"When I walked into the little bar, I saw immediately that it was a place of chic. I dunno, maybe it appealed to my vanity right away. Ankle-deep wall-to-wall carpet, low-pitched New York-type high-class voices, soft piano music--from a piano that wasn't a piano bar, thank God--and the occasional clink of ice in glasses. But I didn't get a chance to assimilate it all completely.
"Martin, da-a-a-afe-ling," came this voice from a booth. "I never thought I'd see you." This low, sexy voice from a shadowy booth. "Where have you been? How was Bimini?" And she was looking at me. "You sex maniac, come right over here and buzz meg on the table."
"Well, the fact that I'd heard my name called was enough to tweak my scrote -- tweak my scrote that was my gang's equivalent of 'frost your balls'--but with a connotation of chin-chucking, not coldness. But when I heard that buzz meg--in Hungarian that means screw me--I knew that this could only be the chick I was supposed to meet. Chick, that sounds derogatory when I think of Lois. Lois, that was her name, and she was a woman, not a chick. When I heard that buzz meg, I knew that this lady was talking to me.
"So I said, "Darling, how goo-ood to see you," trying my own version of upper-crust New Yorkese. "How have you been?" It was all I could do to keep from swishing and limping my wrist. I sat down next to her in the booth and right away all the facade fell.
"Why don't you have a drink?" she said. "Just one, then we can split this scene and go to where the real party action is." Her eyes ran over my frame, from my hairline to my shoes, lingering several moments around my middle. My middle, hell--my crotch. I felt my whang get semi-hard as her eyes burned holes in my fly. She caught the slight movement and whispered, 'Juicy Lucy.'
"After the waiter brought my martini, Lois turned her gaze full on me again. "Where did you get that marvelous tan? You're much handsomer than your picture."
"Well, of course, it's always flattering to be told you're handsome, even if the young lady, whenever she uses the word, drops her eyes rather pointedly to your fly. But with that tiny, simple gesture, she managed to keep the periphery of my concentration always on the slight chafing of my pants and the frequent tingle that went through my dick as it kept growing a fraction of an inch at a time.
"God," she sighed throatily, "I'll bet you're hung like a bull." Her eyes glittered as she stared at my crotch and the bulge that was throbbing there. "Let's get the hell out of here--" she noticed I still had half my drink, "--as soon as you're through." Then her hand wandered down to my thigh, and she stroked it for a couple of moments. Then, right there in the bar she took hold of my half-hard whang. I damn near spilled my drink all over. "Jesus," she said, "that's a mouthful. Penny'll have a hard time getting her mouth around that. And she's the best cocksucker in the city of New York." She jerked me absently for a while. "God, I bet you come quarts. I hope you been saving up. Penny and I can feast on that. You like to eat cunt, I hope."
"Well, shit, with her stroking my cock and talking like that, I didn't think I'd ever get soft enough to stand up and walk out of the place. But I finally did. It took a lot of willpower, I can tell you.
"We hailed a cab, and she gave the address of some place in the east Seventies. I was trying to be suave and debonair, you know, like I was used to New York and the whole jet-set scene, but I spent half the time staring out the window and gazing up at the tall buildings. Now, Chicago is not a small town, but there's nothing quite like New York for tall buildings. They're almost everywhere.
"The rest of the time I was looking at her, because here's the funny thing. The picture she'd sent me was not a picture of her. It was of a rather attractive girl, blonde, tall, willowy, but it wasn't her. I didn't mind too much, because this Lois was really a knockout. I had to ask her about it, though.
"You know what she said? She said, she used the photo of the other girl, and other devious tricks to avoid inadvertently running into any family friends. Once she got a picture in the mail of this guy--he'd been using a fake name---who was a business associate of her uncle's. Well, she broke off that correspondence in a hurry. She kept the photo, though, because it never failed to turn her on. It showed this guy right in the middle of an orgasm while he was being jerked off by a buxom honey-blonde who was leering at the camera as huge gobs of come sprayed all over her tits and face. And she had her finger shoved deep into the guy's ass-hole.
"Lois was, if anything, open and frank about sex. The way she talked, in that low, throaty voice of hers, was enough to keep me massively hard the whole time. When we got out of the cab, it seemed like I was sticking out a yard in front. It occurred to me that cabdrivers in New York must see some interesting things in their rear-view mirrors.
"We took an elevator up about three floors, and it opened into a little foyer where there was only one other door. It turned out that this was the penthouse. Penny lived there, and she was nothing but rich--as was Lois. Why they trafficked with sex. clubs, I don't know. They could've had any guy they wanted. I guess they just liked to get their kicks that way.
"We rang the bell and she said, "You'll like Penny and Fred. And with a cock your size, Penny will love you. God, she'll suck your eyeballs out through your dick. But, first you'll eat me. I want you at full strength when you lick my clit."
"Then there was a voice from the other side of the door. "Lois?"
"Lois said, "Hi, Penny, yeah, it's me. And I've brought the most gorgeous hunk of hot, throbbing dick you could ever hope to stretch your lips around."
"Oh, yummy," the voice said. Then the door was thrown open, and there was a beautiful woman standing there in the altogether, with four busy fingers buried deep in her snatch. Her limpid blue eyes, almost purple in their intensity, passed over me quickly, and, with one deft move, her arm flicked out, unzipped my fly, and had my pock out of my shorts and waving in the breeze before you could say 'Jack Robinson.'
"Oo-o-oh," she breathed. "Yes, this must be Martin," she said, staring fixedly at my red whang. "God," she said, tentatively hefting my tool in both hands, "there's ten pounds of swingin' meat if it's an ounce." Seizing me by the peter, she led us into the apartment.
"The way her hips and haunches rocked when she walked promised pneumatic delights. She led us into the bedroom where this long, lanky guy was lounging on the bed with a hard on anybody'd be proud of. Now, I don't like to boast, but when I'm horny and have a really good erection, it just touches nine inches, and it's a good two inches in diameter. And my balls--well, if a girl's got small hands, she has to use both of 'em to hold my scrotum.
"Well, this guy, Fred, had a good eight and a half inches, and I would guess the head of his dick was at least two inches thick.
"Look, Fred," said Penny. "Look what I found. Is this a cocksucker's dream, or isn't it?"
"Yes, indeed," said Fred. That is indeed a noble tool. Now maybe I can get some rest for a couple of minutes. I am sucked dry."
"The imp," laughed Penny. "I've only blown him six times in the last three hours, and he's still as horny as they come." She patted his cock fondly. "And come you do, don't you, sweetums? ... Huh? You love it." She lowered her mouth to his hard on and, puckering her lips, sucked lovingly on the very tip of the head.
"Good God, what technique," groaned Fred. "Penny blows your mind while she's servicing your cock." Incredibly, his dick seemed to swell and stiffen, and the big veins in his shaft stood out till I thought they were going to burst.
"Old Fred here is just a jism factory, a never-ending fountain of hot, thick semen. And does he ever like to get his cock sucked." Penny probed the end of his dick with the tip of her tongue.
"Oh my God!" Lois shouted. "All that cock-sucking just makes me horny." I noticed that she was stepping out of her panties, and a slight sheen of dew oozed around her cunt lips. "Horny, horny, horny!" she chanted. "Marty baby, drop your drawers and sock that cock to me. Christ, tickle my tonsils with that juicy morsel of U. S. prime." Her eyes were bright and avid as I stripped and felt the blood pulse through my dick.
"She was actually panting while she eased me down to the thick carpet with her. She gently took my balls in her hand and tickled them as she ran her tongue around the end of my dick and then down its length. "Mmmmm," she said, "I love the good, solid feeling of a heavy, full set of gonads." She scooted around and spread her legs so her moist pussy was poised above my face. "Oh God," she wailed, "Marty baby, bury your face right into my sopping twat! Gimme six inches of tongue immediately if not sooner." And with that, she dropped her juicy black-haired slash smack onto my face.
"I remember I was surprised at the firmness of her thighs and buttocks, because at first glance her figure was really quite lush. Nice, full breasts that jutted out proudly, a fairly narrow waist that curved into a firm mound of stomach and jutted almost too abruptly to accommodate her wide hips and firmly rounded ass. I'd expected to feel a certain amount of flab, but it was all pretty much strongly resilient muscle. Several times, in her excitement, I could feel her squeeze in on my face with the muscles of that beautiful ass of hers.
"I was only dimly aware, busy as I was gouging out her cunt as deeply as I could, of the sort of running commentary she kept up even while slurping away on my dick. Occasionally, her thighs would clamp over my ears and shut out sound entirely, except for the liquid slurp of my tongue. But I could make out things like, "Hot cock ... The biggest dong I've ever seen ... Strain my jaws trying to get that whole goddamn thing in ... Yum, yum."
"And I swear she got fully three-fourths of my hard on into her mouth. I swear I could feel her throat muscled squeezing gently on the swollen head. She squeezed and gently fondled my bulls and stroked and tickled the sensitive spots around my ass-hole till I could feel the pressure of a huge load building up in my gut.
"All the time, she never ceased wiping her wide-open slit around in little circles on my face and kind of giving my nose and tongue little love-nips with her labia.
"I did my best to return all the little goodies she was titillating me with. She had these firm, plump labia--not flabby or floppy or gauche--that were a nice healthy pink and salmon color, and I got a charge out of pulling but on her buttocks and opening the labia wide--wide enough to cover my face from cheek to cheek--and then nibbling and licking first on one and then on the other. Even the fragrance of her pussy was healthy-smelling, kind of like new-mown grass or freshly cut watermelon. I really lapped it up.
"And I remembered that she'd said she wanted me to have all my energy when I ate her, so I figured she wanted to be energetically eaten. I took a deep-down suction on her wet snatch, pushed my tongue into her vagina as far as it would go, and really yodeled in her canyon. My tongue went sloppy-slap like a thing gone mad, and after a couple minutes I could really feel the strain on the root of my tongue.
"But, God, it was fun! It drove her out of her gourd. She swiped her pussy over my nose and forehead and chin, and humped a couple times so hard I thought she'd force my teeth into her flesh. But I just firmed my lips over my teeth and kept on licking. I could barely hear her muffled cries of pleasure reverberating around the entire length of my raging cock. But I could sure feel them.
"Then her whole body seemed to tense for a moment, and there was a choked scream that buzzed my cock something tremendous. It seemed like a tiny carillon began to play along my tube and tingle in my vitals. Her hands began a rhythmic squeezing and drumming on the cheeks of my ass. My own hands caressed down the hot flesh of her hips and belly and seized firmly on both her tits, which seemed to bring her to the precipitate edge of orgasm.
"Suddenly she gripped both cheeks of my ass tightly, and her legs shot out beyond my head so that her mons and clitoris were mashed snugly against my open mouth. With effort I managed to curve a couple inches of tongue into her sopping cunt and, as her thighs began an agitated trembling against my ears, I could feel a slight sympathetic vibration of her vagina walls, as if they were the inner cheeks of a mouth sucking.
"Then I felt her mouth lift off my dick and heard a sharp, rising note of "Ah ... ah ... ah-ah--a-a-a-aahhh!" and a flood of pussy juice sloshed over my face. Her cunt seemed to grow molten hot and relax so that it spread mushily over my chin and cheeks. I was so surprised by the intensity of the mush and gush for a few seconds that I forgot all about being blown and that I myself was on the verge of a blockbuster come.
"But after Lois relaxed for a few moments, she seemed to be overcome with that mushy, kittenish gratitude that so often seizes a woman after she's had a good orgasm. She scooted around so she was facing me, kneeling on the rug between my legs, and. she really started to honk on my horn. Her phrase, incidentally, was honk my tuba. "Shit," she said, "that's no horn, it's a goddamn tuba."
"And, boy, did she ever honk it. Seeing her there with her head lowered onto my dick, her faintly blue-veined breasts hanging down and tipped with huge-nippled tits, I was reminded of nothing so much as a contented cow at pasture gently masticating some choice stalk of young green corn. She'd taken so much of my cock in her mouth again that the head was getting a vigorous massage from her throat muscles.
"The scene on the bed with Fred and Penny struck me, incongruously, as lewd. I mean, I was in the middle of a lewd scene, too, if you're gonna think that way. But it turned me on and made my dick start to throb. Penny was sitting solidly on the poor guy's face and casually licking his cock like a candy cane, while she stared avidly at Lois' blow job. You could hear the loud, liquid slurp of Fred's tongue in her crotch.
"That brought me over the edge. My dick burgeoned with pencil-thick veins and gave a couple hefty throbs. Lois gave it a few fast pumps of her hand and a couple extra squeezy sucks, and--wham! It felt like my load ricocheted around my balls and tube a few times, then--just as Lois took her mouth off it to admire the plum-red tip--out shot a geyser of steam cream. Christ, it was scalding!
"It seemed like it shot ten feet in the air, catching her nose as it went by, "Agh! ... Fuck!" I shouted.
"Lois and Penny both gave little cries of pleasure as they watched the long gob of semen arc through the air, then Lois's croon gave way to a squeal of dismay as she felt my pulsing cock pumping in her grasp. "Mm-mnnh!" she said as she plunged her wet lips around the spewing head of my cock and sucked for all she was worth.
"God! it was great! She snuffled and snorted and sucked and swallowed as fast as she could to get my gobs of come as they spurted endlessly from my throbbing, rigid tool.
"Penny, sitting on Fred's face on the bed, seemed to be enjoying a small vicarious orgasm of her own, sliding her damp crotch back and forth over his face and cooing little trills and grunts. Fred was rooting like a hog in her slit, spreading shiny goo all over her thighs.
"Finally, as the last drops oozed out of my ravished pecker, Lois pursed her lips, stuck out her tongue and drooled a few milliliters of semen onto my balls. Then, as a final touch, her face flushed, cheeks glowing healthily, eyes sparkling, she eased her puckered mouth to my ass-hole and shoved her tongue deep inside, along with a few drops of my own slimy semen. It was quite a new and different kick for me; it squeezed out another runnel of come, which Lois then fondly lapped up and swallowed."
* * *
The preceding narrative segment is an excerpt from one of the five case histories presented more or less in toto within the body proper of this work. Unlike several of the other cases, in which a suggestion of psychopathological problems is more than apparent, the case of Marty B., if one disregards some of the other participants in the orgiastic activities in which the subject took part, appears to point out the casual attitude with which sexual activity is practiced by some of today's society elements. A more thorough analysis of Marty B.'s narrative will be presented later. What is of interest here is a general evaluation of oralism and its inclusion in orgiastic activities.
Anyone who has had a certain amount of liberal education--whether formal or informal--can not have helped noticing, the de-ritualization and de-traditionalization of sexual congress. Whereas formerly sex was considered to be a private activity which could be engaged in by a man and a woman only after they had fulfilled the religious and legal protocol of marriage; whereas formerly sex was considered to be a strictly procreative act that could not be varied in any manner that would not serve procreation; whereas formerly sex was considered to be an obligatory biological function that two adults were expected to perform naturally and without any previous experience or discussion of the subject, today sex has been transformed into an activity that is practically a hobby, a pastime, and a sport--often, as some of the case histories within this work will show, an almost semi public sport.
The question of whether such a "Loosening of moral standards," as some moral traditionalists and antirevisionists label the liberalization of sexual attitudes, augurs well or ill for society might be best answered by stating that if such loosening of standards does not lead to obvious sexual excesses or sexual monomania then it cannot augur any ills. In other words, if an individual does not permit sexual activity to impinge upon his individual and social obligations; if he does not sacrifice his welfare, or the welfare of others who-are dependent on him for whatever cause, for the "seven minutes" of orgasmic pleasure, then that individual cannot be accused of profligacy or lecherousness. The only factor that will guarantee the degree of control necessary to prevent an individual from slipping into the monomania of hedonism is, of course, emotional maturity interwoven with a counteregotistical but personal code of ethics. Whether man, as a social animal, is generally capable of such antiegotistical behavior, whether, in other words; man has ascended far enough on the evolutionary scale to be ready for a total liberalization of attitudes, is a question that only time will answer.
When one begins to consider the various "unnatural" manners of sexual activity--such as oralism, which is the central topic of this work--one realizes that these activities are but minireflections of sexual activity as a whole, and everything that can be and has been said about "excesses" in general apply to these subactivities in particular.
Until relatively recently one could spend a great portion of one's lifetime perusing various compilations of "perversions." Practically everything has been considered, by one individual or another, at one time or another, perverse. The very term, perverse, derived from the Latin verb pervertere, meaning thoroughly to turn, implies individualistic usage and depends entirely on a point of view. Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche wrote (in 1888) in The Antichrist:
I call Christianity the one great curse, the one enormous and innermost perversion, the one great instinct of revenge, for which no means are too venomous, too underhand, too underground and too pretty--I call it the one immortal blemish of mankind.
"I call" are the key words there. They, probably more than any other, underline the relativity of the term perversion, J. O. Chaplin, in his Dictionary of Psychology,-likewise treats the term in a subjective manner. His definition of perversion reads: "a socially unacceptable form of sexual conduct. Fetishism, homosexuality, exhibitionism, sadism, and masochism are the most common types of perversion." Professor Chaplin pluralizes Nietzsche's I, and in the process implies that society (a we that one must point out qualitatively changes from one geographical boundary to the next) considers fetishism, homosexuality, exhibitionism, sadism, and masochism as the most common types of unacceptable sexual conduct.
Surprisingly, one has to turn from Chaplin's topical work to Webster's Third New International Dictionary of the English Language, to find an objective definition of perversion, as it applies to sexual activity. The latter work defines the term as "some form of sex gratification (as fellatio, exhibitionism) preferred to heterosexual coitus and habitually sought after as the primary or only form of sex gratification."
On the basis of the above definition it is clearly seen that oral ism per se is not a perversion. It becomes such only when it is preferred to heterosexual coitus or is habitually sought after as the primary or only form of sex gratification, when, in other words, it becomes preoccupying within the general sexual activity of an individual. The same could be said of group sex, an activity which has become generally equated with the term orgy, What is it that drives one individual to the point where he waives all but one manner of sex gratification? Initially, one could say it is the upbringing and the manner in which the individual was introduced to his or her first sexual act If the first sexual congress was a brutalizing act of coitus, and the second sexual congress was a gratifying oral-genital coupling, it is not difficult to see how oralism might become the only means that an individual will accept for sexual consummation. But fear, or repugnance, does not have to be based on an unpleasant physical experience; it can be psychological. An upbringing in which sex (equated with heterosexual copulation) is not spoken of, or is spoken of in derogatory terms only, is-likely to give a person a twisted outlook on sexual activity. An introduction to oralism (or other variation in lovemaking) might be construed even as nonsexual and therefore acceptable.
As the five cases unfold in this work, the various causes and effects of sexual behavior will; hopefully, become more clear, setting the libido of each individual into better perspective. It is impossible to give a blanket list of causes, for each identical cause in any two different individuals is just as-likely to produce different as similar effects. One can only apply knowledge to one's experience and theorize the possible future developments and side-effects of such experiences.
CHAPTER ONE RITA
"This is a lot of foolishness, you know, taking all this down on tape. You'll probably write me up in some dull book as Case 1187 or some such for other psychiatrists and sociologists to read about and cluck their tongues over. What good does it do? Do you think other girls are going to read it and take warning from my fate? So what's my fate? Not so bad, when you come right down to it Except this. I mean, being here, and having to take this psychotherapy because the court says it's that or go to jail.
"No, I'm not angry with you. Not as you, that is. I guess you're a very nice guy. Probably married to some nice chick, and have three and a half kids-- that's the statistics, isn't it, though I never could figure that half a kid. Play golf on weekends or take the kids on a picnic. Drive a nice conservative car, maybe a Buick. Don't go to church very often and are bored when you do. Probably got a hobby, like scale model trains or woodworking.
"Okay, so it's two kids and one in the oven. And you drive a Pontiac. And for a hobby you build stereo sets. So I wasn't so far wrong, was I? Oh, I'm bright enough. Just not educated. Or anyway, not book educated. I don't think having or not having an education would have made a helluva lot of difference in making me what I am. Though maybe the hard work of getting one would have kept my mind off sex.
"I don't think education has much to do with it --not the education of the person who gets a tit in the wringer the way I have. Education would have to be made retroactive--to the parents. And maybe their parents. I figure that we've got the wrong dog by the tail, somehow. Maybe way back. Long even before the Pilgrims, which is about as far back as I know of. We've got the wrong slant on sex. Sex isn't bad. In fact, it's damn good and very interesting. What I mean is, we've made sex bad, so nobody talks about it They sweep it under the rug, like it's dirt. Get it out in the open and a person can understand it.
"That kind of education might help, only you can't put a string around time and spin it backwards so you can start over. We're here and stuck with it.
"Anyway, I'm from a small town--a real small town, where the signboard at the edge says 'Welcome' on one side and 'Good-bye' on the other. And don't kid yourself that it's the Big City where girls get ruined. There's just as many chances in a small town. Maybe more, 'cause things are maybe more--intimate.
"In a small town--and Big Cities, too, I reckon --there's about the same number of boys as there are girls---like one for one. And every boy has a dong, a pecker. At least, I think so. I haven't looked at 'em all. And it only takes one pecker to ruin a girl, if you want to call sex 'ruining.' And most people do.
"I got my first hump pretty young. like twelve, I think. Maybe thirteen. Along about there, when a girl is just beginning to get curious about what else her slit is good for beside peeing. And how come boys got such a convenient way of doing it, just haul out a little pink hose and let go. And maybe the hose and the slit would fit together. Which, of course, they will.
"If our parents had maybe just TOLD us they would fit together, maybe we wouldn't have experimented. That's the kinda education I mean. Being told, when things get important like my mom--oh, she was nice enough--when I had my first period. She sorta made a big to-do over keeping quiet about it, hushing it up, like it's something nasty. Well, it isn't very nice and is very scary to a youngster. Or was to me. All that blood. She made it a mystery--and ugly. Scary ugly. That and why my chest was getting knobs on. Oh, I wasn't so awfully stupid. I knew that happened when you grew up from a little girl into a woman. Only I didn't know how much FEELING there was in 'em. Or how, just handling 'em--even yourself--could get you all excited.
"I think I started playing with my titties and getting myself all worked up even before I learned that playing with my slit would be even better. And having somebody else play with it was more exciting still. That happened when I had my best girl friend over to spend the night Jill was real cute and maybe a year older than me. No more. Because when you're twelve, maybe thirteen, an extra year or so makes a big difference.
"It was summertime and real warm. We were wearing light, kind of seersuckery pajamas. I remember, mine were kinda peach with rosebuds on 'em and Jill's were blue, with birds. Loose, on account of our moms were economical minded and knew we'd grow considerable and fill 'em out soon enough. Small-town folks--and maybe Big City people, too--nearly always got their kids clothes a size or so bigger, so's they could grow into 'em.
"So our pajamas were loose and the fronts flopped open. Jill had real cute little bubbles, lots bigger'n my little knobs, so they poked her pajama top wider. I could see 'em, real plain. Rounded and pink, with tiny little nips on 'em, and a little slim pink rim around the nips. Mine--my nips--were pretty near level and, if my chest got cold, were even sunk down some. I could work 'em up a little by pushing on 'em, like they were electric light buttons, and then they stood up. But small. Still, playing with 'em made my body get hot and excited.
"So there we were, in bed, kicking the covers down on account of the heat, and shooting glances at each other. Just curious. Nothing dirty. Seeing as Jill had already been through my stage, I mean with only knobs and sorta flat nips, I asked her How long it would be before I got boobies like hers, with nice little high nips. So Jill says, real secret-like whispering, 'Play with 'em. like this.' And rolls her nips between her thumb and finger, sorta catching her breath. 'Here, I'll show you.'
"I roll over a little, so she can reach my chest easy, and she starts fingering my little nips. It makes 'em swell real quick and is lots more exciting than when I tease 'em myself. So I'm breathing pretty hard and pushing 'em at her for more feel. Then Jill says, sorta husky, 'Play with mine.'
"I scrooch back and peek down my nose to see how she's doing it and then I reach over for hers. Gee, but they're nice and warm. And cushiony. We play like that for a while, until I'm getting so excited and real hot down at my crotch, and Jill is breathing like it's hard work, and twitching her legs, some. Finally she rolls over, tight against me, and tugs me over to her. We lie like that, belly to belly, with Jill moving and twitching a little, so that every part of me gets real hot, but especially down at my snatch and up in my belly.
"Suddenly, it gets awful tight and then lets go. And I'm wet, like I been peeing, only I know I haven't. It's a lot different from peeing and more fun. And Jill squashes against me, wriggling hard, and then sorta sighs and sags back. Finally Jill whispers, "Did you come?" I don't even know what it is, so how can I tell. "I dunno," I tell her.
"Jill reaches down, inside my pajama pants, and feels my pussy, my slit, and laughs. "You've come, Rita. You sure have. Did you like it?" I have to think about that a minute, on account of it was sort of scary, too. At last I nod. "Uh-huh. I liked it." It's especially scary with her hand on my snatch and fingering around, to see did I come, so I'm getting all excited again, squeezing my legs together and wriggling.
"Jill slides her hand around and her fingers work a little on my snatch, until I'm really getting hot and bothered. "Please," I tell her. "Please!" Only I don't know really what I mean---like, "Please do" or "Please don't." Anyway, she keeps it up. And reaches over and pulls my hand onto her snatch, which is wet and slickery. I haven't even had my hand on my own snatch very often, but feeling Jill's made things get very tight and breathless. She's got a nice little snatch, roundy and with just a little downy fuzz above it. So I can get my hand right on it and my finger in her slit, real easy because it's so wet and slickery. Jill humps up, pushing at my finger, so it goes deeper. And she drives her finger deeper into me.
"I never had such feelings before. They were awfully good but, like I said, scary. I wanted to stop only I didn't want to. You know. And suddenly I'm whimpering and jerking my little snatch tight up against her hand--and I wet again, hot and exciting. And so does Jill.
"We lay there for a long time, breathing deep, with me trying to figure out what happened. It's so good and yet I got a feeling I shouldn't. Hasn't nobody told me I shouldn't, but I just know I shouldn't. Or anyway, shouldn't ever let on to anybody about it. And Jill's the same. She whispers to me, "This'll be our secret." I nod. Finally, we drop off to sleep, and I have some very exciting dreams. I dunno what they're about but they're exciting.
"After that, at either Jill's house or mine, we go to bed together and play that tit game and wind up fingering each other's snatch. And having a real exciting time. One night Jill whispers to me, "Do you ever let anybody else do it to you?" I'm kinda stupid, I guess, but I shake my head. "Nobody but you." She gets up on one elbow and looks at me. "Not even a boy?" I'm kinda surprised. Boys don't have tits. At least, none I've seen ever had any. So I mention this to Jill, and she laughs. "I mean, on your pussy." Only I haven't. So I ask her, "Have you? Ever let a boy feel your pussy?"
"Jill nods, smirking a little. "Uh-huh. Robby." Robby is her brother, fourteen going on fifteen. "And it's lots more fun when a boy does it. Only, don't ever let him get his pecker in your snatch. You'll get a baby." It's a new idea to me. I hadn't never thought of letting a boy play with my snatch, much less put his pecker in it; though, as I figure it then, I see it can be done. Only, of course, I don't want to get a baby.
"We talk a lot about it that night, about boys, I mean, and how exciting they are, when they play with your snatch. And Jill keeps warning me, not to let one get into my snatch on account of I'll get either a baby or VD. I don't know what VD means, but it's bad. I've heard a couple of lectures at school on it, but they're not very clear about what it IS. Finally, just before we-go off to sleep I ask Jill, "Would Robby play with my snatch?" She is kinda surprised and looks at me, and then nods. "Maybe. I'll ask him."
"So the next time I'm spending the night at Jill's she tells me Robby is sorta considering it. like it's a big concession. "But I'm gonna watch, to see he doesn't go in your snatch with his pecker."
"Along about then Robby slips into Jill's room and comes over to stand by the bed. He's got on pajama pants but no top. He's kinda skinny and his face is sorta ferrety. I hadn't never really liked him at school, but he's Jill's brother so I put up with him. Seeing him standing there and knowing he's gonna get into bed with me sorta scares the hell outa me. Only Jill is patting me and tugging at me, to make room, so I move over.
"Robby sniggers and slides in between us, eyeing my chest where my pajama top is open and then looking all down me, which gets me all stirred up--and I'm not sure then it's a good kind of stirring up. He settles down and puts a hand right spang on my tit, so hard I jump and jerk away. He sorta snarls at Jill, "I thought you said this kid was hep?" And Jill says, "Just take it slow, Robby. You always try to rush things, even with me."
"Robby kinda snorts and then settles down to fingering my titties and rolling his fingers on my nips. I just lie there, stiff and scared, until it begins to feel good and I can breathe a little easier. By then one hand is sliding down my stomach and feeling in my belly button and my breathing tightens up again. The next thing I know, he's sliding his hand under the elastic of my pajama pants and right onto my snatch.
"It scares me, so I tighten up my legs, keeping his hand from going down too far. But things begin to warm up suddenly and my legs just seem to loosen up naturally. He reaches down and slides my pajama pants down. "Hump a little, kid, so they'll go down." I hump, and there I am, practically naked. In front of a boy! My little tits are showing and now my whole bottom is bare, with Robby playing around my snatch, one finger sliding down and riding right across my slit.
"I don't know whether I'm holding my breath because I'm scared or because of how hot and excited I'm getting. Robby fingers my slit, till I know it's opening up, like I've seen Jill's do. And one finger is inside, so exciting I whimper. And he really goes to town, rubbing right on my clit. And I hump up to meet it. Then he says, real rough, "Grab my dick and frig me."
"I don't even know what he means. And besides, I didn't know what a boy wanted done, or why he would. You know. I was sort of blank in that department. He snarls a little and grabs my hand and slides it over on his pecker, which is stiff and jumping a little. He rubs my hand up and down it, so I can feel it in my palm. It isn't so awful big, really, but it gives me the shivers. Finally, he forces my fingers around his shaft and moves them up and down while he's fingering my snatch. I get the idea and slide my hand up and down on his shaft while he grunts and sweats, still working on my snatch, trying to get my love juices flowing.
"Suddenly I'm wet again, real creamy wet, and his finger is jigging like crazy in and out. I'm so tied up in knots myself I almost forget to rub his pecker, but he reminds me.
"Then he spreads my legs, way apart, so he's got a free hand on my snatch. And starts to roll on top of me. Jill grabs his shoulders. "No, Robby. You can't slam it into her. You can't!" Robby struggles a minute and then subsides. "Okay, then, make her give me a good frigging job! I need to come!"
"I step up the frigging, as he calls it, and squeeze a little. With that he sighs and lays back, still fingering my snatch, but sort of absent-minded. Still, it feels awful good--and I suddenly get real tight and then loosen up in one big whoosh! And wet the bed. Just about that time Robby humps up real high and drops back. I can feel his shaft suddenly pulse and jump--and then he wets, all over my hand and his belly.
"We've both had an orgasm, only I don't know it then. It is just something awful scary and exciting, making butterflies jump around in my stomach. Hot butterflies.
"We lie there, me happy just breathing normal again. But Jill is bouncing around on the bed saying:, "Now me! Now me!" Robby kinda grins at her. "Gimme a minute, sis. Let me get my breath and I'll show you something real imagine. Fancy, but good. It's how the French do it." Jill rears back and shakes her head. "No, Robby. You don't get your pecker into my slit. Not ever."
"Robby grins at her. "This ain't pecker screwing. It's--different. You'll like it." Jill ain't so certain, but she says she'll wait only he's not gonna get any pecker into her. Frigging is okay because you don't get a baby, but not real-for-sure screwing. Robby promises it ain't, but won't tell. "Just wait till I build up some steam, sis. Then well go to town. You'll love it. I just learnt it off a girl I know. No, she's not French but she knows how they do it."
"I'm kinda curious. Languid, you know, but interested. I never knew the French do it any different from anybody else, but Robby tells us it's a way the French have of doing it so they don't have babies, on account of they're Catholics and ain't allowed to use condoms or the Pill or anything. I learn later he's wrong, but he sounded awful sure that night.
"When he 'gets his steam up,' like he says, he rolls over and faces Jill. "We just start regular, like we're playing--just like usual." And starts feeling Jill's boobies. She lies back, big-eyed, watching, waiting to see what's different. She slides her hand down and grabs his pecker and starts frigging it, but he eases her off. "Take it slow, real slow, Jill." And leans over to kiss her boobies, running his tongue around her nips.
"Jill kinda cries out and raises up, pushing her boobies at him, and he starts working harder on 'em, playing with one and sucking on the other. And reaching down every now and then to slow down Jill's frigging and play a little with her slit. Jill is getting real wound up. I can tell. And I'm getting hot and bothered, just watching. The idea of having a boy suck your titties!
"Robby starts sliding his tongue off her titty and down to her belly button, wriggling it some there until Jill is heaving up and down, then he slides down farther, on to the creases between her legs and her pelvis. And Jill is really whimpering and saying things soft under her breath. Robby turns all the way round in bed, pretty near kicking me in the face, until his head is down by Jill's pussy and his butt is up by my head.
"Robby rams his head down between Jill's legs and really goes to work on her snatch with his mouth and tongue. Jill is heaving and sighing and twisting like it's real wonderful. Then Robby throws one leg over her head and straddles her face, so his-pecker is stabbing right at her mouth. He lifts his head to tell her, kinda hoarse, and sounding almost angry, "Take it in your mouth! In your--MOUTH!" and jams this butt down so his pecker rams right at Jill's mouth, pushing her lips aside and sliding oil her teeth.
"Robby raises his head again. "Open your mouth, stupid." And rams again. Jill is scared. I can see the way her eye rolls, the one I can see. But she opens her mouth, and Robby slides his pecker in. He's still working on her snatch but he raises his head long enough to say, "Suck on it, sis. Suck hard!"
"I can see Jill's cheeks pumping and I know she's sucking. But it's all sort of baffling to me. Baffling, but exciting. I had already figured how a boy could maybe get his pecker in a girl's slit but I hadn't ever eyen imagined his putting it in her mouth or sticking his tongue up her slit. Just the same, I could see it was awful exciting, for both of 'em. They're pumping away at each other like crazy when suddenly Robby is very still, near rigid, his prick almost out of Jill's mouth. Then he rams down hard, shivering and shuddering and wriggling his butt, forcing his pecker way deep in Jill's throat.
"Jill don't seem to mind. She's humping at him, lifting her pelvis and wriggling. And then they both sort of deflate. Jill sags and Robby kinda collapses on top of her. They lie like that a moment, then Robby pulls his pecker out of Jill's mouth. It's gone down some but is still big. And Jill is licking at it, all wet and creamy, and holding on to Robby's butt like she wants more of it.
"They stay like that for a little while, with Jill licking at his come, and Robby lapping at Jill's snatch, both like they're just finishing a chocolate ice-cream cone. Then Robby rolls off her and gets straight in bed, his mouth all gooed up with Jill's cream, just like her mouth is messed up with his. And they grin at each other. "How's that, sis?" Jill takes one more lick around her mouth and nods. "You got something, Robby. I never knew a boy could--well--taste good."
"I'm shaking, I'm so excited by what I had seen and the way they act. like it's the greatest. Robby looks over at me and winks. "You getting all set for a French?" I don't think I really meant that, but I nod. Robby winks again. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll go down on you, and you can blow me." I don't even know what the words mean, but if it's what I've seen, I'm ready. Or think I am. When it comes right down to it, I pretty near back out.
"I don't, but I almost wish I had when I see his big pecker staring me in the face. Of course, I've seen bigger since, but right then it looked like a telephone pole he was aiming to ram me with. Jill has gotten up and fetched a damp wash rag and cleaned both of 'em up some. While she's washing Robby's dong it starts getting hard again and she wants to play with it, but Robby says "Nix, sis. I'm saving it for the kid, so she'll have a big load."
"Robbie is already playing with the lips of my slit, and I'm getting pretty hot, all along me, and down both legs. But my hands seem like chunks of ice, frozen, so I can't reach for his pecker. like I have to make myself do it. I do it, all right, and once it's done, once I've got my fingers wrapped around his pecker, things ease up for me.
"He rams his tongue into my slit, rubbing it hard against my clit, my little knob up in my slit, and I'm more than ready. I'm eager. I look at his cock hanging over my face and see this gob of stuff oozing out of it. I reach way up with my tongue and touch it. It slides down my tongue and into my mouth. I taste boy for the first time. It's hot and salty and kind of ammonia-like but real boy stuff. It tastes great. So I wrap my fingers around his pecker and tug it to my mouth.
"Robby hasn't got much of a head, and it's not reddish-purple like some I see later, but for a boy just going on fifteen I guess it's pretty good-sized. Anyway, to a kid twelve, like me, it seems as big as a salami. But tastes better. More exciting. Not that I've got a thing against salami. I like it. But a dong is better, for some purposes.
"Anyway, such big things are happening down at my snatch, where Robby has got his tongue, and up at my tits, where his hand is playing, that I just naturally want to suck on his dick. I let it slide into my mouth and I lick it with my tongue. About then Robby starts pumping up and down, ramming it deeper and deeper into my mouth until it gags me a little. All the time he's tonguing my slit and riding over my little clit and then he clamps down with his mouth, sucking until I feel it way up inside me, like it's pulling my juices. I go to work harder on his pecker, sucking and tonguing.
"I don't know much about sex then but I know enough to know I'm gonna come, and real quick. I bump my slit up against his mouth. Robby lets go my boobies and grabs my behind, pulling us closer together. At the same time he rises up with his rear and slams it so deep in my throat I could mighty near chew his navel. His balls--they're kinda tight and not so big--slam into my nose. And he holds it there. I can feel the jump and pulse of his come going through his dong-and whammo! It's down my throat and frothing up into my mouth. And I've got the full taste of a boy.
"I'm giving him my juices, creamy and rich, and he's gobbling them up, working his tongue and pulling down more.
"He pulls his dong out slow, shivering with excitement all down his body. I can feel it against my tits and stomach. And I suck hard to hang on to it as long as I can, figuring this is the only time I'm gonna taste a boy, and I want the most. I'm shaking, too, as limp as my Raggedy Ann doll.
"Robby rolls off me, just flopping, upside down, alongside me and next to Jill. He uses his finger to scrape some of my come off his lips and cheeks and sucks his finger. "Wow! That's really great stuff! I love it!" And just lies there, his chest heaving. And I'm doing some of my own.
"Jill is sitting up, naked. She hasn't bothered to put her pajamas back on since Robby gave her a French lesson. She's kinda wild-eyed. "Let's do it again, Robby!" Robby looks at her, cutting his eyes around. "Have a heart, sis. I'm pooped." He moves slow, turning around. Jill hands him the damp washrag, and he wipes his face and then mops up the mess around my snatch, which gets me the tingles again, but not so much I want it all over again. Any way, not right then.
"All that sucking and playing around has just made me sleepy and I drift off, remembering and dreaming--and the remembering gets all tangled up in the dreaming. I don't think Robby gives Jill another French lesson. I don't think he could. I don't know, though, because I sleep right through to breakfast.
"Then I'm ashamed; I mean crawl-under-a-rock-and-hide ashamed. Before then I hadn't even though of letting a boy see me naked, much less play with my snatch and stick his tongue in it. And as for letting him stick his pecker in my mouth! No, sir! But I'd done it. I couldn't even remember why I'd done it, except it seemed that was the thing to do right then.
"Of course, just remembering I HAD done it was sort of exciting, but I sure didn't want to face Robby at breakfast, or his and Jill's mom. But Robby was already up and gone, and Jill's mom was real nice, giving us a late breakfast and not scolding for not getting up on time. Not that not getting up meant anything. It was vacation, with no school.
"Along about two nights later I had Jill over to my house for the night, but playing with each other seemed kinda tame after getting sucked off. So Jill says, "Look, we can suck on each other, can't we?" I had never heard then of two girls doing it to each other, but it did seem sort of possible. I mean, we both had tongues and we both had slits. So why not put 'em together.
"So we slip out of our pajamas and play with each other for a while and then Jill squirms around, sliding her tongue down my stomach and onto my snatch. And I climb on top of her and sort of squat over her face. I grab her bottom and pull her down until I can get my tongue in her slit. I open it up a bit, till I can see the pink lips inside. I tease her little knob and she jerks and sighs and crams her mouth down on me. And then she humps at my mouth, with my nose practically in her brownhole. Both of us hump a little and squirm to get adjusted, which teases my boobies and gets me more and more excited.
"I think I come first, that time, with a big hot splash, and then, right after, Jill gives me all she's got. It's hot and tasty all right. Different from a boy's or, anyhow, Robby's. But good sucking. And the coming takes my breath away.
"Both of us agree it's fine, better than fingering, but not as good as having Robby do it or sucking oh Robby's dong. We talk about it for hours, seems like, trying to figure it out. Then, finally, agree that it's because he's a boy it's so good. Jill says, "It's because he's a boy. I've had him on me two times now, and it sure is better. Maybe you'd better come over to my house next."
"So our next session is at Jill's house, and Robby sucks us both off and we each latch on to his dong. Only he says he can't keep it up for two of us as much as we want. "I know a guy who'd like to French it, if he could find the right girl." That's fine, only how're we gonna arrange it? Can't either of us invite a boy to spend the night. Even Robby figures we'd make too much noise if he asks Don over and we all get together. So finally he has this idea. "We take our bikes and go out to the old mill, in the afternoon. Nobody comes there except loving couples, and they come at night." He figures he can set it up with Don.
"Mom thinks it's a fine idea to get a little exercise, and she-likes Jill and Jill's mom. She tells me I'm getting a little pale and the sunshine'll do me good. So that's all set.
"We decide to go early and take lunch, so it'll be a picnic and look even more innocent. With our lunches in the carriers on our bikes the three of us ride to meet Don. He's bigger than Robby and maybe a half a year older. He don't exactly have pimples, but he's the kind of boy that you expect to have pimples. You know, skinny and a little nervous. Well, I'm nervous, too. It's one thing to run up on sex accidental-like, the way I did at Jill's with Robby, and it's something else to plan to go out and do it. Especially with a strange boy. Not that Don's a stranger, really. I've seen him around school and I know his family but we never ran around in the same crowd, him being two-three years older. He's not really bad-looking.
"As we ride out through the apple orchards and along Sand Spit Road, I notice his bicycle wobbles every now and then while his eyes are taking me in. I'm wearing just a halter and shorts, which show just about everything I've got, which isn't an awful lot, but, if I do say so myself, kinda cute, even then. I haven't got any panties under the shorts--on Jill's advice, and without Mom knowing. So when I pump that old bicycle I guess a guy really looking can see practically up to my appendix. And Don really looks, pedaling ahead a little and looking back.
"At the old mill the guys scout around, to be sure there's nobody, and then we go up to a sort of loft. There's lots of old mill dust around. It comes up in clouds if you shuffle your feet. But there's some old blankets there, hanging on pegs, that Robby says the loving couples have left for their return visits.
"The ride has given me an appetite; the others, too, so we sit round on the blankets eating lunch and drinking Cokes. Don lies down at my feet so he can look right up my shorts, which embarrasses me at first but also gets me warmed up. At first I keep shifting, so he can't see much, then I think, what the hell, in a few minutes he's gonna be sucking on it, so why not let him look. And the looking really gets me steamed. Every now and then he slides his hand up the inside of my leg and almost on to my snatch but not quite, like he's saving that for dessert. And I can see the bulge in his jeans get bigger and even move a little.
"Robby is sitting at Jill's feet and playing on her legs and even sticks his head in and runs his tongue along her inner thigh and up right to her snatch. I can see his dong has gotten big, too. Suddenly he jumps, up and starts shedding his shirt. "Okay, it's time, girls. Let's get to it!"
"Suddenly I'm shy as hell. I kinda huddle into a ball and Don looks at me, real funny. "Robby said you did this regular, so what's the hang-up?" I just look up at him and try to smile. "I'm scared, Don. So help me, please."
"Don comes over and sits beside me, with his arm around my shoulders, and I kinda fall against him. He feels my little tit with one hand and then slips it down on my halter and undoes it, letting it fall, so my tits are right out in plain view. And my nipples are already hard, standing up. Don looks at 'em and whistles softly. "They ain't big, Rita, but they sure are cute." And leans over to kiss one.
"After that, it's easy. Still scary but lots easier. I mean, things go sort of in a pattern. Don peels me out of my shorts, and I'm naked as a grape. He looks some, his eyes sort of bugging, while he shrugs out of his shirt and unzips his pants, sliding 'em down, only he gets tangled up in his feet and starts swearing. Then he's naked, too. I can see his pecker, straight up, kind of shivering, like it's cold from being naked. He lies down by me, reaching under me and lifting me, so's his hand can reach one tit, and commences playing with it. He rolls over, closer, and kisses the other, sucking on the nip till it's real hard. He rubs himself against me, so I'm shaking with expectation. My legs just sort of naturally droop open and he plays with my slit. With one hand on a tit, his mouth on the other, and his finger sliding on my slit, I'm wet and ready. Don starts to slide one leg over, between mine, but I stop him. "No!" And Don nods. "Okay. Robby said you wouldn't screw but I just--well, thought maybe. So we just French it. Hang on to my dick."
"I reach down real slow, 'cause I have to make myself, until I finally grab onto his dong. I hang on tight, and Don squirms. "Look, Rita, I'm not going nowheres. You don't have to lasso me." I let up a little, then, and play with his pecker, watch it swell and get harder. He runs his tongue over my tit and then down my stomach and to my crease while he's turning so his pecker's up by my face. It's bigger than Robby's, but not much. I play with it, getting that special ache in my throat, until I'm ready to chew it to a nub, on account of Don is already tonguing my slit and sliding it over my little clit.
"He flips one leg over me and lies on my stomach, rubbing my tits, his dong right over my mouth, his mouth clamped on my snatch. I take his prick with my hand pull him down on me, pretty near smothering me. His balls are in a tight, wrinkled sack, just above my nose but not stopping it. So I can breathe. And I begin sucking, so hard I can feel my cheeks go in and out.
"I'm building toward that grand climax, that one big moment, and I know it. And so does Don, somehow. Maybe because my juices start flowing faster and he's getting more cream. I can feel his pecker throbbing, so I know he's getting ready--and then he is. He raises up till his dong is almost clear of my lips and then slams down, ramming it way down my throat. I can feel his come coming, like a big swell running through his dong. Then my whole throat and mouth are flooded and it's dribbling out of my mouth. He's got lots more creamy jism than Robby, but the taste is about the same. And I'm pouring my creamy juices right into his mouth--and he's taking it and lapping after more.
"Pretty soon, it is-all over. Don crawls off me and gets the box of tissues Jill brought. He's real gentle wiping my face and mouth, and then my snatch, and finally his dong and mouth. Then we just lie there, staring up at those old dusty rafters and breathing in big gulps, one of his hands just resting on my tit. My whole body is still shaking with what's happened, shaking, but feeling awful good.
"I look up and see Hobby and Jill are finished and are dressed. "We better head back," Robby says. Don hops up and scrambles into his jeans, flinging his arms into his shirt and saying "Sure, sure." like he didn't like to be seen with us both naked. I'm so pooped, I don't care. Anyway, Robby's seen me naked. I just move like I'm in a dream, slow, gathering up my shorts and halter and then just standing there, like I can't remember what to do with 'em. And right then I can't. And that's when I shoulda been really moving.
"Because then this dusty head rises above the ladder and there's this nasty laugh. 'Ain't that a picture! A real pretty picture! Naked and screwing!"
"The boys and Jill take off through the back window, which is level with the ground that slopes up at the back. But I'm sort of paralyzed. And anyway, I'm naked. I just gather up my clothes against my chest and stare as the head comes higher, with cobwebs and old mill dust in its hair and trailing across the face. It's real wild looking. And it comes higher and higher. I can see it's a grown man, in sports clothes, a dark green shirt and brown slacks, neat but dusty.
"He reaches down and grabs a handful of tissues and swabs at his face. There isn't much he can do about his hair. But suddenly I recognize him. He's the assistant principal at junior high. Oh, Lord, I think, I'm in for it now! And so are the others, because their moms will know they were with me, even if Mister G--hasn't recognized the boys.
"He stoops to brash himself off, but his eyes cut around at me, just standing there, stupefied, my clothes bundled up against my chest. "Don't I know you?" And then he nods. "Of course. The little B-- kid. Lita? No--Rita. Hello, Rita. I didn't recognize you without your clothes." He straightens up and looks at me. "You come here often--and do this? No, of course you'll tell me it's the first time."
"I start to shake then. "But, Mister G--, it is the first time. Here." I say that sort of light. "Honest! Please don't tell Mom, or expel me from school or anything like that."
"Mister G--sits down on the blanket and pats a place beside. "Sit there, and well talk this over." I sit, all scrooched up, but he can still see pretty much whatever he wants to see. "Aren't you a little young for this sort of thing, Rita? No, I guess not. I've always heard that if they were big enough, they were old enough. Now, about me telling your mother. I am not-likely to see her at any time in the near future, so why should I tell her anything? And as for expelling you, school's not in session. As for--"anything like that"--I don't know, not being sure what it means." And he grins at me, real friendly in spite of the dust in his hair and the cobwebs. I can see he's not really mad with me. And he's right cute looking in spite of dust.
"So I feel a thousand percent better. Lots better. I even relax a little and let my clothes slide into my lap. "Oh, Mister G---, I'm so glad, I could just hug you."
"He looks at me real funny for a moment and then says, "Well, why don't you?"
"That stumps me. I don't know does he mean it, really; then I figure, what have I got to lose? So I lean over and hug him, dropping all my clothes. He just sits for a long moment, then his arms go around me, not tight, just nice and comfortable. And one hand starts playing with one of my tits, and the other slides down on my leg, moving slow and easy, like he's afraid he'll break something. And that starts us off. I move into grown-ups in one jump."
* * *
Rita is an intelligent young woman. At the time of the initial interview, she was twenty-two and a very successful model for advertising photography. Her own analysis stands as far as it regards the educational phases. She is quite right. Education should be made retroactive, though where she got the word is difficult to imagine. Not that she ever used gutter language. In fact, there is a touch of retrogression in her whole mental attitude. She retreats into that original childhood trauma and her language and whole physical attitude reflects her childhood.
Of course, some of it is her training as a model. She's quite good at her job and that means she's highly adaptive in her attitudes and even with her physical self. On the other hand, there is a suggestion here that she has never outgrown that childhood attitude, that rather wide-eyed curiosity about the world and particularly about sex. Again, this has undoubtedly helped her in her career, imparting an effect of innocence to all her photographs. Innocence with an overlay of sophistication.
This has made her a particularly easy subject with whom to work, in some respects. There is no effort, no antagonism initially as there often is between subject and psychiatrist, which must be overcome. She is quite outgoing. And because she appears to retreat or retrogress into her childhood experiences, she was able to provide detailed and very graphic pictures of her early life, without having to be constantly provided with fresh stimuli.
Her observations on the need for education of parents--given without animosity or the slightest indication of antagonism toward her own parents --is particularly cogent. That is where real sex education begins, with parents...
As Professor Curtis E. Avery, writing in Sexology magazine in 1960, warns parents against two extremes in treating problems of children and sex, "violent disapproval or revulsion against the sex act (or sex play) of children is a basic fault to be found in most parents." On the other hand, he also warns against completely ignoring indications of sex acts (or sex play) as-likely to connote, to the child, permissiveness and lead to continued sex acts and eventual moral degradation for the child. Either extreme, he points out, is dangerous for the child, in the first instance begetting a sense of shame or even horror in any sex act which could prove traumatic, and, in the second, leading the child to having no frame of reference and no orientation when confronted with mature problems of sex.
It is with the second admonition that we deal here, in a slightly different form. Rita's family was, apparently, smugly unaware that she had any sex problems or that she was indulging in sex play with her friend, Jill. As was Jill's family about her sex ploys, particularly with her brother, Robby.
Because of her family's unawareness and, hence, their total inability to give the child any sex guidance, Rita saw nothing wrong with the incestuous relationship between Jill and Robby. According to her statement, she presumably wasn't even aware of "incest" and considered only the matter of fortunate convenience.
Regarding incest, such as the sex acts of Robby and Jill, Benjamin Karpman in The Sexual Offender and Offenses, notes that incest is one form of cultural paraphilia, "those forms of sexual activity which run counter to accepted social behavior and which are antibiological, either per se or because they are socially prohibited ... Incest is not antibiological per se. But it violates ... social laws in a vast majority of cultures."
Fellatio and cunnilingus might well be considered "antibiological" not only in this culture but throughout the world. They are "antibiological" in that they do nothing toward procreation, for which we assume sex was primarily designed in nature. The pleasurable aspects of sex, in humans and in animals, is generally regarded as simple stimulus to the real biological drive--procreation. Freud, however, recognizes that humans are not always driven by the desire for procreation and considers the power behind this as, "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive," in whatever form it may take--without, of course, any intent by Freud to laud cultural parafamilial behavior, but simply to explain it.
In Rita's case, cunnilingus was definitely "anti-biological." She was thereby avoiding procreation. But she certainly derived "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive" from her acts. From her statement, Rita achieved what she regarded as complete sexual gratification through double cunnilingus. Her chronological age had little to do with her ability to achieve a sexual climax. Interest in and gratification through sex has occurred in girl children as young as nine, so Rita's youth was not a deterrent to her sexual satisfaction. In the eyes of her older lover, as we shall see, it enhanced the "hedonistic gratification."
She had an intense and single-minded devotion to her first adult lover, indicating a capacity for genuine affection that might have established her firmly in a happy and successful marriage. Such was not to be. Her first adult lover, after five years, gave her up for the benefit of his career, leaving her only with a desperate need for sexual stimulation and gratification. As we shall see, she took this gratification from any man who would "do it her way," through what she terms "Frenching."
It is too early in her therapy to make any accurate prognosis. Too much depends on her environment outside the psychiatric study. If she meets the right man, ready for marriage and willing to undertake the slow process of converting her to utero-genital sex, she has a very good chance for lasting happiness.
* * *
"Uh-huh. That meeting with Mister G--(I learned to call him Jeff later)--was the real turning point. I skipped a lot of stuff right in that old mill that afternoon. You know the sort of thing I mean, meeting older boys and then still older boys, until a girl starts meeting men. Grown men. More often than not, by that time she's sort of burned out, from so much sex. And boys, I don't care how nice they are, aren't as considerate as grown men, or as thoughtful of a girl's feelings as an older man who has himself a real young kid.
Boys get their kicks and they don't care really how a girl feels. Sometimes boys get deliberately tough and rough, just to show how adult they are. Grown men don't have to prove anything. And they're--well--grateful for a young girl. I know the other side of the story from Jill. She's an alcoholic now, living on booze and pills, on account of the rough time some of the boys had given her. But I had it easy.
"Not that first time. With Jeff. Oh, he was sweet enough and very gentle, but I was so scared. Plumb nutty scared. I didn't know how to behave at first. With a grown man, what kid would? The first time.
"I was already naked, so there wasn't any problem there. I didn't have to undress in front of him. I was--there. Jeff kept his arms around me and held me real easy, not pushing anything, just sliding his hands around, over me, finding out all about me, my tits and my snatch and my legs, and he even seemed to be counting the knobs on my spine, running one hand up and down them and then wrapping his hand around one cheek of my bottom. He diddled my little brownhole with one finger, which made me jump and squeal, but I wasn't so tight by then.
"I was beginning to feel safe, as well as excited. Jeff gave me that feeling, like he wouldn't do anything I didn't want him to. I told him right off I wouldn't screw, not with a dong in my snatch. "But I'll do it like the French do."
"Jeff laughed at that. "When I was in France, the French did it like anyone else. It's just a name for a special way of enjoying sex. And if that's the way you want it, that's the way we do it. In fact, I'm rather partial to it, myself. But in a small town one doesn't find suitable--partners. With discretion. I hope, Rita, you are discreet. Otherwise, we'll both be in trouble. Quite serious trouble."
"I guess he knew I'd be discreet--if that meant not telling anybody about what went on at the old mill, because he leaned over and sucked at my tit, making things go off like pinwheels inside. I liked seeing his face pressed against my breast. It was a nice face, sort of like some of those private eyes on rugged but with--I guess you'd call it character.
"He slid his tongue all down my front, stopping to suck and tongue my belly button, and all the while his fingers were playing around my little slit, opening it up so my inside lips started swelling. And once in a while he'd just lightly brush my clit. He took a long time building me up, not like Hobby and Don, who sorta rushed things. Only because he played so long, I had to let go; things just busted loose inside me, and I spurted juices all down in my pussy. I thought maybe he'd be mad because I came so quick, but he wasn't. He just went on tonguing me and turning around to say, "It's all right, Rita. In fact, it's fine. The second one, when I'm really on you will be even better. For both of us." And slid his tongue right in, lapping up those juices.
"Up to then he hadn't done anything about his own dong. But now he unzipped his pants and slid out of them and his underpants. And I saw his pecker. It was straight and hard, with a big reddish-purple head that already had a drop of wet on it. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around it. Wow, it was big! So big it put Don's and Robby's in the shade. Salami? It was like a huge pole! But I bent down and touched my tongue to it. It even tasted more man that Don or Hobby.
"Jeff pushed me back, real gentle, and straddled my head, so his prick was right over my mouth. He took his lips off my snatch long enough to tell me, "If you can't manage all that, Rita, it'll be all right. We'll work something out."
"He bent his head and started bobbing it up and down while he sucked on my juices--and built up a real head of steam in me for another come. I grabbed his dick with both hands and opened my mouth wide and guided it in. His big old head was about all I could take right then, so I just slid my hand up and down his shaft, sucking on that head, tonguing it for the dribbles of juices.
"I could feel his tongue go way up my snatch, and then come back, reaming as it came, then sliding over my clit. I think he even nibbled on my clit a little, but very gentle. Till I thought they were firing off one at Cape Kennedy, right in my stomach. I pumped my head up and down, till his bush--he had a dark, curly bush, which neither Robby nor Don had--was almost brushing my chin. And his balls would slap down once in a while against my nose.
"He drew his butt up, till his bulb was almost out of my mouth and I had to strain, reaching for it. So I knew he was going to give me a load. Bam! Down he came, driving that old head into my mouth and way down my throat. I could feel my throat muscles stretch to take it. And they could feel the pound and thrust of his come--right down in my throat and welling up in my mouth and flowing over my cheeks. What a lot of juice he had! It seemed like a gallon. And I was sucking in all I could get.
"While he's sucking me so hard I think maybe he'll drag his own out of my throat and down through my snatch. And I'm spurting and squirting and pouring my juices at him. It's the biggest ever. Of course, I haven't had much for comparison, then, but it was really terrific. I think I'll remember that French until my dying day. I hope I do, it was so good. I get choked up, sometimes, just thinking about it. Me, just twelve going on thirteen, and taking a grown man's dong and every drop of his come I can get!
"He don't fold up on me the way Don and Robby do. He raises, real easy, and slides himself off, still keeping a hand cupped over my snatch, like it might go away. And patting and soothing me. After I get in a few licks at his creamy dong, he reaches for the tissues that Jill has forgotten in her hurry and very gently wipes off my mouth and snatch and then himself.
"Maybe the best part was the way he held me, real tenderly in his arms and stroked my whole body until I stopped shaking. And talked to me. I could feel his pecker every now and then as it jumped and got stiffer. So finally I said, "If you want to again, I'll try." But he shakes his head. "This was beautiful, Rita, really beautiful. Let's leave it at that. For this time."
"So I can figure on more good Frenching from him, and I sigh, happy. And I'm content there in his arms, with his hands playing real gentle over me. Only he says we better get dressed--and fix up a good story to tell the kids, if we meet 'em, and Mom when I get home. While he is dressing me he says, "Why not tell 'em that was a tramp they saw. I must have looked like one. And you got away from him but had a flat tire. I picked you and your bike up. That ought to do it."
"So that's the story we told. In the car he had a comb and brush and fixed himself up real neat. He even punctured the tire and then had it fixed at a service station, so if anybody asked, like Mom, it was confirmed. Nobody did ask about our story, only Mom, when she heard about the tramp scaring me and the kids--we didn't say what we were doing, of course. Mom put the old mill off limits for me. Which was fine by me. I didn't ever want to go there again, not with just boys.
"I never did go again, but I can remember to this day just how it looked and smelled, with dust motes dancing in the sun. It is a sort of special place in my life. like I mark things as before then and after then. I went out there a kid and I came back at least halfway to being a woman.
"The 'tramp' us kids had seen also made a good excuse for me not to French anymore with boys. I just said he'd scared me so bad I couldn't ever do it again. It made Jill and Robby sore, because I wouldn't come over to her house even and play French with 'em. I guess Don was sore, too, but I didn't see enough of him to even care.
"Why bother with boys, when I had a grown man could give me all the French I could take. Either Jeff or me could think up good excuses for me to go somewhere and then he'd drive me to his house, in behind it, right into his garage, which connected with the house. And we'd have two-three hours to play French.
"I've heard tell, from girls mostly, that if you have sex a lot when you're young, your tits won't grow much. It doesn't seem to have stopped mine. I've got nice boobs, now. Not awful big, but they stand up nice and firm, and they're big enough so fashion photographers and ad execs like 'em--in pictures.
"Mostly I've kept my sex and my professional life separate. I mean, I never put out just to get a job. I know girls that do and I guess it's okay. But I like sex for sex, not to get me a job. Anyway, most of those guys want just a straight screw, not French. And that's the only way I'll have sex, Trenching. I still call it Frenching, even if that's not right. Oh, sure, I've been to France. A coupla times. The French--those I met--want it regular fashion, just like anybody. There were some, though, who liked it my way, and we got on fine.
"I got through junior high but not with any spectacular grades. I mean, Jeff didn't rig things for me. Fact is, at school you'd think we hardly knew each other. We were just nodding acquaintances.
"At his house it was sure different. Even in the car, driving there, I could get excited, just thinking about it. And so would Jeff. I see his bulge get bigger right while he's driving. So by the time I'm there I can hardly wait to get out of my clothes and get naked, so Jeff could play with me.
"Jeff is real gentle. He-likes to watch me strip, sitting back in a big chair, his legs stretched out, and sometimes a small glass of whiskey or wine in his hand, watching me over it. He never tried to get me to drink. He doesn't like to see girls drink. In some ways, Jeff is real square. But in sex he's French as anything.
"I remember one time. I guess I was about fourteen then, and really getting nice little tits. He is sprawled out there and suddenly sits up. "Rita, you are getting to be a big girl!" I cup my tits in my hands, to feel 'em for myself. I don't need to lift 'em any, they're plenty lifted on their own. And they are bigger. And the nips are higher.
"I am naked, with my hands cupping my tits, so I walk over to him, real slow, twitching my little bottom a little, like I've seen movie stars do when they're playing sexy. My thumbs tease my nips until they are hard little knobs. Jeff puts his glass down and holds out one arm, alongside the chair. I go over and let him put his arm around me. He cups one tit while I cup the other, just playing. For preliminaries. Then he leans over and kisses my nip, and tongues it some. All the time he's unzipping his pants and hunching out to slide out of 'em.
"His whole bottom is bare and I see his pecker throbbing and bobbing. I seen it plenty times before, but each time it's a new thrill, just as big, maybe bigger than the first. He lifts me over the arm of his chair and stands me, with my feet on either side of him and my snatch right level with his mouth. He sorta sighs and leans forward to kiss it and slide his tongue into my slit. "It's beautiful, Rita. Beautiful. You have a lovely little body. Lovely."
"He reaches tip with both hands and plays with my tits, his tongue just fiddling with my slit. Nothing serious yet. But I get hot flashes just the same. And my legs get weak, so I sag a little. Jeff eases me down into his lap. At first I think he means to screw me. You know, ram his dong right up my slit. And it scares me and I try to wriggle away.
"Jeff shakes his head. "I won't do a thing, Rita, that you don't want. I wouldn't think of hurting you or making you do something you don't want to. I just want to have you sit down and let my penis ride between your legs. Against your vagina, not in it." I nod, because by now I'm so steamed up and ready I might even let him screw me if he insisted.
"Jeff slides me down, my knees humping up, until his pecker is right up against my cunt, easing along my slit, opening it a little, but just with the side of his prick, not with the head. He pulls me toward him a little, so my slit is riding right along his big old dingdong, with that big old purple-red head peeping out of my pubic hairs. Oh, I have some by then, not much, but some, all goldy brown.
"He reaches down with his fingers and spreads the lips of my snatch a little and lets his dong ride in there, rubbing the lips of my slit and just teasing my clit. His head is moving, real slow and going in and out of my little bush like it's playing peep-eye. And it begins to glisten with his early come. And he's kissing and tonguing my tits and nips. I want to go down on him and taste that wonderful come of his so bad I'm squirming. And squirming makes it even more exciting, rubbing his dong harder against the lips of my slit, and along my clit. I moan a little, and he picks me up suddenly. Jeff is pretty strong and upends me in a kind of crazy scramble. I wind up with my legs on either side of his head and sticking over the back of the chair. His mouth goes down on my snatch and he starts reaming and sucking.
"I'm a little dizzy, being upside-down, but I grab his dong and lick it a couple of times, to get that early dew, and then slip it in my mouth. Very filling and very, very exciting. Jeff has me by the hips and butt, pulling me up against his mouth, which is working like hot fire on my snatch. He jounces me a little, using his knee and legs against my shoulders, once in a while squeezing in on the sides of my head. My hair is falling down between his legs and almost hiding his privates--his balls--while I'm sucking and tonguing his prick. And it's building. I can tell, even if I am hanging practically upside down.
"I know I'm shaking with the readiness to explode. My juices are pumping and building up. I can feel it in his dong, too, with my lips, how it's getting ready to go Boom! I haven't got much purchase, except with my shoulders, but I do heave a little, driving his head well back in my throat. Then he heaves up, and down it goes, way deep. And the pulse and jump of it as it spurts his creamy goo into my throat and mouth matches the way I spurt my juices at him, with his mouth clamped on my pussy and his tongue working.
"I won't say that's the best Frenching we ever had, but I sure remember it, on account of I was practically standing on my head to get at his dong. Just before he finished sucking me, Jeff plays with my brownhole and rammed a finger down it, wiggling, like he was pushing my juices out from there. I come close to biting his dong off, on account of how it made me jerk and twitch. But it sort of put the cap on it.
"I swallowed his come and licked off his dong as he pulled it out, and Jeff lapped my cream until I just had to get right-side up. I was real dizzy, and pooped, too, from the Frenching. He held me in his arms then and we just talked. Oh, he played with my tits and nips, and I kept a hand on his pecker, but it was mostly just drowsy talk. Good talk. I guess I learned more from those talks with Jeff than I did at school, or anyhow, they sort of clarified what I learned at school. Made it more real. Only I never really did cotton to math. Maybe because we didn't talk much about math when we were being cozy. What can you say about math? In a general conversation, I mean.
"Along about then I transferred to high school and it was a little harder to get our signals across, but we managed. Of course, some of the older high-school boys gave me the eye and a few tried to date me. I didn't mind going on movie or even drive-in dates with a boy. I even let some I liked real well feel me up a little. But I didn't put out, even Frenching. So I got the reputation of being cold and a tease, and pretty soon the boys left me alone. Which I liked. I mean, Jeff and me, we were like married, in some ways. I never have figured these dames who are married and still go putting out. If you marry, I figure you marry because you've found what you want, and if you've got what you want, why play around? Well, it was like that with Jeff and me. I know I didn't play around, and I don't think he did. I'm pretty sure he didn't.
"Then the roof fell in.
"Jeff was being transferred, being made principal of a big school in another part of the county, miles away. He told me about it just after we've had a real hot session, three times. We lie there on his couch and he tells me, "Rita, I've got to take this opportunity. It means my whole career. I'm going to hate losing you, but I've just got to."
"I don't take it in for a moment. It's like a guy you love and you know loves you telling you he's going to get a divorce. And then I cry. I try not to, but I get all choked up and cry. "Please, Jeff, take me with you. Please." I know it's not sensible. I'm still just a kid. In high school, and I can't just go away. If I was a little older, I could. Just go and live near him, so I could have him once in a while, going down on me and me going down on his dong. "Couldn't we get married, Jeff?" That's silly, too. And Jeff points it out. "Look, Rita, you're still a child. A very beautiful child, but still a child. I'm nearly twenty years older than you. It might be fine for a few years, but pretty soon ... No, Rita, it just won't work. As much as I'd love it. You'll find somebody new, somebody who'll give you just what you want. For life."
"And he goes. Just like that, leaving me brokenhearted. I really love him, not just for the Frenching, but love. I moon and mope around, until I near drive Mom and Dad nuts. Of course, I can't tell 'em what the trouble is--that I've lost the man I been Frenching with for pretty near five years. They wouldn't understand. And even if they did, what could they do?
"It's just about vacation time and I'm graduating that year, so there's lots of excitement around the house, with Mom trying to pump some enthusiasm in me with new dresses and the dances I'll go to and all, but it doesn't work. Finally Mom and Dad decide to send me to Aunt Mattie, in New York, for at least part of the summer, since I don't want to go to the beach with them. I don't mean I don't want to, like negative, I just don't have any enthusiasm.
"So I head off for New York right after graduation. There's a kind of excitement in getting the plane and knowing I'm going to see all kinds of new things in New York--and all the girls are envious of me. Aunt Mattie is a lot different from Mom, even if they are sisters. Aunt Mattie is a swinger. Not a real wild swinger, but gay. She's divorced and has lots of alimony or a settlement or something, and has this grand apartment.
"She sort of takes me in hand about clothes, too, buying me new outfits I'm sure I can never wear back home. Not that they're real daring or anything like that. They're--well, New York-type clothes that just wouldn't go back home. I perk up some, dressing up in them because they're sort of sophisticated and make me look older. She takes me to parties with her. Not swinging-type parties. I don't mean that. But lots of fun, with music and dancing and lots of talk--which I can't join in because I don't even know lots of the words they're using or the shows they talk about. So I just get over in a corner and think about Jeff and how we used to French it on evenings like this. I even get myself a little worked up, to feeling kinda hot. At one party this guy comes over to sit beside me, smiling real nice. "Don't brood about lost love. There's always someone else. Or you can throw yourself into work. That's what I've done. Have you ever thought of modeling? Not in those sophisticated things. I suspect Mattie picked them out."
"I am kinda surprised, because he's real cute looking, that he even bothers with me. "You mean--naked? I couldn't!"
"He chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm Bart F--," like I should know who that is. Then he nods. "Sorry. I'm an account exec. On the Lustra account. And director of their art program. I've been looking for somebody fresh and young, with a sort of spirit of outdoors to them. I think you have it, once we get you out of those imagine duds and into something easy and simple. Shall I ask your aunt? It pays very well."
"Aunt Mattie is kinda surprised, and studies me real hard and then nods. "I see what Bart means. Yes, there is something--unspoiled about you. My mistake, darling, trying to fit you into my pattern. And as for the job, it isn't as easy as Bart makes it sound. Posing is tough work and long hours. But maybe that's what you need. Anyway, try it. I'll square it with your mother."
"Aunt Mattie is right. Posing isn't anywhere near as easy as it sounds. There are about sixteen zillion people around studying you like you're a prize cow at the county fair. And some have cloths of different kinds and colors they drape on me. And lights to test. And you walk around and sit--and sit--and sit while people argue. One little prissy guy--I later learned he's what they call a pansy, he only-likes men and boys--keeps jittering around, adjusting different cloths and shaking his head. "You'll have to get rid of those panties and that bra. I just can't get the feel of spring with all that bunched up. Take 'em off." Bart comes over, laughing. "Don't mind Jacques. He won't hurt you, since he doesn't like girls. Go in the dressing room and peel."
"I do, and Jacques comes right in behind me, just as I am stripped, looking me over and sighing. I never had a man look at me like that. like I'm furniture. But he's so intent on what he's doing it really doesn't bother me. And he does get me draped into a sheer blue-green something--you can't call it a dress--and leads me out under the lights. After a lot of fussing and fuming, they finally shoot maybe ten or a dozen pictures.
"Bart comes over, his thumb and finger up in a sign it's okay, and then looks at me, staring at my chest. I suddenly realize this dress thing is pretty sheer and he can see my tits. He looks real intent and hungry, and then sighs. "You're just what the doctor ordered, Rita. You're in. I'm telling you that in advance, because I'm going to invite you to dinner and I don't want you to feel you have to, to get the job. You've got it. So how about dinner. At my place?"
"I look him straight in the eye. "Bart, I may look sexy, but I'm not. If you're figuring on something like that, we better forget it, job and all."
"Bart holds up his hand, real solemn, but he grins. "Just as you say, lady. But will you have dinner with me?"
"Aunt Mattie is dubious "about the dinner date, only I tell her I've already told Bart there wouldn't be any playing around. Aunt Mattie laughs and says, "I'd like to have seen Bart's face. That must have been a new experience for him. Girls are always chasing him, but he doesn't give them much of a chance. I don't think he's queer, either. Just--cautious."
"Bart has a real snazzy apartment, all in tones of brown and real mannish looking. It even smells mannish. And the dinner is good, imagine as all get-out but with real meat-and-potatoes feeling. He wants me to try some champagne but I turn it down, so he doesn't even open the bottle. "You really mean no fun and games, don't you Rita." I nod and then shake my head. "I mean, fun and games are all right, but not screwing."
"That sort of widens his eyes, and he cocks his head at me. "Are you meaning what I think you're meaning?" We play around with that for a while, until he gets out of me just what I do mean. I'll take French, but no screwing. All this time he's been edging in for a feel of my tits, and now I let him, once we've got it straight. And his hand slides up my leg, real easy, and suddenly I'm hungry for sex again, like I used to have it with Jeff.
"I hump up and let him grab a whole handful of my snatch. His hand works on it, and his fingers spread the lips and feel around inside. While his mouth is working on one tit that is slipping out of my dress. I reach down and run my hand over that bulge and know he's got a big dong, big and stiff.
"He peels me out of my clothes real quick, both of us being hungry for it. He lays me out on the couch, with my head at the edge and kneels down, so his big, jumpy twitchy pecker is right by my face. I grab a hold of it and rub it against my cheek and touch his purply-red head with my tongue, tasting his juices. It's as good as I remember Jeff's and I gobble it. Bart plays with my tits, then he kisses them, teasing my nips with his tongue and running his hands and tongue all down my body, till I'm shaking with the want of his mouth on my snatch.
"He holds off, though, teasing my creases with his tongue, fiddling with my slit with his fingers, spreading the lips and just touching my clit. Then he goes down on me, easy but firm. So I slide his head in my mouth and begin pumping, working my tongue all over his hot, sticky head and up and down his shaft, which I milk a little, to get him built up fast. I need the taste of him deep in my throat.
"He wriggles and twists, sometimes with his hands reaching back to feel my tits or push them together so they just touch his wiggling stomach. Oh, Bart knows all about how to French and teaches me a few things that Jeff and I have kind of neglected because we were happy with what we had. Bart lifts me a little and tongues my brownhole, which is almost exquisite torture. I pretty near come right then but I pull his head back in time to catch my blast of juices, which he sucks on like crazy.
"I feel his come ready and jumping in his dong. I squeeze down a little, sort of choking it off for a few seconds, and then let go. He rams his dong way, way down me, because it's so long. I feel his come pulsing across my tongue and down my throat, where it explodes in a hot, creamy gush that near strangles me. And it's all over but the licking and drying off.
"It's wonderful! Great! I lie there, sorta stunned but satisfied like I haven't been for months. Later on we do it again, with me on top, ramming my pussy down on his mouth and bobbing my head on his big, slim dong. And drinking in the taste of a man again. Still later we dress and he takes me to a nightclub, where I don't even really watch the show. Behind my eyes I'm playing my own show, starring Bart and me.
"I'm happy as pigs in clover but Aunt Mattie is worried--because I'm happy. But I tell her to keep her back hair on, I'm still a virgin, which, technically, I am. Hasn't any man ever been into my snatch with his dong.
"I keep on with my modeling and get more jobs on account of those first pictures. I'm making plenty of money--and getting Frenched pretty regular. Of course, Bart has lots of other interests and some late working hours, but we manage, maybe two-three times a week.
"He even takes me on this real swinging party, where everybody goes down on everybody else, some of 'em daisy chaining it--a man on a girl with a different girl on him and a man sucking on her cunt and getting sucked off by the first. I join those a couple of times, just for kicks, but there's nothing like having sex with a man, all to yourself. Sex is sorta personal, even if I do get a bang out of watching others do it. But the real big bang is with your own man.
"I go with Bart for maybe a year, eighteen months. Then I meet Chris and switch off to him for a while, and then Ed, who's older. He's the one takes me to Europe. So pretty soon I've got a stable of studs and can pretty well take my pick of what kind I like. Only I really like 'em all. Even those swinging parties, like the one where I got caught up in the raid. And honestly, mister, I don't think this therapy business is going to change me. Do you?"
* * *
Considering the case subject's occupation, that of modeling, it is difficult to state whether she is, indeed, suffering from an orally oriented paraphilia or whether, being able to attain sexual gratification through oral-genital contact, she is "controlling" her normal sexual urges until such a time when she is ready to settle down as a housewife. The availability of birth-control measures, of which she must obviously be aware, and her failure to utilize them, however, strongly suggests the first rather than the second possibility.
CHAPTER TWO OSCAR
"It was because of me that my marriage got off to a rocky start--all because I refused to ball my wife. It was kind of dumb now that I think back on it. After all, how many guys today get to marry a genuine, fifty carat, all-American virgin. And that's what Linda was. She was as pure as the sparkle in an uncut diamond--a diamond that wanted to be shaped into the complete sexual woman. Before the night was over she was even begging me. "Please, honey, you gotta do it," she whined over and over again. But I didn't--not that night anyway. It was the first time I had seen that beautiful spot between her legs and I wasn't about to let such a golden opportunity slip me by. So our honeymoon night turned out to be a grand and glorious wonderful sucking session, with my mouth workin' on that sweet tastin' little pussy tack in my face--as though I'd beaten her up or so-But I never let it really bother me. She it, sure as hell. She enjoyed it just as much as I had enjoyed lappin' her up.
"If Linda had had any smarts about her before we had gotten married, she would have picked up the signals that I was a mouth man. She had lived out in the sticks with-her-old lady--a woman who, I might add, thought it perverse to take a bath with the light on. "That's just to give you some idea of the type of bullshit Linda had to put up with when she was growin' up. I used to deliver two ten-gallon jugs of oil out to their farm once a week for their cookin' stove, and would you believe it took me almost a year to get Linda alone. And even that came about because I purposefully stepped on her old lady's foot, cutting it, and while the old bird hunted down a bandage Linda and I were alone in the kitchen for about two minutes. But during that time I copped a cheap feel on one of Linda's boobs and she smiled at me when I did it. So I knew I had to get this gal alone. I just had to! I'd get a hard on every time I drove-out to that place just thinkin' of all the goodies that that sweet morsel had to offer.
"But her old bird of a Ma was too sharp for me. I found out later that there were lots of guys who made the trip out there for one legitimate reason or another. But they all ended up makin' goo-goo eyes at Linda. Not that it did them any good. Her old lady would spot all this and throw up the best goddamned virgin defensive position in the country.
"I think what used to burn the old lady most was the fact that Linda never turned any of these guys off. She'd just stand there and act noncommittal. At least, that's the way she always reacted to me. A couple of times she'd see my hard on pokin' against my overalls and although she was no scholar in sex ed she'd give me that knowin' smile. Ah yes, my sweet little Linda was a pretty good cock teaser in those days--and she was only sixteen.
"One week I went out there and the old lady was bedded down with the flu or somethin'. I almost creamed in my pants with joy. It was my big chance. And it was easy--boy, was it ever easy! It was like leadin' a lamb up to the rack. I got Linda out behind the house and while she sashayed that cute little body this away and that away, I began to go to work. I talked real cozy to her and put my hands on her shoulders, massaging them a little, feelin' the smallness of her bones, the tenderness of her skin. And all the time I'm gettin' hotter and hotter and she's lookin' up at me with those big brown innocent-lookin' eyes of hers.
"Ever been kissed?" I asked her.
"No." she answered softly.
"I shot my head forward and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Now you have," I said, my voice a trifle too husky for so early in the morning.
"She blushed and glanced quickly at the house. "Oscar--" she began, but I cut her off with another quick kiss, this one on the lips.
"Do you like it?" I whispered into her face.
"Yes," she whispered back. "But Mama's gonna--"
"Don't worry about Mama," I said. "We're all alone and we like each other, don't we?"
"Oh yes," she said, "but I can get in lots of trouble for this."
"I kissed her again. Harder this time, and longer. I felt her body slacken and I could feel her round tits come against my chest. Gently, I pushed down on her shoulders and we both sank to a sitting position, our backs against the wooden frame of the house. She made a little mmmming sound and ran one of her hands around to the back of my neck.
"Mama says all you boys are the devil's messengers." She pulled my face toward hers and we kissed. Her mouth tasted deliciously clean and fresh.
"What do you mean, all of us boys?" I asked hoarsely, swallowing her saliva and enjoying every drop of it. I dropped one of my hands down over her blouse and cupped a firm tit.
"She sucked in her breath and squirmed just a bit. "No matter," she said. "I don't pay them any mind. It's you I like." She looked down at my shaking hand. "You can squeeze it if you like."
"If I liked? My prick was really throbbing now. I ran my hand over the tit, squeezing it, feeling the tautness of it, shaping its contour against the blouse. There was no bra to get in my way so I let my forefinger rub against the point of the tit until I felt the nipple harden and rise against it.
"She sank back against the house. "Ummm, that feels good, Oscar, that feels soooo good." As she spoke she massaged the back of my neck and I got the feeling from her gentle pressure that she was trying to urge my head down to her breast.
"My mouth was watering, dying to sample the flesh of that boob. Hesitantly, I began to unbutton the top button of her blouse. She didn't resist. She just lay there, making little moanin' sounds. I quickly undid the top four buttons and scooped out the beautiful little thing. It was about the size of a healthy grapefruit, only creamy white, a gorgeous munch of skin topped off with a pouting strawberry nipple and a little circle of pink around that. It reminded me of tapioca pudding with a strawberry on it, and I love tapioca pudding.
Suddenly, she pulled my head down to it and I scooped it into my mouth, nipple first. Hungrily, I sucked on the boob, pulling a good portion of it into my mouth. After almost a year and a half of waiting, I was in heaven. The taste was pure flesh, clean and plentiful. I chewed on her nipple, ran my tongue over the outer edges of that prickly areola, and all the time tried to swallow more and more of the sweetness into my mouth. She moaned out her enjoyment and pressed my head deeper and deeper into her breast.
"Then, without warning, she reached down and touched the lump in my trousers. "I want to see yours, too, Oscar," she blurted out, her voice quaking in her excitement.
"I didn't waste a moment. I brushed her hand aside and quickly unbuttoned my fly, dipped a finger inside my jockey shorts and pulled out my swollen prick, letting it wave out in front of her in all its rampant glory.
"For an instant there was almost a death-like silence. I pulled my mouth off her boob and looked up in her face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open at a ridiculous angle. It looked as though she had stopped breathing. She even looked a little bit scared. And then she spoke, her eyes riveted on my swollen rod. "I ain't never seen a man's dong before. I ain't never seen one before."
"And wouldn't you know, the excitement was just too much for me. I came. Oh boy, did I come. Spurt after spurt, wad after wad. High up in the air, away from our bodies, on our bodies. I was fit to be tied. I had hoped to have her mouth around it when I came. And all the time I was shootin', Linda just kept starin', followin' the flight of each load as it rocketed off, her mouth hangin' open, a look of total and utter amazement on her face.
"Suddenly, there was the sound of a car horn from the front side of the house. Linda leaped to her feet. Quickly, she buttoned up her blouse and brushed the farm dirt off her clothes. "Oh, my gosh," she said excitedly, "that'll be Doc P--. I forgot all about him." She paused at a damp spot near the bottom of her jeans, tried to wipe it off with her hand, then gave up. "I got to go!" she blurted out, then turned and flitted around the corner of the house.
"And I was left laying there, spent but not very happy about it. But then, as I pulled out my handkerchief and began to wipe my cock and clothes off, I had second thoughts. After all, I thought, this was a beginning. I knew that luscious Linda liked her sex, that I would get her boobs into my mouth again, and that sooner or later my mouth would find its way between those sweet legs. And Linda had had a double-barreled treat. She not only had seen her first cock, but she had seen a man come. I didn't know for sure what long-range effect it would have on her, but I had the feeling that whatever it was it would work to my advantage. I left the farm exhausted, but looking anxiously forward to the future.
"But the next couple of times I went out to the farm I didn't get to see Linda. Only her old lady. And that bird, although she never said anything, would stare at me as though I had copped the crown jewels. I had the feeling she knew some-thin' had happened, although she didn't know what. Later, after we were married, Linda told me that she had seen her mother checking out her jeans very carefully that night, but the old gal, if she found anything, didn't say one word about it.
"During the next two years, I only got to be alone with Linda on one occasion. Meantime, I was doing a lot of shacking up in town. I must have sacked out with at least a dozen girls during that time and I literally ate most of them dry. Oh, I fucked them, too, but for some reason I always enjoyed it more when I went down on them and they went down on me.
"It got so that before I went into the service I could identify a girl by the smell and taste of her cunt. I'd actually forget names faster than I'd forget the taste of cunt lips. It's amazing when you stop and think about it. I believe that cunts are just like fingerprints. Each and every one is different. The shape may be the same, but there are other things that separate them all from the rest. The size of the hole, the color of the skin, the odor, the taste, the wetness--all these things and more add up to a Susie, a Jackie, a Phyllis, a Marion, and a bunch of other individual girls. If somebody could perfect that system, there'd be one hell of a rush at the employment office of an identification bureau.
"For all the girls I had sex with, and enjoyed sex with, I still didn't care for them as much as I cared for Linda. As the months went by and I grew more and more frustrated at being unable to get her alone, I slowly, and rather frighteningly, came to the conclusion that I was falling in love with her. I guess it showed in our eyes. And I'm sure that bitch of a mother of hers saw this, but didn't do a damn thing to let it develop. Only one time did she let Linda and me be alone. And that was the day before I went into the service. We knew-we only had a few minutes so we didn't do anything really. All we did was kiss and promise to write each, other while I was away. It was the look in Linda's eyes after our last kiss that told me I wouldn't have to worry about any of those other horny studs that I knew would come pokin' around, lookin' for her sweet pussy. And it was the one time in our lives that I was grateful for the presence of her mama.
"During the next two years, Linda and I were faithful to our promise--about writing. She wrote me three, sometimes four days a week, and I usually got a note off to her at least once a week. I had the opportunity to go home on leave on two different occasions, but I turned them down, taking leave instead around where I was stationed. I think if I had gone home during that time, Mama or no Mama, I would have attacked Linda the moment I would have seen her.
"I wiled the time away in Europe mostly, sampling all of the Continental meat I could get into my mouth. I'm convinced that if there's a common meeting ground for nations, it's in the sack. I was practicing 'make love, not war' long before it came into vogue. But all the time I'd be down in someone's snatch, I'd be imagining it was Linda's. Then later I'd find something wrong with the gal's meat so I could always hold up the vision of my Linda's pussy as the perfect piece.
"When I finally came back home, I knew I had a decision to make. Either take Linda from her mother or give her up. I thought about it for one second and made my decision. Linda was now nineteen and her mother had no damned right to keep her penned up like some prized hen. I made up my mind that I was going to take Linda away with me, and if her mother tried to stop us, I would tell her what bus she could take to hell.
"When I drove up to the farm that day I was surprised to find Linda's mother standing on the porch, her hands holding two glasses of cold lemonade. As I walked up on the porch, she held one glass out to me, actually smiled, and motioned for me to sit down on a half-demolished wooden chair that rested against one end of the porch railing. I really had no choice but to sit down on it.
"Don't see any oil jugs," she crackled as she sipped on her lemonade.
"No, ma'am," I said, my eyes looking over her shoulder, trying to detect movement in the house.
"She caught it. She looked back over her shoulder, then returned to me. "Linda's in the orchard. She'll be back shortly." She smiled again, sipping her drink.
"I was getting uneasy. The woman had smiled at me more in five minutes than she had in the three years I'd been lugging oil for her. What the hell was she up to.
"I read all your letters, Oscar," she said quietly. I stared at her, a needle of anger digging at my neck. "Oh, I know, I know,. " she waved her hand. "It was none of my business, readin' those letters." She smiled again, swirling her glass so that the ice tinkled like Chinese chimes. "Nice letters," she said. I silently thanked heaven they were all clean. She held the glass up in front of her and peered at me through the ice and lemonade.
"I want to marry Linda!" I suddenly blurted out.
"The glass never left the front of her face, but I could see her cheeks rise and I knew she was smiling again. "With my blessin', " she said quietly and matter-of-factly.
"My mouth opened in surprise and shock and I leaned too far back in the chair. It gave way and I found myself on the floor of the porch. I looked up at her quickly. For the first and only time in my life, I heard Linda's mother laugh.
"The engagement period lasted all of two weeks. Despite the fact that she played watchdog like she had never played it before in her life, I think Linda's mother realized the starving look in my eyes was something she would never be able to contend with if it exploded into action. So two weeks, a small wedding and reception, and fifty miles from the farm later, Linda and I began our honeymoon.
"I had picked the best motel in the area and had paid a week's rent in advance. I anticipated spending seven glorious days in the sack with my young virgin, and, eventually, we came damn close to spending much time at the game of sex. I had barely set the suitcase on the floor when Linda walked up to me, kissed me soundly on the lips, and said, "Let me see it." Before I could answer or make a move, she had dropped to her knees and unzipped my fly. When she pulled my rod out it was already half-hard and as she cradled it in the palm of her hand, it rapidly snaked out into full bloom.
"She 'oohed' and 'ahed' as she held it, enjoying her first few moments of really examining a man's prick. And I had something for her to look at--seven inches of fleshy lumber, hard, thick, and primed for action. While she caressed it, I quickly slipped out of my trousers and shorts. I stood there for a few moments, allowing her to look at it, to touch it, to squeeze it, and to examine minutely my sack of balls. She pulled the foreskin back and lightly squeezed the head of the penis, forcing the pinhead-sized hole to open and close. She smelled it, audibly inhaling her pleasure, and then, bless her, she lightly kissed the tip of the head.
"Lord, Oscar," she said as she slowly drew herself to her feet, "it's gorgeous. I had forgotten what it looked like. Oh, I never imagined it would be so big." She stood now, her face buried against my neck, for one of her lovely, delicate hands still fondled my balls.
"And, my sweet little wife," I whispered into her ear, "I believe that you, too, have something for me. Let me tell you, I can't wait much longer."
"She looked up into my eyes and laughed. Her lips met mine, pressed hard against them, and sucked. Then she plied her tongue into my mouth, running it over my teeth, titillating the roof of my mouth with light stabs of love. We exchanged saliva while that hand of hers tenaciously clung to my genitals, alternately squeezing my balls and caressing my heavy prick. Then, abruptly, she pulled back from me.
"I can't believe the day has finally come," she said. She placed her hands alongside her temples and shook her head. "I just can't believe it. All that waiting. All that terrible waiting."
"No more waiting, honey," I said, moving toward her. I placed my hands over her hands and drew her face toward me. I kissed her ... lightly ... on her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, and her mouth. My mind and body were revved up for sex, of course, but I also felt love--a deep love--for my bride.
"She looked at me, a look of uncertainty flashing across her beautiful eyes. "Shall I--shall I go to the bathroom and undress?" she asked haltingly.
"I laughed and squeezed her body to me. "Not on your life," I said. "This is one time nothing's going to keep us apart."
"She smiled and backed off from me. While she was removing her outer clothing, I disposed of the remainder of my clothing. By the time she was down to her panties and bra, I was stark naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her undress.
"As she undressed, I noticed that she was embarrassed, and persisted in avoiding my eyes. I'd have no part of that; I thought it imperative that we get our marriage off on the right foot. "Look at me, honey," I said. "You're undressing for me now, your loving husband, and not just for yourself."
"She smiled and looked at my face. Then her eyes rested on my cock. She smiled again and for just a second I thought I saw her lick her lips. That fleeting moment made me hotter and I grabbed a firm grip on my cock and started manipulating it back and forth. When she saw this, her eyes flashed and I could sense the long-dormant passion churning in her. With one deft move of her hand behind her back, the bra fell loose. With her other hand she tugged at its front and it fell to the floor. Her boobs fell free and hobbled sexily against her chest. Oh yes, they were much bigger now than they were several years ago. My Linda was a woman now and those free-swaying tits screamed this fact out.
"Like them?" she asked, standing limply in front of me, looking down at them with more than a small amount of pride.
"You'll find out in just a few minutes," I croaked. "The panties, Linda. Get rid of the panties."
"Hooking a thumb on either side of the panties, Linda easily slipped out of them. I watched in delight as that bushy forest of hair came into view. It was a full crop and it enhanced the beauty of her V-shaped crotch. Lord, everything was perfect. Everything was as I dreamed it would be. Her body would be the envy of every husband in the world. Gorgeous. And, oh, so delicious looking. I murmured the word, "Gorgeous," aloud and I saw her body heave with the deep breath she took.
"Come here," I croaked again.
"She walked up and stood in front of me, her feet planted firmly on the floor. There was no embarrassment now. We were both exposed to each other: I, the experienced, she, the virgin. The black forest was positioned right in front of my nose. I was salivating, an alcoholic in search of a drink, a nicotine addict craving a smoke. I sniffed at hair. Ahhhh ... And then she did something that really turned me on. She reached down between her legs and smoothed back the hair so I could see the upper portion of her pussy. Then she worked her fingers downward until she was able to spread the lips of her vulva. "All for you, Oscar," she husked. And with that she leaned her torso backward so I got a full view of her cunt. At that point I had to withdraw my hand from my prick for fear of coming.
"The sight was breathtaking. The classic-shaped vulva reared up before me. Its color was more red than pinkish or purplish; the outer lips were unusually smooth and bore just the slightest outline of pubic hair; the inner lips bore a slightly purplish hue and they were slick with her sex juices; above the vaginal lips, Linda's clitoris bulged against its protective covering, a nub of flesh I would use to give her years and years of enjoyment; and at the base of the vulva, where the lips joined together, I could see her hole, tiny now and waiting to be explored.
"Her delicate fingers kept the lips spread as I examined her sweet pussy. Occasionally, she would run a finger up over her clit and then down to the entrance of her vagina. She was moaning in heat all this time and I knew she was anxious to get the sex initiation under way. And I was only too willing to satisfy her. But first--first--ah yes, first I had to taste that sweet meat.
"Gently, I placed my hands on her waist. Then, as I fell back onto the bed, I guided her forward so she eventually crawled up onto the bed and straddled my face. "Oh, Oscar," she whispered hoarsely. "Is this the way we begin? I mean--" And she was cut short as my mouth made contact with her magnificent cunt.
"Sweet pussy, she tasted good. I mean you could take all the attributes of all the girls I'd gone down on, put them all together and they wouldn't begin to compare with the goodness of my own wife's precious, precious cunt. It was a cuntsucker's dream come true. There was no odor emanating from her genitals; it was a fragrance, an exotic and erotic fragrance. The taste was from a flower native only to some Utopian glen. The feel was dewy velvet, warm and delightfully supple. And the whole of this delicious meal belonged to me---only to me.
"I lathed the entire pussy with my tongue. Outer lips, inner lips, clitoris, and the extremities of her hole. I sucked voraciously, trying to tear the very life from it. I kissed it. I chewed on it. I blew on it. I nuzzled it with my nose. I found myself earnestly thanking her mother for saving this sweet piece of tender, young flesh for me. And above me I could hear Linda moaning her ecstasy, enjoying every last sensation of my sucking...
"As I worked feverishly on her box, my own rod was turgid and ready, but was unattended. I wanted it to be touched, to be loved. I wanted it in Linda's mouth. I wanted her to learn what I liked.
"Carefully, without removing my mouth from her cunt, I hunkered my body backwards on the bed until I took up its entire width. Then I placed my hands on Linda's sides, urging her to turn her body. It took a moment, but she got the message. Soon her face was hovering over my prick. She hesitated. "I don't know if I can do it," she whispered urgently. "I just don't think I can do it."
"Try," I pleaded. "Just try." There was a long moment and then I felt her torso move a split second before I felt her lips touch the head of my prick. Thrills surged through me as those lovely lips explored the bared head of my prick. Then I sensed her tongue coming into play, skirting tentatively around the sensitive skin. "That's good, baby, that's good," I husked up at her. Slowly, ever so slowly, her mouth moved downward, all the while applying moderate suction on my shaft. And then I felt my prick stab at the back of her mouth and I knew she had taken all she could. I found her clit with my tongue and began to make sweeps at it. Her sweet ass bucked in the air once and I knew she was on the road to orgasm.
"My pulsing cock still filled her mouth, but she wasn't moving her head. She held it tight, flicking her tongue lightly against the skin of the shaft, and sucking lightly. Then, suddenly, she pulled her mouth up and murmured throatily, "It tastes good. Oh, I love it, Oscar." Down went her head again, and deep into her throat sped my now flaming rod. But once again she just held it, not moving. "Move your head up and down," I said through her cunt hair, anxious to give her-her first load.
"Amateurishly, for which I was grateful, her head started bobbing up and down. Her strokes were alternately long and short, her rhythm anything but even, but who the hell cared. She was well on her way to her first blow job. I could feel the load gathering at the base of my genitals. Churning slowly, now a little faster, on its inexorable journey which would send it through my meat into her mouth.
"And then I came--hard--blowing wad after wad of boiling sperm up into that sweet virgin mouth. I heard her gasp, then gurgle as the steaming liquid poured down her throat. For an instant I was afraid that she was going to pull her head back from my throbbing meat. But she must have sensed the need--the imperative need--to stay put, because she did. And I could hear her swallow and the juicy sounds drove me on to give her a second load. It was the first time in my life I had experienced a double orgasm, and I silently vowed to pay her back again and again for that mind-blowing thrill.
"Moments later, I was kneeling oh the floor, my face buried deep between her legs. There was no time for playing around now--my limp cock ached in satiation--so I went to town on her clit, rhythmically lapping at it with the flat of my tongue, working hard to bring her to a nut-breaking climax. And when she came, she was like a wild filly. Her body flew off into convulsions and her box smashed against my face again and again as she gasped out a long orgasm. And then she went limp, her arms extended lazily alongside her body, her sopping cunt pressed securely against my face. Her lips moved and from them I could hear her murmur the words over and over again, "Oh, Oscar ... oh, Oscar..."
"The honeymoon week whipped by much too fast. I would have given my right testicle to stretch it out another seven days, but I had taken a new job and had to report to work at the end of the honeymoon. I will say this about those seven days at the motel: I had about thirty of the greatest orgasms I'd ever had in my life. Linda made out too, but even at that time I knew that she wasn't as happy as she might have been. I spent way too much time sucking her when I should have been fucking her. It wasn't until the third day that I finally screwed her, and then I only did it because I thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown. All told, I only fucked her three times during the entire week; every other orgasm she had came by way of my mouth.
"Maybe I am perverse, who's to say? I've read in books that if you like any kind of sex better than penis-vagina intercourse, there's something wrong with you. But to me that's all theory. People guessing. I enjoy having my mouth on sweet cunt and I enjoy having my prick shoved down a tender throat. And I feel that it's my business. If some bookworm expert wants to put an abnormal tag on that, well, that's his business. Me, I know what's good for Oscar--and I know what Oscar-likes.
"However, right from the beginning, I got some static from Linda. Subtle, at first, then more obvious. She began to complain that she wanted to feel me in her more often. She wanted me to slack off on the mouth jazz. I tried to explain to her how I felt about it and I think for the most part she understood, because I sure as hell sucked her more than I fucked her. But, although she'd climax, I always got the feeling that it could have been better for her. Finally, after we'd been married about three years, I knew that something was going to break if we didn't reach some kind of an agreement. And that's when I met Phill J--. This was a guy who told me he knew of a way where I could have my cake and eat it, too."
* * *
Oscar D. is a classic example of an individual fleeing the challenge of responsibility. His strong oral inclinations, which appear to have no basis other than his "preference" for them, are, in fact, a subconsciously chosen manner of sexual behavior that practically guarantees him not only the freedom from responsibility of potential parenthood, but also the freedom to leave his wife, Linda, whenever he so desires. It is not difficult to see that Oscar's primary reason for marrying Linda-- in spite of his claims of "Love" for her--was entirely self-centered. He wanted to possess her sexually (his way), and the only way he could succeed in doing that was by marrying her.
One might ask why Oscar, if he was simply shirking the "dangers of parenthood," did not resort to the use of contraceptives. The answer to that might be best offered by an analogy of a man suffering from hydrophobia. If the man has been imbued with an irrational fear of water, the availability of life preservers will not be reason enough, in his rationalization, to go near any potentially dangerous body of water.
Unwillingness to accept responsibility, regardless of the chronological age of an individual, is a common sign of emotional insecurity. And it appears to be a common sign in our society. David Abrahamsen, in his work The Road to Emotional Maturity, has the following to say on the subject:
Husbands and wives may give many reasons for not wanting children; they cannot afford them; they haven't the patience; they're more interested in their career. Frequently, however, these are rationalizations which conceal their own emotional insecurity. Men often claim their income is not sufficient to support a child because, unconsciously, they fear his usurping their position in their wives' affections...
Of course, in the case of Oscar D., there is little chance that he feared such usurpation of affections; the subsequent swapping of wives arrangement that he engaged in with Phil J. supports this. Oscar D. was only interested in the gratification of his urges, and he was interested in obtaining this gratification from as many varied women as he possibly could. His marriage to Linda can be considered nothing other than a temporary affair, in spite of his claim that after the mate-swapping arrangement he engaged much more often with Linda in heterosexual intercourse. Linda's side of this case history was not available. As a matter-of-fact, it was not available because she had left Oscar "for some goddamn reason, and went back to her mother."
This was a blow to Oscar's ego. He had been in the habit of being the one who would break off with a girl after having used her; a woman's doing that was something new, something that shook the crutches of egotism on which he had been balancing himself his entire life. It is possible that this, unusual to Oscar, happening might make him take a retrospective look at himself, although the chances are that he will consider himself to have been "deceived" and through that consideration simply increase his efforts to attain as much gratification for himself as he can and give as little as possible.
The following conclusion of this narrative clearly shows that Linda had served his purpose, that he had become tired of her, and that he was preparing--through his plot with Phil J.-- to expand his sensuous horizons.
* * *
I had met Phil -- when I had enrolled at a local athletic club in an effort to relocate my 32-inch waistline. He was a former semipro football player who was moonlighting at the club as a physical fitness instructor. We had a common interest in sports and it wasn't long before we had developed a good relationship. He introduced me to a weekly poker game and shortly after that we started going out to the ball games together. The way we fell in with each other, it was like we had known each other all our lives. Soon our personal life started creeping into our conversations and with it came sex and our sex problems.
"I had seen Phil in the shower at the club and knew he was hung like a Palomino stud. There was a sausage hanging between his legs that was much thicker than mine and about an inch longer. I really envied the guy and figured that his wife must have spent her day setting the clock for bedtime. There was no way that Phil could have any sex problems.
"But he did. Unlike me, Phil was a fucker first and a sucker last. There was nothing that gave him more pleasure than pile-driving his meat up a hot female tunnel. But his wife, Edna, was frigid--or so Phil claimed. Oh, she'd try to get with it at times, but he really felt that she was intimidated by the size of his cock. According to Phil, she spent a number of nights putting him off with one excuse or another. He said that he'd usually put up with this for only so long before he'd storm out of the house to find himself a more willing piece of nooky somewhere. But he didn't like it one bit--the guy was really turned on to his wife.
"Anyway, one conversation on sex led to another conversation on sex and before I really knew what was going on Phil and I had worked out plans to set up our wives for a little swapping. Phil thought it would be good for the marriages and with the trouble I'd been having with Linda, I agreed we had nothing to lose. The one thing that bothered me, though, was that if Phil's wife was 'frigid' with him, how the hell would she ever agree to end up in bed with a stranger. "That's the part we have to work on," Phil told me.
"Our plan, as loose as it was, was keyed on patience. We figured that if we didn't rush things, they had a better chance of working out. So we started double-dating. A ball game here, a movie there. Some weekends we'd go out on picnics, on others we'd get together at either his house or mine and play cards.
"Gradually, the four of us began to jell. Edna, who was a blonde stunner worthy of an ex-football player, turned out to be a friendly, down-to-earth gal. If there was any 'coldness' about her, she sure kept it under coyer during our first few meetings. She and I would often sit out a hand of cards and swap small talk on the couch while Phil and Linda carried on with the card game. Phil would observe these little 'breaks' Edna and I would take with a great deal of pleasure, and I could see that Linda was also very friendly and relaxed with Phil. It looked like our plan just might work.
"One Saturday night around eleven o'clock, when we were all half-gassed on booze and bored with playing cards, Phil broke out an adult sensitivity game that he had bought a while back and had then stored away for an appropriate evening. There wasn't much to it, really. It only consisted of talking to the other players and occasionally touching them on 'safe' parts of their body. But it gave me my first look at Edna's up-tightness. One move called for me to face Edna, place both my hands on the back of her neck and pull her forward until our foreheads were touching. She jerked when I touched her and, although followed the rules of the game, her head was shaking the whole time we were pressed together. When we broke apart you could have heard her sigh of relief ten blocks away. I looked a little warily at Phil, but he only slipped me a satisfied wink.
"As for Linda, she really dug the game. At one point, Phil was called upon to slip an arm around her waist and tell her that he felt close to her; another move entailed Linda sitting on his lap and resting her head under his chin. Linda went through all of this openly and friendlily and, needless to say, Phil enjoyed every moment of it. Edna smiled at their actions, but I could feel a slight bristle emanating from her body as she brushed against me. Only for the briefest moment did I experience any jealousy. And when that left me, I knew that I'd really dig the swapping when and if we got around to it.
"Gradually, the four of us worked some light-hearted sex into our conversation and play. Phil began calling Linda, 'Boobsie,' a name chosen for obvious reasons--and my wife loved it. They began poking fingers into each other's ribs, and every now and then I'd see Phil's finger catch one of Linda's tits. She'd smile at that and her eyes would sometimes flick down to his crotch, but she never said anything. It didn't really matter because during our conversations at home Linda gave me the signals that she was ready for something other than poking with Phil, so I decided to make an all-out effort to loosen up Edna.
"It all came to a head, if you'll pardon the pun, one miserably hot summer evening. We were at Phil's place and had just finished one of his flamboyant barbecues--this one being a gut-filling two-inch steak dinner. We were all on the patio, lounging around in our bathing suits, burping gassily from the meal. It was contentment at its best. I was so full that I felt as though I could sit there forever. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind.
"But then, my wife--and leave it up to Linda--stood up for one reason or another, and her tits suddenly popped from her bikini top. Edna shrieked and Phil just stared, dumbstruck. Linda giggled and tried to stuff her tits back in, but the bikini snapped and the entire top fell to the ground. Edna shrieked again, but this time fast-thinking Phil gleefully hopped to his feet, scooped up the top and held it in his hands, staring all the while at my wife's luscious huge lolling boobs. If ever I saw a starving look on a man's face, it was now.
"Help you put it on, ma'am," he said facetiously, leering openly at the puckered nipples before him.
"Phil," Edna said, a hint of tightness in her voice, "I don't think Linda appreciates that"
"Oh, I don't mind," Linda said pleasantly. "We're all friends, aren't we?" She looked at me and I just shrugged my shoulders and smiled back at her.
"Phil moved in back of Linda and, with a magnificent performance of fumbling, touching, and squeezing, managed to get the top back on her. I could see the hard on pressing out against the front of his bathing trunks. Linda must have felt it, too, because she squealed, "Ooooh, I feel a stiff little mouse back there."
"Even Edna gave in and laughed at that. Then the blonde shocked all of us, including her husband more than a little, when she said, "Who'll help me on with my suit if it should fall off me?"
"She had tried to keep her tone light, but the strain in it was there for all of us to catch. There was a pregnant dead spot before my brain whirled and I could finally work out the words: "Your servant, ma'am." Again laughter, but more nervous this time.
"Edna looked at Phil and their eyes locked together for a long silent moment. Then he cracked a thin smile and pursed his lips. Edna reached over and touched my naked knee. "I don't think my dirty old man of an old man would help me. Are you sure you meant what you said, Oscar? I mean, just incase?"
"Try me," I said, and suddenly I realized my throat was very, very dry. The game had begun. I lurched for my glass of water and took a fast sip. It was anybody's guess as to what would happen now. But I was getting horny with anticipation.
"Edna was squirming in her chair, her luscious body straining against the bikini, the devil's own look on her face. Suddenly she jumped to her feet, hooked her thumbs into the sides of her bikini bottom, and flicked it down her curvy legs. "Oooops! Just look at that!" she exclaimed, as the piece of cloth feel clear down to the patio pavement.
"She really didn't have to say that. All of us were staring. Linda's eyes were bugging out. Even Phil had a stupid look on his face. And I was making the most rapid appraisal of cunt that I'd ever pulled off in my life. Unlike Linda's black forest. Edna's blonde bush was only thinly visible, almost downy. I could easily see the top of her cunt lips and the puffy clit that protruded against the lower fringes of her hair. Adrenalin was spurting through my body and I involuntarily licked my lips.
"Servant...? " she blew at me, her eyes flashing out her dare. I blushed wildly. "Come on, servant," she purred, "you did say you'd help me."
"Yes, ma'am ... with pleasure, ma'am," I said as I hustled to my feet. But before I could advance on her, she had turned and flitted through the patio doors, squealing over her shoulder, "You'll have to catch me first."
"I looked at Linda. She was giggling, but her face had that oh-so-familiar bedroom look. Phil moved up to her and casually draped an arm around her shoulders, his itchy fingertips resting lightly against the swell of her right breast. He nodded at me, indicating I should follow Edna. This is it, I thought, and with one last glance at the two of them, I took off into the house.
"Edna was sprawled across the living-room couch, her legs spread wide, her prominent cunt staring me in the face. "What the hell, Oscar," she said. "I know Linda and Phil want to make out. If nobody minds, why shouldn't we...? " Her jaw slackened as her eyes fell upon my bulging bathing trunks. A shadow of uneasiness fell across her face and she closed her legs ever so slightly. "You won't hurt me, will you, Oscar?" she whispered.
"I smiled and moved up to her. "You're gonna love it, Edna. You're gonna love everything we do." And with that I sat down beside her, folded her into my arms, and kissed her soundly on the lips.
"Ummm," she murmured. I could feel the tightness slowly draining from her body and it gave me the courage to be more aggressive. Eagerly, I frenched her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, her ears, her neck, and her mouth again. Her arms were locked tight about my neck and she responded to my wild kisses with little frantic attacks of her own. I swung my head down to her breasts and discovered, to my delight, that she had already disposed of the bikini top. Her tits, pale and balloonish, bobbled erotically against her squirming body. I pressed them together, mincing the huge nipples, and sucked both of them into my mouth at the same time. My tongue couldn't move fast enough; there was so much area to cover and I was anxious to mouth all of it. I sucked on the nipples, skirted my tongue around the splattered-on areolas, then nibbled lightly on both nipples simultaneously.
"All this time Edna--'cold, frigid' Edna--was loudly moaning her pleasure. She reached down and while I half stood up, she pulled off my trunks. I heard her gasp as she spotted the size of my pulsing cock. Her hand touched it and then pulled quickly away. She moved down to my balls, touching them, pinching them, pulling on them until they began to hurt. I pulled her hand up and kissed it, then ran her fingers into my mouth and sucked on them. She leaned forward and kissed my mouth and her hands at the same time. 'Frigid' my ass.
"From the corner of my eyes, I saw Linda and Phil standing at the patio door. They were both naked, Linda facing us, Phil standing behind her. Linda was squeezing her beautiful boobs, crunching them together, her eyes riveted on Edna and me, while Phil had reached around her and was massaging her clit. I could see the sensuous smile on Linda's face and I was pushed almost to the point of orgasm, just realizing that things had worked out so well.
"Do you want to fuck or suck?" I whispered in Edna's ear.
"She looked at me, her eyes smoldering. "Eat me, you sucker, eat me!"
"I'll suck you dry," I promised, and her eyes flashed hotly. She licked her lips and her steaming breath seared my face as she recklessly threw back, "And I can hardly wait to get my mouth around that beautiful piece of meat down there." And then she fell against me, moaning and squeezing me tightly, sucking on the hollow of my neck, planting a hickey I would wear for a week.
"I gave her a tongue bath all the way down to her sweet-tasting pussy. She was sopping down there even before my tongue went to work. The cunt smell nearly drove me up the wall as my nose rubbed against her clit, rode down the rubbery soft lips, and finally burrowed deep into her juicy hole. I was on a trip, a wild and dizzying sex trip! Hungrily, I slammed my tongue deep into her hole and sucked out all that lovely sex juice. I lapped at the sweet lips of her vulva, joyously enjoying the taste of her cunt fluids. And then I sucked in the whole of her clit, lipping it, tonguing it, teething it, sucking that clit voraciously.
"Heavy moans were sounding from across the room. I turned my head for a moment and watched as Phil and Linda, locked in the classic position of intercourse, rhythmically banged away. Linda's eyes were clamped shut and her head swung from side to side as she thoroughly enjoyed the sensations of a good fuck. Phil was laboring hard, the sweat pouring from his forehead, but I knew that he, too, was enjoying every thrusting moment of it. I knew that his cock was feeling as wild and as good as my mouth was. He had been damned right about one thing: We were having our cake and eating it, too--and I was doing it literally.
"I looked up at Edna. She was watching Linda and Phil, a look of glazed ecstasy lining her beautiful features. Then, as if in a trance, and still watching the other two, she tugged one of her huge tits upwards to her mouth and began sucking on it, languidly, almost as if she were unaware of her actions.
"I went back down on her, my senses reeling with all the erotic sex play going on about me. The thought of my wife taking another man's cock up her cunt was both exciting and upsetting. One part of me kept saying that if she really loved me she'd come around to my way of thinking about oral sex and enjoy it as much as I did; the other part of me kept saying that I was too damned selfish and that I should allow my wife to enjoy a real good fuck, something, as I stole another glance at them, she was obviously getting from Phil. Get with it, I told myself, you've still got Linda, and now you've got this other sweet piece, too.
"Edna's cunt was burning and alive. Her ass bucked and her box crunched against my face, twisting and turning as she strained toward her climax. I dug my tongue deep into her hole again and lapped it dry. My nose quivered lightly on her clit, again and again and again, and I could feel her body squirming for release. It was the first time I had ever brought a woman up so far with my nose. Her clit was puffed and I could feel the hardness constantly growing within it as she got nearer and nearer to exploding. And the closer she got to that moment, the more delicious cunt juice I was able to sip from her hole.
"As Edna's body started its final throes toward climax, I quickly shifted my lapping tongue from her hole to her clit. I worked expertly on the flaming nub. First that side, then this side. I held tighter to her thighs as her bucking became more violent, more demanding. Her hand clamped at the back of my neck, forcing my mouth harder against her churning meat. Nearer and nearer she came, and then, with one violent prolonged shudder, her body gave in to all her gasping efforts and it slammed out a tremendous climax, one that if I hadn't had a death grip on her thighs, would have flung her from the couch.
"She 'uhhhhed' and 'ahhhed' her pleasure, filling the room with body-wrenching groans and an occasional wistful sigh, as though she was sorry it was rapidly ending. I know I was. I was already making plans to get my mouth on her sweet meat again. First chance I'd get, I promised myself.
"Linda and Phil were still humping away at each other. My wife was completely out of it as the huge man furiously reamed her cunt and at the same time devoured one of her tits. She was making those funny little gurgling sounds she always made just before she exploded, and her hands were pounding crazily on his back. As I watched them, my own cock suddenly became wonderfully warm and wet.
"Edna had slipped off the couch and had filled her mouth with about half the length of my rod. A few seconds later there was no doubt left in my mind that Phil's beautiful blonde was a professional cocksucker. Having consumed half my shaft in her mouth she greedily tried to force more in by guiding the head of my penis to the very recesses of her throat. With agonizing deliberateness, she took more and more of it down her gullet; for a while I thought for sure her lips would make it down to the base of my shaft--something Linda had never been able to do. But then, as she reached the three-quarter mark, she gagged. Quickly, Edna halted her movement and released about one-sixteenth of an inch. She had established her limit--now she knew exactly how much of my meat her mouth could take.
"Thoughtfully, she adjusted her body on the floor so that I had an unobstructed view of her mouth on my prick. It was a thrilling sight and I helped her maintain it by grabbing a fistful of blonde hair and moving it to one side. And then, with obvious anticipation, she started in on the blow job.
"Slowly, the woman began pulling her mouth back over my rod, drawing forcefully on my meat with tremendous suction, churning her head as her lips and tongue crawled deliciously over every inch of my pulsing flesh. When she reached the head of the penis, her tongue bathed it and poked into the tiny slit, tasting the mucus that had gathered there. She moaned out her delight and I stifled a driving urge to pull her lips from their work and kiss them to show my pleasure and appreciation. Back down she went, her lips and tongue active all the way, stoking my prick with the fire of mind-blowing passion. Again and again she did this, each time bringing greater and more urgent thrills to me. And then I could feel my body grow taut, the familiar swirling within my loins, that numbness grasping at the base of my rod, and I knew it would all blow out on its own now; there was no turning back.
"Load after load of hot come spewed into her mouth. With guttural animal-like sounds she closed her mouth fast about the jerking meat, coveting every last drop I could give her. And when I was limp, her throat was still swallowing, her mouth was still working, still searching for drops of sperm that were no longer there. She's a greedy little piece, I thought, a greedy little piece that I knew I would enjoy time and time again. She was a born sucker, like I was. She could fill all my need; I could fill all hers. We lay there for a long while, wrapped in each other's arms, oblivious to the sounds of orgasm from the other two in the room.
"I closed my eyes for a few minutes and savored the afterglow of our sex. I opened them when Linda knelt beside me and began to lick the side of my neck. On the other side of Edna, I could see the back of Phil's head, his face obviously buried deep within the crack of his wife's ass.
"Linda slowly pressed down on my chest until I was lying flat on my back. Then, smiling the sensuous woman's own smile, she crawled over me, straddled my face, and sank her beautiful cunt down over my face. She may have been thanking me or just telling me that she still loved me, but whatever, I began to feel that old wonderful warming stirring in my balls again.
"The four of us meet regularly now. Not too long ago we added another couple to our little family, and the six of us are constantly looking around for new cocks and pussies. As a result of all this, I get all the oral sex I want, usually when I want it. And I fuck Linda a hell of a lot more than I did during the first years of our marriage. So the swapping, as Phil and I had hoped, is helping us. So far, anyway. I often wonder how Linda's mother would feel if she knew that her daughter was enjoying her marital life to the fullest--and then some."
* * *
As mentioned earlier, Linda had left Oscar D. and went back to her mother. It was only after psychoanalytic probing that Oscar admitted to this fact. It is peculiar that Oscar had decided to see a psychiatrist about his problem. The impression he left with the therapist was that he was seeking not so much a cure to his preoccupation with oralism as an official statement from the psychiatrist that he was a perfectly normal adult human being who simply "did his own thing." He was not given this statement. He did not return for subsequent visits. Prognosis is indefinite.
CHAPTER THREE ABBY
"I just don't know what to say. It's all rather ridiculous. How did I come to be what I am? I don't even know what you mean--what I am. I'm a young woman, finding myself in an intolerable situation...
"Where do I begin? Childhood, I suppose, though I don't recall haying anything connected with sex in my childhood. My mother was a widow, rather frail. I remember my father as a rather nice man who always seemed a trifle puzzled by me. As if I'd come from under a cabbage leaf, instead of in the normal way. Children get those impressions, don't they? I suppose he looked at me that way because he hadn't wanted children. Or expected any.
"I suppose I was a reasonably attractive child. Rather wispy, I suspect, like Mother. I don't even recall any boys 'eyeing' me, as some of the girls at school said they did them, although I had--or developed at about fourteen--a rather nice little figure. like Mother, I had a rather small bust. It has never gotten very large, even today, at twenty-three.
"I suppose I had--fantasies. Most girls do. Mine were rather vague, I know I passed through a rather difficult period--my first few menstrual periods--accepting that as what Mother called 'a woman's lot.' I was curious, naturally, about what it meant. Mother told me about eventually marrying and having a man--sleep with me--and having a child.
"Some of the girls at school were quite a bit more lurid, and specific. I don't think their talk frightened me; it just seemed unnecessarily--picturesque. Graphic, I suspect is a better word. I suppose, to most people, I seem to have lived in an emotional vacuum, until my cousin Hattie came to visit.
"Cousin Hattie was not really a large woman, though she seemed outsized. Especially in our rather staid home. She was quite vivid. Colorful. And she had lovely clothes. Quite sophisticated. I can't think why she even came to visit us. Probably had one of those crises in her life. She was always having crises, as I found out.
"The clothes--Cousin Hattie's beautiful things--were my undoing. They were so intense, yet lovely. I can see her now, swirling in from a party ... I don't know how she found a party in less than a week. Mother and I had lived there all our lives--or all of mine, anyway--and never knew such gay parties went on. I can see Cousin Hattie to this day.
"The door sweeps open--no door just opens for Hattie--and she swoops in, her yellow chiffon swirling. She turns back to laugh at some man and closes the door in his face, falling against it and laughing. "Oh, men!" she says, and sweeps up the stairs, grabbing my arm and pulling me into her room. "This is delicious! I must tell you." She always has something 'delicious' to tell, though it usually amounted to nothing--or else was incomprehensible to me.
"She flings off the yellow chiffon, letting it fall carelessly on the bed, and starts out of her slip, talking. I pick up the yellow chiffon, fondling it, smoothing it, touching it to my cheek. I look up. Cousin Hattie is in bra and panties, looking at me rather oddly. "You like it, don't you?"
"I nod. "It's--beautiful. I never had anything like it." Cousin Hattie flings herself down in front of the vanity, looking in the mirror at me. "Put it on child," she says and laughs. "If it fits--" Just enough of a suggestion--not a promise--that if it did, I might have it.
"I have no idea where I would have worn such a fragile thing, but just the idea of possessing it seems to knot me up inside. I nod and tug my sweater over my head. I step out of my skirt and stand in my half-shift and bra, just looking at that dress, then lift it to drop it over my head.
"Cousin Hattie comes over to help me. Just as the dress is slipping over my head I realize Cousin Hattie doesn't have on her bra. She has really lovely breasts, firm and pink, with small rosy areolas and small firm nipples. With her arms lifted to help with the dress, they stretch and grow taut. Even from that distance I can feel the warmth of her body and smell her fragrance, which is more than just perfume. A lot of it is Cousin Hattie.
"I let the dress fall and my head comes out at the neck. I shake a little to get the folds right. Cousin Hattie backs off, frowning. "That bra's too bunchy. Where do you ever get such monstrosities?" She turns to the vanity. "Something sheer. Just a suggestion..." She comes back with one of those wispy, gossamer things that are next to being naked. "Up with it, Abby. All the way up!"
"So I lift the dress, till I'm almost smothered in those chiffon folds. I can feel Cousin Hattie slide her hands around me and undo my bra. And my bosom is bare. She leans over quickly and kisses one nipple. "You're a delicious child." And snaps on the wispy bra. It's like soft, transparent hands holding my breasts. And I let the dress fall, shaking myself into it again. Once more Cousin Hattie frowns. "Where does your mother find such--primitive underwear? Lift your skirt, darling, and peel out." I lift the skirt and Cousin Hattie runs her hands down my hips and slides my cotton panties off, letting them drop around my feet. She drops to the floor in front of me. "Step out of them, child. And into these."
"I can peek down and see those scandalously brief panties as I lift one foot and then the other. Cousin Hattie slides them up my legs, trailing her fingers so that they feel hot against my flesh; Quite honestly, up to this point, I do not think Cousin Hattie had any thoughts of a sexual nature about me. I'm quite sure she didn't deliberately set this up in order to--well, I suppose you'd say --seduce me.
"She slides the briefs almost to my hips and then leans forward, her breasts brushing my thighs, and kisses me, right on my sex, a slow, sweet kiss, her tongue darting out to touch the lips. It startles me. No one ever has touched me there. I guess I gasp. Then I start to shake. That kiss does things to me. Makes hot flashes run up and down my legs and through my stomach, with great heat centering right in my sex. I drop the skirt of the dress. It covers Cousin Hattie's head and shoulders, but I can feel her, moving her hands around my bottom and along my legs, while her tongue searches through my pubic hairs to reach the lips of my vagina--and teases my clitoris.
"I never knew there could be such feelings. Excitement and languor at the same time. I am not ashamed. I don't know why. I don't have time to be ashamed before my body is responding to Cousin Hattie's kiss. Responding wildly. I move my pelvis back and forth, trying to push my sex on to that probing, exciting tongue. My legs grow weak, so that I sag.
"Cousin Hattie throws off the yellow skirt draped over her head and stands up, looking at me. "Lovely, lovely, child! Here!" She pulls the dress over my head, tossing it carelessly aside. I don't even care about the dress any more. My sex is so hot, my body so stirred, I'm shaking.
"She turns me to the bed and I fall across it like a rag doll, my legs already spread so that she can continue that exquisite kiss. I have nothing on but that wispy bra--and Cousin Hattie disposes of that, so she can get her hands on my breasts, her fingers manipulating my nipples. Such delightful pains shoot through me. From my nipples, from my sex, radiating all through me, making me weak, shaking me, yet making me feel tremendous, as if I had expanded out of my skin.
"She caresses the inner sides of my thighs, running her hands over my sex, opening up the lips and then stabbing her tongue inside, moving it, so that exquisite sensations well up, flooding my stomach, making my legs ache with pleasurable tension even though they're slack. And her hands go again to my breasts, kneading them gently, teasing the nipples, 'biting' them with the sides of her fingers. I lie back, gasping, my stomach churning with delight, my whole being seeming to center on that one special area of intense feeling. That's all I can do--feel.
"I know, from the sensations I can trace, that my vagina Is opening, unfolding even its inner lips, allowing her tongue deeper inside. And I am producing juices, copiously, and Cousin Hattie is licking her tongue at them as a cat licks at cream, daintily yet hungrily. And then her mouth fastens on my sex and she begins sucking while her hands play with my breasts, lovingly, tenderly.
"I can't believe such tensions could exist! I seem about to explode. I even look apprehensively at my stomach, but it is only heaving. And then the tensions let go! Such immense release! Such wild excitement and release all at once. I have read, later, that climax takes only ten seconds, but I can never believe it. It's eternity compressed! It's delight and wonder and excitement. Sheer and beautiful. And I am exhausted. Utterly drained. Cousin Hattie continues to drink my juices, lapping with her cat-tongue movements, so that I have brief, shuddering excitements recurring but the big excitement, the tremendous surge, is over.
"Finally Cousin Hattie sits up, covering her mouth with her hand, but not before I've seen the blurred lipstick and cream of my juices around her mouth, her beautiful hairdo tumbled and disheveled. She gets up quickly and runs to the basin, washing her face and touching her hair. She comes back with a warm washrag and bathes my sex, gently, yet once more stirring those newly created excitements. I moan a little and roll my head. "Please, Cousin Hattie. Don't. Not again."
"She smiles at me. "Of course not, you dear child Of course not Just relax, Abby. Lie there for a while." She leans over and kisses my cheek, tenderly. "You're a dear, exquisite child."
"I look up, almost glaring. "I'm seventeen!"
"Cousin Hattie laughs. "Practically an old hag." She lies down beside me, holding me gently. "Did you-like--what happened?"
"I breathe deep and nod, "You know I did. Nothing like that ever..."
"Cousin Hattie kisses me. "I know, child. I know. And it's equally wonderful every time."
"I shake my head. "Oh, I couldn't. I couldn't. Not again!"
"Cousin Hattie squeezes me, chuckling softly. "Of course not, child. Not now, anyhow. But you'll dream about it. And think about it. And want it again, and again. And again."
"She's right. I do dream about it, and have an orgasm just from the dream, wetting my bed, something I haven't done since I was a little girl. But the dream is almost as good as having Cousin Hat-tie kiss my sex. Almost, but not quite.
"I don't know how she managed Mother, but she did. I had just graduated from high school, so Cousin Hattie suggested a vacation, at her summer cottage in Maine. Mother, of course, couldn't go. She's town librarian. But she let me go. Just the idea of the trip to Maine excited me. I'd never been out of our small town, except for weekends, and once on our regular school trip to Washington, for graduates. Big deal, two days in Washington and four on a bus, sleeping sitting up.
"I honestly don't even think about haying Cousin Hattie kiss my sex again. The excitement of going away keeps me occupied. Cousin Hattie tells Mother not to pack much, as we'll buy new clothes in New York, the right sort for Maine, which of course I haven't got. And that's an added thrill. Buying clothes in New York!
"In New York we settled into a big hotel and went shopping; We came back with the most thrilling boxes. And scattered them around the room. "Try them on, child."
"I stripped to try on clothes, each outfit complete from the skin out, with Cousin Hattie watching, eager. When I peeled out of the last outfit, she was undressed, too, though I hadn't noticed.
"She's got a beautiful body, slim as mine but tight, muscular, and marvelous control. She walks over to me, those beautiful breasts of hers just quivering with her walk, and hugs me. I can feel the wonderful warmth of her body and the sudden tingling of my own breasts as we press them together. Since that first time, she hasn't made a motion toward me or even given me sultry looks, which I had sort of expected.
"She's just a friend, a wonderfully kind friend. And I'm deliriously happy. Now, once again, I begin to get excited. In a physical way, in my breasts and down at my sex. Just a tingle to start, but it builds as she kisses me, moving her body against mine in a slow, sensuous rhythm.
"Her hands slide around me, moving down my back and reaching to my buttocks. They're small, but firm. She tugs at them, pulling me toward her, until our bodies touch, from breasts to knees. And the rhythm of her movements stimulates me, excites me. She bends her head and kisses my throat. For some reason that triggers great hot flashes, so I think she must feel my stomach and pelvis get hot, burning hot.
"Very slowly she drops to her knees, her hands moving over my body, caressing my breasts, coming back to hold my buttocks firmly against her hot, flushed face. One hand slides in the crack and her fingers tickle my anus. I never thought there was any sensation there. I mean sexual sensation. But I have it, and I tell you, it's the greatest!
"I get such hot flashes all through me, just feeling her fingers tease it. And I'm not ashamed. I would have thought I would be, but I'm not. It's just another new, exciting feeling. Then her other hand slides over my pubic hairs, and her fingers delve down in, to where my sex is burning with desire. Her fingers touch me, right on my clitoris. I moan and press myself hard against her face. It's her tongue I want, and don't really know it, even though her fingers are exciting.
"She walks on her knees, walking me backwards to the bed and I fall across it, opening my legs. Or they open themselves. And her tongue darts into my vagina, hot, teasing, just a little rough but wonderful. Oh, so wonderful! It wiggles a little and plunges deeper. Her fingers work around my anus and I hump up, moaning. One hand caresses my breasts, playing with my nipples until I am shaking with the desire of her.
"She pulls her face away then, and for a moment I think she has just been teasing me, tormenting me to desire, and is going to leave me, leave my body aching with want. But that isn't it. She walks around to the other side of my single bed, where my head is lolling. I can look at her pubic hairs, far darker than her own hair--which Mother had always said, rather disparagingly, 'she touches up'--and on up her front, her nice, flat little stomach and peachy-creamy belly button, to the soft, firm swell of her breasts. I reach way up, to touch them, and she leans over me, kissing my mouth, upside down, and then my throat. As she bends, I can see the lips of her sex swelling through the pubic hairs, lovely and ripely pink. Kissable!
"She runs her tongue from my throat down to my breasts, leaning way over, her legs spreading in a slow revelation of her sex. I take one hand from her breast and move It to touch her sex, just lightly. She moans and wriggles closer, sliding her tongue past my belly button, teasing the creases of my legs and stomach, and down to my sex again. By that time her beautiful pink sex lips are right above my mouth. They glisten with moisture, and I reach up, stretching my tongue, and taste her sex. Delicious.
"She drops down, slowly, seeming to use my tongue as guide, right over my mouth. Her sex is wide open, even the second lips protruding. I slide my tongue in between them, moving it back and forth, and feel, with my tongue, the hard little knob of her clitoris. She moans, wriggles more firmly on me, and fits her mouth over my sex, reaming up my vagina with her stiffened tongue. Her breasts are pressed tight against my stomach, as mine are against her, and her sensuous, slow movements stir wild excitement through me, while her tongue is seeming to concentrate intense heat down at my crotch and through my legs.
"I plunge my tongue into her vagina, working it as far up as I can, tasting the preliminary juices, hot and creamy. She bobs her pelvis up and down, so that I can give greater motion, but it is difficult to keep my mouth sucking, she gets so violently active. I reach up and grab her buttocks and slow the action down. And I move my pelvis a bit, to get some additional action from her tongue.
"Once again there are those wild tensions, that tremendous squeezing of every organ, it seems, into a tight, hot knot that suddenly lets go. A silent explosion that shakes me! She seems to have one. too, heaving and thrashing ... Her vagina floods with juices, creamy, hot and rich. I suck them and lap at them with my tongue in shuddering ecstasy. Only ten seconds for all that marvelous feeling? I can't believe it. I don't even believe it to this day.
"She rolls off me, gasping, licking at her smeared and blotchy mouth, while my juices still pump. And I can breathe again, not normally, but in shuddering gasps, shivering with the receding waves of sexual stimulation, of immense, untellable delight. I close my eyes, still seeing the last flickerings of the vast flash that has seemed to sear them.
"We lie there, shuddering and shivering, though the room is quite warm, our bodies barely touching but each seeming scorching hot. Eventually Cousin Hattie gets up and gets a warm, wet wash-rag and bathes my face and her own, and then washes my vagina and crotch, and then her own.
"We lie there, both in my bed, curled up together, reliving happily the past few minutes, until I fall asleep, with the most erotic, exciting dreams. Cousin Hattie must have gone back to her bed, because she is there, tousled and sleepy, when I awake, but smiling gaily at me. "You're a wonderful, amazing child, Abby. And quite beautiful, you know, in a fragile sort of way." She sighs. "Which often drives men mad, quite idiotically mad."
"I sit up in bed, startled. "But, Cousin Hattie, men don't interest me. Not in the slightest. And certainly not that way." I can't bring myself to talk about sex even then. I rarely can, even today, when I have learned so much more.
"Cousin Hattie smiles. 'You're sweet, child. But you will be interested, and the men very much interested in you. You have a--flair--for it, Abby. A perfectly marvelous, uninhibited flair for sex." She nods. "Oh, yes, the men will be interested."
"I hug my knees, feeling myself get hot down around my hips from just thinking about it. "But with a man, I'd--well..."
"Cousin Hattie laughs. "You'd get pregnant? Not at all, child. Not the way we do it."
"I guess I frown. "But men do it--well--different, don't they?"
"Cousin Hattie reaches over and touches my arm. "Some do. Most do it the--conventional way. Which, of course, is quite-likely to produce a child, no matter what precautions you take. But swingers--real freewheeling swingers--prefer it the way we do it."
"I shake my head. "I--I can't imagine it." And, quite honestly, I can't. I don't, at that time, know much about men, about how they're shaped in those parts, but what I do know makes it seem impractical. And I can't imagine letting a man see me nude. I'm even squeamish about going to a doctor for an examination.
"But I learn. Cousin Hattie says we haven't time right then for another. We have to pack and make the plane. "But in Maine! Oh, you'll love it, darling. Love it! I have the dearest little place. Right on Penobscot Bay..."
"Cousin Hattie's 'dearest little place' is a quite large, handsome old Maine farmhouse, redone as only ample money can redo an old house. And from her glass-enclosed porch there is a magnificent view of Penobscot Bay and the islands and the lobster boats. And my room has the same view.
"It is late afternoon when we arrive, tired and dusty. Cousin Hattie shows me my room and the shower. "I'll be with you in a moment." She is, in a soft woolly bathrobe, and we take a shower together.
"It is delightful, soaping her wonderful body, feeling her breasts smooth and slippery with soap, and having her hands sliding over mine, all the way down my back and even into the fold of my buttocks, right on to my anus. When she touches that, I just plaster myself against her, moaning.
"So we rinse off hastily and dry each other with those big, fluffy towels, enjoying the lovely, rising excitement of touching each other's body. Cousin Hattie even kisses my sex and nibbles playfully at my buttocks, but not too much. "We save it And then we'll have a delightful time. Wizard."
"We do have a delightful time. I never knew my body had such capacity for response. Nude, rosy from the shower, relaxed, we play with each other, Cousin Hattie's adorable body pressing softly against my sensuously warmed skin, her nipples rosy and delicious to taste. We lie across the bed, in opposite directions, my head almost off the edge, my legs off the other edge.
"With her hand on my sex, her fingers playing among the pubic hairs and occasionally plunging excitedly down my vagina or teasing my clitoris, she talks softly about tonight, and the men I'll meet and how delightful they'll find my body--and I theirs. Delicious thrills chase themselves over my skin and center into a tightening, gradually warming knot down at my pelvis. My hands seem to find new electric thrills from touching her breasts, playing with her nipples, moving slowly, sensuously, delightfully down and around her buttocks, even teasing her anus. I can feel it contract and expand spasmodically to the touch.
"When her soft, lovely mouth, with its charming curves, fastens on my sex, I am in absolute heaven. I fasten my mouth on her sex, fingering aside her curly pubic hairs to touch those soft, swelling lips and then tease her stiff little clitoris with my tongue before plunging it deep within her. My tongue can feel the motions in her vagina, can touch and caress the soft inner walls and taste the creamy juice. And I can feel it happening down at my crotch, too. The unfolding, the awakening to new delights, and building tensely and tightly to a new climax.
"Her breasts move softly across my stomach and mine press up against hers. I can thrust mine up by pressing my hands on them until her soft, hot flesh caresses the nipples, stirring me to frenzy. But mostly my hands roam her lovely body, learning every alluring curve, sliding over her gently mounded buttocks and down, until my fingers tease her anus and she shudders, moving her body tightly against mine. And that marvelous tension is building, tightening, getting set for that tremendous, silent explosion. I feel it coming, tighter and tighter, as her tongue slides in and out, caressing, driving, teasing. And my juices spurt spasmodically like small leaks in a great dike, as if my insides can't hold all that wonderful pressure.
"I taste her womanness, in her juices, in the warm depths of her sex, smell the delicious, musky woman-smell of her, and hear soft, whimpering moans--whether mine or hers I don't know. Knowing it is about to happen, I clamp my hands on her head and thrust her face tight up against me, at the same time craning upward to fasten my mouth tight on her sex, stabbing inward with my tongue.
"I feel her stomach contract against me, then let go. And her wonderful, sweet-musky juices flood down, over my tongue, filling my mouth with a taste indescribably delicious. And I feel that terrible, delightful tension reach a crisis--and let go, flooding my whole being with juices that pour down for Cousin Hattie.
"And then, utter collapse, into soft waves of satiation, into momentary shudders that are themselves delightful. And the light brushing of bodies as Cousin Hattie turns around. The warmth of her sweet, naked flesh against mine. I can scarcely tell which is better, the tremendous, exciting tensions of climax or the tender, gentle, soothing aftermath, of warm bodies close and fragrant with the musk of sex in the air, with soft, tentative touches. Both are sex, yet so different, each wonderful but quite distinct, even though one blends into the other.
"We lie like that for a long, dreamy, delightful while, just resting. Just rebuilding the vast energies that have drained me. And drained Cousin Hattie.
"Eventually, moving with infinite slowness, it seems, we move back to the shower and the delight of warm water running over hot flesh.
"As we are drying each other, the fluffy towels momentarily hiding that pinkly delicious flesh, Cousin Hattie tells me what will happen tonight. "I'm having a party, a small, very select party. Just four. Ralph, my special friend, Edward, who is a bit younger and very virile--for you--and the two of us. Just a small, intimate dinner. And afterward, Edward will take you to your room and undress you. He loves to undress young girls, so let him, darling. Don't hurry things. And don't panic. Edward understands you're new to this, so he'll be very careful, very gentle."
"I shake my head. "Cousin Hattie, I can't! A man? Undressing me? Oh, darling, please. Let it be just you and me. That's wonderful. But I'm--frightened of the other."
"Cousin Hattie powders my body lightly, with some almost scentless powder. "So the woman smell can come through. So many women overload themselves with scent and overpower that wonderful, stimulating scent of woman. And as for being frightened, you won't be. Not once it really starts. A little fear probably makes it more exciting. Remember the first time we were together? That was utterly new to you, but you didn't panic. You won't tonight. You have a wonderful, natural aptitude for sex, without inhibiting concepts. Too many of us were taught to be afraid of it before we learned of its beauty and delights. You have been sheltered, my dear, but fortunately not overpowered by it or by false, so-called knowledge. Just be natural."
"Ralph, a tall, distinguished-looking man with just a touch of gray in his hair, above his ears, is making himself at home when we come down. He raises a glass to Cousin Hattie and bows to me. And starts talking. I can't think now what about. A play, I think. But it was quite easy, quite lively and very natural, if a little sophisticated for me. And it quieted some of the churning fear in me, until I was able to smile and even laugh at the right places.
"Then Edward comes, shedding his coat and explaining why he was late and promising never to do it again. And smiling, He has the most charming smile. He isn't as tall as Ralph---just a shade under six feet, perhaps. With a nice, unruly wave in his hair that I almost automatically want to smooth down. Somehow that completely disarms me. I have been, I think, ready to bristle, to go defensive. Now I am at ease, as much at ease as a young girl could be in the presence of mature and sophisticated adults. And they sweep me into their circle. I mean, they don't condescend, they don't explain, as if I were an idiot child, every remark. They either let me get it or miss it. Once in a while Cousin Hattie or Edward will clarify some point, usually about some local character, as they might to any visitor. It's all so easy and companionable I feel the cold stone of fear in my stomach just melting away. I soon forget it was there.
"By the time dinner is over, I am really beginning to like Edward. He hasn't made any passes but he has managed to give me some long, slow, smiling glances that seem to say, "We share a delightful secret, don't we?" Enough, so I am just a" little fluttery in the stomach but not frightened. Not panicky.
"I do get a moment's panic when he takes my arm after dinner and suggests we stroll on the terrace. I guess I shiver, because he smiles down at me. "We'll just leave them alone..." As if we were planning this for the benefit of Ralph and Cousin Hattie. It makes things easier. And I like the warmth of his arm against my side. Out on the moonlit terrace he stops and we turn to face each other. He puts a finger under my chin, tilting my face up and gives me a soft, very light kiss. "You're adorable," he says, and runs one hand slowly down my shoulders, down my back.
"And I know the big event is about to happen."
* * *
Abby was quite different from the usual run of subjects in for examination and possible therapy. Most often they were either belligerent or brash. Abby was neither. She was almost completely natural, a small, rather slender girl with wide gray eyes that still, despite the experiences it was known she had had, were candid and innocent.
There is one curious element in her narration of her sexual experiences. When she is talking about events unrelated to her Sexual experiences, she puts them in their proper sphere, the past tense. However, when she relates the actual events of her education and later sexual encounters, she often switches to the present tense, as if she were replaying them mentally and describing events as they occur.
While this often happens during a psychiatric examination, the switch from the correct tense into the present is usually because the subject, not being well educated, slips into the language they can handle most easily. The undereducated tend to use the present tense in general conversation.
With Abby, the opposite is true. She has had a liberal education and was raised in a home and among people who spoke intelligently and well, Her mother was the town librarian; her father had been a professor. So the shift to the present tense when relating her sexual experiences tends to indicate she relives them during the telling. It is almost as if she were fantasizing rather than relating actual events. This may indicate an almost ineradicable barrier to her rehabilitation to normalcy. On the other hand, it may be a defense mechanism she has herself devised to separate and compartmentalize her life. Only prolonged psychiatric treatment can determine which.
The distinction is of major importance. If it is a, barrier, psychiatric therapy would be prolonged and might even be self-defeating. If it is a defense mechanism only, the psychiatric aid she can receive may well restore her to complete normalcy or she may even be able to set aside her sexual experiences without undue difficulty, on her own, reaching a normal and responsive attitude toward a man-woman relationship as in marriage. She could. Considering her whole statement, it is doubtful that she will, especially in view of the environment to which she will return, that of the free-swinging sexual set.
From her whole attitude, it is doubtful that any man could have led her so readily into a sexual relationship of any kind, though she was obviously biologically prepared for sex. She was no young child "Led astray" by an adult.
Abby's initial introduction into oral sex-though she was certainly not the aggressor but assuredly cooperative-was with an adult whom she both trusted and admired. Though physically developed, Abby was emotionally immature, a protected and sheltered life had been hers. With these two factors, the trusted, admired adult and her own existing but unawakened sex potential, the result was inevitable. This would be especially true of a girl raised in a purely feminine household, when the adult with whom she eventually has relations is also a woman.
At seventeen Abby was biologically ready for sex. That she had not had previous experience, even to the extent of most girls who have had boys "make passes," is explained by her semi-isolation with a frail mother. Once introduced to sex, oral or other, Abby would have to be expected to respond fully, which she did.
Mankind has discovered long ago that the pro-creative process could be short circuited and gratification still be obtained through means other that utero-genital sex. Fellatio, cunnilingus, sodomy, and a variety of other methods, up to and including masochism and sadism have been utilized by various individuals and groups to obtain that hedonistic gratification. The generally accepted term for these is cultural paraphilia, which Benjamin Karpman in his book The Sexual Offender and His Offenses, defines as "those forms of sexual activity which run counter to accepted social behavior and which are antibiological either per se or because they are socially prohibited."
While Karpman was specifically attacking one of the cultural paraphilia in particular, that of incest, his definition is inclusive, covering virtually forms of sex except that specifically concerned with biological reproduction.
Oral sex is one of the cultural paraphilia under both sides of Karpman's definition. It is anti-biological per se and it is customarily socially prohibited.
In recognizing other forms of sex as being acceptable to the individual, Freud says this of the erogenous zones often classed as "secondary":
In the perversions which claim sexual significance for the oral cavity and the anal opening, the part played by the erogenous zones is quite obvious. The latter behave in every way like part of the sexual apparatus ... in a manner similar to the real genitals, when under the excitement of normal sexual processes.
Abby, either by the initial training given her by her cousin or by some natural biological abnormality, could achieve what seemed to her, and probably was, complete "hedonistic gratification" through the "oral cavity" and the cunnilingus of her partner.
In her statement there is a hint that she also derived considerable satisfaction from the manipulation of her anus. As Freud notes, the anal orifice has, in most persons, definitely erotic response. However, he considers it primarily as a stimulus toward utero-genital sex than as a means of complete gratification.
* * *
"We stand a moment like that, my breasts rising with my deep-drawn breath so that they touch his chest. And I thrill to the contact. He puts his arms around me and draws me close, so that I can feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine. I am no longer frightened. Instead, I am suddenly anxious for things to happen, some of those thrilling things that happen between Cousin Hattie and me. My body responds to his, and I move in closer, feeling a tremendous bulge in his trousers that quivers slightly, shooting amazing new thrills through my pelvis and stomach, warming my breasts.
"The bulge became of tremendous interest, of almost overpowering curiosity. What is it like?" How does it feel? How can we manage, with such curiously divergent equipment? Cousin Hattie's physical conformation I can comprehend. I've seen it. I've touched and tasted it. But not a man's.
"I am almost impatient to know. So I go with him eagerly when he turns me back to the house, his arm around my waist, one hand just under a breast, lifting it a little. He guides me up the stairs, murmuring gentle, soothing phrases that I scarcely hear. On the stairs I stumble a little. It may have been accidental or possibly subconsciously planned, so that his arm would tighten around me, moving my breast subtly under my dress, so that the nipple is caressed.
"In the bedroom I am suddenly shy. Not frightened, just shy. Feeling a little stupid, not knowing what to do. Edward turns me and lifts my face with both hands, giving me a long slow kiss that gradually warms in intensity. With his mouth still on my upturned mouth, he slides his hands down my back, pulling me against him, holding firmly to my buttocks and moving me slightly, so that my pelvis is rocking gently against his male organ.
"The shyness drops away. I know Edward will know what to do and, because he is gentle, will do it properly. I raise my arms and bring his face closer to mine, so that his lips are almost bruising mine. His tongue works out, moving across my lips, gradually entering. And we are caught up in the deep excitement of a tonguing kiss, our bodies moving in a slow, sensuous rhythm that is most exciting.
"I can feel heat building up in my pelvis, through my legs and upward, to breasts, even back into my anus. And something else, some breathtaking tightness of anticipation.
"Edward's hands slide up my back, and he unzips my dress, letting it slide off my shoulders. Then he breaks the kiss and moves away, looking down. The dress slides downward, just catching on my hardened nipples, leaving the pink crescents exposed. I am not wearing a bra, at Cousin Hattie's suggestion. Nor panties. She says they spoil the contour of the dress--and interfere later.
"Edward bends down, kissing the rounded tops of my breasts, and the dress slides farther, down around my hips, where our bodies are still pressed close. Edward bends to touch my nipples with his tongue, and I moan with new happiness. His hands gently down my back, onto my hips, and he the dress farther, until it falls in a heap around my feet.
"I am nude. No, I am naked! There's a difference, subtle, but very real. And glorying in it. A man is seeing my whole body, knowing that, in a few minutes, it will belong to him, wholly, completely.
"Edward drops slowly to his knees, his tongue from my breasts, across my stomach, churning now with eagerness, and down to my pelvis. He runs his tongue along the creases between leg and stomach and then, with his fingers moving from between my legs, parts the pubic hairs and lips, moving in a rhythm that seeks entry. I move my legs apart, bending them at the knees, to give him room. His tongue forces upward, sliding suddenly between the lips of my sex, lips that are already slowly opening for him, and touches my clitoris, vibrating his tongue.
"Even though my body is not fully prepared, I almost reach climax, everything seems triggered. I moan again and reach for his head, pulling him away. "Please, please. Not yet!"
"He stands, smiling at me, kisses me again and picks me up in strong arms, thrillingly strong, and lays me on the bed.
"Edward sits beside me, one hand resting almost negligently on my sex, but moving, oh, ever so slowly. I close my eyes blissfully, savoring every precious moment, every tiniest movement, each building toward that one glorious climax. When I open them, because Edward has stopped fingering me, I see that he is sliding out of his trousers. He already has his shirt and undershirt off.
"I am astonished. His organ is enormous. A great reddish shaft with blue veins pulsing, and a vast, shiny, purple-reddish knob on the end. I never even imagined anything like it! Those I had seen in pictures in the library and on statues in Washington museums had been, well, not small, but not standing erect and quivering. Well, of course, pictures and statues don't quiver. But so---huge! And standing up like that!
"I sit up and stare, pointing. Not saying anything. Edward senses my astonishment and--yes--fear. He leans over and kisses my throat. "You've never seen a man's--organ--before?" I shake my head. He smiles at me, running his lips across my mouth and down, over my breasts, murmuring, "That's how it looks when it's ready." He teases my nipples for a moment and looks up at me. "Are you afraid of it? I promise I won't hurt you. And, after all, I'm not going in your--own sex."
"The kisses and the way his hands play with my breasts and around my sex send up waves of excitement that wipe out my fears. And I lie back with a moan, still puzzled but no longer afraid. He hasn't any breasts, just small, tight little nipples, as if all of a man's growth in a sex way had gone into his organ. But it feels wonderful when he leans over me, kissing my throat, and his nipples press against my breasts. And I feel the heat of his body touching mine.
"Suddenly all the excitement is back, coming in waves as he fingers my sex and plays his hand over my anus, or moves his chest a little to stir up more excitement in my breasts. All of it is building to intense heat down at my pelvis, and as if the heat melts wax in my joints, my legs fall open, giving his hand free rein on my sex. He cups my vagina with one big hand--much bigger than Cousin Hattie's--and sort of pumps. Then one finger eases put and down through my pubic hairs, right on the hot, expanding lips of my vagina.
"I reach up, putting my arms around him, feeling still newer thrills in the feel of his muscular shoulder and back, so different from Cousin Hattie's smooth, rippling back, different--and more exciting. He moans a little and rears back, sliding one of my hands down his side, guiding it down his pelvis and across, just brushing the great, stiff shaft with it. And then back, finally closing my fingers around it.
"I have a man's organ in my hand! It pulses and shakes like a thing separately alive. I'm not sure what to do, but Edward moves my hand slowly up and down on his shaft, and I get the idea. I keep it up, just squeezing a little because the deep, welling pulse of it feels so excitingly good in my hand.
"Edward slides his tongue over my nipples, pumping at them with his tongue, while his hands play at my sex and anus. Gradually he turns, sliding his tongue and lips down my body, moving his and pumping with it from time to time, until his head is down at my pelvis and his hips and that great shaft are up by my head, with my hand still working on it in a slow, sliding motion.
"And I realize, for the first time, that I am expected to put that huge thing in my mouth. I don't feel revulsion. I hadn't when I kissed Cousin Hat-tie's sex, and this wouldn't he any different, that way. But such a size! I couldn't!
"The purplish-red knob is pulsing, a drop of moisture seeping out, shining and wet. And Edward is easing one leg over my head, so that his shaft hangs right over my mouth, his two globular testes in their tight, wrinkled sack swinging just over my nose. His pelvis makes jabbing motions, thrusting that knob at me. I can't take it. I simply can't. Yet that growing drop of moisture fascinates me. I can smell him, the deep, rich slightly murky man-smell of him, and it seems concentrated in that drop. I reach up with my tongue, just to taste it, just as I had tasted the woman-taste of Cousin Hattie.
"The drop slides down my tongue and into my mouth and I really taste him. Added to the thrills radiating from my sex, where Edward is working his tongue deeper in as the lips unfold, the taste of him is exquisite. Rich and satisfying. I can never get that thing in my mouth, but I can lick at his taste. I do, until his knob is slippery and shiny--and jabbing at me.
"It comes down to meet my lips and I curl my tongue around that head--and let it slide into my mouth. It's in! I cannot believe it! And it is as if I had closed an electric current. With his tongue moving up my sex and his knob in my mouth, still newer, fresher, more exciting thrills shoot through me, bringing writhing torment that is sheer pleasure, exquisite delight, and tremendous tension.
"Down by my pelvis my body seems to have a separate life within, a pulsing, living movement, such as the deep tones of a church organ, sometimes vibrates inside. My very nipples seem to glow, touching Edward's muscle-hard stomach, teased by the nest of short hairs there.
"Edward pumps his pelvis a little, driving his knob deeper into my mouth and then easing it back, while my tongue wraps around it, savoring those delicious tastes. And his tongue is far up my vagina, driving in and out, reaming around, touching soft walls of flesh, dropping back for a quick tease at my clitoris. Then his whole mouth clamps down on me, sucking at my sex, a suction that seems to go all the way up me.
"I shudder with the tremendous forces inside me, and squeeze on his shaft, because I know that, in a moment, the most glorious moment of all will happen for me. Edward seems to sense it, or else it is about to happen for him, too. His hands play with my anus, slide down my inner thighs, seem to move in every direction at once and yet not hurry, lingering to extract the most of each delicious moment.
"It's going to happen. I know. I heave my pelvis up to push my sex tighter on his mouth. And Edward thrusts with his pelvis, driving his bulb deep in my mouth, on, down my throat. And holds it, as we both shudder and shiver, pressing tight together, writhing in joint ecstasy. I can't breathe, only make convulsive movements with my throat that seem to milk his knob and shaft.
"Explosion!
"I feel his shaft swell, pulsing madly, and then a gush of hot fluid flooding my throat and mouth with the complete man-taste of him. I simply gulp down all that wonderful taste as I give him the stored up creams of my own body in one flooding gush.
"An orgasm! But such an orgasm! Deeper and richer than any I had with Cousin Hattie. With more taste, more satisfying completion. I fall back, letting his softening organ draw out of my mouth, my tongue licking at it as it goes, savoring the wonderful taste of him. And he eases his mouth off my sex, just scooping up my fluids with his tongue.
"I am exhausted, emotionally and physically. Just limp. Edward moves off my body, leaving It briefly cold and then lies beside me, warming and comforting me. From somewhere he has gotten a soft, damp rag and very tenderly washes my face and lips, kissing me. Then washes himself. Refreshed, we lie there, reliving those great moments of high tension and exquisite release. He murmurs softly to my fear and I turn to kiss that sweet, firm mouth.
"We fall into gentle sleep like that, arms around each other, faces close, so that I feel, even in half sleep, the warmth of his breath on my neck.
"Oh, yes, sex with a man is wonderful.
"I never really change my mind. Oh, I have sex time and again with Cousin Hattie, but it is just-well, interim stuff, until I can have a man again. I even try other women, later, but while it is good, even terribly, terribly exciting, it isn't the same as with a man, though I never want a man to use his sex organ on mine. I have men tell me it's even better, but I haven't yet brought myself to believe it. It isn't fear of pregnancy alone--though that, of course, does play its part. It's just that there's something so immensely satisfying about oral sex. So why complicate matters?
"Edward and I wake twice during the night and have another passionate, ardent encounter, each as good or better than the last. And sleep late the next morning. For a moment, awakening in broad daylight and seeing a man in my bed, I have a moment of panic--and then a rush of tenderness. I kiss his whiskery cheek and awaken him. He reaches for me but I get very stern. "Shave!" He bows his head in pretended meekness and heads for the bathroom.
"I follow, perching on the rim of the tub to watch him glide the razor over his face while he watches me in the mirror. "You're a naked, shameless hussy, Abby, and I adore you!" He kisses me with some of the soap still on his face, and I thrill to the touch of his hands. And then we take a shower together, as carefree and gay as kids; mostly, I think, because we have drained ourselves during the night of all the tensions. Oh, there are tensions, even in the shower, but they are light, ephemeral, passing. And we emerge hungry as wolves.
"Ralph and Cousin Hattie are just settling down to coffee when we arrive. They are looking smug and complacent and replete--as I suppose I am. Edward bows to Cousin Hattie, a smile crinkling around his eyes. "You are a lovely, generous lady, Hattie, and I love you for it."
"Hattie--I call her Hattie after that--laughs at him. "Later, I may ask you to prove it."
"It is all very light and casual, as only truly sophisticated people can be, accepting sex as a concomitant part of life. Not dragging it out for discussions and comparisons and analysis, which can kill the beauty and loveliness of the act.
"We spend a lazy, casual day, some on Hattie's power boat, some just loafing. I know I was dreaming, reliving those exciting, wonderful moments. And hoping that tonight would be another.
"It is, but so different!
"I had never even conceived of multiple sex--daisy-chain, Hattie calls it. It starts casually enough. We are all sprawled in Hattie's 'den'--a room with a huge fireplace in which logs are blazing, giving a soft, flickering light, the only light. Before the fireplace is a great sunken semicircle of padded floor, with heaps of cushions lying about. Edward and I are together, talking softly, his arm around me, his hand slid up under my boucle sweater, resting on one breast, as his fingers play lightly with my nipple. I know, without actually seeing anything, that Hattie and Ralph are starting gentle love play.
"I can't even think of them for the wonderful sensations that radiate from my breast. And Edward's other hand moves along my legs, up and up, until it cups over my sex. I turn and give him my lips, letting his hand move where it will. My own hand drops to his lap, to feel the pulsing bulge of his organ. He rolls a little toward me and unzips his pants, so my hand can slide in, right on his shaft. We both moan lightly and crowd closer together, his mouth hard and tight on mine, his tongue moving. With one hand on my breast and his mouth on mine, I am building rapidly to tense excitement. Especially as I can feel the pulse and strengthening of his shaft, hot within my hand.
"Then one hand undoes my blouse, letting it drop from my shoulders, so that my breasts are exposed, rosy and warm in the firelight. He presses his mouth down on my breast, teasing the nipple with his tongue while his hand plays with the other. And, down at my sex, his finger is sliding in through my pubic hair to lance at my sex itself, moving, titillating my clitoris, until I writhe and moan with delight.
"I move my hand slowly along his shaft and, from his soft groan, I know he, too, is building toward climax. I raise myself a little and slide out of my skirt; until I am naked except for shoes and stockings. I scarcely remember that Hattie and Ralph are in the same room. I haven't seen anything but Edward's dear face and his broad, muscular chest, since he slipped out of his shirt. And now he wriggles out of his trousers, so we lie side by side, our bodies warmed from mutual heat and from the glow of the fire.
"I am surprised, then, when I feel the warmth of another body against my back. I turn and see Ralph there, with Hattie in his arms, both naked, and making love to each other's body, as Edward and I are doing. It is close and exciting, more than intimate, the four of us together. I turn back to Edward.
"He takes my head very gently, guiding it down to his great, vibrating organ. This time I welcome that great knob into my mouth, licking at his wonderful taste, feeling the heat of desire flooding my body. Then other hands are on my body, playing with my buttocks, slipping between my legs to touch my sex. I want to brush them away but I am so intent on tasting Edward's massive organ that my efforts are feeble.
"I feel my body being shifted and look up from my preoccupation with Edward's sex. I still have his shaft in my hand, my mouth still eager and ready, my whole body yearning. I realize we have formed a hollow square, with me as one side, Edward as another, and Hattie, with her hips at Edward's mouth, a third. She is taking Ralph's organ in her mouth, playing with the shaft, and Ralph is reaching for my sex. Ralph is the fourth side.
"I want to protest, but my body is already reacting to the stimulus of Ralph's mouth fastened on my sex. I swing back, thrusting Edward's organ into my mouth, tonguing his knob and tasting his magnificent manhood. I simply give myself up to the waves of tension and emotion that sweep through me, living excitingly for the moment. Ralph's hands play at my anus and open my sex for his lips and tongue which slides in, moving rhythmically to stimulate and excite my clitoris.
"Edward reaches back with one hand and touches my breast, fingering the nipple in a gentle rotary motion. The tensions in my pelvis and chest build to excruciating proportions. How such intense pain can be delightful, I don't know. It simply is. It is, I suppose, the marvelous mechanism of sex.
"I know I writhe and twist with the beautiful agony of it, thrusting my pelvis at Ralph, bobbing my head to cram all of Edward's knob and shaft down my throat, for I know that, for me, the moment has come. All the tensions are accumulated in one blazing moment and then, in a volcanic spasm, I feel myself let go, my juices flooding out, pouring to meet the demanding mouth at my sex.
"A moment later Edward trembles violently, stiffens, and thrusts his organ far down my throat. I can feel the pulse shoot down his shaft, feel it with tongue and throat, and then I have floods of his delightful taste in mouth and throat. More, it seems, than ever before, but perhaps that is just imagination.
"I lay back against the cushions, physically and emotionally exhausted, but very, very happy. Even the shudders that rack my body from time to time are delicious. Edward turns to me and we curl up together, warm and comfortable, once more man and woman together.
"From somewhere Hattie produces Kleenex. I let Edward gently cleanse my mouth and face and work delicately at my sex, enjoying each delicious moment of it, for my body is amply satisfied, my tensions released. Only gentle pleasures remain.
"Later we four sit around the fire, our bodies naked, without shame, without revulsion. Even though Ralph is Older, his body is handsome, ruggedly handsome. Even flaccid his organ seems large, formidable. Ralph studies my body but without shaming me, because he is seeing it, I know, as a thing of beauty, as an instrument of exquisite pleasure.
"Finally he leans toward Hattie. 'My dear, I must have that lovely child all to myself. Tonight. Do you mind?" Hattie laughs softly. "Be my guest." And laughs again. "In fact, you are my guest. But that child has to agree. In this, Ralph, we are all free. And our choice is free."
"I don't know what to say. I glance at Edward for some guidance and he dips his head, just a trifle. So it's all right with him. I turn to Ralph, nodding. He smiles at me, a delighted crinkling around his eyes. "I'll see you won't regret it, Abby."
"I don't. We go upstairs, still naked, and I stand before him, letting him see me entire, complete. He sucks in his breath. "You are exquisite! A very dear child," he said, and reaches for me. I move into his arms, only momentarily frightened. But Ralph is an experienced lover, more experienced, perhaps, than Edward.
"He touches me, and I respond -- and we lie together, in close, warm intimacy. I reach for his organ, swelling again to its vast proportions. And from there on let things build to that magically painful delight, when his organ floods my throat and I release my dammed fluids for his mouth.
"After one cataclysmic orgasm, so vast it seems it would tear me to pieces, Ralph collapses across me and then moves off. "Marvelous! Marvelous! You are a sweet and wonderful person, Abby. Unbelievably sweet. I would love to have such joys again tonight, but I am an old man. Can you forgive me?"
"I touch his cheek, rough now with late whiskers, and shake my head. "There's nothing to forgive. It has been wonderful for me..." And we fall asleep, exhausted.
"In the morning I feel a touch of embarrassment as I face Edward at the breakfast table, but he dispels that with a grin. And we tackle breakfast with young and hearty appetites. I spend the rest of the day and that night with Edward. We don't have a daisy-chain--just the wonderful intimacy of two people together, exploring the wonders of our bodies in the happy abandon of oral sex.
"On Monday, Edward and Ralph head for their jobs in the city, leaving Hattie and me to relive in happy memory that glorious weekend. Hattie doesn't even suggest I sleep with her and have sex, not for three nights. Both of us are enervated by the delights of the two nights with Ralph and Edward.
"Hattie is as sweet as ever, and as exciting in bed. But I have had a man, two men, in fact. And I like men better. Or maybe not better. It's difficult to say. Because Hattie thrills me and builds my body to just as exquisite tensions and monumental releases. But there is the taste of man that I miss. And perhaps the--well---emotional value of a man. Just the idea of man-woman relationship, even though it is oral, not--well--regular.
"Ralph and Edward return for the following weekend and we have one daisy-chain, but the rest of the time I have Edward all to myself. After that there are a succession of young men, each a new delight. I learn to like them all, each in his own way, though there was one I didn't care for, since he kept trying to get me to let him use his organ in mine. I simply couldn't. Not prudery certainly, and not any real fear of pregnancy, since the Pill was available. Hattie had them, for she occasionally took her sex that way. It was just that I got such deep satisfaction from oral sex that I never felt the need of 'regular' sex. I was supremely happy, so why change it?
"Mother died quite suddenly late that summer. I was just able to get to her, to be with her, to give her my last good-bye. And then, after I had buried her, I faced a bleak future. There was money, not a lot, but enough to keep me, even to allow me to go to college if I rented the house. But after those wonderful weekends at Hattie's, those glorious nights with her, what was I going to do? In a town like ours oral sex would be impossible.
"Hattie solved it for me by inviting me to live with her in New York, so I could go to Barnard, where I had qualified. And that began for me a wonderful period, three years of it, seeing Edward occasionally and having hosts of young men around, for Hattie seemed to know where to find those who liked oral sex. She went to Europe that fourth winter and left me with her apartment. One of the men to whom she had introduced me invited me out to a 'real swinging party.' With oral sex. Almost as much fun as Hattie's parties, though the surroundings weren't as gracious.
"At one of them some of the youngsters were smoking pot--and the raid came while I was there. I wasn't smoking--I've never even tried it--or any of the drugs. But it wound me up here, taking psychiatric treatment. For what? So you can turn me away from oral sex? I don't think anything will. It's too marvelous, free and delightful. I love it."
* * *
The environment to which Abby will almost assuredly return will not be conducive to reorienting her toward, as she puts it, "regular" sex. Since she apparently regards the emotional response she achieves as "beautiful" and "complete" in oral sex with either a man or a woman--though she does admit a preference for men--there is little-likelihood that she will make a personal effort at readjustment. This would seem to be especially true since she became annoyed with a young man who had suggested it to her.
Even the shock and indignity of her arrest--which must have been a traumatic experience for a young woman of her social milieu--did not appear to have altered her views on oral sex. She will undoubtedly continue in her practice, as her cousin Hattie apparently has, and will remain addicted to that sexual deviation, unless something compels her to change her ways.
CHAPTER FOUR MARTY
"The really amazing things about this kind of arrangement--this kind of club, if you want to call it that--is that you can write one of your contacts in some town, write them that you're gonna be there, say in a week, and when you get to town you call them up and say, "Hi, Stan," or 'George," or 'Lucy," or whoever, "where's the action and when? Where do I go. Who do I ask for?" And their reaction is usually, "Oh yeah, old Martin from Chicago," or Detroit or wherever. "Come on over, Marty. The gang is gathering and we're all itching to meet you."
You know, it used to be: "We're itching to meet you and Gladys," but then my wife and I separated, so ... Yeah, Gladys and I both used to do the swinging bit. That's how I got introduced to it. And it was a wild, swinging year and a half we spent, first in Los Angeles and then in Chicago, going to these swapping affairs. But then, one thing and another cropped up. You know, sometimes I couldn't take her on a business trip, or we couldn't afford the fare for two.
"But I guess the final strain on her was that I became--what would you call it, orally fixated?
"Maybe.
"Yeah, I'll leave all that psychoanalysis to you. All that shrink-think. Although I can't help wondering about it every once in a while.
"Anyway, it was all right for a couple months that I wanted to go down on her all the time. She liked to give head too. And at the swinging parties everyone seemed to be acquiring more and more of a taste for other people's crotches. It didn't seem to be any big thing ... although, heh-heh, Gladys got hold of a couple big things. Damn near choked on 'em, she did.
"Well, finally there was this one party where there were four of us, four couples. Eight in all, I mean: four women and four men. Jeez, I was thinking only of the four guys who were there, but that's the way I used to think. "Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so." Bill and Ethyl. "Mr. and Mrs. Such-and-such." You know, four guys get together with their wives. I hope that doesn't brand me as a male chauvinist.
"But to get back to the crux of the thing, we were all gropin' around, fuckin' and suckin' pretty much as usual. We were all especially horny that night, so we'd been going at it hot and heavy. There was the smell of cunt and booze and fuck hanging heavy in the air. Well, it turned out that all three of the other guys had fucked a woman at least once, except me. I'd been blown twice and been jerked off once while I licked Ethyl's ass-hole as she was gettin' fucked by Chuck. And all the women had been screwed at least three times, except Gladys. She'd been licked to eye-popping orgasm at least three times, but she still wasn't happy. There is something about a woman that every once in a, while simply demands a cock in her cunt.
"So there were four guys sitting around relaxing, naked, nursing drinks, their thick cocks hanging down to their knees, still oozing semen, raw-red and bulgy-blue veined, still throbbing like athletes panting for breath after a long hard work-out. Then one of the women, who'd been resting her head against Chuck's knee, leaned forward into his crotch and tenderly lapped his dick into her mouth where she chewed oil it gently and sucked the jism off the end. Another guy, affected by the scene, leaned forward and pushed his tongue into the labia of this chick seated on the arm of a chair-the chair my wife was in.
"Well, my wife looked for a moment at the guy's tongue working between the chick's labia, plopping out little pearls of come, and she rammed three fingers into her own snatch. She glared at Chuck's stiffening cock and the concave cheeks of the woman suckin' on it, and she started diddling herself like crazy. And that's when she kinda snapped.
"Eat, eat, eat!" she sneered. "Christ, you'd think we were all dying of starvation. Doesn't anyone fuck anymore?" She was really pissed. "Good God," she yelled, "I haven't been fucked one time in the whole goddamn night."
Unfortunately, no one took her up on her rather unsubtle invitation. like I say, all their cocks were just plain tuckered out, except Chuck's--but Valerie had a good suction on that and had worked old Chuck up to a humping, muscle-tensed mass of straining flesh. When he came--Ng-ng-gh-gh-th-tiy-hy-yeeeeooww!--you could almost see Gladys's nervous system vibrate and tremble in response.
"I felt a bit sorry for her, so I activated some lewd thoughts in my brain to turn myself on. The funny thing was, all the lewd thoughts were about oral sex, not one about fucking. And just as I sensed a couple tiny pulses of blood emboldening my dick, what should happen but Ethyl waltzes over, slides a thick pillow under my head, and sits on my face, plastering her gummy, wide-lipped snatch warmly over my nose and chin. Now Ethyl had a clit that was really something else, and when I scoff her it gives me great pleasure to nibble and suck that glazy stiff little date pit. It so happens that Ethyl is Negro, but I'm not sure how much that has to do with the whole thing. All I know is that when she comes she whoops and hollers so loud you can hear it in the next county. A man takes pride in doing a job like that.
"And Ethyl-likes to jerk me off and watch the jism fly. So she did, and I did--forgetting all about Gladys and the good thing I was going to do for her, Gladys never did get fucked that night. A month later we separated.
"But if it hadn't been for those months when my wife and I were making contacts and exploring the terrain in the swinging scene, I never would have been able to meet the kind of people I now know. By 'kind of people' I mean primarily people that enjoy the same sexual things I do. Although there is definitely something to be said for meeting people of different backgrounds and from other social strata.
"You see, even when you know, within pretty well defined limits, what sort of action you're getting into and what kind of people you'll be rubbing elbows with--
"--hmm, seems like an odd phrase to use when you're talking about sex clubs, but the longer you've been at this game, the more you realize there's other things besides rubbin' cocks and cunts and tits--
"--what kind of people you'll be dealing with, why, even then you discover that your sexual tastes are becoming more refined, and you realize there are certain kinds of people you like and gravitate to, and other kinds of people you can do without.
"For instance, when Gladys and I first began to search out the sex-club scene in Chicago, we ran into a lot of people who boozed up a storm along with their swapping parties. Well, that was okay for a while. Then, even if we'd start getting new members--which is always exciting--after a couple of parties, they'd seem just like the old group. Most of the time everyone woke up next day crapped out on a couch or on the floor and all hung over. There seemed to be a lack of, well, finesse. Maybe that sounds funny coming from a bo-hunk like me, but ... Now, I'm not trying to say I'm dumb or clumsy or ugly, just a middle-class guy whose parents are Polish and Hungarian.
"But after a while, we found a much wider circle of swingers at whose parties things were really congenial. I mean the sex was swinging, the people were refined, and the whole scene was 'ultra.' I'd moved up to become sales manager for a small electronics firm and I was doing a little electrical contracting, so I was pulling down some pretty good bread. I really dug those parties in Oak Park or Traverse City, or sometimes even in suburban Cleveland. And I'd written to people as far away as San Francisco, Miami, and New York. Maybe it's snobbish, but I was starting to think of myself as traveling in the upper circles of the swinging clubs.
"And then the big break came: my first sales trip to New York. So I wrote a couple letters saying, you know, I was gonna be in New York and what were the chances of getting together. One letter was to this chick and another was to a guy, so if the chick turned out to be a dog--and I thought that any single chick who was known to be a member of a sex club might very well be a dog--I could get a better deal taking up the guy's invitation.
"So, when I got off at the airline terminal in Manhattan, I went to my hotel, and immediately made a phone call to this chick. Well, Jesus, over the phone she sounded sexy as hell. We made arrangements to meet at a little bar near Carnegie Hall about eight o'clock that evening.
"Now, let me explain something about some of these clubs. Sometimes, when you write to other people and they write back, you'll exchange pictures, so you'll know if you want to get involved. It's not as surefire as meeting a person face to face, but sometimes it eliminates people immediately from your circle and saves bruised feelings all around. But a couple of times chicks have sent pictures that weren't of themselves ... you know, pictures of another chick who looked pretty good. But when you meet the chick face to face, you'd like to wrap a flag around her face and fuck her for Old Glory.
"So, while I was showering, and as I was walking light-footed along the crowded New York sidewalks, I was wondering if I was gonna have to pull an 'unexpected call' bit and leave the chick after one drink. The picture I'd received from her was that of a pretty nice chick, but like I say, you never know.
"When I walked into the little bar, I saw immediately that it was a place of chic. I dunno, maybe it appealed to my vanity right away. Ankle-deep wall-to-wall carpet, low-pitched-New York-type high-class voices, soft piano music--from a piano that wasn't a piano bar, thank God--and the occasional clink of ice in glasses. But I didn't get a chance to assimilate it all completely.
"Martin, da-a-a-afe-ling," came this voice from a booth. "I never thought I'd see you." This low, sexy voice from a shadowy booth. "Where have you been? How was Bimini?" And she was looking at me. "You sex maniac, come right over here and buzz meg on the table."
"Well, the fact that I'd heard my name called was enough to tweak my scrote--'tweak my scrote,' that was my gang's equivalent of 'frost your balls'--but with a connotation of chin-chucking, not coldness. But when I heard that buzz meg--in Hungarian that means screw me--I knew that this could only be the chick I was supposed to meet. Chick, that sounds derogatory when I think of Lois. Lois, that was her name, and she was a woman, not a chick. When I heard that buzz meg, I knew that this lady was talking to me.
"So I said, "Dahling, how goo-ood to see you," trying my own version of upper-crust New Yorkese. "How have you been?" It was all I could do to keep from swishing and limping my wrist. I sat down next to her in the booth and right away all the facade fell.
"Why don't you have a drink?" she said. "Just one, then we can split this scene and go to where the real party action is." Her eyes ran over my frame, from my hairline to my shoes, lingering several moments around my middle. My middle, hell--my crotch. I felt my whang get semi-hard as her eyes burned holes in my fly. She caught the slight movement and whispered, "Juicy Lucy."
"After the waiter brought my martini, Lois turned her gaze full on me again. "Where did you get that marvelous tan? You're much handsomer than your picture."
"Well, of course, it's always flattering to be told you're handsome, even if the young lady, whenever she uses the word, drops her eyes rather pointedly to your fly. But with that tiny, simple gesture, she managed to keep the periphery of my concentration always on the slight chafing of my pants and the frequent tingle that went through my dick as it kept growing a fraction of an inch at a time.
"God," she sighed throatily, "I'll bet you're hung like a bull." Her eyes glittered as she stared at my crotch and the bulge that was throbbing there. "Let's get the hell out of here--" she noticed I still had half my drink, "--as soon as you're through." Then her hand wandered down to my thigh, and she stroked it for a couple of moments. Then, right there in the bar she took hold of my half-hard whang. I damn near spilled my drink all over. "Jesus," she said, "that's a mouthful, Penny'll have a hard time getting her mouth around that. And she's the best cocksucker in the city of New York." She jerked me absently for a while. "God, I bet you come quarts. I hope you been saving up. Penny and I can feast on that. You like to eat cunt, I hope."
"Well, shit, with her stroking my cock and talking like that, I didn't think I'd ever get soft enough to stand up and walk out of the place. But I finally did. It took a lot of willpower, I can tell you.
"We hailed a cab, and she gave the address of some place in the east Seventies. I was trying to be suave and debonair, you know, like I was used to New York and the whole jet-set scene, but I spent half the time staring out the window and gazing up at the tall buildings. Now, Chicago is not a small town, but there's nothing quite like New York for tall buildings; They're almost everywhere.
"The rest of the time I was looking at her, because here's the funny thing. The picture she'd sent me was not a picture of her. It was of a rather attractive girl, blonde, tall, willowy, but it wasn't her. I didn't mind too much, because this Lois was really a knockout. I had to ask her about it, though.
"You know what she said? She said, she used the photo of the other girl, and other devious tricks to avoid inadvertently running into any family friends. Once she got a picture in the mail of this guy--he'd been using a fake name--who was a business associate of her uncle's. Well, she broke off that correspondence in a hurry. She kept the photo, though, because it never failed to turn her on. It showed this guy right in the middle of an orgasm while he was being jerked off by a buxom honey-blonde who was leering at the camera as huge gobs of come sprayed all over her tits and face. And she had her finger shoved deep into the guy's ass-hole.
"Lois was, if anything, open and frank about sex. The way she talked, in that low, throaty voice of hers, was enough to keep me massively hard the whole time. When we got out of the cab, it seemed like I was sticking out a yard in front. It occurred to me that cabdrivers in New York must see some interesting things in their rear-view mirrors.
"We took an elevator up about three floors, and it opened into a little foyer where there was only one other door. It turned out that this was the penthouse. Penny lived there, and she was nothing but rich---as was Lois. Why they trafficked with sex clubs, I don't know. They could've had any guy they wanted. I guess they just liked to get their kicks that way.
"We rang the bell and she said, "You'll like Penny and Fred. And with a cock your size, Penny will love you. God, she'll suck your eyeballs out through your dick. But, first you'll eat me. I want you at full strength when you lick my clit."
"Then there was a voice from the other side of the door. "Lois?"
"Lois said, "Hi, Penny, yeah, it's me. And I've brought the most gorgeous hunk of hot, throbbing dick you could ever hope to stretch your lips around."
"Oh, yummy," the voice said. Then the door was thrown open, and there was a beautiful woman standing there in the altogether, with four busy fingers buried deep in her snatch. Her limpid blue eyes, almost purple in their intensity, passed over me quickly, and, with one deft move, her arm flicked out, unzipped my fly, and had my cock out of my shorts and waving in the breeze before you could say "Jack Robinson."
"Oo-o-oh," she breathed. "Yes, this must be Martin," she said, staring fixedly at my red whang. "God," she said, tentatively hefting my tool in both hands, "there's ten pounds of swingin' meat if it's an ounce." Seizing me by the peter, she led us into the apartment.
"The way her hips and haunches rocked when she walked promised pneumatic delights. She led us into the bedroom where this long, lanky guy was lounging on the bed with a hard on anybody'd be proud of. Now, I don't like to boast, but when I'm horny and have a really good erection, it just touches nine inches, and it's a good two inches in diameter. And my balls--well, if a girl's got small hands, she has to use both of 'em to hold my scrotum.
"Well, this guy, Fred, had a good eight and a half inches, and I would guess the head of his dick was at least two inches thick.
"Look, Fred," said Penny. "Look what I found. Is this a cocksucker's dream, or isn't it?"
"Yes, indeed," said Fred. "That is indeed a noble tool. Now maybe I can get some rest for a couple of minutes. I am sucked dry."
"The imp," laughed Penny. "I've only blown him six times in the last three hours, and he's still as horny as they come." She patted his cock fondly. "And come you do, don't you, sweetums? ... Huh? You love it." She lowered her mouth to his hard on and, puckering her lips, sucked lovingly on the very tip of the head.
"Good God, what technique," groaned Fred. "Penny blows your mind while she's servicing your cock." Incredibly, his dick seemed to swell and stiffen, and the big veins in his shaft stood out till I thought they were going to burst. "Old Fred here is just a jism factory, a never-ending fountain of hot, thick semen. And does he ever like to get his cock sucked." Penny probed the end of his dick with the tip of her tongue.
"Oh my God!" Lois shouted. "All that cock-sucking just makes me horny." I noticed that she was stepping out of her panties, and a slight sheen of dew oozed around her cunt lips. "Horny, horny, horny!" she chanted. "Marty baby, drop your drawers and sock that cock to me. Christ, tickle my tonsils with that juicy morsel of U. S. prime." Her eyes were bright and avid as I stripped and felt the blood pulse through my dick.
"She was actually panting while she eased me down to the thick carpet with her. She gently took my balls in her hand and tickled them as she ran her tongue around the end of my dick and then down its length. "Mmmmm," she said, "I love the good, solid feeling of a heavy, full set of gonads." She scooted around and spread her legs so her moist pussy was poised above my face. "Oh God," she wailed, "Marty baby, bury your face right into my sopping twat! Gimme six inches of tongue immediately if not sooner." And with that, she dropped her juicy black-haired slash smack onto my face.
"I remember I was surprised at the firmness of her thighs and buttocks, because at first glance her figure was really quite lush. Nice, full breasts that jutted out proudly, a fairly narrow waist that curved into a firm mound of stomach and jutted almost too abruptly to accommodate her wide hips and firmly rounded ass. I'd expected to feel a certain amount of flab, but it was all pretty much strongly resilient muscle. Several times, in her excitement, I could feel her squeeze in on my face with the muscles of that beautiful ass of hers.
"I was only dimly aware, busy as I was gouging out her cunt as deeply as I could, of the sort of running commentary she kept up even while slurping away on my dick. Occasionally, her thighs would clamp over my ears and shut out sound entirely, except for the liquid slurp of my tongue. But I could make out things like, "Hot cock ... The biggest dong I've ever seen ... Strain my jaws trying to get that whole goddamn thing in ... Yum, yum."
"And I swear she got fully three-fourths of my hard on into her mouth. I swear I could feel her throat muscles squeezing gently on the swollen head. She squeezed and gently fondled my balls and stroked and tickled the sensitive spots around my ass-hole till I could feel the pressure of a huge load building up in my gut.
"All the time, she never ceased wiping her wide-open slit around in little circles on my face and kind of giving my nose and tongue little love-nips with her labia.
"I did my best to return all the little goodies she was titillating me with. She had these firm, plump labia--not flabby or floppy or gauche--that were a nice healthy pink and salmon color, and I got a charge out of pulling on her buttocks and opening the labia wide--wide enough to cover my face from cheek to cheek--and then nibbling and licking first on one and then on the other. Even the fragrance of her pussy was healthy-smelling, kind of like new-mown grass or freshly cut watermelon. I really lapped it up.
"And I remembered that she'd said she wanted me to have all my energy when I ate her, so I figured she wanted to be energetically eaten. I took a deep-down suction on her wet snatch, pushed my tongue into her vagina as far as it would go, and really yodeled in her canyon. My tongue went sloppy-slap like a thing gone mad, and after a couple minutes I could really feel the strain on the root of my tongue.
"But, God, it was fun! It drove her out of her gourd. She swiped her pussy over my nose and forehead and chin, and humped a couple times so hard I thought she'd force my teeth into her flesh. But I just firmed my lips over my teeth and kept on licking. I could barely hear her muffled cries of pleasure reverberating around the entire length of my raging cock. But I could sure feel them.
"Then her whole body seemed to tense for a moment, and there was a choked scream that buzzed my cock something tremendous. It seemed like a tiny carillon began to play along-my tube and tingle in my vitals. Her hands began a rhythmic squeezing and drumming on the cheeks of my ass. My own hands caressed down the hot flesh of her hips and belly and seized firmly on both her tits, which seemed to bring her to the precipitate edge of orgasm.
"Suddenly she gripped both cheeks of my ass tightly, and her legs shot out beyond my head so that her mons and clitoris were mashed snugly against my open mouth. With effort I managed to curve a couple inches of tongue into her sopping cunt and, as her thighs began an agitated trembling against my ears, I could feel a slight sympathetic vibration of her vagina walls, as if they were the inner cheeks of a mouth sucking.
"Then I felt her mouth lift off my dick and heard a sharp, rising note of "Ah ... ah ... ah-ah -- a-a-a-aahhh!" and a flood of pussy juice sloshed over my face. Her cunt seemed to grow molten hot and relax so that it spread mushily over my chin and cheeks. I was so surprised by the intensity of the mush and gush for a few seconds that I forgot all about being blown and that I myself was on the verge of a blockbuster come.
"But after Lois relaxed for a few moments, she seemed to be overcome with that mushy, kittenish gratitude that so often seizes a woman after she's had a good orgasm. She scooted around so she was facing me, kneeling on the rug between my legs, and she really started to honk on my horn. Her phrase, incidentally, was honk my tuba. "Shit," she said, "that's no horn, it's a goddamn tuba."
"And, boy, did she ever honk it. Seeing her there with her head lowered onto my dick, her faintly blue-veined breasts hanging down and tipped with huge-nippled tits, I was reminded of nothing so much as a contented cow at pasture gently masticating some choice stalk of young green corn. She'd taken so much of my cock in her mouth again that the head was getting a vigorous massage from her throat muscles.
"The scene on the bed with Fred and Penny struck me, incongruously, as lewd. I mean, I was in the middle of a lewd scene, too, if you're gonna think that way. But it turned me on and made my dick start to throb. Penny was sitting solidly on the poor guy's face and casually licking his cock like a candy cane, while she stared avidly at Lois's blow job. You could hear the loud, liquid slurp of Fred's tongue in her crotch.
"That brought me over the edge. My dick burgeoned with pencil-thick veins and gave a couple hefty throbs. Lois gave it a few fast pumps of her hand and a couple extra squeezy sucks, and -- wham! It felt like my load ricocheted around my balls and tube a few times, then--just as Lois took her mouth off it to admire the plum-red tip--out shot a geyser of steam cream. Christ, it was scalding!
"It seemed like it shot ten feet in the air, catching her nose as it went by. "Agh! ... Fuck!" I shouted.
"Lois and Penny both gave little cries of pleasure as they watched the long gob of semen arc through the air, then Lois's croon gave way to a squeal of dismay as she felt my pulsing cock pumping in her grasp. "Mm-mnnh!" she said as she plunged her wet lips around the spewing head of my cock and sucked for all she was worth.
"God! it was great! She snuffled and snorted and sucked and swallowed as fast as she could to get my gobs of come as they spurted endlessly from my throbbing, rigid tool.
"Penny, sitting on Fred's face on the bed, seemed to be enjoying a small vicarious orgasm of her own, sliding her damp crotch back and forth over his face and cooing little trills and grunts. Fred was rooting like a hog in her slit, spreading shiny goo all over her thighs.
"Finally, as the last drops oozed out of my ravished pecker, Lois pursed her lips, stuck out her tongue and drooled a few milliliters of semen onto my balls. Then, as a final touch, her face flushed, cheeks glowing healthily, eyes sparkling, she eased her puckered mouth to my ass-hole and shoved her tongue deep inside, along with a few drops of my own slimy semen. It was quite a new and different kick for me; it squeezed out another runnel of come, which Lois then fondly lapped up and swallowed."
* * *
Although at first reading the case history of Marty L. appears to be the ultimate narrative of a hedonist, it should be pointed out that the subject is a hard-working, self-made man, who went back to the University of his home town. He is now working on a doctorate. His narrative, obtained under hypnosis, is a stream of consciousness recollection of his one-week "blast" in New York that he intended to use for his thesis dealing with "man's animalistic behavior."
He set out to prove that unless a man, or a woman, exercises some control on his or her libido, that libido can become the sole motive force of his life. This, of course, is not anew proposition; however, the self-subjugation to such a theory is somewhat unique, particularly by someone of Marty L.'s caliber.
What is of interest in Marty's narrative is the view one gets of those who are caught and trapped by their libidos, those (who no longer have a choice but to spend their lives in the pursuit of the always available sexual gratification. With them, it appears to be the only pastime available--their interests in oral gratification are not the perversion but are a part of the perversion of aimlessness. They appear to exist solely for the orgy, and it appears that there is always an orgy somewhere in progress for them to join into.
Marty L.'s participation in this hedonism brings the total of the human animal's desire into a sharp focus that is difficult to deny, is impossible to deny, even though we might like this to happen.
* * *
"After that resoundingly thorough doing, I was content to lounge around in a kind of drained satisfaction and observe the rumpus on the bed. For Penny and Fred, perhaps excited by our, Lois's and my, exertions, had become involved in their own gambolings. Lois, for her part, was reclining on the rug in a kind of sated lust, with one hand playing over her cunt hair and gluey labia. The whole scene was somehow reminiscent of satyrs and nymphs and shaded glens.
"As a matter-of-fact, I began to be struck by a certain incongruity in the whole scene, something inappropriate and out of order. Then I realized that, although the place was pretty modern and the people were what you'd call jet-set, there was an air of Victorianism--no, not so much Victorian-ism as Victorian depravity amid Victorian elegance or opulence. Here was all this 'Hot fuck' and 'Sock it to me!' and sweat and fetor and animal rutting and grunting taking place in monied, upper-class surroundings. Stylish, elegant quim fucking and sucking up a storm in a room that could've been a redecorated Regency drawing room, simple yet elegant. Even the seat and fetor was elegant
"God! ... Cock!" shouted Penny, her violet eyes riveted to my half-hard whang. "I'm so fucking hot I'm gonna take it in the cooze." She wheeled herself over Fred's mammoth, stiff cock and fitted the head between her moist cunt lips. "Haven't had a good fuck for weeks," she croaked, and lowered herself with imperceptible wriggles, voluptuously enjoying every fraction of an inch, every ridge and furrow and throb. "And I'm gonna save that truncheon," eyeing my spread thighs and relaxed tool, "for dessert."
"Lois watched the whole procedure with little 'oohs' and 'ahs' and shuddered and shook all over. She ... But I really haven't told you what she was like, have I? Haven't told you what Penny was like. How they were built. Or what Fred was like ... It was a little bit because of the way Fred spoke and acted that the scene was reminiscent of a Victorian orgy ... or what you'd imagine one was like.
"Fred seemed to take poses every once in a while. I think they were unconscious, really--just his way of talking and doing things. like when Penny sank her pussy over his cock, Fred lay there snapping his fingers and saying, "Work that munificent mojo, Jo-jo! Truncate my truncheon, if you can." And then he'd break out with, "Let's get it on!--righteous rigmarole!" Once, just as he was coming, he pulled out his spurting cock, letting his semen fly all around and splash over Lois's face and breasts, and shouted "Quod erat demonstrandum--what a suck!" Several times he referred to himself as 'just another profligate pothead and innocent victim of satyriasis.' This while elegantly flicking the ash from his Benson & Hedges.
"To look at him and listen to him, he was stylish, refined, at times almost dignified, thirtyish, aristocratic features. But when he unreeled that cock of his and went into action, all his refinement and grace took on a saturnalian turn. He looked like he should be playing the pipes of Pan. He sure had enough of a pipe in the middle. Ha! God. Once he went winking up to Lois--this was when Penny was hard at work on me--and blurted out, "Okay, Lois, luncheon on my truncheon!"
"Affected but fun.
"Now, Lois and Penny, when they seemed affected, it wasn't put on. That's just the way they were. They were both upper-crust, wealthy New Yorkers, with that upper-class New York honk-that cultured voice, husky and lazy and-assured-that kind of bassoons through the nose and always seems to be saying something like, "re-ea-ah-lly, da-ah-hl-ling." But when they're saying 'fu-huck me' and "Su-hock it to me," you just don't it.
One reason for that, I suppose, is that they both had superb bodies ... very different types, mind you, but both exquisite in their way. Lois, as I think I mentioned, had dark chestnut hair and brown eyes, almost black. Penny was a blonde, a little sun bleached, with blue eyes that every now and then turned violet, especially when she was horny--which seemed three-fourths of the time.
"Lois was buxom, slightly blowsy but not coarse, with warm, milky skin; Penny, willowy, svelte and sinuous, with a butterscotch tan except for the tiny strips where her bikini had been.
"Yeah, I forgot to mention, Penny had flown down for a weekend in Miami Beach. Can you beat that? Flew-first-class on one of these 747s. Flew down on a Friday night, flew back Sunday night. What for? Just to 'spend a day in the sun.' When I showed surprise she said, "Well, if you had as much money as I do, you'd do the same thing, wouldn't you?" And I had to say that yes, I thought I would.
"Anyway, those narrow pieces of creamy flesh set off the coppery tan very sexily. She had a sleek frame, though, mostly made of planes and gentle edges and smooth cambers. Except for her tits. They were almost perfect cones, with just the tiniest bit of give and sway to them. And the areolas--bigger'n silver dollars, I swear--seemed to push out from the surrounding-flesh like small apricot balloons. The kind I like to suck into my mouth and run my tongue over...
"Lois, on the other hand, was more, uh, profusely built, more of a--what?--Neapolitan tutti-frutti? Yeah. I guess if Penny was butterscotch, Lois was tutti-frutti. A little more voluptuous in the confectionaries. More lush, with more grottoes and glens. Bigger tits than Penny, huge nipples that never stop standing up. And a cunt that won't stop--warm, wet, mushy yet tight, with a mop of pitch-black pubic hair liky a bristly fuck nig. Man, I loved washing my face with that.
"Penny's crotch, now, was something special too, but of a different style. There wasn't quite such a luxuriance of pubic hair, not such an abundance nor quite so coarse. And it didn't start like a mat halfway between her navel and her pubic bone. Penny's pubes were more visible. And there wasn't any hair around her ass-hole to tickle your nose when you had your tongue up her vagina.
"Make no mistake, Penny's pubes and vage and ass-hole were just as delectable as Lois's, but in a slightly less cloying way. Penny's labia, plump but firm, stretched right from her clit to her perineum in a sweet, resilient ridge that was mouthwatering and tongue-tempting, a very well made set of cunt lips, warm and sugary-gluey. She also had an ass-hole that never stopped teasing your tongue, or your nose, whichever you happened to have in it at the moment. She could actually open and close her anal sphincter muscle, you know-- kind of nibble and kiss your nose while her cunt did the same to your tongue.
"So you see, both girls were damn sexy and sensual, each in her own inimitable way. And Fred and I seemed to make just the right team of studs to keep both chicks turned on for two whole days ... Yeah, that's right, we spent the whole evening lunching it up on each other--two guys with two girls--and the next day we all drove out in Fred's car to the beach at Westhampton on Long Island. Well, not exactly the beach, 'cause we didn't spend much time on the sand and no time in the water--too cold.
"You see, we had an invitation from another couple--two other 'crotch diners'--to be house guests for the day at their place. Naturally, we didn't turn them down.
"The moment we entered the living room, everyone got stark naked in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Or maybe I should say two shakes of a chick's ass.
"By dusk, we turned on a few lights and pulled all the shades so we wouldn't offend any accidental passersby. As Vicky, one of the chicks, put it, "Hell, if anybody wants to be a voyeur, all they have to do is knock and we'll ask them in." She flopped into a chair, her legs, very relaxed and invitingly spread. "As a matter-of-fact," she said, "that's how I've initiated a few new members into my little group. They came over to watch and ended up joining the sport."
"For a couple minutes we all just stood or sat around. The guys stood, I guess because it's almost instinctive for a guy to stand and let his big erection throb in the breeze so the women can get a long, mouth-watering look at it. One interesting thing about Ianni's whang, one of the cocks, it was long and skinny, almost as long as mine, and it had about a dozen warts on it, warts the size of large peas and light brown in color. He was also uncircumcised and had a large gristly fold of foreskin that slid back and forth a couple of inches. Shit, I thought, he's got his own built-in French tickler.
"As if she'd read my thoughts, Vicky said, "Now girls, I promised Ianni you'd both adore being fucked in the ass, but first I want him to fuck my ass while I watch Penny suck that fabulous cock of Marty's." She leered at me. "You wouldn't mind Penny sucking your dick just a wee bit, would you? I know it's hard to take."
"Now the truth is, believe it or not, I hadn't had the pleasure of Penny's luscious firm lips pouting around the head of my dick in all their bee-stung glory. I had, the previous night, watched that same kind of action reduce Fred to a palsied, gibbering idiot who, when he came, emitted a gasp and groan of blissful anguish that ended almost in a sob. So I was all set for one of Penny's special blow jobs.
"I wagged my hard on sexily and I felt like a grinning satyr. Penny immediately skipped over and dropped to her knees in front of me, fastening her hot mouth to my cock with a grip like a fleshy vacuum cleaner; Jesus! I'd never before experienced such a medley of sucks and liquid pressures. All the time her fingers Were tapping soft, rapid tattoos on my scrotum. I damn near yelled with pleasure before I felt even a small rising and bubbling of my come in my groin.
"O-oh!" said Vicky, her eyes bright and round as Ianni expertly slid his wet tool into her ass-hole, wide open between her spread cheeks, "I've never seen anyone able to stand up all the way through one of Penny's specials." She grunted, slack-jawed, as Ianni's warty dick slipped in to the hilt. "This should be fun!"
"Fun, shit. It was delirium. "Good Christ!" I bleated, crumbling to my knees while my ass-hole seemed to turn to whey and get sucked into my balls. "I've suddenly got a quart of steamy come in my gut." Penny squealed with pleasure, and I quickly buried my face in her sweet crotch, lapping and sucking like a madman.
"Just before I took the dive into her wheat-straw muff, I caught a glimpse of Fred and Lois sixty-nining like maniacs almost at my elbow, and of Vicky, impaled on Ianni's pistoning cock, scuttling crab-like across the floor toward us, where she could be near the action. I fastened my mouth to Penny's sweet-smelling, pulpy cunt and abandoned myself to the incredible, brain-blowing sensations that her sucking mouth sent through me.
"I felt my ass and knees begin to tremble, was only vaguely aware of grunting and squealing, lapping and sucking all around me. My balls tightened, my cock, incredibly, stretched and grew, my load boiled. "Ah ... ah! God! ... Fuck! Suck! ... I'm ... agh ... com-ming!" I didn't know who was yelling. I guess I was.
"Up the ass-hole!" It was Vicky growling. She pressed one firm finger between the cheeks of my ass and pushed. My entire groin tied up in knots. My balls seemed to freeze in a bath of molten fire, and my load shot out like a hot poker through my cock--spurt after boiling spurt. I was insane with lust, deaf to Penny's demented squeals shivering my dick. I pulled her twat apart and jammed my whole mouth into it, sucking deeply, while my tongue flashed back and forth. With a heavy squish, she settled firmly on my face and I felt her stomach muscles roll out the fragrant oil of her come. It seemed like whole minutes, we all just thrashed around coming.
"Finally we all unsucked each other and just lay around, spent."
* * *
Three months after the preceding episode, Marty L. married. His marriage appears to be running on a perfectly smooth keel; he and his wife are expecting their first child as this is being written. Which might go to prove that man is-or can be--master of his libido, even if he willingly surrenders the reins of his life to it for a brief period of time.
CHAPTER FIVE JOCK
"I can't imagine why you persist in considering me a homosexual. Quite definitely, I'm not. If anything, I'm far more oriented toward females. They're rather delicious. I like females. Just because I was picked up with a notorious male homo-sexual doesn't mean I am one. Not that I see anything wrong with homosexuality. It is simply an extension of the sex drive, which we all have.
"I am what you might call triple-gaited. Or maybe multi-gaited. I like sex. I find it both stimulating and relaxing. Stimulating while it is going on and very relaxing when there is satisfactory completion. Some day I shall probably write a book on the relaxing effect of sexual intercourse and its influence on the creative impulse.
"Well, no I haven't done anything really creative--yet. I have to let my ego and id expand, accumulating that essential element of drive toward creation. And, of course, through observation and experience, acquiring more data ... No, I don't think I'm an intellectual snob. Or any kind of snob. I like all kinds of people, even psychiatrists. Of course, I must say, I prefer nice surroundings. And good clothes. Naturally. Everybody prefers them. Some just happen to have the opportunity to possess them. Others don't.
"I got started on this rather amazing career of mine in the usual way, I suppose. By masturbation. That is, as I understand it, the most generally customary way of discovering the excitement and delightful tensions of sex.
"I can't say that I remember the first time I performed masturbation. Somewhere along about twelve, I would suppose. Quite secretive about it, as I recall. Hiding in the barn loft, locking myself in the bathroom. That sort of thing.
"I do recall, quite clearly, one of the most exciting episodes. Early episodes, that is. I was sleeping with my younger brother. We were quite poor. My brother, just a year younger than me, and I had to share a bed. And my kid sister, two years younger, had the little alcove off our room.
"I was, as I recall, about fourteen. That would make my brother about thirteen and my sister twelve or thereabouts.
"As I say, I had been quite secretive about my masturbating--and, at that time, rather ashamed of it. So I never did it in our bedroom. My brother, Tim, was less inhibited, though I don't recall that I had ever been aware of it before. Perhaps he had been equally secretive up to that night--which was rather hot. I suspect he thought I was asleep. I often pretended sleep until he was quite asleep and then I would sneak out and slip into the bathroom, where I could perform masturbation without anyone observing--or inquiring why I was so long in the toilet.
"I felt the bed shudder a bit, a rather unusual circumstance, and peeped from under my eyelashes. I saw my brother had his pajama pants open and was playing with his penis. Just twiddling with it. Not yet grasping it and actually masturbating. But the preliminaries, as I well knew from my own experiences.
"I watched, quite fascinated. I hadn't, at that time, supposed others were indulging in masturbation. I became quite aroused at watching his preliminary play, so much so that my own penis was stiffening, and it rather hurt, being confined in my pajama pants. I moved to release the pressure and Tim stiffened, pretending he hadn't been doing anything at all.
"However, his penis, though small, was quite stiff and erect. And, as I opened my pajamas, so was mine. We lay there for a moment or two, side by side, our immature penises like small flagpoles. Finally I said, in a whisper, so as not to disturb Letty--our sister--"Do you beat your dummy?"
"He didn't reply, but I could feel his head nod. So I said, "Often?" and he nodded again. And I am looking right down his body to his little shaft sticking up. "How about if I beat yours--and you beat mine, huh?" For a long time he lay very still, but finally he said, whispering, "How?" So I said, "Like we do ourselves. Only with somebody else doing it, it might be more fun." So he thinks about it a minute and then says, "Show me." I had, of course, never done such a thing. However, it was not difficult. I just reached over and caught his penis in my fist, just holding it. He shrank down and then humped up with a sort of whimper and lay rigid.
"It was quite an experience to hold another person's sex organ in my hand. And made my penis get so stiff it hurt a little. Then I began working my fist up and down on his penis, gently at first Tim was quite rigid but beginning to hump his buttocks a little in rhythm with my fist--and whimpering. Finally he gave a little cry and raised his buttocks completely off the bed. I felt the pulse of his organ--as I had felt my own many times--and knew he was going to ejaculate. I squeezed it a little, with a milking of my fingers. He humped way up, as I felt the swelling and heavy pulse. And he had his ejaculation. So much so that my fist was wet with it. And the sharp tang of his ejaculation was in the air.
"But I was still unsatisfied. My penis was still erect and aching. I wanted him to reach for mine and give me a good jerking off. So I slid my hand over and grabbed one of his and put it down on my penis. Just the touch of a different hand on it made me excited. Tim couldn't get the rhythm at first; mostly, I suppose, because he was satisfied with what had happened to him. So I guided his hand for a while and then just lay back, peering down my front at his fist beating a simply marvelous tattoo on my penis. Then I, too, humped and had the most exciting ejaculation I had known. It was far better than just masturbation. Far, far better.
"The next night was hotter still and both Tim and I decided to discard our pajamas and sleep nude. And play with each other's penis. It was delightful. Tim had a nice, muscular little body, firm to the touch and warm to lie against. My body, at that time, was stretching out, perhaps a bit angular and knobby, since I was just getting my growth. However, that made no difference with Tim. We were both too concentrated on our organs. Perhaps too concentrated, for we weren't being as quiet as we might. We made more noise than usual.
"Before I was aware of it, my sister, Letty, in a very short shortie, which she had outgrown and worn and washed rather thin, was standing by the bed, rubbing one eye with a fist and looking at our play with the other. "Whatcher doing?" Both of us stopped but didn't take our hands off our organs. "Just playing," I tell her. "So go back to bed."
"She has both eyes wide open now and is looking at what we're doing. "I want to play, too." And climbs on the bed with us, her shortie hiking way up, so her buttocks are bare and, as she flings herself down by me, I can see her pubic mound. Letty is a cute little trick, with reddish hair and freckles and, what I hadn't ever noticed before, rather well-developed mammaries. Since we're naked, I guess she assumes that is part of the game, and skins out of her shortie, sitting up so I have a good opportunity to see her breasts, small but quite nice.
"She leans over to study how we're doing what we're doing, and frowns a little, as if she doesn't quite understand. Perhaps she had never really seen either of us naked before--not since we were all practically babies together. Then she looks down at her own organ, seeing how different it is. Finally, she takes my hand and puts it right on her vagina, and lays back, waiting for the game to go on.
"I had never felt a girl's sex organ--or really had a good look at one--up to that time. My hand on her pubic mound made me intensely excited, so that I very nearly had an ejaculation right then. Letty didn't have any pubic hair, just her pink mound and a little slit down the middle. I don't know how I knew what to do, but I moved my hand around, feeling her get wet and then one of my fingers slipped into her vagina, Letty sighed and humped a little. So I knew I was doing all right.
"Tim was sitting up, goggle-eyed, his hand still on my penis. I could feel his jumping and getting harder from just looking at Letty stretched out beside me, her little breasts straight up, her arms at her side, waiting for the game to commence.
"I started working a little on Tim's penis while I was playing the other hand on Letty's vagina and running a finger in and out of her wet, hot slit. But Tim had just quit playing with my penis. So I let go his for a moment and picked up one of Letty's hands and put it on my organ. I do not know why having a girl's hand on it made it even more exciting, but it did. Her fingers just curled around it and started working up and down. And I continued to finger her vagina and get my hand back on Tim's penis.
"We all had an orgasm about the same time. At least, I guess Letty did. I could see Tim's and feel my own. Letty moaned a little and heaved, and I could feel her vagina get wet, real wet and hot. So I imagine she had an orgasm.
"Tim and Letty and I played our little game often. Not every night but almost.
"Letty usually came in when she heard us getting into bed. She was only twelve and Mom made her go to bed half an hour earlier than us. She'd come in, already naked, and stand beside the bed. There was a light outside so we could see pretty good. She had boobies all right. Not big, but developing. Nice and firm, with round little nubbin nipples. And she liked to poke 'em right at me. Then she'd climb in between us, slithering over me, so I felt her soft skin and could squeeze her butt a little. Sometimes she'd lay right on top of me for a minute or two, letting my dong beat up against her stomach or her cunt. And then slide over, snuggling between us.
"We weren't wearing pajamas, either, so as to be ready for our game. And Letty almost took over; I mean, she'd snuggle down and then grab a prick in either hand, mine and Tim's. I usually finger-fucked her, mostly, I think, because I knew more how to do it and I guess my fingers were bigger and gave her more fun, stretching that little cunt of hers. Tim would suck on one titty and I'd suck on the other, so Letty had a double dose. More than us. Not that I cared so long as her little fingers wrapped around my dick and worked it up and down until I shot off. It was a big thing if we could all three make it at the same time. When Letty was about to come--I could usually tell from the way her cunt would get wet and juicy--she'd really bear down on our dongs, squeezing till it hurt, but a good kind of hurt.
"Oh, sure, I'd screw her once in a while, just for variety. And she liked it, all right. And Tim screwed her, too, right after. It went on like that for nearly two years, us three having a real ball. Then Letty was letting some other guys get into her panties. Screwing. I guess she started screwing some of the high-school boys when she was about thirteen, but she kept coming back for our game.
"I was getting ready to graduate from high school and wondering what next. I mean, it sure didn't look like I'd get to college. Just a job for me. Fact is, it was my job that got me really started on sucking. I don't mean I got a job sucking off people. It just happened.
"I was pretty near seventeen and big. And I was a good-looking guy. Lotsa girls thought so, anyhow. I guess I could have screwed a lot of 'em. They were hinting at it. But I was having my fun and games right at home, so why get tangled up in a skirt and maybe get some disease or else knock up some kid. And there I'd be, in a real pickle. Anyway, I was always looking out for the main chance.
"It came--well, not the real main chance, but what led to it--unexpectedly. I was delivering groceries. I had a bike with a big basket, so I could take a couple of loads. My last load was to this garage apartment, back of a big house. There was this older woman, see. Not an old bag, but, well, maybe twenty-five. And good-looking. Really stacked. I carried her groceries into the kitchen and there she was, half hanging out of a wrapper or housecoat. Her big boobs showing, not full, but plenty. And the housecoat open, showing her stomach and navel and her muff--her cunt.
"She didn't mind my looking, even if she pretended at first she didn't even know her housecoat was open, just lifting things out of the carton and stretching up to put them on the shelf, so I could see her boobs rise and get real taut and her stomach get straight and flat and her legs stretch tight.
"She knew I was looking, all right. And she meant me to look. And I was figuring it was for a lay, and wondering could I handle that much woman. I hadn't screwed anybody but Letty up to then, and she was satisfied. A little nympho, but happy with the meat I threw into her--and I had a good-size dong, even at seventeen. But I guess Letty, being a bit nympho, was happy with any dick in her, even Tim's.
"This babe--her name was Gwendolyn but I got to calling her Gwen--was a photographer's model ... for fashions and ads and stuff. She didn't have much hips, hardly more than Letty, and maybe even less stomach than Letty who was a little pouchy there. But those boobs! Not a sag to 'em. About the size of small cantaloupes and just as juicy looking. And when she lifted her arms to reach the top shelf-wow! My dong was harder than two-day-old bread and pushing at my jeans. I wore jeans in those days. I couldn't afford hand-tailored slacks like these.
"And she was eyeing that bulge and looking as smug as a cat at a cream jug. Finally she got the last can on the top shelf and swung around to me, swirling that housecoat wide open. "What's your name?" So I told her, "Jock." It's not, it's Joachim, pronounced 'Wa-keem' but at school they call me 'Jock'."
"She smiles then End takes another gander at my bulge. "You're kinda big for your age, aren't you? And I nod because I'm not sure about my voice. Most of the time the squeak is gone, but some of that kid voice still hangs on, especially when I'm nervous. And I'm nervous. I had never seen that much woman--or that much of that much woman. She smiles at me. "You like girls?" And I nod. "Ever--do anything with them?-like--well, you know." Thinking of how I've played with Letty and screwed her two-three times a week, I nod. And I guess I'm gawking because she grins. "Kids, I bet. Huh?" And I nod.
"She pulls the housecoat wide and puts her hands on those boyish hips and cocks her head at me. "You like me?" I nod. And she twists around, kind of wriggling in that housecoat. "Would you like something--a little different?" Well, sure I would. And she sure was different. Built better than any of the girls at school and lots better looking. She had to be, for her job.
"She takes another gander at the bulge in my jeans, nods, and walks toward me, real slow, moving her pelvis in little twitches that make her muff jump a little and her boobs rock from side to side. I sweat all down the backs of my legs and across my ass and up under my arms. About the only place I'm dry is in my mouth, which feels as if it is packed with absorbent cotton.
"She walks right up to me, until those beautiful boobs are up against my chest, and she still wiggles 'em a little, stirring things up. And then she reaches up and grabs the back of my head and pulls me to her, pressing those wonderful lips on mine--and giving me a tonguing French kiss, hot as a stove lid. I darn near shoot off in my jeans, from what's wriggling all up and down my front and that hot, tasty kiss.
"She tugs me a little and I start walking. You know, we walk from the kitchen to her bedroom, kissing, her legs moving between mine and rubbing her muff right up against my bulge. In the bedroom she drops that housecoat and stands near me, stark naked, still wiggling to some rhythm she can hear and I can't. "Take your clothes off."
"I'm sort of dazed, but I step out of my loafers and heave out of my tee shirt, but jeans, well, they're tight. While I'm struggling with those, she runs her hands over my chest--and I've got a pretty good chest and arms. Not Muscle Beach stuff, but good. And then she almost shoves me onto the bed and starts helping me get those jeans off, like she's in a hurry now to get my meat into her. And I'm ready. Real ready.
"Only that's not what she means. We get the jeans off, with me stretched across this big Hollywood-type bed and I start to get up, but she shoves me back. My dong is standing and quivering and already the head is wet. And she stands there, all that gorgeous female, and looks down at me, taking deep breaths so her boobs move. Then she walks around that bed until she has viewed me from all sides and is standing at my head. "Jock, I'm going to show you something real--different. But good! Gooooood."
"She leans over me, and kisses me upside down, not long, but hot. Her boobs are shaking there, almost at my eyes, I reach up and grab 'em, squeezing a little. The nipples are hard little knobs and all around is that pink ring, pinker and deeper than Letty's. She lets go my mouth and starts tonguing my chest, which puts her boobs right over my mouth. Just raising my head puts my tongue smack on 'em. So I give 'em a little twirl and then fasten on one, sucking.
"Her hands are sliding down ahead of her tongue, making my stomach crawl, exciting as hell. And then she latches onto my pecker. At first I think maybe it's just another session like Letty and me and Tim have, jacking each other off, which isn't so different. Oh, sure, it's exciting because it's with an older woman, but nothing different. Up to then.
"She is so far down me her boobs aren't where I can tongue 'em anymore. And then she is playing with my balls and licking the head of my dick. I can peep down between us and see her boobs--and between them I see her tongue working on my dick--and feel it. And I look straight up.
"There's her muff right over my face, and I can see the pink of her swelling cunt. She brings her knees up on the bed, alongside my shoulders and that spreads her cunt wider, so I can see it's wet and juicy. About then she opens her mouth and slides it down on my big red knob, plop! Right in her mouth. She bobs her head up and down and keeps her tongue working even heave my hips and ram it up at her and she takes some more.-Then she backs off, breathing heavy. "Suck me, Jock. Suck me." And slams her muff right down on my mouth. And goes back to work on my pecker, slower now, with lots of tongue action.
"I snake my hands up and spread her muff--and feel my lips right on her little snatch, wet and juicy--and the juices taste fine. So I lick at 'em and stick my tongue up her snatch and ream it around a little. I haven't quite got the hang of reaming and sucking at the same time, but it comes easy, the learning. Sort of natural.
"Now that I've got her cunt wide open, I go back to playing with those wonderful boobs, feeling those hard little nipples and milking 'em with two fingers. And sucking now like crazy because I am building up to the big payoff.
"Gwen plays with, my balls, easy, so it doesn't hurt, and feels my shaft, like she knows it's pulsing for the big whammo. And goes down, deep, ramming that rod of mine so far down her throat I think I could just push my tongue a little farther up her cunt and lick my own dong. I reach up and grab that beautiful, round little ass of hers and pull her down tight so her cunt is spread on my mouth. Her juices are flowing like mad, hot and musky-tasting. And she wriggles her butt-so's to get tighter on me. I can look right up the crack of her ass, right to her brownhole, only hers is more pink. I walk my fingers across the cheeks of her ass and diddle with her pinkish brownhole. That seems to drive her wild, because she bobs around so I can hardly hold on to her. And her mouth goes on my dong. I can feel her chin grinding against my pelvis, she is so deep on me.
"Then I know I'm going to shoot my wad. Just like she's pumping juices right into my mouth. I can't warn her, on account I can't lift her cunt off my mouth--not that I want to push it away, but she's got her whole weight down on me and wriggling. She gives one big heave--and my mouth is flooded with her juices. Rich, creamy and wonderful tasting. And I heave back, letting go with my wad, spang in her mouth, way deep in her throat.
"I figured she'd be sore I didn't warn her, but that's what she wanted, my come deep in her. Once it has happened, she sort of sags onto me, her boobs flattening against my stomach and her legs shaking and letting down on me, so I can hardly breathe, especially with her butt crammed up against my mouth and nose.
"In a minute, just before I figure I'll suffocate--and die happy--she rolls off, looking hot and disheveled and a little bleary, with my come all around her mouth and her lipstick smeared. And just lays there and heaves, those beautiful boobs moving up and down, and her long, slender legs twitching. I'm doing some heavy breathing myself, to get back in practice. And do I feel good! Drained, but good. Jacking off with Tim and Letty, and even screwing Letty, wasn't anything like this.
"Gwen leaves one hand kind of careless-like on my dong, just patting and stroking it a little, almost absentminded. And I play around a little with her legs and cunt, until we're both excited all over again and do a repeat performance.
"By then both of us are pooped and just lie on the bed, heaving and rolling a little. It's good even to touch Gwen's flesh--it's firm and sweet and warm--and smell her womanness. She's got on some perfume, but that's mostly sweated off and there's just the smell of woman.
"Finally she heaves herself up, looking at me. "Jock, you're terrific. Really terrific. Let's get our shower." I hadn't ever taken a shower with a female before and that was exciting, too. So I'm beginning to get another hard on. Gwen looks at it and smiles. "You really like it, don't you?" And I tell her I sure do. And what about a regular screw?
"Gwen shakes her head. "Nope. Screwing spreads the hips, Jock. And in my job, I've got to keep my figure. And suppose I got a baby? No, Jock, no regular screwing for me. Never." So I let it go, shrugging. What we've had has been plenty, but plenty! I get dressed and Gwen slips into her housecoat, leaning over once in a while to muss my hair. "You're handsome, Jock, And built. Darned well built. With plenty of energy. Wow, what energy!" She sits a minute, thinking. "When are you free again, Jock?"
"So I tell her, anytime. It's summer holidays. "How about tomorrow, same time. That's my last delivery time."
"Gwen shakes her head. "Not tomorrow. I've got a job coming up tomorrow afternoon that may run to a night session. For an advertising agency. Tell you what--when I'm free, I'll just leave my order at the store and you can bring it. Then we'll have a ball." I grin and tell her I've got two of 'em. "No corny cracks, Jock. I hear those from agency guys all day long."
"When I leave, Gwen gives me ten dollars. Ten real, genuine, sure-enough dollars. I guess I look stupid. I never hear of a man getting paid. "What for?" And she smiles. "Just call it spending money." So I come back, "What other kind is there?" And she laughs and pushes me out "Get yourself some slacks. Those jeans take too long getting out of."
"Ten dollars is about right for slacks--then. Now I wouldn't be seen in ten-dollar slacks. These cost sixty. And my shirt twenty. Anyhow, I thought about that ten dollars and began to figure. This was a pretty good racket, if I could find any more like Gwen. Later, I do. Gwen introduced me to one of 'em. And through her I met others. But that's later.
"That evening I try out Gwen's method on Letty. Letty hasn't any muff, just downy little fuzz, her cunt's real easy to get to, and real sweet-tasting. She doesn't do too well on sucking my dick, and pretty near chokes on my come, I guess because it's unexpected. But she-likes it. She-likes it well enough to try it with Tim.
"While her little rump is wiggling over Tim's face, I keep looking at her little brownhole, which is just about as pink as Gwen's. It looks like good fucking, too. So I climb over both of 'em and ease my dong down on Letty's ass-hole, wiggling it until I can slide it in a bit.
"At first Letty tries to brush me away with one hand while she keeps her mouth down on Tim's little pecker--which is getting to be pretty fair size, now that he's almost sixteen. Then she feels me slide in, and sort of sighs, wiggling her rump. And the three of us are going to town again, sucking and screwing. And it feels great. I hadn't ever had brownhole screwing, but Letty's is tight and her little butt is firm, so I can bounce around on it real nice, feeling my dong slide in and out. Of course, there's no real juices there, but it's easy enough.
"Tim comes first, and then Letty. I'm a little late because I start late, but Letty lies there, taking it and liking it. Then I shoot my load into her, and my pecker goes down and slides out. We just lie there then, recovering, nice and warm huddled there, the three of us.
"Tim-likes the sucking part all right and is anxious to try Letty's brownhole. So we change places, Letty and me sucking and Tim screwing her in her brownhole. I'm really beat when I give Letty my load, real pooped. I've had two new ways of getting laid that day, and done it five-six times. So for a long time we three just lie like that. I go to sleep, so thorough I don't feel Letty crawl over me and go back to her own bed. For all I know, Letty and Tim tried it out again, brownholing or sucking.
"I don't see Gwen for three days, but that's all right. I'm getting my sucks off Letty plus a little brownholing and my needs are taken care of. Maybe Letty's, too, only I learn later she's got some of the high-school crowd initiated. I figure she's really hung up on this sucking and brownholing business because then she can take two guys at a time, making three kinds of sex for her, her sucking, one guy sucking her off, and one reaming her brownhole.
"One night at home she shows us something she's learned. She pulls her narrow little bed out from the wall and lies across it, her head on one side and her legs hanging over the other, so I can screw her, kneeling down, and she can suck off Tim. It's a little awkward but lots of fun.
"And when she's got her monthlies, Tim and I go back to frigging each other, only I get this idea. If sucking a guy's dick is such fun for girls, maybe it is for a guy. So Tim and me try that. I lie on my back, like I do at Gwen's, my head at the edge of the bed and my legs stretched out, then I get Tim's pecker in my hand--it's gotten lots bigger lately--and lick at it. Finally I put it in my mouth and suck, tonguing it. And Tim leans way over and sucks on me.
"I feel his dick pulse and swell, so I grab his ass and ram his dong way down my throat, where it feels awful good, but choky. And I feel his come pulse down his shaft and explode down my throat. And I shoot off in Tim's throat. Wow! It's a lot better than jacking each other off, on account of there is more feeling and a lot of good juicy taste. Different from woman-taste, but good. And I've got still another way of enjoying sex.
"When I do see Gwen again, it's all excitement, because she's got such a beautiful body and she knows just about all the twists there are to this sucking-off business, like have me stand up and she kneels in front of me and takes my dingy old dong in her mouth, while I play with her boobs. It's exciting, all right. Not as good as when I can go down on her, too, but she's wearing her rag that afternoon, so I can't. And I get my ten bucks, same as usual.
"I've started spending that on new clothes, some real imagine stuff. I didn't know then how awful it was going to be. "You really need someone to look after you, Jock. Someone who'll teach you how to dress and how to talk. I can't do it, because I'm going away."
"That sure hit me, right in the solar plexus--and elsewhere. No more sucking on that luscious piece of meat, no more beautiful boobs to tease. And no more ten bucks. I'm sick. "Babe, you sure hit me with that one."
"Gwen smiles at me. "Jock, I'm headed for Hollywood. For my big shot at the movies. And I feel generous." I figure maybe she's going to give me an extra ten bucks or so, but that's not it. She grins then. "I've been holding hack, Jock. About you. To certain--friends. But since I'm leaving, I think I'll--well, turn you over to them. One in particular. Joanna F--, Mrs. Rich Bitch herself. She'll be good to you and, I think, good for you."
"And right there I get my first real break, Joanna F--."
* * *
Jock is a completely self-centered young man, seemingly quite unaware of the enormity of the things he admits to, such as introducing both his younger brother and kid sister to sex, and in the process corrupting two young lives. Aside from the question of incest, which is abhorrent in our Judeo-Christian ethics, Jock is amoral to the extent that he cares only for the gratification of his own carnal desires. He underscores Sigmund Freud's contention that sexual behavior is entirely "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive."
Jock is almost a catalog of Krafft-Ebing, as outlined in his Psychopathic, Sexualis, except for perhaps fetishism and sex-oriented crime.
As we shall see later, in his own words, Jock is quite happy and even proud of the fact that, while enjoying Freud's "hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive," he is also adding the profit motive.
It is easy to see, from the statement he makes and its fairly quick shift from rather over precious language to his gutter descriptions of sexual encounters--and his obvious relish in them--that the elegance he strives for is the thinnest of veneers.
There is, of course, nothing reprehensible in a youngster attempting to rise above his environment. It is, in fact, one of the basic precepts of the American way of life, that a man shall have the opportunity to improve his economic status. The manner of that effort is, of course, subject to question, very serious question.
Jock speaks of his family as "poor," though it was not of the lower economic status. His father, whom he seems to ignore completely in his account of his sexual prowess, was a truck driver on long distance runs, a man who made fairish money. The three children--he never mentions any others, and it would appear that there were no others--slept in a separate room from their parents, the girl being semi-isolated from the boys in an alcove room off their bedroom. This is not dire poverty, though Jock attempts to make us think so, probably to enhance the image he has created of himself as rising above his environment. The grimier and more squalid he can make the original environment seem, the greater, within his mind, is the achievement of his rising from it to the heights he considers himself to have reached.
He also appears to consider his sexual prowess in several different directions as an achievement of its own. This idea of sexual prowess as "an achievement" is expressed in Lester A. Kirkendall's Premarital Intercourse and Interpersonal Relationships:
Sexual prowess through actual or demonstrated achievement is, therefore, a need of many adolescent boys.
Jock, at the time he "achieved success" with an older woman, Gwen, was actually and physically an adolescent. He appears to have remained an adolescent in his attitudes and goals throughout his varied career. In addition to his emotional "achievement" he also had the profit motive, actual cash, as an outward demonstration of his "prowess." This form of his "achievement" we can see growing as his story progresses.
Jock, however, was not seduced by Gwen. He was already quite experienced in sex, with his brother and his sister, before he met Gwen. What she had to offer was, he first suspected, simply more of the same type of sex he was already enjoying, but this time with a "Love object" of considerable greater maturity and greater physical development. That she introduced him to oral sex was, psychologically, almost negligible. He had, over two years of varied practices with his younger brother and sister, run almost a complete gamut of sexual varieties. That he appears to have enjoyed the sensations of oral sex on this first encounter may well be attributed to his sense of "achievement" with an older woman. The continuing practice of orality does indicate that Jock always had a certain amount of oral eroticism in his makeup.
It is difficult to disentangle Jock's emotional responses from his egotism. Though he constantly refers to the physical pleasure he derives from oral sex, he offsets this with his almost equally constant references to his economic improvement, his steps up in the world. He also states that he returns from time to time for "fun und games" with Letty and Tim as relaxation from the tensions created in his association with oral sex, mentioning specifically that she, meaning his sister Letty, "is an easy lay."
This would tend to indicate that his constant practice of oral sex was more in the nature of a continuation of what Kirkendall refers to as "sexual prowess ... through achievement" extended into the economic phases than any deep emotional drive toward orality.
The question then arises: What drove Jock toward sex as an expression of his natural male aggressions? Sigmund Freud has noted many times, in various works on sexual behavior, that all young children have an intense curiosity about their sex organs in their early years, which generally lapses at around seven or eight years of age, and sexual curiosity goes into what he calls "a period of latency" from then until it is again aroused by the maturing body during adolescence.
Professor Curtis E: Avery, in Sexology, warns against demonstrating violent disapproval or revulsion at these early indications of interest in the sex organs, saying, "it is a basic fault to be found in most parents," and says that it can cause traumatic disturbances that may have disastrous effects in the child's later life. On the other hand, in the same publication, he says that if parents either ignore or condone too readily this early behavior, they can and quite possibly may create such an attitude of permissiveness toward sexual practices that the child will become sexually uninhibited.
It is apparent that Jock's parents ignored almost completely their children's behavior, thereby implying approval of any actions the children might indulge in. Certainly children are constantly "testing" parental and social restraint in their colossal wonder at the complexities of this world--reaching for what may be construed as "Limits." If they fail to encounter such limits, either because of the laxity or permissiveness of parents, then the children's conduct can be expected to be unrestrained. In some this takes the form of temper tantrums, excessive aggressiveness, destructiveness, particularly of toys and, in some cases, if the emotional drive happens to be present, in sexual activity.
Jock had just recently, from his own statement, emerged from the period Freud refers to as "the period of latency." Without the restraints of parental dictum--probably because the father was away-much of the time--he felt little or no restrictions on his behavior, even though he does admit that his masturbation was secretive.
His complete reticence about his father may well represent some traumatic block. Freud attributes a male child's fear of his male parent to "fear of castration," not necessarily physical but psychological. And Jock may well have had such a basic fear, so basic that only repeated psychoanalytical sessions could have unearthed it, but, as Jock predicted, one of his "rich friends" came to his assistance and brought about his release.
* * *
"This Joanna F---that Gwen introduces me to ain't as young as Gwen--maybe thirty-five or so--and hasn't near the figure. Not that she's not stacked. She is. But Gwen's meat is hard to beat. Which, of course, is why she's getting her break in Hollywood. And makes it. You probably have seen her on the screen yourself. Not under the name Gwen, though.
"Gwen takes me to lunch one day, to meet this Joanna. It's a funny little place. I thought then it was sort of la-di-da, but I have learned lots later, and now I realize it was just, well-tea-roomish. Quiet.
"Joanna was there, waiting for us, and held out her hand sort of languid to Gwen and held her cheek up to be kissed. like it was an ordinary girl-type meeting and not something real important, like me. I sit between 'em and they talk across me, like I'm not there, almost, though this Joanna keeps sneaking a look at me and smiling suddenly.
"Gwen says, "If I wasn't going to Hollywood..." And Joanna nods, smiling extra-sweet "Oh, I'm sure, my dear..." And Gwen says, "You know Adam. I can't antagonize him in the slightest at this point." Joanna grins, sort of mischievous. "Oh, I can see that. No extra impedimenta. Quite!" And swings her eyes at me, but talks to Gwen. "Diamond in the rough?" And Gwen laughs. "Very much diamond, Joanna. And quite rough. But with potentials. Quite potent potentials." And laughs.
"Joanna nods, looking thoughtful, and turns to me. "Jock, are you free this weekend?"
"I do some quick figuring. I've got this job at the store, and Saturday is a heavy day, with generally pretty good tips. Finally I say, "Well, I can be. I have a job and..."
"Joanna waves that away as if jobs ain't anything. "I'll pick you up at Gwen's at noon?" And gathers up her gloves and purse and stuff, sliding out and kissing Gwen on the cheek.
"Gwen winks at her. "And you have fun, Joanna."
"Joanna does. Pick me up at Gwen's. I'd been hoping maybe Gwen and me could have a good-bye session, but she's too busy packing and tells me, "Anyway, Jock, you better save it for Joanna. She eats little boys like you." And laughs. "Down to a nub."
"Joanna's got this low-slung Jag. It's dark blue and I prefer 'em white. There's more flash to white. But a swell car, just the same. She's sitting deep in the bucket seat, her fingers drumming on the wheel, her eyes on me. She gives Gwen a goodbye peck and we start off. "I thought we'd go up to a little place I have in the country. It's quiet and we won't be disturbed."
"Joanna's legs show, pretty well up to her ass, and the wind blows her skirt around, until I figure she hasn't got on any panties, because I can see up pretty far and there's nothing but meat. And pretty good meat, too. Firm and rounded. So I start getting a hard on right then, just thinking about going down on that nice, juicy meat. Joanna takes one hand off the wheel and pats my leg, sliding it up easy to cop a feel of my bulge. She pats it once and laughs, real gay and happy--and steps on the gas.
"Her 'lodge' as she calls it, is big. Sort of sprawling. A log house. I think then it's mighty big for a 'little place in the country,' but later I get to know more and I see lots of these places, fancier and bigger. Well, not fancier--not duded up. Rich people sort of go in for being extra simple. Not crude or primitive, you understand, but simple.
"There's a man to take our bags in. Mine's just a canvas airline bag I borrow. Our family don't travel. There ain't that kind of money. So we don't have suitcases around. "In the yellow room, Bernie," And Joanna leads the way into the living room, which is as big as our whole house and lots bigger than Owen's. "Do you drink, Jock?" she asks over her shoulder, and when I shake my head she says, "I thought not. And just as well. I hate drunks. My late husband was an alcoholic. Besides, drinking inhibits the--potential. In a man. But I'll have one." And pours and knocks back a good stiff scotch--and then another. "Just for the glow."
"She grabs my hand, and hers is hot, almost fever hot, and tugs me along the hall, prancing like a kid. "This is going to be fun, Jock. Lots of fun. From what Gwen said." And shoves me into a nice big sunny room. "Take a shower and then we'll have a swim."
"We never got that swim because while I'm in the shower Joanna comes in, wearing a skimpy coatee that's transparent, I can see her boobs. Big globes. Wow. But not so firm as Owen's but not floppy, either. And her snatch, with this reddish muff, darker than her hair but not black. She stands there, fists on her hips, moving 'em just a little, her coatee pulled back, and her snatch is working, almost in a different rhythm. Suddenly she sheds the coatee and steps into the shower with me, pressing those boobs up against my chest, and her snatch up against my dong. The first hard has gone down some, but it sure starts up fast again. I put my arms around her, feeling her back and running my hands down to her butt, pulling her up against my pecker and moving some myself.
"I reach one hand up and start playing with her boobs. Joanna sighs, really heavy, and almost melts against me. She's got wandering hands, too, running 'em over my shoulders, down my back, grabbing a double handful of ass to pull me up tight so my dong is sliding between her legs and thumping against her pussy. Then she slides one hand around, between us, and feels around my dick. I back off a little and let her get a good handful, moving just a bit so her hand is frigging me. And I've got a real hard on then.
"Her eyes are big, real wide, and staring up at my face. "You've got one, son." And turns off the shower, pulling me toward the bedroom, both of us wet. We fall across that big Hollywood bed and just lay there a minute, laughing. I reach over and start playing with those big boobs of hers and she arches up and falls back. Her nipples get hard, sticking up out of brownish circles like little fat pricks, each with small white bumps on the top. I lean over and start tonguing those fat little pricks of her nipples and Joanna moans.
"One hand is pushing a boob up, so I can get my mouth on it, and I let the other slide down her stomach and along the creases at her pelvis, and then on to her snatch, parting that reddish bush so I can get my fingers right on the hot lips of it. It's wet with her juices, wetter than just from the shower, and opening up, so I can feel the soft inner flesh and those second lips that are already spreading.
"I tease her clit and watch her hump up, moaning. Then she reaches over and grabs my dick so hard and quick I nearly yell. But then she slows down, slacks off her grip, just nice and easy, and milks me, real light, her fingers moving in a slow, gentle rhythm. So I go on sucking on her boobs, switching from one to the other and trailing my tongue in the valley in-between when I shift. Joanna starts some real heavy moaning and twisting.
"Then suddenly she rolls over and switches ends, so her snatch is up right by my face and she's got hold of my prick again and is rubbing it against her cheek, sort of talking to it. Or maybe to me. "Oh, you great big baby. You great big beautiful baby!" And rubs it across her lips, sticking out her tongue and licking at the bubble of juice on the end.
"She flings one leg over my head, straddling me, and slams my dick in her mouth, squatting down so her cunt is open right in front of me. I play with her pussy for a minute or two, looking right up it. I can see her little clit is stiff and showing in the folds of her cunt. I reach my tongue up and tease it. Joanna slams her cunt down on me so hard my head bounces. And my tongue rams up her cunt. I move it a little, getting started on a real ream job, tasting the sour-sweet woman taste of her.
"Joanna is bobbing her head up and down, wrapping her tongue around my prick. All the time she's got a couple of fingers around the base, squeezing a little and riding up and down, and she's playing a little rhythm on my balls, too. So I'm really wound up tight, ready to shoot my load any minute. I work harder on her pussy, sucking and tonguing until I feel her juices really flowing. Her legs are working on either side of my head, too, her thighs squeezing and letting go of my cheeks. And humping, too. I don't see how a woman can work so many different parts in different directions and keep 'em all in rhythm, but Joanna does.
"I've got hold of her boobs, kneading 'em, since I can't get at her nipples--she's pressed too tight against me. And I'm humping some, getting ready for the big explosion. Joanna's had experience, all right. She knows I'm ready to shoot my wad. And clamps her thumb and finger tight around my dick, like she's going to choke it--and holds back the come. Just a second, maybe, as she slams her head down on it. I can feel my head go deep in her throat, and the convulsive sucking motions. And she lets up her stranglehold.
"I really let go, then, pumping my jism deep in her throat. All the time I'm reaming and sucking on her while her juices flood down her cunt, so I get my fill of woman-taste, rich and creamy.
"She's still sucking so hard on my dick, even though I've shot off, I think she'll pull my guts right out of my dong. And I keep working on her snatch like crazy. It's the best double suck I've ever had--even better than Gwen.
"Joanna rolls off me, still holding on to my dick and licking at the head, even though it has started to go down. So I keep tonguing her cunt, both of us lying on our sides. Finally Joanna heaves and shivers and lies still, her legs flopping loose and her stomach and chest pumping, and glad for a little rest, but I like to watch the way her boobs heave up and down, quivering and subsiding. And her wet muff, wet with cream not just water, is right by my face, Where I can smell her woman-smell. Some guys don't like that smell, but I do. It's exciting.
"She wakes up a little and wriggles herself around, so we're lying there, head to head again. Her lipstick is smeared and her mouth all bleary with come and her other makeup has run. She's a mess, but still a lot of woman. She pats my chest, kind of weak, and murmurs, "You'll do, Jock. You'll do." And sighs, a real happy sigh. Funny about sighs. It's the same sound, only it can be so different, sad or happy.
"Later we crawl off the bed and head for the shower, which, revives us considerably and I even get a hard on while she's washing me oft But we don't do anything. "Let's save it for later, when we've both got up steam again," she tells me. I wipe her down with one of those huge fluffy towels and she dries me off and we wander back to the bedroom. I take one look at the bed. It's not only rumpled all to hell but it's soaking wet, seeing as we hadn't bothered to wipe off from the first shower. I shake my head. "How'm I going to sleep in that bed?"
"Joanna grins. "Whoever said you were going to use that bed? Or do any sleeping?" She motions me to get dressed and wanders off to her room, adjoining, in a sort of dreamy walk.
"She's all fixed up, with fresh makeup and a real slinky dress by dinner time. Which I am ready for. I'm hungry, but really hungry. That much double-sucking builds my appetite. So I'm ready for those steaks and baked potatoes wrapped in aluminum foil. I hadn't ever seen 'em fixed like that, so I watched how Joanna opened hers and loaded it with sour cream and butter and chips of crisp bacon. Then I did the same.
"Joanna nods at that. "Jock, you're teachable. But God, what a lot you've got to learn! Those awful clothes! I don't see how Gwen could have let you go around like that." I don't see anything wrong with my clothes. They're brand spanking new. And they fit. I'm easy to fit because I've got a good physique. Joanna shrugs. "It's okay, Jock. Monday, we'll see about some decent clothes." She eyes me up and down, nodding. "Yes, a good tailor could do wonders."
"We spend most of that weekend in Joanna's king-size bed, having a ball. I don't keep tabs on how many times we go down on one another, but it's plenty. And by Sunday evening I'm really bushed. But feeling great. My stomach aches--not that kind of stomachache--the muscles, from pumping so much, and my back can do with a good massage. I mention this, sort of laughing, but Joanna takes it serious. "I know a marvelous masseur. On Monday..."
"I shake my head. "Joanna, I've got a job. I can lie a little and skip Saturday, but..."
"Joanna waves that aside. "A paltry little job. Joanna's looking after you now."
"So I figure maybe the weekend's going to be worth twenty-five bucks, which is maybe a little less than I'll make, delivering regular, but I can pick up some in tips, just standing around the market, loading cars, making some deliveries. So I'll make out. And do I make out!
"On the way back to town Joanna hands me a wad of bills, "For pocket money, Jock. And Monday well do some shopping. Get you outfitted." So we agree where to meet and I go home. On the bus. It won't do to have Mom see me drive up in a Jag with a good-looking woman. Mom's pretty stupid, but not so stupid she'd miss that.
"That night I'm kinda languid and not really ready for fun and games with Tim and Letty. Oh, I screw Letty once, because she sort of expects it, and she's an easy lay, but I'm really thinking about Monday and 'getting outfitted.' I've counted the dough Joanna hands me, and it's over a hundred bucks. So to hell with the grocery store job. And I know there'll be more, just from the way Joanna talks. So after I screw Letty--she's not really a bad little lay, just kinda tame after Gwen and Joanna and all their double-sucking--I roll over and go to sleep, leaving Tim and Letty to play like they want to.
"Monday I meet Joanna and she takes me to this tailor shop. "Something nice, Willard. Gay but not--well, not Vulgar. Ready-made, for immediate use. And the other things for later." She even gets me shoes. Twenty-eight bucks! Two pairs! And orders two more handmade. Seventy-five bucks a pair. Of course, now I'm used to spending that sort of money, but then it sounded wild. Real wild. "Where'll I keep all this stuff? Once Mom sees it, she'll know something's wrong."
"So I'm to leave it all at her town house, accept for two pairs of ready-made slacks and a pair of shoes. And a couple of shirts and a turtleneek sweater. The cashmere and stuff goes to her house, too. Mom doesn't know enough about clothes to know how much the ready-mades cost, so I'm not worried about them.
"The masseur she takes me to is a prancy sort of guy, big and muscled but prancy, like he's dancing in and out of a fight. He's been in the fight game, he tells me, which is where he learned massaging, He takes me in and I strip. He looks on, nodding, and lays me out on this table and starts to work on my shoulders and back. He kneads and thumps me until I'm good and relaxed. And then rolls me over, working on my chest muscles. Only his hand keeps drifting down around my dong, brushing it, until suddenly I've got a hard on.
"He stands back to admire my prick standing up there like it's saluting a flag. And then he reaches over and takes it in his hand, watching me. The next thing I know, he's going down on me, a real blow job! And I give him plenty of good old come, deep in his throat. I sort of miss my own sucking, but he's pretty good at keeping a guy going until becomes.
"When it's over he washes me and then gives me a rubdown with a really good muscle rub, not the old horse liniment stuff like we use in gym. He helps me up and stands there, looking at my dong and sighs. "Look, come in each Monday and I'll give you a good--massage. We won't mention it to Mrs. F--that it's free. And you can keep the twenty-five dollars? Okay?"
"So it's okay. I get a free massage and a good blow job--and twenty-five bucks. Every Monday. If Joanna is willing to put out the dough. Which it turns out she is. Dough doesn't mean anything to her. She's loaded. All she wants is her sex taken care of. I don't know why she don't like screwing, but she don't. She just-likes blowing and getting blowed.
"Along toward August I'm getting a little nervous, because the next school term starts, and I've been aiming to go to college. The city college, which is almost for free. The money I've saved up can just about put me through if I don't get imagine. So I tell Joanna it's not going to be so easy for me to get weekends free, and how I've saved up pretty near enough--thanks to her.
"Joanna shakes her head. "Not city college, Jock. It has not-style. You should go to a really good school."
"So I'm set for a 'really good school' out near her country place. I tell Mom I've been working all summer on getting this scholarship--which I have but in a different way from what Mom thinks.
"I don't go out for athletics, like I do in high school, because games and stuff are mostly on weekends, which I spend at Joanna's. Sometimes there's just Joanna and me and sometimes another couple, a kid like me and a babe like Joanna. And once she has a sort of houseparty, with four couples. All of 'em like sex the way we do, so we daisy-chain it once in a while, me on Joanna, some babe on me, her guy on her, and Joanna going down on the guy. It's okay, I guess. Only I like just two working as a team better. You got more control that way. Oh, the other is all right for fun and games, but for downright satisfaction, one-to-one is a better game.
"We have some parties at the frat house, sometimes with coeds and sometimes with some local girls. But mostly they want just straight screwing and don't much care for oral sex. Though I do teach a couple of 'em how much fun the double-suck can be, so we do it soixante-neuf every now and then. I can't make it too often, on account of Joanna's parties, with just me or with some others around, too.
"After my second year at college, Joanna says I'm sort of smoothed out on my language and I've sure learned a lot about clothes, so she takes me to some town parties, just party-type parties. No jazzing or screwing or double-sucking. I meet a lot guys about my age, some of 'em genuine swells and some of 'em, like me, that's just been educated to it. We go to the theater and even concerts and opera, though I never do take too much to opera.
"That summer we go abroad, on a big cruise ship, since Joanna says I really need some European background. I have fun with Joanna on the boat, and with another couple, where we daisy-chain. But I sure get tired of looking at cathedrals and museums awful quick. So we settle down at a villa Joanna rents on the Riviera, and go down on each other pretty near every night.
"I meet some older guys, too. Maybe fifty-sixty years old. They make a few passes and add some suggestions. But I've got a good thing going, so why spoil it? Oh, once in a while, when Joanna's got her monthly troubles, I'll go out with one or the other of 'em. But they haven't got much zip to 'em--and wrinkled bellies, and a couple of 'em have tits like and old woman. But they pay good. I've gotten as much as a thousand bucks and a platinum cigarette case just for a one-night stand with one old duck.
"And then back to college. I want a car, but Joanna says no, I can use hers when I need one. She's got three. I think she does that just so she can keep tabs on me, to know when I'm out roaming. Not that I cheat on her, exactly, But a young guy needs a little variety. It juices up things when Joanna and I get together.
"I even go home a couple of weekends and screw Letty, just for a change of pace. Letty's pretty well stacked now, with nice titties. But she's still not very exciting. Mostly, I guess, because she's my sister and, besides, I been humping her and sucking her for years. Still, it's nice to have somebody easygoing for a change. All the tensions that crowd I run with build up can get on a guy's nerves.
"The day after I graduate, Joanna and I start on a world cruise, which is pretty much like the trip to Europe, only longer, and temples instead of cathedrals. And, between ports, lots of double-sucking. Once Joanna comes in, laughing, and asks me if I know the old babe in Cabin A-I--which is the best or, anyhow, the most expensive on board. I nod and Joanna says, "You know, that old bag offered me twenty-thousand dollars and the swap of that gigolo of hers--for you! Isn't that hilarious?
"It sure is, since this old babe is maybe fifty, if not more. But it also gives me some idea of how much I'm worth. If Joanna won't trade me off for twenty thousand, then I've got some real value. Plus that thousand-dollar and platinum-cigarette-case one-night stand. They sure give me ideas. Not that I'm tired of Joanna, but she isn't as young as she was four years ago, and I'm just twenty-one. With no real prospects.
"Oh, I got an education, but it's just a sort of general education. And I've been to Europe and around the world. But so has practically everybody. Everybody I know in that crowd, anyhow. I've been thinking maybe I'd be a writer, only I haven't really thought out much what to write about. Besides, it's a lot of work, turning out a whole book.
"So when we get back, I start nosing around, to see if I get any really good bids. One way to get bids like that is to be where that kind of crowd is. So I break away from Joanna once in a while and go to these parties. I get offers, all right, seeing as I'm six-one and built, and a good-looking guy to boot. But none of 'em is any better than Joanna's. Or not much.
"I'm just trying out this old geezer--he's not quite fifty, so maybe he isn't so old at that--and there's others at his place, in different rooms, going down on each other or maybe daisy-chaining. And that's when the cops raid the joint. Just when the old boy is giving me his cream and I'm shooting off down his throat. Just because the cops caught us like that doesn't mean I'm a homosexual. That's so--limiting.
"From what I've told you, you can see I'm interested in women, too. As I mentioned, I'm multi-gaited. I just happen to like sex, and I can't see anything illegal in that. I'm sure that one of my rich friends will get me out of this place, quite soon. So I can't see that this psychotherapy is in the least necessary. Nothing or nobody is going to talk me out of liking sex. It's--why, it's un-American!"
* * *
What will become of Jock is highly problematical. He is an egotistical, self-satisfied young man of no apparent talents except for his good physique and moderate good looks. He is poorly equipped by education, training or background to compete in a highly technical society, and he is obviously unwilling to rely on physical work for a livelihood. Prognosis is poor.
CONCLUSION
All but one subject discussed in this work have, each in his or her own way, found the answer to the basic fear inherent in extramarital sex--the fear of pregnancy. They have turned to oral sex as an outlet for their sexual needs. Certainly, in each instance, the subject had achieved a tolerable degree of gratification of the sexual drive. That they have done so in one of several of the cultural paraphilias is understandable.
Oral sex, as has been pointed out earlier, is definitely antibioiogical. It cannot produce children. Which is generally the reason for initially accepting it. In our present society, it is unacceptable, "socially prohibited." However, so is any other form of sex for the teen-ager. Sex outside of marriage is socially prohibited in our Judeo-Christian culture. It is also, in most states, legally prohibited.
Promiscuity is socially prohibited but generally tolerated by law between persons of the same relative age groups, but this tolerance is of fairly recent origin. In the early days of our own history in this country, promiscuity (whether for money or not) was severely dealt with. Even an individual act of sex between persons not married to each other was dealt with harshly.
Our society has become considerably more tolerant in recent years, even within the last quarter of a century, of extra-marital sex.
At the time each of these subjects came to attention of authority, each was above what is termed "the age of consent" and was not subject, therefore, to laws governing sexual acts between a minor and an adult, even though many had obviously indulged in oral sexual practices in their teen years.
Rita (CHAPTER ONE) expresses crudely, but with uncanny accuracy, the real problem of youngsters and sex: the education of parents. She says that sex education ought to be made retroactive to the parents. And maybe their parents.
Professor Curtis E. Avery, writing in Sexology magazine, says that there are two divergent schools of thought on sex among children, with some parents "demonstrating violent disapproval or revulsion"--as he says, "it is the basic fault to be found in most parents." The other attitude is one of permissiveness which is often representative of an attitude so lax the child finds no established guideposts for behavior and few, if any, limits to its activities, including those of sex.
Certainly a wider dissemination of proper sex information among parents is a desirable goal. In many states such educational programs are now being undertaken, with the hopes that future generations will have adequate home guidance for their sexual needs. It will mean a healthier, happier society, with far fewer emotional inhibitions and efforts at escape into deeper emotional morass for youngsters, such as those represented in this book.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Abrahamsen, David. The Road to Emotional Maturity. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1958.
Chaplin, J. P. Dictionary of Psychology. New York: Dell Publishing Co., Inc., 1968.
Freud, Sigmund. General Introduction to Psychoanalysis. New York: Simon & Schuster, Inc., 1969.
Karpman, Benjamin. The Sexual Offender and His Offenses. New York: Julian Press, 1963.
Kirkendall, Lester A. Premarital Intercourse and Interpersonal Relationships. New York: Julian Press, 1961.
Krafft-Ebing, Richard v. Psychopathia Sexualis. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1965.
Nietzshe, Friedrich. Basic Writings of Friedrich Nietzsche. New York: Modern Library, Inc., Division of Random House, Inc. n.d.
