with wonder as I removed my trousers and undershorts. The thought of what I was about to do had thoroughly excited me, and I was rigidly erect, with an enormous hard-on. I walked around behind the brunette and, spreading her cheeks, shoved my prick slowly and steadily up her ass-hole. At the same time I told her to switch the vacuum on. She did, and I wish I could adequately put into words the sensations I felt. The vibrations from the machine affected the contractions of her ass-hole, since there was only a thin wall of flesh separating her cunny from where my prick was happily ensconced. She started to sigh and then whimper as she quickly reached orgasm. I came precisely at the same moment and we separated and fell dizzily to the floor.
Of course I had many more delightful experiences with the brunette, and later on with her sexy blonde roommate; but if I took the time to relate all of the adventures, I never would be able to progress with my story.
My next sexual adventure came in the person of a male shoe salesman, aged thirty-nine. This situation also came as a surprise to me. This guy checked in about ten o'clock one evening. I was working my usual night shift. Things were slow, and I had time to provide the usual courtesies that entitled those of my profession to nice fat tips.
After I had settled him in his room, he asked me to run down to the bar and bring him back two dry Manhattans. It took me several minutes to accomplish this errand, and upon arriving back in the room with the tray of drinks I found the gentleman emerging from the bath totally nude. I had him sign the check and turned to leave when he said, "What's the hurry? One of these drinks is for you, please join me." I told him that I was in no hurry, but declined his offer to imbibe, as I had never had so much as a beer before in my life. He seemed to be pleased at my remark, and insisted that I ought to try it to see if I liked it. After we had finished the drinks he sent me downstairs for two more. While we were drinking those he asked me how old I was, and whether or not I liked girls. He also asked me if I had ever been fucked or sucked. I felt a little nervous about divulging secrets such as these to a perfect stranger, and besides he had placed his hand on my thigh, and as the conversation went on his hand went higher and higher toward my groin. We talked about many things for about ten minutes, and then he picked up the phone and had room service send up another round of drinks. When the new bellman knocked on the door, the man placed a finger to his lips, directing me to be silent, and he motioned to me to hide myself in the bathroom. This I did quickly, as it wouldn't do me any good to be caught drinking in a guest's room.
He took the drinks and tipped and then dismissed the bellman, and returned to where I was hiding in the bathroom. He kissed me on the cheek and then started to undo my belt buckle and to unbutton my fly. I asked him what he was trying to do, and he said that he wasn't going to hurt me, and if I found that I didn't like it, he would stop. He also said that there was a five-dollar bill for me if I let him do it to me.
Not one to turn away a five-dollar tip, I said okay, go ahead. He turned off the lights and led me to the bed, where he sat me down. Getting down on his knees in front of me he started to lick my groin and balls and the inside of my thighs. It tickled and soon I started to grow hard a little. Then he started on my prick, working his tongue up the base of it till he reached its head. He tickled the little hole at the end of it, and I started to grow even harder. Then he engulfed the whole thing in his mouth and started to suck softly. His was the softest mouth I have ever experienced. A velvet mouth.
He was a master of technique. Not once did a tooth scrape me, not once did I encounter any roughness whatsoever. Slowly and surely he brought me to the expected culmination.
The salesman came to the hotel about every other week or so, and I found my monthly income increasing about by twenty to thirty. I had a good buddy whom I told of my good fortune, and I made sure that he met my salesman friend. They became good friends, and soon my buddy was gaining financial benefit from engaging in the salesman's urge for fellatio.
One afternoon my buddy and I had a double date with two nifty girls. Wanting to be real spiffy, I took him up to the salesman's room, and we generously helped ourselves to his expensive cologne. He was always out during the day, so we entered quite undetected. My buddy was a bit nervous and dropped one of the bottles of perfume and broke it. We picked up the broken glass and sopped up the spilled perfume as best we could, and soon it was not too noticeable. We hoped that he wouldn't notice the absence of the missing bottle till after he checked out.
That evening when we checked in for the evening shift, the desk clerk asked us to come behind the counter. When we did so he inhaled deeply and said, "So your the little bastards that stole that perfume! That fairy bastard from 602 came down here and accused the sixth floor maid of taking it, and the manager fired her. Now that girl is my steady piece of ass, and if you don't go see that guy and explain and get her re-hired, I'll turn both of you little shit-heads in and get your asses canned."
It was pretty obvious that we were in a bind, so we went up to the salesman's room, and finding him there, confessed all. He agreed to intercede On the maid's behalf on the condition that we spend the night with him after we clocked out. We had to agree to do so.
That was a really grim night. The guy made us comply with every one of his weird wishes. While he was mouthing my pal's prick I had to stick mine up his ass-hole and then a few minutes later we would have to reverse the operation. By the time the orgy was over my prick was red with blood-blisters. The guy was insatiable.
When morning came two very exhausted bellmen dragged their weary asses to their rooms. My pal's parting words were, "I don't ever want to frig anything or anybody ever again!" I could sympathize with him, but I didn't agree-I just hoped I would be able to.
A short time after the aforementioned adventure another chapter was written in the life of this bellman. I got an order to take a pitcher of ice water to a certain room. I knocked on the door as usual, and hearing a voice bid me enter I did so. Upon entering I saw a very pretty brown-haired lady sitting in a chair by the window. She was wearing nothing but a very flimsy wrap, and all of nature's generous endowments were clearly in evidence.
After placing the pitcher in its proper place I turned to go. The lady then asked me to come to her so that she could present me with a tip. As I stood next to her, waiting for the tip, she raised her arm and pointed out the window. She asked me the identity of a certain building. In order to see the building in question I had to lean forward, and in doing so I came in contact with her body. She was warm and heavily scented with expensive perfume. I told her the name of the building in question, and then she asked about another, all this time pressing close to me.
By this time, I wasn't quite as naive as I had been once, and I was pretty sure what the lady was after. And I felt I sure was the lad to give it to her. I took a step backwards from the window and managed to "accidentally" trip, so as to land smack in the lady's lap. She giggled a little but did not object to my remaining there. I started to fondle her breasts and she started kissing me on the neck.
Her breasts were very large, and they had the biggest nipples I had ever seen. They reminded me of two fried eggs. After I had started sucking on them and teasing them with my tongue, the yolks were standing up like tiny pyramids. She complained that the round, brass buttons on my uniform hurt her tender flesh and asked that I remove my jacket. I did so, but I did not stop with the jacket. In a jiffy I was stark naked. I had a big hard-on. She got up from the chair and, taking hold of me by my prick, led me to the bed.
It was wonderful.
I climbed on top of her as she spread her legs to receive my throbbing tool. It slid in with ease and pretty soon she was moaning. I'm sure she came a dozen times because of my passionate efforts. Finally I shot off my load and she heaved a great sigh and relaxed. I removed my dripping prick from her inflamed slot and, grabbing a nearby towel, started to clean myself. She asked me not to go, please to fuck her just once more. I said I was sorry, but I had been away from the bell-desk too long already and would lose my job if I dallied around any longer. So I quickly dressed, ran a comb through my hair, took a quick slug of the ice water to wet my dry throat, and went down to the lobby, feeling happy if a bit weak in the knees.
My good buddy was standing at the bell-desk when I arrived. I nervously inquired as to whether or not the bell-captain had noticed my prolonged absence. He said no, the bell-captain's ulcer was acting up and he had gone home for the day, he guessed, to suffer in solitude. I felt relieved at hearing this news, and then told my pal about the fine pussy waiting up stairs. My pal said he sure would like to have some of that, so I suggested he grab a pitcher of ice water and take a run upstairs; maybe he would have the same luck I had. I told him I would cover for him, and off he went.
It was a very quiet day. I sat on the bench without getting a single call for forty-five minutes. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to my pal. I told the desk clerk I would like to take a check through the halls to see if all the hall lights were working. He said okay, and off I went, straight up to the sex-pot's room.
When I reached her room I tried peeking thru the keyhole, but couldn't see anything as the key was in it on the inside. Then I got a bright idea. I went to the hall closet and got a new light bulb and the tall ladder we used to reach the ceiling light sockets in the hall. There was a light socket right in front of her door. I placed the ladder in the correct position and climbed up until I could look over the transom directly into the room. If any guests happened to chance by, it looked as if I were up there just for the purpose of screwing in light bulbs. But what I saw as I gazed over the transom was an entirely different kind of screwing.
Lo and behold! There was my good buddy, naked as a jaybird, lying on his back on the bed. The nice lady was straddling his body, her back toward the head of the bed, and she was leaning forward and had half the length of his prick in her mouth. She was sucking very passionately on it and he was so obviously enjoying it that his legs were kicking empty air. Her body was glistening with sweat and his arms kept slipping from around her waist. Then the lady raised her ass high in the air, and without missing a stroke on his prick deftly set her bush right down on my pal's face. He knew what to do, sure enough, for he grabbed the cheeks of her ass and pulled down tightly. I saw his nose and most of his face disappear into her groin.
I was getting very excited watching all this, and found myself rubbing my prick through my pants. I had to do this very gently, as the ladder was very unsteady and was already swaying.
I watched these frantic antics for several more minutes and saw my pal stiffen and start to come. He let go a tremendous load, and although the lady pushed down close to his belly, some of his sperm splashed out of the corners of her mouth and dribbled down her chin. She stopped sucking for a brief moment and wiped her mouth with her arm before returning to the chore she was so obviously enjoying. My pal was squirming all over the bed and gasping for breath so desperately that he had stopped his vaginal activity.
I heard voices and the sound of the elevator stopping, so I quickly climbed down the ladder, folded it and returned it to its proper place in the hall closet. Then I went downstairs to the desk.
When my pal finally turned up at the desk I asked him how he had made out. He replied, "Oh, I gave her a good screwing, for sure." I said, "Look, ol' pal, if you like to go down in the bush and taste that sweet pussy, don't be ashamed to admit it." He got real red in the face and blurted out, "How in the hell did you know?"
My pal and I worked at this hotel for a few more years, and we had many lively adventures. Being a bellboy exposes you to all kinds of people, all kinds of weird perversions. A master's degree in sex could be justly awarded to every bellboy, waiter or desk clerk in the hotel industry. I never could be critical or learn to judge. Each, to his or her own taste. If I don't like it, I won't do it. If I do, I will, and as many times as I get the chance.
Anyway one spring my pal and I were offered jobs at an exclusive resort hotel in the Poconos. I wouldn't dare identify this place by name, but with good reason we learned to call it The Zoo.
This was a very snooty place, and we didn't expect to have very much fun, though the money was great. But to our delight we found out that the filthy rich enjoy life just as much as the filthy poor.
This particular establishment raised most of its own vegetables and dairy products. In fact it was more like a big farm than a hotel. It had the usual bridle paths, golf courses, skeet-shooting ranges, and swimming pools.
One special condition of the deluxe establishment became evident shortly after our arrival there. This was the near-complete absence of males during the week. The husbands of most of the women guests spent the week back in the city at their law-offices, brokerage firms and what-not. They would fly or drive down Friday evenings and return to their individual rat-races early on Monday. This left their helpmates on their own, and to their own devices during the week. Some of these weekday widows had more vices than devices.
The only hang-up for us was that the majority of these gals were in their late forties or fifties. I would venture to say that out of the two-hundred and forty odd women guests, about twenty-five of them were under thirty.
We had a large staff, mostly male. There were so many waiters, for example, that in the dining room there was a waiter for every two tables. In my ignorance I assumed that the tips were lousy. Of course at the outset I was unaware of how the majority of tips were earned. I did find out the reason why the bell-captain shared an office with the entertainment director. There were seventeen bellboys on the hotel staff, and before the summer was over we were hauling bags on weekends and fucking them in between. Of course, I am describing two different types of bags.
I remember very clearly, even to this day, the first call I received on the buzzer. It was about seven in the evening. The buzzer sounded and the light for room 222 lit up on the call-board. I walked up to the second floor and down the hall and knocked on the door of 222. The door opened immediately and this old gal-she was at least seventy-asked me to come in.
She was wearing a silver lame evening gown trimmed with mink. Her arms were pale and wrinkled and flabby. They reminded me of a dead fish's belly. Her face was wrinkled, and a blonde wig topped off this ancient dame's heavily-made-up face. I must admit, though, that her figure was that of a young girl.
As I entered the room she stepped behind me and closed the door, turned the key in the lock and then removed it and put it into a little silver casket that was sitting on top of the dresser. It felt odd, being locked in the room with this old crone, but in spite of my squeamishness I was curious to see what would happen. It didn't take long to find out.
I stood there waiting to see what she would request. She walked around me a couple of turns and smiled and muttered, "You'll do." Then she said, "Let's see it." I said, "See what?" She said, "Your penis, young man, and let's hope it's a big one." At that she stepped forward and unbuttoned my fly and seized my prick in her claw-like hand. Under most circumstances my prick will start getting hard at the touch of a female hand, but in this case I could almost feel it retreat toward my belly. She bend down and planted a kiss on the head of it. Her lipstick was gooey and it left a big red smear as she withdrew her lips. I said, "Madam, if this is all you want, I must decline and return to the bell-desk at once."
She told me that I'd had better think twice about leaving her, as she would notify the entertainment director, and it would cost me my position here. I replied somewhat flippantly, "Madame, my superior is the bell-captain, not the entertainment director."
She laughed and said that I had a lot to learn. It was then that the truth dawned on me. We were employed here for stud service, and the regular hotel duties were just a sideline. "Oh, what the hell," I muttered to myself. "Off to new adventures."
The old girl then proceeded to pull my pants down around my ankles. As I stepped out of them and started to unbutton my shirt she fell upon my prick with smacking kisses. By the time we got over to the bed the inside of my thighs and my balls and prick were covered with lipstick.
The old girl started to run her tongue over my body and worked her way down to my feet, injecting her tongue between every toe. I was a little embarrassed, as my feet weren't too clean. She didn't seem to object to them. She had her ass right close to my face while in this position, and she asked me to run my finger in and out of her cunny. I did this, and she uttered grunts of pleasure. For the fun of it I took my free hand and stuck a finger or two into her rectum. She stiffened for a fraction of a second and then said, "That's a good boy."
By this time she had worked her tongue all the way up to my balls again. She took them into her mouth and massaged them ever so delicately with her tongue. I began to get hard all of a sudden, much to my surprise. Seeing my prick grow before her eyes, she opened her mouth and let my balls fall free. She concentrated her efforts on my swelling prick. She attacked it. First she licked at the tip of the head; then, slowly, she took it into her mouth. She had removed her dental plates and her mouth felt exactly like a cunny. All this time I was running my fingers in and out of her two orifices. My arms were getting awfully tired and were aching something terrible, but I was afraid that if I stopped she would want me to eat her, and the thought of sticking my tongue into that ancient hole was repulsive.
Luckily, I was spared that ordeal. She wheezed at me, asking me when I expected to accomplish ejaculation. I replied it would be momentarily, and she stopped sucking my prick and turned around and lay down beside me. I climbed on board and shoved it into her but good. I would like to mention a fact I learned at that moment: Her cunny felt no different than that of a young girl. I kept my eyes closed as I plunged away and imagined I was with a younger and more beautiful sex-partner. I finally came, in great spurting gobs, and the old bag, to my surprise, seemed to be achieving orgasm. At that age!
She was now lying there very quietly, and I wondered if the old girl was fucked to death. No such luck, though, and by the time I was up and dressed she was fully recovered. She smiled at me and then reached into her purse and extracted two twenty-dollar bills. She handed them to me and said, "Thank you very much, young man. I will see you again, never fear." I pocketed the forty dollars and, whistling a happy tune, reported back to the bell-desk.
My buddy was there when I got back. With great gusto I peeled off the two twenties and began to regale him with the details of the whole episode. Just then the entertainment director popped out of his office and briskly intruded into our conversation. Without so much as a by your leave he took one of the twenties I held in my hand and tucked it into his pocket. When I objected to this robbery I was informed that this was the standard procedure. And so it was all the time we remained at the hotel. A fifty-fifty split with the entertainment director. He was nothing more than a imagine titled pimp. Still, by the end of the season my pal and I had accumulated a small fortune. In fact we had enough money to take a train to Miami and loaf around there for three whole months. But I am digressing.
The next odd episode didn't directly involve me, fortunately. My pal was called up to a certain room on the fourth floor late one Friday evening. The occupant was a gorgeous red-head in her middle twenties. As my pal described her, she was ravishing. About five feet two inches tall and about a hundred and twenty pounds. Breasts like ripe honeydew melons. She was in the nude when he arrived. The lights were out in the room, but the moonlight was bright enough to illuminate adequately what he was getting into. He wasted little time getting undressed and into bed with her. She welcomed him with fierce passion and made comments of extreme approval at each thrust of his hard prick. Every time he would slow down his vaginal jabbings she would plead, "Oh, don't stop now, Leo, puh-leeze don't stop!" My friend's name wasn't Leo. But he kept on pumping away dutifully. As he gazed down at his partner's beautiful face he noticed that when she wasn't holding her eyes tightly shut she was gazing off into a dark corner of the room as if watching something. Finally he came. As he momentarily collapsed upon her breast in order to recover his breath, he was distracted by a noise in the corner that his lady was gazing at.
By this time his eyes were accustomed to the darkness. He froze in fright as he discerned the form of a man who was seated in a chair in the corner of the room.
The man made no effort to rise upon being discovered. My pal then noticed that he was sitting there with his pants opened and his large, limp prick in his hand. In the other hand he held a small turkish towel. It was then that the silent figure spoke. "It's no use, Flora," he said. "I can't do it-I just can't." Then the red-head answered him in sympathetic tones. "It's alright, Leo. We'll try again in a few minutes."
It turned out, or so my pal informed me, that this gent with the inoperative prick was her husband. He had a horrible problem-he could not engage in sex with his wife. Flora explained to my friend that he could only masturbate. This had started when he was a young man. He had a very possessive mother who had tried in every way to keep her son from being corrupted by women. When she saw his need for a sexual outlet arise she took care of it for him. From when he was eleven she jacked him off nightly. On some occasions she even performed fellatio upon him. It was strange, though-she never allowed herself the pleasure of being fucked by her son.
After he was a grown man he found out to his horror that he could not perform the sex act in a normal way. He tried on many, many occasions, but only could obtain satisfaction thru "self-abuse," as the people used to describe masturbation. Two years before his mother had passed away, and within six months he had met and fallen in love with Flora. Naturally their wedding night was a farce. Bitterly disappointed, Flora nevertheless tried to fulfill his needs. But after a while even that didn't work. Flora out of desperation took a lover. One night, in the act of happy copulation, Leo arrived home unexpectedly. He heard grunting and groaning coming from his wife's room. The door was half-open and he observed his wife's white thighs wrapped tightly around the swarthy waist of her lover. At first Leo was enraged and was going to burst in and assault the man who was violating his wife. But he hesitated, for he felt a tremble of life in his penis, which had lain dormant the many months. Delighted by the sensation, his outrage subsided, and he indulged in what became a regular activity of voyeurism. He found he could effectively complete his masturbatory ejaculation while watching men in succession copulate with his wife. This method proved immensely satisfactory for several years, and Flora certainly didn't mind the succession of virile men who willingly volunteered their services in the cause of marital harmony. But all good things come to an end. Leo found himself growing increasingly impotent. At the same time Flora developed into a mild nymphomaniac. In a last desperate effort to save their floundering marriage they had taken a room at this hotel on the advice of a friend. My good pal was properly sympathetic after hearing this tale of woe from the unhappy couple, and promised he would be more than willing, for a suitable fee, to help them solve their problem.
Now in their room, he was sufficiently recovered to have another go at Flora. This time he decided he would put on a really good show. Lifting her, he placed her legs on his shoulders so that her cunny was approximately at his mouth level. He balanced her in that position and placed his hands on her tits. Then he began to rub her tits and to run his tongue into her cunny at the same time. His prick stood hard and erect. Flora was much stimulated. My pal's prick was swaying to and fro as the blood rushed into it and his sperm pleaded for release. This really affected Leo, and he got up out of the chair and, placing his head under his wife's back, lowered his mouth onto my pal's prick. He started slowly and passionately sucking it. My pal noticed Leo's prick begin to get stiff. Leo soon got so excited that he managed to shoot out a large blob of semen.
At that particular moment my pal chose to come, and he shot off his load into Leo's mouth. Leo gagged for a short second and then greedily swallowed. Then all three collapsed on the bed.
My pal lay there between them both, convulsed in laughter. When asked by the puzzled couple the reason for his amusement, my pal replied that he had solved their problem forevermore. They asked him to reveal the solution. My pal simply replied, "Leo-you are a goddamed fairy!" Leo turned pale at this announcement and denied the accusation loudly. Only when informed that the object of his strange sexual behavior was not witnessing his wife's orgiastic indulgences but those of her male partner's did Leo grant the possibility. He thought a minute and then said, with a happy smile, "I think you're right." He asked my pal to return at the same time tomorrow night. My pal said he would be glad to so long as the same arrangement would continue. Leo then handed my pal fifty dollars and promised that more would be forthcoming in the future. Flora beamed with happiness at this prospect, as did Leo; my pal was the happiest, though, because of his fat wallet. The only disappointed one was me, as my pal spent off-season with Leo and Flora at their winter place in the Bahamas.
At the end of the season the hotel sponsored a giant costume ball. The guests decided what they wanted to wear and measurements were taken by the hotel tailor and the order was sent in to a costume company in New York City. Soon a whole truckload of the finest and most beautiful costumes ever seen were in route to the hotel.
On the day of the ball my pal and I were summoned to a room on the third floor. This room was occupied by a lovely little blue-eyed blonde from Holland. The grapevine had informed us that she had been frequently serviced by several of the other bellhops during her stay here, and this would probably turn out to be a typical three-way gang-bang. This was of course not unusual, and my pal and I looked forward to the encounter. My week had been entirely devoted to the loving care of senior citizens, and I was up to here with flat, wrinkled titties. I guess my pal hadn't fared any better, for he was raring to go.
We knocked at the door and gained immediate entry. Our hostess was nude, and knowing the score we quickly disrobed. She asked us if we would care for a gin and tonic and we accepted.
My pal sat in one chair and I sat in the other. The girl served me my drink and then sat down on my pal's lap and handed his to him. I sat quietly, sipping my drink and watched them start to mess around. She would take her fingers and run them through his hair, then down the side of his face and body till she reached his pubic area. She fondled his balls until his prick started to rise. She moistened the tips of her fingers in her mouth and then gently rubbed the head of his prick with them while gently biting his earlobe with her teeth. My pal had by this time finished his drink, and, placing the empty glass on a little table next to the chair, he placed one hand on a tit and shoved the other into the mass of blonde hair that concealed her cunny. Soon he had two fingers inserted into her slit and she was humming with pleasure.
I was by this time completely aroused. I went across the room and joined in the fun. Dropping to my knees, I began by kissing her tiny feet and then working up past her ankles to her legs. They had been recently shaved and the sharp stubs in each pore stimulated my lips as I moved towards her cunny. As I approached the triangle that pointed towards her joy-giver I noticed that my pal's prick was rigid and ripe to penetrate. I decided to assist, and I deftly guided his prick-not into her juicy cunny but straight into her rectum. She gave a little yelp and started to stand up. My pal was right with it, though, and he stayed tight up against her as she rose. He removed his hand from her cunny and gripped her tightly about the waist. Then I made my move. I thrust my aching member right into her moist cunny, rammed it up to the hilt. Just picture a beautiful girl with a hot prick up her ass and another one deep in her cunny at the same time!
I started to push and my pal got right in rhythm with me. As I pushed, he pulled. As I pulled, he pushed. It drove our little Dutch girl absolutely wild. Both cavities strained to empty our respective pricks of their reservoirs. Our timing was perfect. With a mighty thrust we let go our loads together. The impact of our ejaculations entering both cunny and rectum at the same moment lifted her into ecstasy. She responded with spasms of sheer joy.
After we disentangled she fixed us another drink. Then we cleaned ourselves and got dressed. She was still naked, still blooming in the flush of pleasure. She said that we should leave very soon as her daddy would be coming soon to pick her up for the Masked Ball. At first I thought she meant her father, but she was kind enough to correct my wrong assumption. This man she called "daddy" was her protector. He supplied her with all the luxuries that she was enjoying. He liked her because, as she put it, "He is abnormally big in the prick," and she was the only girl he had ever found who could take him. I doubted this, as I knew that six inches was just about the average for prick size, and I thought that anything bigger was strictly a figure out of somebody's imagination. My pal also scoffed at her description of this guy's appendage. She offered to prove it to us by letting us hide in the closet and peek out when he came to pick her up for the ball. We agreed, and when he knocked at the door we stole silently into the closet, leaving the door ajar so that we could see everything.
She put away the extra glasses and then went to the door. He entered and his eyes went up and down her naked body. He had a lustful smirk on his face. He was at least six feet six inches tall and well over 250 pounds. He was well built, and you could be sure it was all muscle, no flab. He said, "Why is my darling naked and not dressed for the ball-or is she planning to go as Eve? If so, I must discard this Colonial costume I am wearing and go as Adam, though I doubt that I could find a fig leaf large enough to cover me." Then he laughed. His voice boomed as if he were talking from the bottom of a deep well.
"Oh, daddy," she answered, "I was sitting here all alone, thinking of you, and I got so hot and bothered that I stripped myself in joyful anticipation of your arrival."
"Ah! my poor child," he replied. "Were you lonesome? I am not sorry that you are undressed. I too am horny, and have a great desire to frolic with you ere we leave for the ball." He reached out and gave each of her beautiful breasts a squeeze that made her holler. Then, giving her a slap on the ass, he picked her up and threw her onto the bed. He then removed his knee-britches. She had not lied about the size of his prick. It looked like a two-pound salami. As he advanced towards her, she sat up and took the thing into her small hands. The look on her face would make one think she hadn't seen a prick in months. She gave it a juicy kiss on its massive head and skinned it back and forth a few times. It grew stiff as a ramrod and even huger.
She stood up and leaned over the bed, resting her arms so that they cradled her head. Her feet were planted widely apart, and from the closet we could see everything that was about to happen.
She had her head down, and looking past her hanging tits she could see this monstrous thing approach her cunny. She winced at first but relaxed as it plowed into her. She would occasionally cry out, but he would only shove it in harder. Finally the thing was firmly planted. She swayed from side to side and he moved to and fro, and they both moaned with pleasure. He got so excited as he started to come that he pummeled her with his great hammer-fists. It took him a long time to finish coming and at the end he gave her such a great shove that she flew off him and landed a foot away from his prick.
She lay there on the bed hardly breathing, semen dripping out of her cunny. He dropped down on his knees and started to suck at her love-nest, sucking up his own sperm and probably ours too. I couldn't help but think that he was giving us a proxy blow-job.
They soon went off to the bathroom to clean up. When they came out she was dressed in a beautiful silk hoop-skirt and towering powdered wig. They waltzed out the door in an imitation of a minuet. As they passed the door of the closet, she turned her head and smiled and gave us a friendly wink.
When we reached the lobby, the manager was pacing up and down in a rage. He demanded to know where we had been. We told him the truth and he got even madder. He said, "Don't you know the stud service is taboo on weekends?" We told him that the entertainment director had sent us on that assignment. He said, "I ought to fire him too." We said, in unison. "What do you mean, too? Does that mean we are fired?" He said Hell yes. We were to be out of there by tomorrow morning. He went on to explain that if some of the husbands got wind of the male whore house he was running the whole operation would be in jeopardy. It didn't matter too much, getting fired, since the season was almost over. We went back up to our rooms to pack and to figure out what we would do for the rest of the evening to amuse ourselves.
After packing I suggested we go downstairs for a cup of coffee. As we started down the stairs I spotted Atlas running down the hall. Atlas was a tiny Chihuahua that belonged to a good-looking brunette who was staying on that floor. I retrieved the dog and carried him to her door. She answered my knock. I said, "Here is Atlas; I found him down the hall." She thanked me for returning him and invited me in. She noticed I was not in uniform and inquired whether or not I was off duty. I replied that my pal and I had just been fired. She said that it was a shame, as I had always given such excellent service. She asked me if I had a place to spend the night. I lied and said no. She said I would be very welcome to spend the night in her room. I replied that I couldn't as I couldn't leave my pal out in the cold. She said there was room for him, too. I went and got him and on the way back explained the deal. He was all for it.
She indicated a couch for my pal to sleep on later and then she placed several pillows on the floor beside the bed for me. We talked a bit about our future plans, and then she suggested that we needed rest if we planned to catch the early bus in the morning. She turned out the lights and went into her bathroom to disrobe. She left the door ajar. There was a full-length mirror on the bathroom door and we got all hot and bothered watching her undress. She had a beautiful body. Her tits were large and firm and had rosy nipples.
We were lying down naked when she doused the bathroom light and came to bed. Good-nights were said all around and quiet reigned for about five minutes or so. Then my pal began to snore.
Now I had shared the same room with my pal for several years, and had yet to hear him snore. I got hep to what he was doing. He was letting our hostess think that he was asleep so that she would not be shy of giving a little play to me. Shortly she let her arm drop alongside the bed. It brushed against my face.
I took hold of her hand and started kissing it. I paid special attention to the little webbing where her fingers joined her hand. Each section felt like a miniature cunny. I tongued it gently and felt her tighten slightly. She softly whispered to me, "You darling, what an educated tongue you must have. Come up on the bed beside me." I did just that.
I laid down beside her and she started playing with my prick. It grew stiff, like spring steel. Then she asked me to try a new position that she was sure I had never tried before. She asked me to lay on my side and she placed her right leg under me. Then she threw her left leg over me and with her hand guided my impatient prick into her eager cunny. Her cunny was very tight. This one had a way of contracting her muscles that made me think that a hand had hold of me. It was a revelation of sensations. We soon reached a beautiful climax together. Then for a half hour or so we played with each other until I grew hard again.
She informed me that she would like to do the Ride of St. George this time. I had no idea what that was. She proceeded to show me. Having me lie on my back, she straddled me on her knees. Her cunny was poised just above my prick. She then began slowly to lower herself right on it. It felt fantastic. She did all the wriggling and wiggling while I just lay there soaking it all in. I was getting a bit pooped about this time. One thing that is great about the St. George is that while the babe is screwing the balls off you, you can explore. I put my finger up her ass a few times and played with her tits at will. All this added to her excitement. When I finally worked up enough strength to come she sat down hard on my groin and her cunny sucked up every drop of my sperm. I was exhausted and needed some rest, so I pretended to fall asleep. She lay there playing with my shrunken prick for awhile; I guess she still hadn't had enough. I felt her get up from the bed and walk over to the couch where my pal was lying. I started to snore so as to reassure her that now I was asleep, and to give him the same chance he had given me. I opened my eyes to watch what she was doing, all the time keeping up the fake snoring.
She was bending over him, and in the moonlight I could see her touch his prick. It quickly sprang to life, which proved that he wasn't really asleep at all. He had probably been watching us all the time. Putting her mouth on his prick, she gave a few light sucks and then climbed atop him. Her ass was just above his head. She lowered her bush right down on his mouth and I heard the sucking noises begin. Had I had an ounce of strength left I would have gotten hard once again.
My pal must have been pretty hot from watching us, for within minutes he was holding her head down fast against him as he came with absolute fury into her mouth. She gagged but swallowed.
I dozed off and didn't awake till morning. Upon arising I looked over at the couch. My pal and the girl were fast asleep, his prick stuck fast in her cunny. I don't know whether they had dozed off starting or finishing. Neither would have surprised me, for it had been a great day-and night.
We left that morning for New York City, bright lights and Broadway. Thrill Town, U.S.A. We were lucky-we landed bellman jobs at a large hotel. Our experiences in this edifice surpassed anything that had gone before. But I'll save that for another book.
* * *
Thus ends this excerpt from my acquaintance's erotic autobiography. One would gather from this sampling that the main character spent at least 99 percent of his life in fornication. In a way this is true. Many men, when writing memoirs, choose only to recall the periods of their life that made the most impression. In addition, our friend was facing a challenge. He was making an effort to prove to the world at large, and to himself, that he was important. In this case he tilted with some of the greats in the world of erotic literature. Whether his work is fact or fiction does not matter. In the sexual history he has unfolded for us, he has afforded us a glimpse into the sexual patterns of several decades ago. These glimpses are important to those who are critically interested in the socio-sexual revolution that is now affecting our daily lives. That is why I reiterate the conclusion that I came to in the introduction to this chapter: Times may change, but people really don't.
Conclusion
"Sex is fun," says the libertine. "Sex is evil," says others. "Sex is necessary," says the psychologist. "Sex is unnecessary," says the puritan. Get three persons together in a discussion about sex and usually you will come up with at least three divergent conclusions. So, why, after this realization, does the author dare to come up with a conclusion in reference to a subject that is in itself inconclusive?
The author is not making a judgment of any kind. All he is doing is attempting to show, through selected case histories, the motivational patterns of today's sex-oriented youth. This work is not to be considered a professional psychological treatise. It is offered as a sincere effort to portray accurately some of the sex mores of today's society.
In the end the author has presented this material in the sincere hope of bettering mutual understanding among people of all races, persuasions and convictions.
