CASE STUDIES Of THE SADOMASOCHISTIC MALE IN SEARCH OF THE VIRGIN Conducted By Dr. Emil Kroner
INTRODUCTION
Sadomasochistic sexuality is an area of human behavioral study that can yield deep insights into man, his nature and his society and institutions. Man is framed by his human nature and his personality, then relates to other human beings, and the interrelation becomes the framework in which man's society and institutions are formed. Then man and his social context influence and affect each other. Seen through this psycho-sociological prism we can readily understand why the study of human sexual behavior, and especially of sadomasochistic sexual behavior, can help us attain great insight into the problem of human nature itself.
While the study of sadomasochistic sexuality is valuable as a sexological venture it is even more valuable when considered in the context of man's total human nature, his relationships with other human beings, and their interaction with society. The world of sadomasochistic sexuality is a microcosm within the macrocosm of sexual behavior; sexual behavior, in turn, is a microcosm within the macrocosm of society-at-large. These worlds are influenced by each other and help to form each other.
De Sade's world partly made him what he was his human nature developed in a different manner from a majority of human beings, but his human nature and personality development was influenced by the world he lived in. The man whose name furnished a new word, sadism, did not invent sadism. His saga was merely the most shocking and publicly-disclosed (up to that time) example of a potentiality that exists in all human beings. And the man whose name supplied the other half of the inseparable pairing, sadomasochism Sacher-Masoch surely did not imagine into being the masochism that permeated his novels. He, too, put down on paper examples of human potential that existed but were not talked about in those Victorian days.
Krafft-Ebing, author of the monumental Psychopathia Sexualis, was one of the earliest researchers to appreciate the significance of sadomasochistic sexuality and attempt the open study of sadomasochistic sexual problems and practices. He was a precursor of Freud and strongly influenced the father of psychoanalysis. Indeed, it was Krafft-Ebing who coined the term masochism and joined it with sadism to illustrate that the two complemented each other and were in effect polarities merging inevitably.
It's been a long research road from de Sade and Sacher-Masoch to Krafft-Ebing and Freud and up to our most recent sex researchers and only very recently have any works on the subject of sadomasochistic sexuality been made available to the general public through other than underground sources. This volume is one in a continuing effort that not only attempts to make available educational material on the once-taboo subject but also to present it in a form designed for the average aware human being. The non-clinical case study method is ideally suited to that purpose. Consider now the following case histories of males whose sadomasochistic sexuality is directed toward virgin females.
THE MALE EGO'S SUPER-PRIZE VIRGINITY! AN IN-DEPTH PROBE OF THE SEXUAL SADIST'S COMPELLING DRIVE TO CONQUER THE VIRGIN.
Roger used Hazel to recruit young girls in his constant quest for Virgins. She had a special knack for picking up runaway girls from broken homes. The younger the girl the better the odds of finding a Virgin.
Mark would wake up in the middle of the night from the dream of his mother strapping his body, the thick leather pelting hard at his bare buttocks. So many years ago ... that was the price he had paid for being caught with Edna. He had taken Edna's virginity THE HIGHEST PRIZE AWARDED THE MALE EGO!
The constant quest for Virgins The S & M Route
He tried to walk the two sexual tightropes at once!
CASE HISTORY: "Chad"
This obsession ... this madness ... or whatever you want to call it ... The roots go deep. A half a lifetime ago for me. I'm thirty now and I was fifteen at the time ... and it all took form that very special summer in my life.
A guy's first piece of ass that's supposed to be a big deal in his young life. Well, it wasn't for me. In fact, the whole deal was nothing but sheer frustration, and I'll tell you why I wanted Lorna, but I got Monica. Monica was a slut and she put out for all the guys in the neighborhood. Lorna ... she was beautiful ... and she was a virgin.
Maybe I should backtrack a little on my fifteenth year, to the very first time I discovered the joys of experimenting with my own cock. like everyone else, it happened right around the time of puberty, I mean when you really go into it solidly, orgasm and all. So maybe at first you're not really thinking of anything as you fist your hard cock and stroke it back and forth, but you soon learn the fantasy-route.
Loud and clear, you bring in a mental image of the sexual partner or partners you'd really like to be grooving with. Well, at first, it wasn't any certain special girl, but there was one important thing about it for me. I can always remember closing my eyes, working my fisted hand like gangbusters on the cock I eye-measured for growth day by day, and imagining an unbelievably tight pussy. I can still remember how I thought it would be such a tremendous struggle to get my thick and long cock into a very tight snatch, the girl screaming and crying how much I was hurting her.
Okay, that was my fantasy-bag and it started damned young for me. And don't ask me why, but with my pubic bush just starting thin about the base of my cock and balls, I would imagine the girl with just a few delicate hairs down there around that unbelievably tight pussy. I would stroke my cock back and forth, imagining my finger working right up underneath the girl's panties, getting it continually ready for my cock. And then the girl begging me not to tug down her panties, that she had never been screwed before.
Panties ... I can still remember during that period when I first started being aware of girls sitting sloppy in school, showing their thighs spread out wide enough to look right up under their dresses at those delightful panty-crotches. I would store up those treats, using them in my masturbation sessions, locked and alone in my room at night. Locked because I lived in constant fear of my old lady catching me in the act. She used to take the strap to me for just about any and every minor offense around the house, I always imagined her slaughtering me if she ever caught me jerking off.
I used to limit myself to jerking off only once a day, and each time I shot my load into the old sock or rag, I would tell myself that I would never do it again. But the next day would come and there would be storerooms of mental images to masturbate to, all my fantasy sexual partners those young girls who had shown me the inner reaches of their thighs and had treated me to filmy panty-crotches. I would once again double-check the lock on the door and hurry out of my clothes, usually leaving on my jockey shorts and tugging my hard cock out of the fly. And then usually the balls, loving the sight of them dangling low as I pulled on my prick. Yeah, like a lot of other curious boys in their extremely early teens I had discovered the joys of checking my action in the mirror. Closer and closer, I would check the lengths and speed of my cock strokes in the mirror, occasionally even letting my hot cream spurt all over it.
Their names ... I found I could get a bigger kick out of stroking my cock while calling out the girls' names, tightening to think of their legs and panty-crotches. I would have to whisper it, murmuring the name so that the sound couldn't escape my locked bedroom door. And always, I imagined the pussy so unbelievably tight and the girl screaming as I shoved my monstrous cock to her. Hey, I did have a big cock as a young kid, and then every kid imagines it's bigger than it really is. I'm hung damned good, I've had plenty of compliments on the length and thickness of my prick, and the majority of my growth in that department was reached while I was still in my early teens.
Beautiful knockers ... I soon discovered that my cock would start throbbing all the harder as I imagined a girl's bare knockers. I can still remember the day in school when I was aware of the girl in front of me wearing a summerish blouse, the straps of her Junior bra so damned obvious. Yeah, and then I remember the excuses I used to be standing in front of her, carefully noting the outline of the bra-cups and thinking of her knockers right inside them.
I couldn't wait for bedtime that night, I had to masturbate to that image just as soon as I got home from school. I can still remember rushing to the bathroom, telling my old lady that my stomach was bothering me. I yanked down my trousers to my ankles and shoved a rapidly hardening prick right through the fly of my jockeys and I was instantly in motion. I could bring in the mental image loud and clear, closing my eyes and straining to imagine the feel of my hands tugging at that junior bra, bringing it down and fevering the lush flesh with my hands. And with enough imagination, that wasn't my hand wrapped so damned tight about my cock.
Oh, no, that was the girl's pussy and she was screaming and yelling how my cock hurt her. And she was telling me that I was the very first boy to ever screw her the very first. ...
Well, there had to be a very first for me in reality, and that didn't happen until that very special summer in my life, when I had just turned fifteen. I was extremely tall for my age and I had thick and long black hair. Okay, I hadn't really filled out and I could have been considered gawky, but at least my height made me look more grownup than a lot of my buddies.
That summer ... it seemed all the guys did was talk about sex, bragging like crazy about all the girls they made out with. And that was the summer that when us guys went swimming bare-ass at our favorite hideout down by the creek, everybody seemed aware of the size of the other guy's meat. Hey, at that age, it's perfectly straight to notice how other kids are hung in comparison to you.
"Wow, Chad, you're really hung!" one guy finally came out with it, the other guys laughing and fooling around.
"Monica would love that stud-prick!" my buddy Neal shouted out, and I could tell that he was starting to get a hard-on.
"We oughta fix Chad up with Monica!" Eddie called out. "He's probably still just playing with himself!"
"I've made out!" I lied, trying to be a big shot. Okay, so that was the period of time that
Lorna entered my life. She moved into a house across the street, it was during that summer vacation. She was thirteen and she had the most fantastic lithe frame and long blonde hair flowing all the way down her back. The moving van was still unloading and their car had just pulled in behind it, and I can still remember the out-of-state license plates. And then after that, all I remember was Lorna getting out of the back seat of the car.
I'll tell you why I remember that, and can still feel my cock aching thinking about it, and that was the fantastic outfit she was wearing. You'd call them hot pants now, but they were still short-shorts. And let me tell you, they were low-slung and they hugged her snatch and curvy ass beautifully. She was barefooted, and long limbed, my eyes darting up and down those curvy thighs. The flat of her stomach was fantastically bare and she had the most unbelievably skimpy halter knotted at the cleavage of her little knockers.
Okay, I'll tell you something really wild about that first visual encounter with Lorna. I can still remember pressing my face up close to the front door window and telling myself that she just had to be a good girl. I mean, I could imagine that she had let boys kiss her and maybe rub her here and there, just fooling around but that she still had not been screwed. Don't ask me to explain why that had become such an important issue with me, even back then, but it was. It seemed to be the only way to measure and evaluate a girl whether or not she had been screwed. But I always thought of myself screwing the girl, always being the first guy to do it to her.
Well, I watched Lorna across the street, looking out the window of the front door, edging the lace curtain back slightly. Down below the window was solid wood and I used it to rub my rapidly rising crotch. My old man was working and my old lady was out shopping, and I had the house to myself. Oh, I had an older brother and sister, but they were both married and gone. My parents were so damned strict that they were in a big rush to get the hell out. So anyway, with the whole house to myself, that fantastic new sight across the street, I knew I had to do something my rock-hard cock banging against the pouch of my jockeys. It just had to be freed and stroked hard and fast by my tingling hand.
I couldn't get my eyes off that beautiful girl across the street, the shorts and skimpy halter seemingly continually skimpier and skimpier. I tried to tear myself away, telling myself that I would keep the fantastic mental image solidly on my mind as I rushed to my bedroom or the bathroom to jerk off.
I had to work my hand down between the wooden panel of the door and my bulging crotch, watching the honey-haired beauty seemingly posing for me across the street. She was standing with her legs spread out wide, watching the moving men, and I could imagine my hand going directly to the crotch of her shorts, getting her to gyrate like crazy.
I didn't plan to do it it was sheer necessity I just had to unzip the fly of my skintight dungarees, all that hard prick throbbing like crazy and actually aching. I worked the one hand right in over the cotton front of my shorts, widening my thighs as I fixed my line of sight through the small window at the top of the door. That seemed much easier, working my hand all over the front of my shorts, the jockey pouch suddenly swollen out of all proportion. And still it was all so tight, the dungarees so damned snug on me.
My eyes would not leave her for a moment, especially as they tried to visualize the filmy, little panties she might be wearing under those snug shorts. And as my eyes remained glued to the fantastic sight of her, I just had to unbuckle my belt and unbutton that button to really part my dungarees. I gave a few tugs and then I could feel the mountainous rise of my jockey pouch free and breathing heavily, seemingly a living thing by itself.
"Oh, wow!" I addressed my words to the actual image I could see across the street, "you're really something!" And I can still remember how I wanted to know her name, rubbing on the jam-packed pouch of my shorts all the harder.
Suddenly I was aware of how she smiled and laughed as she talked to her father, and I caught a wild view of her shaking her blonde hair freely and running her hands down the front of her thighs, from the edge of her shorts down toward her knees.
I had to do it, the beads of perspiration forming thick on my forehead, I just had to tug my hard cock out of the fly of my underwear and fist in unbelievably tight. Tight tighter real tight ... just as I could imagine her pussy being so unbelievably snug and hard to enter. And then I started the smooth strokes, working my hand carefully from the very base of the living, breathing prick to the very tip of it.
"Tight, real tight...." I inwardly murmured, imagining her pussy, working my hand slow but firm on the proud jut of my cock. "I'd love to shove it to you-"I whispered hoarsely, and I didn't seem to give a damned about the element of danger. Yeah, the element of danger was that my old lady might catch me at it, if she used the kitchen entrance. My eyes were glued to the honey-haired beauty across the street, the new girl on the block, and just about anyone could have walked up the side of the house, even a damned army of people.
I could only concentrate on the fantastic sight across the street, the aura of mystery about the new girl, and my hand stroking so firmly on my rock-hard cock.
Back and forth, I increased the speed, trying to tighten my hand all the more, imagining the girl groaning in pain as I worked the prick to the very core of her tight pussy, trying to work out those words telling me that I was the very first guy to fuck her.
The very first I set that goal for myself, telling myself that I would have her as my girl, before any of the other guys in the neighborhood. And with that obsession, I stroked my cock all the faster and harder, frustrated that I didn't know her name, that I didn't know a damned thing about her. Except that she was beautiful, so very beautiful, and I just had to salute her with my wild handwork on my hard cock.
I was going for the windup, so damned close to an orgasm, and I reached for my handkerchief, quickly wrapping it around the head of my cock to catch that heavy load of hot cream.
I slowed for one moment, a very frustrating thought crossing my mind. I had made a big step from jerking off totally alone with only a mental image of a sexual symbol on my mind. I could feel that special ache of suddenly being so close to the real thing, watching it before my eyes even if it was across the street and still not having it.
"I'd love to do it to you-" I inwardly murmured and I raced my hand on the heard jut of my prick, the handkerchief wrapped tightly about the head of it. "Just you and me" I had to really tighten, so obsessed that she wouldn't fool around with any other boy. "Just us!" I screeched aloud and the orgasm was under way, the power of it causing me to shudder and buckle and grasp at the handkerchief covered head all the tighter.
Frustration ... sheer frustration ... that was the start of that summer when I was fifteen. I can still remember that certain "empty feeling," wiping the head of my spent cock dry with that damned messy handkerchief. I finally pulled my eyes away from the honey-haired beauty across the street and tugged my prick back inside my shorts. I can still remember my determination to have sex with a partner especially the new girl across the street and just as soon as possible. I told myself that jerking off just couldn't make it anymore.
Talk about close calls, I had just zipped up my fly and fastened my belt buckle when my old lady entered through the kitchen door, calling my name in that monotonous tone, telling me to go help her with the groceries.
"Did you see the new family?" she asked, and it just had to be the understatement of the year. I had noticed them, all right, that honey-haired daughter that I just had to have.
Okay, so I finally met her and got to know her and I was convinced that she liked me. But we never had much of a chance to ever be alone and that old frustration continued, mounting unbelievably as I was forced to masturbate to seek sexual relief, night after night. Yeah, and a lot of times during the day, just playing close to her, rubbing my thigh to hers, or the back of my hand slipping against her breasts, and I would have to run inside and lock myself in the bathroom and pound my prick fast and furiously.
Frustration ... and then an even rougher brand of frustration to take. I finally got off alone with Lorna one night, and she was wearing a pair of really snug short-shorts and a formfitting sweater, the outline of the junior bra so damned obvious.
We were behind her house and she was waiting for her parents to come home. It was dark out, and she was afraid to let me go in the house. I remember being on the back porch and she was sitting on the railing, her legs spread out fantastically and I was getting a bulging hard-on. And let me tell you, dressed for the warm weather in a pair of cut-off shorts and a colored T-shirt that was too damned tight on me, it only came down to my navel, there just wasn't any place to hide that damned hard-on.
I remember playing around with her, finding an excuse to hold her hands, my bulging crotch touching up close to one of her knees. Yeah, I saw her eyes shift down to the bulge of me a few times, but then she would always look the other way, seemingly nervous about it all.
I suddenly had to tell her how much I liked her, and I can't remember the idiotic words I used or maybe I don't really want to remember. But then I was really flustered, and I used it as an excuse to move continually closer to her, and she didn't make a move to stop me. I moved right in to the open V of her thighs, suddenly so damned conscious of the special warmth of her. I had to kiss her and I know realize how awkward I had been about it that first time. My mouth parted slightly, but she seemed so nervous as she held her lips pressed tightly together.
I worked the front of me to really press my bulging crotch close to her and I heard that certain click coming from down deep in her throat.
That gave me the courage I needed and I worked my hands to her tightly sweatered knockers, fevering the high rise of her. I could make out more sounds coming from her and her hands seemed to be nervously moving down about her sides, one of them coming so damned close to my bulging crotch.
I got braver, making a fast move and working one hand underneath the sweater, instantly capturing the contents of one bra-cup.
"Don't, Chad-" she tightened, but made no move to stop me. "Please, don't...." her voice was weak, not very insistent.
"You know I really like you-" And I worked a lot of sweaty fingers anxiously to move inside the bra-cup, amazed at how fantastically warm the milk-white flesh of her could be. "I really like you-" And I jammed in closer to her, working the one ripening knockers out of the bra-cup to fondle it firmly.
I was living, really living and I pressed myself all the more into her, working my mouth back to hers. I had it wide open the second time and she was giving in to me, opening her mouth and letting my tongue slither and twine hers. I wanted my hand on that other breast, but I couldn't seem to move into the right position, and I just didn't want to break off the body contact on that side, the fantastic feel of young flesh to young flesh.
I could feel every muscle and sinew in my fifteen year old body aching and flaming, and I thought for sure I would orgasm right then, making my underwear all sticky. And then it came to me, the image of how I imagined her panty-covered snatch would look, light blonde hairs glistening right through it. I worked my imagination up to a fever pitch, wondering how it would be to slide fingers up inside her panties. And then I told myself that I had to find a new boldness, that the frustration couldn't go on forever. I had to make a big move I just had to and I placed the flat of my hand solidly on the crotch of her snug shorts.
"Chad, don't-" she didn't protest too loudly, bringing her thighs in closer together.
"I really like you I realized how foolish I sounded, keeping my hand there, fevering the love mound like crazy, telling myself that I could actually feel her pussy through the material of the shorts and her panties. That indentation, running so smoothly down between her thighs, I was certain one of my fingers was tracing it, and I could feel my cock throbbing all the harder, anxious to get out of the confines of my underwear.
I edged a few fingers over to the hemline of the snug shorts and anxiously tried to tuck them in underneath.
"Don't, Chad, please!" her voice was hoarse and I could sense how frightened she really was.
"I'm sorry, but I really do like you-" And I went back to placing my hand solidly on the love mound-area, scorching it right through the material. I could get away with that much, and my frustration continually mounted as I thought of actually working my hard cock into her tight pussy, telling myself that I would be very gentle with her.
She was squirming like crazy, and I could tell that her eyes were continually going to the bulge at the crotch of my cut-off shorts. Let me tell you, I could sense that my prick was swollen to the hilt and that made quite a mountain at the tightness of my crotch.
I had to keep it going, certain that I would never again get the courage up. I had to feel her tight pussy, to get my anxious cock to it. We were still in that awkward position, her sitting stiffly on the railing of the porch, while I was standing on damned wobbly feet, pressed right into her. I had to make a really drastic move, and so I used another kiss as a cover, ramming my mouth to hers.
The cover, it was working and she seemed to be enjoying the feel of the flat of my hand fevering the crotch of her shorts, rubbing it so fully, one finger gliding down where I was certain was the indentation of her pussy. I worked the other hand from her knockers, tracing the fingers down the flat of her stomach.
I could feel that hand trembling like crazy, since I knew what it was up to. I couldn't stop the hand, it worked right down her thigh and grabbed for one of her hands. She let me take her hand and it all seemed to be going so fantastically as I placed it on my bulging crotch.
That certain click came up fast from down deep in her throat and I could feel all of her lithe frame trembling. I held her hand down on the mountain of my crotch even more solidly. I worked the other hand in circular motions on her snatch-area and those troubled sounds turned to sighs of enjoyment. She couldn't hide them and I knew I had made a bold step forward.
I worked my mouth back to hers, kissing her solidly in victory, and I could feel her mouth moving solidly on mine, seemingly wanting to enjoy it fully. The move was great and I knew she was with me and I was bold enough to remove my hand from the hold on hers. I was right, she kept her hand solidly on the living, breathing bulge of my crotch.
I can remember her eyes meeting mine and she seemed to be asking me about the mystery of the throbbing of all my imprisoned meat, and just how one person could be doing that to another. Yeah, and I rubbed all the harder at her love mound crotch and I had a lot of puzzling questions that needed answering. I wanted to touch her pussy, really get my fingers on the moist indentation, but I sensed that a drastic move right away would only frighten her off.
I could feel her hand moving about on the bulge of my crotch, seemingly in enjoyable discovery and I shoved it up closer to her, and she let out a little string of moans that had to be of approval.
Time for the next step ... I felt certain I could make the next move and I was beginning to wonder where I would actually take her to shove my cock to her pussy, since we couldn't do it right there on the back porch, with neighbors all around us, and her parents about to show up at any moment.
My sexually saturated brain was running wildly ahead of the actual action and I got bolder and bolder. I quickly unzipped my fly and urged her hand right inside the tightness of my cut-off shorts. The sounds from down deep in her throat were coming faster and louder, and I should have sensed the rising panic. And yet her hand was glued to the jam-packed jockey pouch and I could tell that she was enjoying it.
I was turned on the limit, rubbing the one hand like crazy on the crotch of her shorts. I had made out where the button and short zipper was at the side of her shorts and I wanted to get at them. But I figured I wasn't ready for that move, especially since I would have to remove my hand from the warmth of her crotch, and she might really panic and back off in the process. Her hand was rubbing all the harder at the jam-packed pouch of my jockeys and she seemed to be really grooving on it.
That was the key to the real action, I told myself and I made another fast move, unbuckling my belt, undoing that top button to make more room at the rising bulge of me down there. She was starting to twist and turn and those sounds were rising from down deep in her throat and I gambled the really big move, needing both of my hands to do it.
"Please, Lorna-" I whimpered and tugged out my rock-hard cock, jutting it forward and grabbing at both of her hands. I placed them both solidly on the swollen prick and she panicked, jumping off the railing and moving toward the kitchen door.
"Please, Lorna, I'm sorry!" I moved to ward her off from rushing inside. "I'm sorry-" But I had to tuck my cock back inside my shorts and zip up and buckle my belt. I watched her about to enter, but then stop short, looking so troubled and I rushed over to her, repeating that I was sorry and that I had not meant to scare her.
I moved in all the closer, taking only her hands in mine, and I orgasmed like crazy, the semen soaking my undershorts and making me so damned uncomfortable down there, all of my body shuddering and instantly aching.
"I've never gone all the way, Chad!" she blurted out, moving back close to me. "I'm scared "
"No one's done it to you yet...." I was so damned intrigued that she was untouched that way.
"No, and I like you, but...."
And we were saved by the lights of the car turning into the driveway, and we separated a little more as we saw her parents driving to the rear of the driveway. The only smiled at us and said hello, seemingly trusting their daughter. They were a lot different than my suspicious parents, I'll tell you. Yeah, I had those pangs of guilt and I really hated myself for a while.
I'll tell you something else that's really wild. After that, during the next few days, we sensed a much closer bond between us, and yet we kept our distance, as though we both wanted something special to happen, but had our doubts about really handling it.
Sheer frustration ... I'll tell the world! Okay, so that was the same time that my buddy Neal and all the other guys were bragging like crazy about gangbanging Monica, forever talking about how she loved to fuck.
Monica was seventeen and a tall strawberry blonde with unbelievably big knockers. She loved a few doors down from me and her father was a doctor. My old lady and others in the neighborhood were forever gossiping about Monica's parents and all the wild parties they'd throw on weekends. None of the neighborhood grownups ever attended the parties, only outsiders, some of them even coming from out-of-state. The guys would make up wild stories about swap parties and all sorts of orgies. But one thing was for certain, it gave Monica a lot of freedom on weekends and the guys would take her out parting until all hours of the morning.
"Monica wants you to ball her!" were Neal's exact words that momentous night in my life. It was a Saturday night and Lorna had to get in the house by eleven, and I knew it wouldn't be long before my old lady would be shouting for me to get home.
I thought of screwing Monica, but I instantly told myself that she would only serve as a substitute for Lorna. I had the wildest imagination working in my favor and I thought that I could convince myself that the neighborhood slut would really be my fantasy of Lorna. Crazy, I know, but you can get in a bind like that, believe me.
One of the older guys had a driver's license and we went out to a deserted shack by the lake. Three guys were already there with Monica and we could hear a lot of wild noise as we pulled in. They had been drinking and smoking pot and carrying on like crazy.
That first image of fucking ... I can still remember walking into the shack, a number of candles burning around the room, that and the smell of pot and incense. Two mattresses were piled high in the center of the room and I big guy named Red had his bare ass up in the air, Monica's legs spread out wide and aimed to the ceiling.
"Shove it to me!" she screeched aloud and I could feel the dryness in my throat as I watched Red pumping her like crazy, his hands hooked roughly up about her buttocks. "Oh, hard and fast!" her voice was demanding, her snatch gyrating wildly to each and every cock thrust he slammed down at her.
"Show the guys how great you are, Monica!" one kid called out, working a hand over a maul a knocker. "Do your stuff, cunt!" he laughed.
I moved in on wobbly feet, trying to look as calm as the older guys, turned on by the wild sight on the double mattresses. Don't ask me why, but I always imagined a guy perfectly flat on top of a girl while he was fucking her. And I was really surprised to find Red right up on his knees, his hard cock showing each time he pistoned upward, her snatch up in the air to greet his downward thrusts.
I studied the position, realizing that he could drive his prick into her all the harder that way, and he seemed to be trying to continually raise himself on his knees, slamming cock to her harder and harder.
His hands ... I had always imagined putting my arms about a girl's back when I'd get my first big chance to fuck, but Red's hands were glued to her buttocks, the fingers edging right into the crack of her ass. I mean, I could see it all, since they seemed to be raising it all right up for all of us to watch the action.
"Oh, give it to me!" Monica was like an animal, her strawberry blonde hair falling all over the front of her, strands of it in her mouth. And each time she got cock thrusted I was aware of the thick mat of pubic hair down there so very sweaty.
"Now, bitch, now!" Red roared, thundering all the harder, and my cock was getting rock hard watching the windup action. I had to ease a hand down there, the bulge forcing my white denims right up solidly. Hell, I looked about me and other kids hand their hard cocks dangling right out, hands fisted tightly about them.
"Oh, give it to me!" Monica screeched, buckling and shuddering with Red, shoving her snatch right up to him as he so obviously spent his load, groaning all the time as he just couldn't seem to keep up with her.
"I'm next-" an anxious voice started, trying to maul at her knockers, Red still on top of her.
"She promised me!" Another kid tried to shove his way forward.
"I want Chad!" she beamed, working a hand over and planting it solidly on my bulging crotch. "Let's see what you've got!" she fevered it wildly with the palm of her hand, the guys all shouting their lewd encouragement.
"He digs that new girl!" one guy cried out, obviously jealous that Monica had picked me.
"Lorna stuck-up!" someone else cried out. "What's the matter, Chad? Won't she put out for you?! "
"My cock is sore!" Red moaned, getting off Monica, his spent cock dangling low.
"Come over here, Chad!" Monica leaned up on the mattresses. "Let me get at that cock, see if it's as big as the guys say it is!"
"It is, you'll see!" my buddy Neal shouted, moving in and urging me to get up closer to her on the edge of the mattresses.
"I'll see for myself!" Monica laughed, taking a quick gulp of beer from a can offered to her. And lightning-like, she unzipped my fly and had her hand fishing up inside the denims, fevering the jockey pouch like crazy. She was making the wildest sounds of pleasure, and I hurriedly took a heavy gulp of beer from the open can Neal handed me.
"Oh, let me dig this cock!" she shrilled, yanking and tugging and working fast until she reeled it out of the fly of my shorts and out into the open. "Nice'n big and thick!" she groaned, her hand fisting it tightly, stroking it fully.
"Lap it up, Monica!" a voice cried out.
"I'll get to it!" And she really threw me off guard, darting her tongue to the tip of it, soul-kissing it lovingly. I could see the saliva running down the side of her lips and she was really grooving on the taste of it, running her tongue down to the base of it.
"Hey, take your clothes off, Chad!" one guy dried out.
"Quick!" Monica groaned, hooking her hands into my T-shirt, urging me to do it.
I looked around and I knew I had to prove myself before the other guys. I wanted Lorna all alone, but I had to show the guys what a real man I was with a slut like Monica. I hurriedly pulled off my T-shirt and Monica's hands went eagerly to my belt buckle and then even faster to that op button.
"Oh, hurry-" she leaned over, and I took over, wanting to tug down my own pants. The greedy bitch, I was still tugging down my pants when she hooked her hands into the waistband of my shorts and started tugging them down, my hard and very swollen cock hurting as it got caught in the fly.
"I'll get it-" I tightened, and I nervously kicked off my sandals and managed to step out of the trousers. And then I tugged my shorts down and hurried them off, standing totally nude before her.
"Oh, you've got them all beat!" she grabbed my hard cock with both hands, aiming it right toward her mouth.
"Suck it, Monica!" a voice cried out.
"Blow job blowjob!" the chant was steady.
"Do your mouth-thing, Monica!"
"Oh, wild-" she agreed and then I had to really tighten, feeling her open mouth lunge right down on the length of my hard prick. She was slobbering like crazy, ramming her mouth down the limit, until I could actually feel her chin banging uptight to my balls.
I shoved one hand down over a knocker, instantly mauling and squeezing it, unable to understand why I wanted to hurt her. But she seemed to love it, writhing and twisting and working her mouth on my cock as I continually squeezed and twisted it all the harder. And the guys, they were shouting and cheering and thinking of me as a big guy as I treated that knocker so damned rough.
I couldn't understand it back then, but it was all combining to do so very much for my male ego, and I really had the urge to get rough with her. I could feel my other hand fisting and unfisting and I was just about to clamp it over her other knocker when I changed my mind. I rammed it wildly over her snatch, shoving a lot of fingers right into the moistness of her cunt. She turned and really squirmed, working her tongue all over my cock as she rammed her mouth on it all the faster.
I had to get rougher with her, something inside me kept shouting that she was a slut-bitch and that since so many guys had fucked her before me she should be treated rough and crummy. I twisted my fingers down into the very core of her vagina, jamming and shoving and she was making the wildest sounds from down deep in her throat. And, yeah, some of the kids were so damned turned on by the wild sight that they were jerking off like crazy.
"Oh, fuck me!" she suddenly screeched, rushing her mouth off my cock. "Oh, wild!" And she was throwing her legs up wildly in the air, working that unbelievably wild V for me to enter her.
"You're gonna get it!" I shouted, and I couldn't believe it was me talking, or me moving viciously up on the mattress, my hand still rammed over her snatch, fingers exploring the moistness like crazy.
"Oh, give it to me!" she humped the snatch right up to me. And I could only think of how differently it would have been with Lorna, how she would be asking me to be gentle with her.
"Take it-" I tightened, yanking my fingers out of her ready cunt and positioning my thick cockhead at her pussy-lips. Crazy, but it was as though I had done it a million times before, and I didn't need any instructions. Instinct just a lot of instinct got me up higher on my knees, ready to really ram that anxious snatch of hers.
"Oh, give it to me-" she yelled and I wanted to shut the bitch up and I thrust her sadistically, hooking my hands right up underneath her ass, ramming her up tight to me, holding her in a vise as I rammed my long and thick prick to the very core of her vagina. I cut her sounds off and she damned sure knew she had been slammed with a lot of cock. And the guys around us knew it, too, openly awed by the fantastic cock-slamming I had given her.
All the way into her ... I had a terrible sense of disappointment ... I had fantasized the tightness of getting a girl for the first time for so long ... and yeah, I didn't take all that stuff about breaking a virgin's cherry as a joke. It was what I had wanted so desperately with Lorna. But my very real first piece of ass with Monica, and there probably wasn't even an accurate count on how many times she had been fucked before I got her.
I could feel her starting to writhe and twist beneath me, and I had to show the bitch that I was going to dominate. Don't ask me why or how or anything else but it was there within me, the need to take out my frustration that I wasn't getting my virgin Lorna. And there would have been no need to try to close my eyes and fantasy that I was making it with Lorna. That greedy cunt beneath me and all the lewd shouting and sounds from the guys gathered about made that impossible.
"Oh, give it to me!" Monica started, so in contrast to my fantasy of a girl begging me to take it easy with her.
I wanted to call her names, to call her a pig and a slut and just about everything that was swimming about in my brain. And all the while, the frustrations swirled about me all the more. I couldn't mouth any words, I could feel the walls of her vagina closing and opening so greedily on my thick cock, and I had to get back at her.
"Take it-" was all I could muster, and I started lifting upward. And then I slammed down hard on her, thrusting cock fast and furiously, with absolutely no letup. And every time she started to hump her snatch forward, twisting and turning, I slammed her all the harder. I was right up on my knees and holding her right up to my hard working cock, my hands wrapped around her buttocks, my fingers digging sadistically up into the crack of her ass.
I had her groaning and tightening in a perverse sense of pain-pleasure and still she wouldn't stop. I had to pound cock to her all the harder to make up for my disappointment at not getting Lorna.
Lorna was virgin ... that absolute thought kept running through my brain as I pounded my body sadistically to Monica, right up on my knees where each cock-thrust could be a major drive. I wanted Lorna so desperately and so I ground myself right into Monica, working out all of my frustrations, trying to drown out all the lewd shouts from the guys gathered about us.
She wasn't tight down there, and I hated to think of all the guys that had banged her before me. I had to slam her harder and harder with cock, and still there was no satisfying her greedy cunt. Harder and faster and still I could feel her grinding herself up into me, demanding more and more of my sadistic cock-pounding.
The bitch I couldn't satisfy her, and I had to show the guys what a big man I was I tightened all the more, clamping the limit on her buttocks, holding her solidly up to me, quieting her body as I did all the pounding, the heavy beads of sweat bouncing right off my body.
"Oh, now now-" she whimpered, giving in to me, letting me know that she had been mastered.
I didn't let up, speeding up my steady barrage of cock-poundings to her greedy cunt, working to the windup. I let her start erupting her hot cream and then I made it with her, sinking totally into her, my balls slamming into the inner reaches of her thighs, up snug to the start of her ass-hole.
I didn't wait around after that, slowly edging out of the crowd of guys, gathering up my clothes as the next guy mounted her. Neal and the other guys never noticed me slipping out, and I didn't want to wait for a ride back to town. I felt like walking and I didn't seem to give a damn about the time of night or early morning.
It just had not been what I had anticipated. I had wanted such a beautifully private thing, and the need to be so gentle with a girl the first time. Gangbang ... that was the word for it and it left me with a limp dick but no great sense of satisfaction.
I can still remember looking toward Lorna's house across the street when I finally made it home. I was staring up toward her darkened bedroom window and trying to imagine what it might have been like for me the first time with her. But it had not been with Lorna the first time and I finally hurried up the sidewalk to sneak in through the kitchen door, hoping my old lady would be sound asleep.
I was wrong, the damned kitchen light snapped on the very moment I closed the door.
"A ass!" she screeched, holding that thick leather strap I knew so well. "You're getting to be a ass!" she snapped the strap loud, moving toward me, and I suddenly turned away, not wanting to look at the cleavage of her breasts where her nightgown hung so damned loose.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, Chad!" she screeched, and I heard the leather snap unusually loud and menacing. "It's that tramp girl down the street the doctor's daughter!"
"No, mom-" I started to lie.
"Don't lie to me!" she cut in. "Well, I don't want any animals around this house, and I'll punish it right out of you! Now go to your room and take your pants down!"
I went up to my room and I started to take my pants down. But getting punished that way, forced to pull down my pants and shorts to get the slashing of the strap across my bare buttocks was suddenly so very totally different. I had my belt buckle undone and I had unbuttoned the trousers. But I couldn't seem to unzip my fly, telling myself that it was no longer a matter of punishment, but that it had a sexual connotation to it.
I was a boy before that night ... But I thought of myself as a man after getting my first piece of ass even from a slut like Monica. And as I stood there, I told myself that I could never subject myself to the humiliation of pulling down my pants and shorts and hanging my bare ass over the edge of the bed for my old lady to punish me with the strap.
I wasn't going to let her do it to me, I inwardly tightened, and I was actually thinking ahead to all the wild screwing I would get, making out with girls who hadn't been around as much as Monica. And, yeah, making out with Lorna, the one girl I was certain just had to be a virgin.
"Why aren't you ready for your punishment?! " my old lady's voice suddenly cut into my plans for the future. She was slowly edging into the room, that damned strap so tight in her hands. And suddenly, it seemed as though her nightgown was really loose up top and she was showing a lot of her knockers, and she sure as hell wasn't wearing a bra.
"I asked you a question!" she screeched, waiting quite a while before exploding. "Why aren't you ready to be punished?! "
"I'm getting too big-"
"Not while you're under my roof!" she suddenly slashed the strap hard across the side of me. "Now get ready for your punishment as you always have!" And she stung me again, working the strap across the other side of me.
I hurriedly pulled down my pants, still facing her, and I could sense her eyes going down to the front of my shorts, an outline of semi-hard cock obviously showing down there. I took my time after that, starting to tug down my shorts just before turning around and showing her my bare ass.
She caught that one solid glance at my semi-hard cock, I could tell that by the way she nervously kept clearing her throat, standing there so awkwardly.
"Then get it over with!" I found some new courage, throwing myself down over the edge of the bed, sensing my balls and semi-hard cock rubbing against the bedcovers. And that time, I could feel my white denims and shorts so damned uncomfortable hanging down about my knees, hemming me in and making my buttocks a good target for the slashing of the strap.
"I'll teach you to mouth off to me!" And she started the strap slashing sadistically across my buttocks. I started to tighten, to work my hands tightly at my sides as I had always done in the past whenever she punished me. But then I sensed something so different about the punishment and I let go of myself, actually anticipating each blow of the strap. I worked my hands up underneath my, right at my midsection, and I could feel my cock hardening with each angry slash of the strap.
"I'll teach you-" my old lady seemed to be slashing with a new vengeance. "You'll stay away from that girl-" And the strap caught me solidly on the rear, stinging my buttocks in a sense of pain-pleasure that I had never been aware of before. I had screwed my first girl, I reminded myself, even if it was a real pig, and anything against any part of my body by another person was sexual to me even the strap being slashed by my old lady.
I opened myself to the steady falling of the strap, convinced that I could take any amount of it, no matter how red and welted my buttocks would get. I wasn't really listening to my old lady mouth off, I just kept telling myself that I wouldn't be taking much more of her crap.
Then I thought of the irony of the strapping I was getting. It was for fooling around with that gangbang artist, Monica. I would gladly have taken all day and all night punishment for one time with Lorna. Gladly, I'll tell the world! But it hardly seemed fair to be punished like that for a slut like Monica, when there were so many other guys before me, and there would be plenty after me.
I was getting confused, my cock hardening while the strap-slashing continued and unable to understand why it no longer pained me. When I was much younger, I could remember sobbing while the strap slashed my buttocks. And then, long after the old lady had stopped, I would still be crying and feeling the pain. That excruciating pain ... I tried to recall it, but there was no longer a memory of it.
The slashing of the strap across my buttocks was something totally new to me, so close after my first piece of ass, that symbol of boy into man. All I hated about the strapping was that I didn't consider Monica worth that much of it. And yet, my old lady couldn't seem to stop herself, and I sensed a different brand of frustration coursing through her.
"That's enough, dammit!" I roared, and then I really gave the old lady the chock treatment. I turned right around, my hard cock bobbing right up at her, seemingly pointing at her with the thick leather strap in her hand.
"Animal!" she sucked in hard on her breath, and she was visibly trembling as she remained there before me. I pulled myself further up on the bed and I made no effort to cover myself. And I noticed that she had her eyes trained solidly on me down there. She was trembling all the harder, seemingly trying to get up the strength to keep calling me an animal. She shuddered that final time, her eyes hooked solidly on the hard just of my swollen prick.
A sigh of defeat ... that's what it sounded like to me, and my old lady suddenly turned and rushed out of the room, the strap in her hands. That was the last time she ever punished me, until I left home a few years later. And she never once mentioned that episode, and she always seemed damned careful to not peer into my bedroom or catch me going to the bathroom with only my underwear.
I'll tell you something else about that night no matter how sick it might sound to you. I'm telling it, because maybe it is an important part of my case history, and the only way to start thinking straight is to let it all come out of me, every last detail, no matter how sordid. Well, when my old lady left the room, I still had that aching hard-on. So I got up and pushed the door closed but didn't bother to lock it. I spread a towel out across the bed and started jerking off.
"Lorna...." I had to inwardly murmur her name, trying desperately to erase the thought of having screwed Monica and replacing it with a first with Lorna. Yeah, and stroking my cock firmly I thought of Lorna telling me over and over again that it was her first time and to be gentle with her.
My hand fisted tightly about my cock, taking those long and full strokes, I told myself that Lorna wouldn't have to tell me that she was a virgin, I would damned sure know it by the tightness of her pussy and how careful I would have to be to not hurt her.
"Gentle ... gentle ... gentle...." And I tightened my hand on my swollen prick, imagining the taking of the maidenhead, moving carefully on to that all-important first total union. So fantastic and I erupted hot cream all across the towel, shuddering and buckling to work the last drop of semen from the lips of my cockhead.
Crazy, I know ... but then as I tried to regain my composure I was totally aware of the welts cris-crossing my buttocks from the old lady's strapping. It was so damned sexual and I worked a hand to my rear, soothing first one buttock and then the other, keeping the other hand planted on my spent cock.
I'll tell you about the next day I felt too damned dirty to approach Lorna, thinking about all that wild gangbanging I had been in on with Monica. I avoided her that next day, and by the time night came, I was going wild. I had to see her, and then I had to wait until the following morning.
Up early, I was pretending to be mowing my lawn, just waiting for her to appear. Now I can remember her father making the first appearance, bringing out a picnic basket and other summerish items and loading them into their car.
I tightened, the very moment Lorna made her appearance, looking so fantastic in matching halter and shorts. White ... the perfect color for her, I could feel my cock throbbing to life in the tight confines of my shorts. I hurried across the street, the very moment her father went back into the house.
"Where were you yesterday?" she asked.
"Wasn't feeling too good," I didn't really lie, my eyes going up and down her lithe frame. And then there was that solid meeting of the eyes, and we might have been a few feet apart, but it was as totally sexual as two people locked in each other's arms. We were communicating fantastically, telling each other of so much to come between us in the very near future.
"I want you to go steady with me, Lorna," I spoke softly, and she got the message, she knew that in time, not pushing it, that would include sex.
"I want to...." was all she said, her eyes taking me in fully, going up and down and letting me know that she would swing with me in time.
We didn't have to exchange any other words, we had all the communication going in our eyes. We didn't have to be in each other's arms, we knew what we were pledging to each other. I thought ahead, knowing I would give her all the time she needed, but eventually I would be the first one to have sex with her. Yeah, and I even hoped that I would forever be the only one.
Crazy, I know, to think there was so much communication in so few words, but when people are really tuned in to one another, they don't need a damned single word.
The flawless communication was broken off when her parents came out and she had to hurry to the car. I waved s'long to her, and I was floating all day long. Yeah, I was hot and bothered thinking about that first time for us, telling myself how great it would be that it would be the first time for her. And I felt badly that I had already experienced my first sexual encounter. But it didn't take much to convince myself that being a part of that gangbang with Monica didn't really count a first time.
My first time out would really be with Lorna, when I would take her ever so gently ... gently ... and I floated through the day, waiting for her to return from the outing with her parents. And I'll tell you something, as turned-on as I was I had the desire for instant gratification via masturbation. I wanted to wait until I would make it with Lorna, no matter how long that took. And if it didn't swing to sexual completion on our first dates, I'd still wait and hold out from instant hand satisfaction.
I was floating, trying to keep busy, the day drawing finally and painfully to an end. And then I heard the noise, my mother shouting it out to my father: "The people next door had an accident! The mother and the girl are dead!"
Dead ... dead ... dead ... I had to try the word so many different ways, refusing to believe it, even when Neal and some other guys came over and told me about the three-car collision on a busy intersection. It had to be a cruel joke, it just had to be ... but the funeral told me that it was cruel but not a joke.
I changed a lot after that, convincing myself that I could be hard and not give a damn about people. I went through the remainder of that summer and then back to school with a reckless attitude about my life and my encounter with others. I was out to make every girl I could, and I was batting damned close to a thousand.
Okay, so I didn't give a damn about Monica and the girls that all the guys said were "putting out." I had a line of bull set up to snare the quiet ones, the girls who wouldn't put out for just any guy.
"I really love you!" I would lie, necking and petting with a girl I wanted to screw. "I don't care for anyone else!" I would ham it up like crazy, once I had a hard-on for a girl I knew wasn't putting out.
I kept a very special scoreboard, keeping it to myself and gloating over the virgins I had made. And you can damned sure tell when you've had a virgin, and it's not just whether or not you break the maindenhead and actually see blood dripping down their thighs. In this day and age, a girl can break it herself doing a number of strenuous activities. Not to mention that a lot of young girls experiment with more than just fingers up their snatches, and it could break in the process.
Instinct ... the way a girl acts ... there are a number of sure signs to know whether or not you've been there first. Maybe it gets a little out of hand, and that shouldn't be the important factor, but you can get pretty damned wound up over it.
You take chances, let me tell you, you sure as hell do. When I was younger it was easier to swing with girls on their first time out, especially since I was closer to their ages. But you start to get more mature and you don't have the excuse to be taking out such young chicks. And let's face it, there aren't too many girls who make it into their twenties who remain virgins.
One big chance cost me a damned rough beating a beating I'll never forget ... like I told you, I took off from home right after high school and burned around in different towns and cities, taking a lot of odd jobs at first. I've had my own business and I'm settled down now, but it wasn't that way at first.
That one job, working at a gas station, I know damned well why I asked the guy if he had any work. The owner, Art, had his living quarters attached to the gas station and I spotted his two daughters. They ran or walked or rushed by me a number of times and I instantly sized up the two honey-haired beauties. Marcia was the oldest, and I guess her for seventeen or eighteen, and I didn't have to guess that she had been around, and knew what cock was all about. I can't exactly describe it to you, but there's that certain look a girl give you, that certain way she walks and struts her stuff that tells you she's no stranger to a hard cock. Lots of guys don't have that instinct to tell and they're easily fooled, but I've always had it, from that summer when I was only fifteen, and it registers loud and clear within me. And I'll tell you something, even if it does sound like I'm bragging, but I'm rarely ever wrong on it.
Marcia ... she turned out to be eighteen, only weeks after from her nineteenth birthday very legal. She had a fantastic body that just wouldn't stop and she knew how to entice a guy with it. She had lush knockers that were absolutely made for the skintight white sweaters she continually wore. But let me tell you about Marcia. I not only instantly sized her up as a very available slut, but also a cocksucker. I could sense she was a great mouth-to-cock artist just by the way she used her lips when she talked to you. I mean, you could call it "talking lips," and they didn't have to mouth the words, you could tell they were continually screaming for the taste of cock.
Linda ... That lithe beauty with the rapidly ripening knockers was the reason I took that job pumping gas for peanuts. Believe me, Art paid damned little loot. He did have an abandoned cabin to the rear of his garage and house and the job did feature free room and board. I got my meals in the kitchen and had to take them to the cabin. Then I would return my empty dishes to Art's wife and I'll get to her just as soon as I tell you about Linda.
Linda drove me out of my mind, from the very first time she carelessly sat down in the gas station and happened to pump her legs upward in a scanty mini-skirt. She didn't do it purposely, it was all so innocent, but she showed me the fantastic, curvy inner reaches of her thighs and a very delightful panty-crotch. I was turned-on like gangbusters. I remember looking at her, and getting that warm smile in return, so very sincere. That look I was ninety-nine percent that she was still a virgin.
The clock was running, it would only be a matter of time until a boy her age conned her with stories of love and going steady and she would lay her virginity on the line. And then then it would be too late for me.
So turned-on, I kept finding all sorts of excuses to remain there and talk to her, my eyes drifting to that delightful patch of powder-blue panty-crotch, her young body wiggling and squirming. I was getting a hard-on, and it was banging hard against my underwear, showing a very definite outline of hard meat at a very obvious angle on my thigh.
Linda had not been aware of it, her eyes weren't hooking into it. She was concentrating on me, not the bulge at my crotch. Marcia was the opposite, her eyes went to my crotch long before they went to the rest of me. I can still remember how I had to soak up so much of that young beauty, while her old man was outside fixing a flat tire and I knew I should have gone outside to volunteer my help on it. But I couldn't tear myself away, and I kept working my eyes up into the delightful V of her. Saved I was saved by the bell, a car going over the warning line for gas. I hurried out to pump it, almost thankful for the relief.
I was working a few days, the communication between us was growing beautifully, and I could tell that Linda really liked me. The obsession was in motion, I had to beat the clock, I had to have her sexually before any other human being.
I evaluated my chances and they seemed pretty damned good, especially if I was dishonest to her, telling her that I intented to stay around there, that I loved her and a lot of other crap. The girl's old man seemed a pushover. He was so damned engrossed in the business that he seemed oblivious to the way I looked at Linda and her interest in me.
Linda's mother ... I could spot a sex-starved chick a mile away. She was still an attractive woman in her middle to late thirties, but she had that pinched look about her face that screamed out that the old man wasn't giving her the amount of steady hard cock she craved. I could sense her warming up things each time I picked up my food in the kitchen and returned empty dishes. And more and more, I would find her wearing only a bathrobe when I knocked at the kitchen door, and I could tell that she wasn't wearing much of anything underneath it.
"Come in come in!" Got to be her battle cry. The first few times she had handed me my plates of food at the door, but she was soon not only welcoming me into the kitchen, but having me sit down for coffee and pie or cake. She had a way of treating me as a young boy if her husband was around, being friendly in a manner that was almost motherly. The old man bought it, but I could see right through it. Through that phony cover of being motherly, I could spot her sex-greedy eyes traveling right down to the snugness of my dungarees, concentrating solidly on my crotch. And yeah, she had that certain way of manipulating her lips, the tell-tale signs of the cocksucker.
Linda's mother was building up to something, and it came on a bright and sunny Sunday when the gas station was closed. I had slept late and when I finally got up and looked out the window of my one room cabin I saw and heard Art's old pickup truck pulling out of the driveway, Marcia and Linda sitting up front with him.
The old cabin had a sink and a toilet, but no bath or shower, and I usually used a shower that had been installed in the gas station. I was feeling damned horny and hard-up, since I had not scored with a chick in quite a while, and I was so hung-up on getting Linda. I checked out my window again and there was the mother, right on schedule, with all sorts of excuses to be outside her kitchen door. Yeah, she only had the bathrobe on, and even from the distance the cleavage was starting to look good.
I was rubbing hard at my bulging crotch and asking myself why I shouldn't make a pass at the mother since I was being held off from scoring with Linda. And I had this perverse thought running through my brain and I know it might mark me as a real psycho but I just can't deny it. I'll tell you, I was almost certain that Linda was still a virgin but I knew damned well her older sister Marcia wasn't. I could have balled Marcia, that would have been no big deal, and then I would have been all the more frustrated to get the younger sister. Now the mother I would be going after that with the accepted fact that she didn't have to be a virgin. That had to be the only exemption to my obsession married women certainly didn't have to have their virginity.
Well, I knocked on the kitchen door and Linda's mother was smiling from ear to ear, motioning for me to come In. I played it dumb at first, acting as though I thought her husband and daughters were at home.
"Oh, I was going to ask you if I could use your shower-" And I started to edge back out the kitchen door.
"Sure!" she shrilled, her eyes hooked solidly into where I was showing the outline of hard cock on my thigh. It was swollen to capacity and I knew I was giving her a great eyeful. And I must tell you that she was really turning me on in that bathrobe knotted tight to her, the cleavage so damned lush up there, telling me that she wasn't wearing a bra. I was turned-on by my vacation from going after the new stuff that other guys hadn't had before me. A married chick, I realized, was made to order for such times.
"Maybe I shouldn't bother you-" I started.
"I'll get your towels!" she practically pushed me back in, and she used that motherly gimmick to put her arm around my shoulder. "Chad, I want you to feel very much at home with me," she smiled, keeping her hand on the shoulder.
I thought my hard and swollen cock would explode when I was all alone in the bathroom, stripping out of my clothes. I was down to only my shorts, a lot of thick and long cock clamoring to be free, when I was beginning to wonder if anything would happen or not. I had not bothered with the lock on the door, but she didn't seem to be anywhere out there.
I had to cool it and I hurried out of the shorts and into the shower. I kept the water cool and I soaped my jutting cock to capacity. I had to work a lot of lather into it, fisting my aching cock the limit.
"Chad?" her voice finally came through the door. "Do you have everything you need?" I could sense the shrillness in her words. "Are you all right?"
"I guess so, "I moved more solidly into the full shower spray.
"If you were really my boy-" her voice was high, "I could come in a scrub your back real good!" she tried to sound playful.
I steeled myself, knowing that was the moment to make a move, I had to have the action, I was getting desperate.
"The door's open!" I called back.
I waited, and then I heard the door opening and I could make her out standing there with her hand still on the knob through the transparency of the shower curtain. That certain aching groan was coming from down deep in her throat and I sensed she was more than ready. I had to make the next big move, things just couldn't drag out too slow after that. The big move was to draw back the shower curtains and aim my nude frame right at her, a lot of long and thick cock greeting her.
"Oh, Chad!" She moved closer into the bathroom. "Oh, Chad...." Her voice was getting softer and she undid the sash of her robe and parted it to reveal a curvy body, her knockers so lush and standing right out there. My eyes hooked into the largeness of the brownish-hued tips that seemed so inviting to the mouth. I worked my eyes down the curves of her, watching her peel the bathrobe off and standing there in only a pair of bikini panties. She didn't need any stretch garment to hold her in, her hips so unbelievably trim for a woman well into her thirties.
"Oh, Chad!" her eyes were zoomed in solidly to my well-lathered prick. "You're so handsome!" she finally seemed able to speak other words and she was instantly tugging down her panties, revealing a strawberry blonde pubic bush about her snatch.
She took the soap from my hands and left me dumbfounded as she actually got into the sunken tub with me and started running a lot of soap all over my back, my shoulders and down the tautness of my stomach. She kept working those grinding sounds out of her throat and I didn't realize it them, but she was torturing herself by holding out as long as she possibly could from touching my hard cock.
"Oh, Chad, I love it!" she screeched, the very moment she planted both hands solidly on the firm jut of my cock. "I love it I love it!" The saliva was instantly running down the side of her mouth. "I adore it!" she grasped it all the tighter, running her hands feverishly up and down the length of it. "Chad!" she was screeching wildly. "No one must ever know! Please, no one must know!" And she was gliding right down on her knees, the heavy cascade of shower spray tumbling over her head.
"I love it I love it!" she echoed, flicking her tongue all over the cockhead, running it down into the shaft. "Oh, how I love it!"
I was grooving on her basic honesty, the way she said she loved IT. She hardly had to say it, I could feel the total sense of worship she brought to my cock. And then she really went bananas, ramming her open mouth down the limit on my prick. All the way down, not stopping until her lips smacked hard into the base of my swollen prick.
Then she did something that really made me soar with anticipation. She took my hands and urged me to bend right down over her back. She planted my hands solidly on her trim buttocks, urging my fingers to toy with the crack of her ass.
Those animal sounds came loud and clear from down deep in her throat, and the more I fingered her ass-hole, the louder and more urgent they grew. Up and down, she slobbered like crazy on my cock. That set my fingers into even wilder motion and it was suddenly a race to see who could outdo the other.
"Oh, fuck my ass-hole!" she suddenly screeched, letting her mouth fly wildly off my prick, globs of saliva flying all over the place. "Oh, shove it to my ass!" she moaned, suddenly spinning herself around and widening her ass down on all four like a dog in heat.
"Feels so tight-" I ran a finger up and down the crack of it. "Real tight-" I was turned on by the thought of ass-fucking Linda's mother.
"I've always wanted it that way!" she gyrated wildly, backing up to get me to position my cockhead there. "But I never had the nerve, and my husband thinks it's sickening!" She went even wilder at the mention of her husband, the frustration really showing.
"Oh, great!" I positioned my cockhead at the start of her ass-hole, and I was elated in my own perverse hang-up, knowing I was getting a different brand of virgin. Yeah, a married woman who had obviously cheated on the side with other men but she still had a virgin ass-hole, and I was locking myself into position to get it.
"Oh, give it to me!" she went bananas. "And no matter how I scream and yell don't stop, Chad! I want it to hurt! I want to know I'm really getting it back there!" And she kept backing into my solidly positioned cockhead, forcing the initial entrance. "I've got to have it!"
"Take it-" I tightened and rammed right up into her rear, locking my arms solidly about her, my hands lapping over her love mound. I could feel my sound being cut off, the thrust taking everything out of me. So tight, so beautifully tight and could feel the walls of her ass-hole being forcefully opened to take the full impact of so much long and thick cock.
"Hurt hurt hurt!" she went wild, screeching in unbelievable pain. I thought I was tearing her apart, the screaming coming louder and louder. "Tear me apart!" she whimpered, still backing into it, all of my cock buried to the hilt of her ass-hole. "Oh, fuck me hard!"
A virgin ass-hole I went wild at the perversity of ass-fucking Linda's mother, telling myself that she would make a far-out substitute until I got the young girl's cherry.
I tightened my hands up front, working fingers of both hands into the moistness of her pussy. I finger-fucked her in time with the pistoning of my cock in and out of her ass-hole.
I couldn't hold out too long and I wanted to warn her of my eruption. She didn't need to be told, my wild shuddering and buckling telegraphed my actions and she gyrated like crazy, twisting and continually backing her ass into my cock thrusting.
I wanted her to make it with me and I worked my fingers sadistically into her snatch, deep and fast and with those twisting motions. She shrilled a warning and she orgasmed only seconds after I flood her ass-hole with my hot cream. I dug the feeling of the hot and sticky fluid all over my fingers and we dug the resting together in that wild position of the dogs in action.
"This will have to be our secret," she struggled to catch her breath, twisting about to flick tongue-kisses at my mouth. "No one must know, especially not my daughters-"
I pried loose of her, thinking more and more of when and how I would finally get Linda. I was thinking down and dirty to make the conquest and I knew that having balled the old lady was in my father, since she would have to be on the defensive side of things with the family after that.
I let the shower spray rinse me off and I got out of the tub. Linda's mother had a large bath towel ready and she did a great job of drying me off, especially down about my spent cock and my low-slung balls.
"Really dry!" she got playful, continually flicking her lips all over my cock between toweling it. "Oh, you're a real man, Chad! I want to see a lot of you-"
"We'll have to be careful," I cut in.
"I know...." And she let me start dressing again, running her hand greedily about the pouch of my jockeys the very moment I slipped into them. "And you'd better hurry and get out of here before I want that cock again!" she laughed. "Art will be home with the kids any time now!"
"I wouldn't want to cause any trouble-" I started, watching her tug on her panties and then reach for her bathrobe.
"I don't know if you realize it or not, Chad." she smiled, slipping into the robe and fastening the sash up front. "But little Linda has a big crush on you!"
I shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it. I didn't want to show my real hand. "She's a nice kid," was all I replied in a low voice.
"You'll have to drop over for her birthday party this coming Friday," she was nonchalant. "I think Linda will like it." And then she dropped the bombshell, the real kicker for me. All the time I had been there, I had assumed that Linda was thirteen or fourteen. And wanting her so desperately, since I was a few years older, I even tried to think of her as at least fifteen. Her old lady dropped the bombshell on me like a million ton load:
"She'll finally be a teenager!"
"What?...."
"Linda," she explained. "She's so mature for her age, but she won't be thirteen until this Friday!"
My obsession took on a new meaning, and don't ask me why, but I related it to the eye-promise I had made with Lorna on the morning of the day she had been killed in the accident. I had the most unbelievable and perverse obsession to have sex with Linda before she celebrated her thirteenth birthday. Believe me, she was ready to take a cock, that lithe frame of her so wild and the knockers really budding right out there, being restrained by her
Junior bra.
I had less than a week to accomplish the feat and I could think of nothing else. I knew I had a head start, since the impressionable girl had a crush on me, but getting her away from her family would be nothing less than a miracle.
That week kept slipping away on me, the frustration mounting as I could sense myself getting closer and closer to the possibility of swinging with Linda, and yet the fear was always there of making the big move.
Thursday ... the day before her thirteenth birthday and I got up out of bed and looked out my window to see Linda in the backyard. She was dressed in white, the snuggest hot pants and matching halter brushing tight to those delightful young mounds. She was even wearing white sneakers, and the fact that she wasn't wearing any socks made her look all the more the innocent virgin.
I remember glancing at my wristwatch, all I was wearing besides my jockey shorts, and it was still so damned early, only slightly after six in the morning. The gas station didn't open until eight and Art never got up until at least seven-thirty:
She was looking my way, I could sense her continually darting those looks toward the cabin. I kept sneaking glances out the window, right behind the curtains, and my cock was hardening at an unbelievably fast rate of speed. Rock hard, I had to work a hand down to soothe the jam-packed and aching pouch. I strained to think of Linda's delicate hand down there, being expertly guided by mine, and the ache was all the more unbearable.
Make the move ... I inwardly tightened, open the door and welcome her in take the big chance!
I made a compromise, quickly grabbing a pair of dungarees and fumbling in my rush to get into them. Then I opened the door, barefooted and bare-chested, beaming her a seemingly innocent good morning smile.
"I couldn't sleep," she started, hurrying up toward the small porch of my cabin. "Everyone's still asleep," she added, suddenly stopping short a few feet from the doorway.
"I couldn't sleep either-" And I cut it off there, realizing that in my rush to see her, I had forgotten to zip up my fly. I was bulging like crazy down there, and a triangle of the white cotton front of my shorts was showing.
Okay, it was by instinct, I moved to zip up my fly and then stopped short again. She looked down there, and then up at me, and we both smiled about it.
That moment had been a long time coming, and I kept the door open for her, stepping aside for her to enter. I closed the door behind her and all in the same movement had her in my arms, my mouth rushing to hers.
I had her locked in my arms, my bulging crotch slightly above the sensitive pulsating of her love mound. I pressed into her, working my hands about the bareness of her back, jamming those young knockers into my bare chest. She moved right into me and I could feel the tips of her breasts doing wild things to me. I had to really get at them and I worked my hands up to the front of her, undoing the halter as I kept my lips tenderly pressed to hers.
"You're so beautiful-" And I wasn't just conning her, I was really into it, just grooving so totally on her, not giving a damn about that outside world with all its restrictions on sexual freedom. "So very beautiful," And I let the halter fall to the floor, the flat of my hands instantly capturing the rock-hard jut of milk-white flesh.
"I've been really thinking about you!" she worked her hands up nervously to my bare chest. "You're not too old for me, are you, Chad?"
"No, honey-" And I had to work my mouth down on first one brownish-hued tip and then the other, wildly racing back and forth, working my hands down to her trim hips.
"I wish I had more courage," she whispered, her hands nervously dangling down her sides. "I'm so afraid ... help me, Chad!"
I helped her find the courage, taking her hand in mine and planting it solidly on the bulge of my crotch, urging her to rub it in circular motions. She was working those grinding sounds of joy and anticipation from down deep in her throat. Those sounds, along with her trembling frame, made it a wild scene.
I worked my tongue from her breasts down to the flat of her stomach, grooving on the delicate taste and scent of her, hooking anxious fingers into the job of undoing the button and short zipper at the side of the snow-white hot pants.
She pulled herself in tightly, her hand still fevering at the rise of my crotch, fingers carefully edging into the open fly to touch at the jam-packed jockey-pouch.
"Don't be afraid," I tried to calm her trembling, tugging down on the shorts, my hands tingling at the feel of the filminess of her panties. "Just stay loose...."
I lowered her shorts, urging her to step out of them and I stepped back slightly to inspect the fantastic sight of her lithe and curvy frame clad only in the bikini-panties of powder-blue. The panties, plus the white sneakers on the young girl was a total turn-on, and my cock was pounding like crazy within my shorts, fevered by the flat of her hand.
"I'm afraid!" she tightened again, the very moment I had hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties, so damned anxious to run a hand on the young pussy. "Please, Chad, I'm frightened!"
"Don't be, Linda-" I stopped my fingers on the waistband. "Please-"
"I've never had it!" she blurted out the words I wanted to hear, and I knew instantly that they were totally truthful words. "I almost did once but I ran away, he frightened me!"
"I don't want to frighten you," I flicked soft kisses at the side of her neck, keeping my fingers positioned at the crucial point of whether or not I would get to tug down her panties.
"Take your pants off first," she whispered sheepishly. "Let me see you in just your underwear ... and then maybe I can get more used to you...."
I pulled my hands away from her panties, stepping back and being very open about pulling down my dungarees and tugging them off my feet. Let me tell you, my hard-on was banging against my shorts, aimed upward with the very tip of the cockhead actually protruding through the waistband.
"Let's just groove on each other," I moved cautiously closer to her, taking her hand again and planting it solidly on the jam-packed jockey-pouch. "Just us-" And I carefully worked a hand up into the inner reaches of her thighs, slowly working it upward to clamp onto her panty-covered love mound.
"Oh, you make me feel so good-" she looked away from me, and I gently traced the indentation of her delicate pussy through the sheerness of the panties. And let me tell you, my rock-hard cock was banging all the harder against the tight confines of my shorts, the flat of her hand fevering it beautifully.
"Chad, promise you won't laugh if I tell you something?"
"I won't laugh, I promise you, Linda."
"At night, when I go to bed, I imagine you taking your clothes off to go to bed, just as I take mine off. And I've imagined you with just your shorts on like this and then hugging me very close in bed!"
"Let's get in bed together, Linda," I took the cue. "I'll hug you real close-"
"I've never gone all the way!" she trembled, "I'll be gentle with you, real gentle...." And I rubbed firmly on the panty-crotch, leading her over to my unmade bed, the covers over the foot of it.
"Promise me, Chad?"
"Promise-" And I laid her out on the bed, ever so carefully. "Now don't be afraid," And I tugged my shorts down while standing alongside the bed, my hard cock jutting into position.
"It's so big!" she tightened. "Much bigger than I had ever imagined!"
"Don't be afraid," I echoed, getting on the bed, at first only partially over her, urging her to work a hand tightly about the throbbing shaft of prick. "I'll be gentle ever so gentle," I honestly purred, not wanting to hurt the delicate girl. "Real gentle," And I started rolling her panties down, going bananas as the few strands of honey-hued hair appeared at the start of her pussy.
"Please be careful her voice pleaded.
"Very careful, Linda, I really love you!" And I edged the panties down her thighs, my mouth going on a straight line with the delicate pussy, by breath pouring right into it. I wanted to stop and salute it with a kiss, but I had to complete the task of taking her panties off. And down there, working them off her feet, I had to smile at the delightfully girlish sight of her so totally nude except for her sneakers. I removed them lovingly, running my fingers all over her toes as I did. I could feel my mouth going dry and I flicked each foot one fast kiss and I looked up and told her that I had done that to let her know how much I adored and worshipped her.
I started back up to her pussy, flicking kisses back and forth, from one thigh to the other. I gently placed a finger on the pussy and glided it up and down, the hot breath from me right behind it.
"I'll moisten you," I whispered up to her and I flicked my tongue out and ran it carefully up and down the length of the tight pussy. "Get you ready," I widened her thighs, each time working my tongue deeper into the pink moistness.
"Please be gentle!" she shrilled, the very moment I worked my mouth away from the young delight and positioned my thick cockhead at the pussy-lips.
"Very gentle we're gonna make it together," And I worked the thick cockhead into her, and I had to stop, allowing her to get used to the feel of it.
Her breathing was troubled, she had her hands clamped down hard and sweaty on my back, and I had that moment of doubt, the moment I feared she would never be able to open up enough to take all of my thick and long stud-cock.
"I love you, Linda!" And it wasn't a con job and they turned out to be the magic words, all of her opening up for me, welcoming me to hurt her to accomplish the initial thrust.
I knew that exciting moment, the very instant the maidenhead was broken and I held her into me, locking her in to cushion most of the pain. A screeching cry of pain was still about to penetrate the air and I hurriedly brought my mouth down on hers.
"I'll be gentle," I whispered hoarsely. "Very gentle," and I waited, the few seconds seeming a number of eternities. I waited until I was sure she was ready to take the steady pistoning of hard cock.
"Please be careful!" she trembled, her hands hooked into my back. "Oh, please-"
"Very careful I love you, Linda!"
"I love you, too!" And she gave me the go-ahead signs, those slight movements of her body, the thighs widening slightly to accept all of me.
I worked my hands about her trip hips, steadying her, rocking her with a steady pace of hard cock, continually working my mouth to hers, letting her know that I cared about her.
"Together now, Linda!" I warned her, close to my orgasm. "Let's make it together oh, now now!"
"I love you!" was her way of letting me know that she was ready to orgasm. "I love you I love you-" And she shuddered and buckled and made it with me, locked so totally into one another, oblivious to the fact that there was another world out there.
Our own little world, we remained locked into it, my spent cock buried into the hilt of her pussy.
"Chad...." she finally started, struggling to catch her breath. "You've already given me the greatest birthday present I could ever want!" And she hugged me tighter, so mature, and yet so beautifully girlish.
"Rest a moment-" I purred in her ear, biting at the lobe. "I wanted that second-time-around, and I had to get my energy level back up to par. "Just relax, Linda, relax...."
We must have dozed off in each other's arms, I knew I was drowsy when the door came crashing in, Linda's old man screaming and yelling and calling me every dirty name in the book.
"No, don't, I can explain!" I yelled, unable to ward him off as he charged into me, his fists crashing into my mouth and nose, making me an instant pulpy and very bloody mess.
"Don't, Daddy!" Linda screeched, and he picked me off the bed and pasted me up against the wall. I couldn't defend myself, caught so completely off guard.
I thought of how foolish my words were about explaining how could I ever explain or justify that obsession of mine.
The fists came crashing into my face, the back of my head continually thudding into the wall. I was gagging on my own blood and bile and still he kept pounding away at my face.
"Animal!" I heard his cry echo and thud against the blackboard of my troubled mind. "Animal!" And then his knee jammed up and caught me in the groin, doubling me up in excruciating pain.
He rammed that knee into me again, and I can remember just taking it, telling myself that I deserved the full amount of punishment for the treasured virginity I had taken.
I don't remember much after that, the room starting to swirl wildly about me. There's almost nothing to remember after that, except that for a brief moment, just as I keeled over to the floor, I remember seeing Linda, her arms crossed over the high rise of her breasts, her hands covering her delicate pussy the pussy I had taken for the very fist time.
I found myself in a barn, a few bandages covering my face. Two guys were hovering over me, neighbors who traded with Art. I had my trousers on, my shirt was open and my shoes were at my side. My duffel bag was right there, too.
"You're lucky, kid," one of them started. "The girl's old man don't want any scandal, or he'd have you locked up. Now get up and keep moving and don't you ever come back this way!"
I got up, and I kept moving. And no, I never did go back that way. The years went by and I seemed to be stumbling from place to place, that obsession always around to haunt me, looking into a young girl's face and knowing that no guy had taken her yet.
You learn that the risks are high and you have to be ready to take the punishment. Only after a while, you want to punish yourself. Crazy, I know, but I remember the time that urge first got hold of me, driving me out of my mind.
"Suicidal tendencies!" The first time I heard an analyst use that phrase I really panicked and I was afraid to go back to him.
I started telling myself that I had to remind myself of the beatings I might take if I wasn't constantly on guard, always extremely careful in my quest for the young virgin stuff.
I started drinking, much more than I ever did and that was when I would start to really hate myself. Going to bed drunk, all of me tightening up, so totally disgusted with myself. It started by slapping myself around, and then punching myself with tightly fisted hands. All over my face and body ... And then you just can't trust yourself, especially when you start using a strap and anything else on yourself.
I got frightened, waking up from a drunk and finding myself badly bruised ... and no one else there with me. They start to parade through your mind, all the young cherries you took, and you keep telling yourself you've got to pay the price.
You've got to pay ...
CASE HISTORY: "ROGER
I had a good thing going for me with Hazel ... she easily passed for my wife, a mature, worldly woman. In reality, she was a sick Lesbian hooked on drugs. It was a toss-up whether I needed her more than she needed me. So I guess So I guess I've got no right to call her a sick bitch. You could use the cliche: the blind leading the blind. We both had our very special needs and we looked out for each other. Crazy, but a certain type of love and understanding can actually spring from such a perverse relationship.
Yeah, I should explain, fill you in on the details of my case history, everything pertinent to that final period when so much of my world blew up in my face. . .
Hazel dug the really young chicks, grooving on eating them out, always being the dominant partner. She had a natural knack for picking up extremely young girls, some of the barely into their teens. One day she might pick up one, two or even three runaway girls, and then another she might manage to pick up a neighbor's teenaged daughter, ready to experiment with sex, trusting an older woman more than a guy.
I've been quite successful the past few years, in a wild line of business that I'll have to keep secret to not give away my true identity. I'm still in my thirties and I don't like to sound like I'm bragging, but I don't have to hassle over where my next buck is coming from. I've got a plush penthouse pad, a few cars and a boat that could be called a yacht.
Yeah, I've got everything including a hang-up that has driven me bananas for too damned long a time. Maybe I should tell you about that hang-up and how it got such a solid grasp on my sexual way of life. You've heard all the jokes about guys wanting the virgins well, you can take it from me, it's not always a joke and it can become a time-consuming obsession.
This is a crazy thing to say, but maybe the events in my life that steered me in that perverse path yeah, anything that gets the best of you can be considered perverse were also responsible for my success in the business world. When my marriage blew up in my face, and when I was really alone, I buried myself in my work to make it to the top of the heap. You can't always stay buried in your work and you have those tension-times and you've got to get over them, one way or another somehow. . .
I'll tell you how the obsession got the best of me; or anyway, how I think it all came about. I came from a very strict old world family and great stress was put on marrying "a good girl." In fact, in the old country, generations ago, my ancestors had a custom of all the friends and relatives gathering about the honeymoon couple's room, waiting outside the window. They would all wait for the young people to go to bed and have sex. The groom was expected to appear at the window and proudly wave the white bedsheet with a blotch of blood on it, the symbol of the bursting of the maidenhead.
Then came the rejoicing and the steady flow of the booze and the dancing. Legend has it that if the groom did not have a bloody sheet to wave out the window he would plunge a knife into his heart in total disgrace. The story told over and over again, the old timers would smirk and whisper that many a bride would hide her little bottle of blood from an animal or a cut on her finger and spill it on the sheets.
Okay, I know that's going to an extreme, but I wanted you to have an idea of my family background. That and the fact that my parents believed in severe punishment for the slightest infraction of their strict rules. I was no stranger to the strap, and by the time I turned into my teens I could take a steady number of slashings across my bare buttocks and not even flinch. Sometimes my old lady punished me, and other times my old man did. But I think I dreaded my old lady in that department more than my old man. like I said, I could take plenty of the harsh stinging of the thick leather but she would continually screech about my being bad and that vile animals should be punished.
I got caught masturbating when I was fourteen and let me tell you, I was ordered to my room and told to await the punishment. That was the cruel part, the waiting to hear my old lady's steps coming heavy down the hallway, knowing she had that thick black leather strap in her hands.
I got the strap plenty of other times during my teenaged years, whenever I got home in the early hours of the night and my old lady suspected me of going parking with some chick. And she was usually right, and I can say that I was getting my fair share of the available balling in that small town. But I had a thing about not fooling around with the "good girls," especially of my own nationality background, since in the words of my old lady: "they were for marrying and rearing families!"
I made it through high school and I entered a technical training school to learn a trade, and that was when I met and fell in love with a beautiful honey-haired girl named Shirley. I really dug her, and it wasn't just to try to ball her. Yeah, we went out and necked and petted, but she always cut me off at that certain point of panic for her. My hand working up to the crotch of her panties the other working up into the lush milk-white flesh imprisoned within a bra-cup, and I could sense her fear and anxiety.
"I do care for you, Roger!" Shirley would constantly tell me, forcing me away from her. And then she finally came right out with it: "I just haven't gone all the way with a guy yet, and I just can't let it happen that easily. I mean...."
I never pressed it, really believing her. You can't fake a thing like that, no matter how shrewd a chick thinks she is. Shirley had already turned eighteen and she was still a virgin. Hey, she told me right out, a lot of it was due to fear on her part, and that she had thought about the pleasure of having sex. And she wasn't frigid, that wasn't it at all. She had come close with a few guys she had really cared for, but that panic button had always sounded loud and clear and she was never able to let the affair take place.
"I really love you, Roger," she trembled in my arms. "And if it has to include sex, if you want me to go all the way ... just be patient with me ... "
I couldn't take her on those terms, and I proposed to her. I was so damned excited about the idea of marrying her, a girl who had not been laid by anyone. That beautiful thought, that she would be giving herself so totally to me, it really had me soaring. I told my family that I had proposed to Shirley and the whole world caved in on me.
"She's not one of ours!" my mother screeched. "She's not of our faith!" And all the other narrow old country views. You can't fight them, and I convinced myself that I would elope with Shirley and my family could go to hell.
Shirley wanted my family to like her. I took her to meet them and she tried desperately to get along with them. They were against her from the start and nothing could change that. Well, to wrap it up, she took off from that small town and her parents wouldn't tell me where she had gone. She had always talked about going to work in a city where she could have more freedom and meet new people, and that was what she must have done. She did leave a note, that we couldn't possibly be happy if she came between me and my family.
Okay, so you do your best to forget and after a while I fell right into line with my family's traditional way of thinking and I started dating a girl of the same old country background.
"Angela's a good girl!" my old lady was beside herself with joy, so damned anxious to get us married off. "She comes from a good family, her father's a fine man!"
I thought I really dug Angela, and during the few months that we were engaged I didn't try to ball her. Crazy, I know, but all that old country jazz about the girl you marry being untouched had gotten to me. It wasn't that she ever stopped me from trying to ball her during that time I never really tried, always stopping short at a certain point of making advances.
I married Angela, and like a real country idiot I was looking forward to that big honeymoon night. Well, it didn't take me much that very first night to figure out that she had been banged by more than her share of cock. She played it coy, but it comes through, no matter how much a chick groans and moans that you're hurting her.
I worked my hands down her back and when I hit that certain point right above her buttocks, she went into perpetual motion and she couldn't hide the fact that she knew what a cock was all about.
Okay, Angela did a pretty good cover-up job that first night and even the second. So I told myself that she probably had been pulled a fair amount of times, but that she wasn't a pig. I had to face the hypocrisy of the double standard. I mean, I had played around my share before I was ready to settle down, so why should I have expected to find a totally untouched wife.
I was doing a full-time job of trying to sell myself that bill of goods, but I couldn't quite fool myself. I mean, after a while in bed she really started to give herself away, all the signs of a really free sexual swinger.
No matter how we started the foreplay, her head would always be bobbing down low, and it took damned little encouragement to get her mouth down there on an even line with my hard and ready cock.
"If you really want me to use my mouth-" she'd whisper up to me, her hot breath scorching all over my swollen prick.
"Just for me," I'd go along with it, holding a hand down on the back of her head. "We're married now, it's okay," And she would start her mouth going all over my prick.
"Take it all-" I urged her and she really got carried away, opening her mouth and lunging right down on the full length of it like a real swinging Cleopatra. Those slobbering sounds, so totally engrossed in her mouth-thing, she couldn't have been new to the mouth-to-cock scene. And then her hands had a way of moving all their own, right there to clamp down hard on the buttocks and really lift all the hard prick to her greedy mouth.
I started spending more and more time at the bars, drinking with old buddies. Yeah, and then I realized that a few of my closest friends had been trying to tell me about Angela before I got married. But you don't really listen all that crap about love being blind. Well, when you're trying to convince yourself that you're in love, you can be even blinder.
Then came the tell-tale signs that she was seeing some other guy. You know, I'd come home and she'd be on the phone and she would cut it off in a hurry and have that guilty look all over her beautiful kisser.
The kiss and the questions about what kind of a day I'd had I could just sense how phony it all was. I realized that her family, like mine, had been after her to make a good marriage, but she had been playing the field for quite some time, and that there had been one guy in particular whom she had been swinging with.
That certain gut-feeling ... I had it real strong that she was seeing the guy again, only weeks after our marriage. It wouldn't go away and instead of leaving well enough alone and bringing the marriage to an abrupt halt, you start playing amateur detective. And you start hearing things and putting the pieces together, and your male ego is in real bad shape.
I discovered his name was Stevens, and I laid all sorts of traps. But I'll tell you, it didn't take much to catch her with Stevens. When a bitch has got a greedy, cheating cunt, you just have to give her the slightest opportunity to get her extra cock and she'll grab for it.
"I have to be out of town," I told her. "I'll have to pack an overnight bag-"
"Overnight?! " she tried to sound sad, but the damned elation came right through.
"Overnight," I stressed, and then I took off and had a few drinks at one of my favorite bars. Yeah, then I had even a few more, getting my courage up to discover what I already sensed.
The damned guy had the balls to park his car right in my driveway. I parked a block down, walking the final distance to the house and sneaking all the way to my bedroom.
"Oh, give it to me give it to me!" she chanted, her voice coming thick as I moved toward the open bedroom door. "Oh, wild wild-" she groaned, her voice a shrill demand.
Crazy ... but I had made no plans, I didn't have the slightest idea of how I would actually react. I moved into the doorway, all the lights burning brightly, shining on my wife's wild sexual performance and she had two lovers, the greedy bitch.
I swayed, my feet about to give away on me, unable to believe the sight of her totally nude, her thighs spread wide apart to welcome one lover into the wide V of her. A tall and ruggedly build Nordic type, he had a hand jammed to her snatch, his hard cock positioning to enter her.
I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but they weren't, her other lover was a tall black stud. He was on his knees on the side of the bed and her hand was busy stroking and guiding his enormous coal-black prick up to her face, rubbing it all over her lips, her nose and even up about her eyes.
"Roger...." she numbly called my name, finally spotting me standing there.
"Hey, man...." the black stud forced a smile. "Stay cool...."
Yeah, I stayed cool, all right. So damned many things ran through my mind. I thought of rushing in there to fight the two guys, and then I thought of beating the living shit out of Angela. I thought of finding a knife down in the kitchen and but it wouldn't be worth it. A slut-bitch like that just isn't worth the hassle.
I suddenly thought I would burst out laughing, since I didn't care enough about her to get involved or hassle it out. It just didn't matter, I couldn't have cared less about the bitch.
"Stay cool...." the black kept that forced smile on his face, edging slightly away from the bed.
"Real cool," I finally replied and walked out of there. I never entered that pad again. Yeah, all I took with me were the clothes on my back. The very next day I had my lawyer start working on the divorce. Angela tried to contact me, asking me what to do with my clothes and other personal belongings.
"Burn them," was always my calm reply, keeping to myself my bitterness about not marrying a fantastic human being like Shirley and getting stuck with a slut like Angela. And all to please my parents and their old country ways and their obsession with marrying "One of your own kind."
I did a lot of drinking for a while, and I didn't have much of a sex life, except for an occasional barroom pickup. Sluts and I found myself getting damned rough with them. I was having the most fantastic sex, but totally out of hate.
Some people might find that hard to buy, but I know for a fact, you can sexually perform greater out of hate than love. But it can backfire on you, getting you started on that long S & M road, and then there seems to be no getting off it.
During that period of heavy drinking in the bars and an occasional slut pickup, my life was at a real standstill. And I realized that I would be taking out that frustration, plus what I had gone through with Shirley and Angela, on whatever bitch I had in my room for the night.
You get so damned cynical and you don't fall for such lines from barroom pickups as: "I really go for you!"
"Bullshit!" was my precise answer that one time, just as the bitch had stripped down to her slip. "You really go for cock, any guy's cock!" I found myself with the need to humiliate them all.
"I'm going-" she started to turn away, going for her dress over the back of a chair.
"Not 'til I tell you to go, slut!" And I hooked savagely into the undergarment, ripping it apart as she rushed away from me., "Listen you tramp!" I hooked another hand into her panties, yanking and tearing them as I was spurred on from my initial violence. "You can go when I'm through with you-"
"You're crazy-"
"No, you bitchin' tramp!" I backhanded her hard and high across the face. "All you tramp sluts are sick!" And I slapped her again and again, all of her bobbing and weaving and reeling up against a wall. "You're the sick bitch-" And I pinned her against the wall, pounding her with a sadistic backhand and then coming right back at her with the flat of my hand over her mouth, causing an instant spurt of blood.
She was trembling and struggling to catch her breath and I realized that I had used her as a substitute for what I had really wanted to do to Angela that night ... but I hadn't been worked up like that back then, and I didn't really give a damn then. But I had been pounding that barroom pickup's face in a sense of delayed action.
"I I'm sorry," I finally stopped my hand, tightening it into a fist and forcing it down to my side. "I'm sorry," And I started to back away.
"Oh, wow-" she gasped, edging back off the wall, actually striding up toward me. And through blurry eyes I saw that the flame-haired chick wearing only a bra was a fantastically wild sight, and she was so obviously turned-on the-limit.
"I'll pay for those...." I pointed down at the torn under-garments.
"No!" she pushed herself right up at me, catching me totally off guard. "Make me pay!" she begged. "I'm a tramp a no-good bitchin' tramp!"
"I said I'm sorry, just go-"
"Beat me, beat me!" she suddenly screeched. "Oh, please, you were right I'm a no-good bitch! Take the strap to me-"
"Get out of here!"
"Aren't you man enough to give a girl what she really needs?! " she hissed at me, hands planted on her hips. "Or do you just hit a chick when you catch her off guard-"
"You're making me mad!"
"Take it out on me!" she knowingly screeched, continually moving in on me. "Whatever that cheating slut-bitch did to you! Yeah, just like I pulled a lot of crap on a guy! Take the strap to me!" Her trembling hands reached for my trousers over the back of the chair. "Give it to me!" She was going for the belt buckle.
"Sick bitch!" And I went to pull my trousers away from her, and I could feel my hard cock aching and throbbing and banging against my underwear. Yeah, I realized that I had not been turned-on like that in a long time.
"Give it to me!" she chanted, so obviously aching and in need of punishment. "Make me pay!"
"You'll pay, bitch!" I yanked the strap out of the loops of the trousers and snapped it loud. "You'll pay!" I was shouting blindly, really addressing the whole screwed-up world, my parents and Angela and those two lovers of hers and every frustration I had ever encountered.
"Make me pay!" she held herself right out to me.
"Bitch rotten bitch!" And I slashed the strap hard across the side of her, spinning her about and positioning myself to work it even more sadistically across her buttocks.
"Oh, give it to me-" she shrilled, the slashings across her buttocks causing instant welts. "Mark my no-good bitchin' body!"
"You'll pay!" And I moved right in on her, continually working the slash from her buttocks up to her back and then down again low across the back of her thighs.
Those wild animalistic sounds coming from down deep in her throat really drove me wild and I had to get the best of her. I shoved her down across the bed and caught a perfect shot of her straight up at me, that flame-haired cunt actually widening as she flung her legs up high.
"You pig!" And I snapped the strap sadistically across her pussy, getting a cutting groan from her. "That greedy snatch needs fixing!" And I slashed the strap hard across it, repeatedly, listening to those weird sounds of combined pain and pleasure coming from her.
She had her thighs wide open and still throwing that badly bruised pussy right up at me. I suddenly gave the snatch a wild flurry of strap-blows, knowing I was going for the windup. I finally had her in total pain and I made a lightning-like move, actually combining a number of actions into one. I tossed the strap aside, tugged down my underwear and rammed myself into the wide V of her. And still, all a part of that one monumental movement, I sadistically pried her thighs apart the limit and rammed the full length of my swollen prick to the very core of her.
She let out that one sudden groan of pleasure, totally in contrast to what I had coming from her at the windup of the strapping, and I cut it off short by thrusting furious cock to her, never giving her the slightest opportunity to get accustomed to it.
My pleasure that was all I wanted, and I tried desperately to not let her get anything out of it. I pounded fast and hard, telling myself that I had to have an immediate orgasm, just to get rid of my load in the bitch.
Fast and furious and with absolutely no warning, I thundered a heavy load into her. And then, just as she tried to really clamp her arms about me to hold me into her, I pulled my spent cock out and jumped back off the bed.
"Okay, bitch," I struggled to catch my breath, and I was suddenly pleased that I couldn't remember her name. "I'm through with you." I threw a ten dollar bill on the edge of the bed. "That's for the stuff I tore, now get the hell out of here!"
"Please, let me stay-"
Get the fuck out of here!" I yelled, and then caught a hold of my senses, realizing that I was addressing myself to my ex-wife, my ex-family and the whole damned ex-world.
That was a turning point in my life, a very frightening one, let me tell you. I buried myself into work, going into business for myself and giving it as much as fifteen hours a day. I stayed away from barrooms, and I now realize that I was afraid of picking up barroom sluts, since that sadistic streak could come out in me at anytime, and those tramps were easy targets for release of it.
Driving ambition to make something of myself and have the things I always wanted became my routine of life. Sexually ... I found myself turning more and more to the fantasy, noting a young girl on the street who reminded me of Shirley. And part of that fantasy became the need to tell myself that the girl was a virgin just as I had been so certain that Shirley was a virgin when I had asked her to marry me.
Money ... Once I had it, I discovered that it could bring a lot of your fantasies to reality. It must have started about five years ago, when I would move in circles where people thought I was looking for a second wife. That was the impression I gave and since I had the loot, a lot of anxious mothers were pushing their young daughters right at me.
Call it instinct, or whatever you want to, but I could sense which of them had been playing around and which had not. I wasn't looking for a wife, even though I almost managed to fool myself on that score. I was looking for conquests, always trying to get the virgin.
Supposedly looking for a second wife, dating girls of at least seventeen, the odds of finding the virgin stuff are stacked against you in this modern day and age.
Younger stuff ... that lowers the odds in your favor on that score. But they're trouble and you have to know how to go about getting it. You have a lot of close calls, trouble that could put you in a real bind and you start to panic. When you panic, that's when the frustration sets in and you try to convince yourself that you don't need the young stuff.
You go around and around, and then you're right back where you started from and you have to face the realities. It's not really the urge for young stuff, it's the eternal quest for the virgin. It's the big male ego thing, and It's especially there when you've had a bad marriage like mine. So if you compound that with the fact that you're so damned certain that the girl you didn't get to marry was a virgin you're constantly uptight.
You go back to hitting the booze and that makes it all the worse. I'll tell you what I found myself doing again going after sluts that dug being treated rough. You get to be quite good at spotting the masochistic bitches and it doesn't take much to find the slightest excuse to start slapping them around and humiliating them in so many ways.
So that was the time that I first encountered Hazel and she became my recruiter of young stuff, the potential virgin. It wasn't that way for the first few months that I knew Hazel. In fact, I had hired her as my secretary, since she seemed to have all those sophisticated qualities about her. She's an unbelievably attractive redhead and though she won't admit it, she is a few years older than I am.
I've helped her a lot with her drug problem, and that's one of the reasons I'm sure she would do so much for me, actually going out into the street, bus depots, parks and just about anywhere to recruit the young stuff for me, offering them money or whatever they wanted to swing with an older guy.
Well, like I said, the first few months were totally uninvolved between us, and I didn't really want to get too close with her. She was a statuesque beauty with a great set of knockers and fantastic leg , but she didn't seem to have any guys coming around for her and I knew she had never been married. Okay, she could have kept that part of her life away from the office but you develop a sixth sense about such things with people who work constantly close to you. Just as I'm certain that she was developing ideas and an understanding about how I lived during those first few months that we kept our distance.
Then came the day that Hazel didn't show up for work and she didn't call in. I was about to call her pad I had never been there but I figured I'd wait for the next day, certain she would show up for work then. I recalled that every so often she seemed to have a headache, but she still worked through the day. She had been seeing a doctor, she had told me, and so I thought nothing of her occasionally taking a pill.
The second day came and Hazel didn't show up for work. I was really worried about her and I had the wildest thoughts nagging at the back of my head. More than once I went to call her, holding the card with her address and phone number before me. I didn't call I decided to go and see what was wrong for myself. like I said, there was that certain "gut feeling" gnawing away at me. It was as though that during the last few days she was trying to get through to me, that she wanted to tell me so much about herself. Yeah, and I had gone through the same period trying to think of ways of being honest with her, to tell her about my hang-ups. I had even asked her to join me for a drink or two after work, but we'd talk about everything and anything except what was bugging us.
I had to go see what was wrong with her, and
I can still remember that feeling of floating and not really recalling how I got there. And then comes the sudden realization that you're ringing a doorbell.
I rang it the second time and started wondering if I had done the wrong thing or not by going there. I can still remember switching over to a knock and waiting all the longer, so damned close to turning away and hurrying back to the elevator and out of the building.
The door opened and I can still remember the fantastic sight of the delightful girl barely into her teens. I was caught so completely off guard that I remained there like a damned fool, my eyes scorching up and down the lithe, honey-haired beauty who couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen. I worked my eyes down to her bare feet and slowly worked up the curvy thighs and the snug mini-skirt that seemed so wrinkled and worn.
I was fisting and unfisting my hands, eyes hooked to her trim hips, telling myself that I could circle her there with my hands. I still couldn't muster any words, my eyes moving upward on the rather boyish white T-shirt that adorned her totally feminine knockers. They weren't very large, but they seemed so rock-hard and pointed. With an older female, you think of her breasts as a single part of her anatomy, but that girl had two very distinct knobs, separated from each other. I could feel my hands tingling, thinking of how they would go two separate ways, capturing a firm knob apiece and that the mounds would just have to be so very firm to the touch.
"Hello-" she actually uttered the first word, looking me over suspiciously.
"Who is it, Pamela?" I heard Hazel's voice coming thick and strange from another room. "Who's at the door?"
"Roger!" I called out, and then I was surprised to hear the young girl exclaim that I was Hazel's boss. Hazel had told her about me, I realized.
"I should have called you," Hazel started, moving out of what had to be the bedroom, standing wobbly at the door, her bathrobe knotted tightly about her waist. "I should have called-" she put the collar of the robe up higher about her neck. "I wouldn't blame you if you fired me-"
"That's not why I stopped by-" And I was trying to talk to Hazel, truly concerned about her condition, and yet I couldn't seem to take my eyes off Pamela. "I was worried about you, Hazel. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"You can't depend on me," Hazel started. "You might just as well realize that from now on," she trembled. "So if you want to can me-"
"No, I don't want to can you," I cut in. "I'd like to give a damn about you, if you need anything...."
"I'm hooked on stuff," Hazel whispered hoarsely.
"She's been kinda sick!" Pamela seemed to go to her defense, and my eyes went right to the beautiful young girl.
"Roger, this is my...." Hazel hesitated, and it was as though she suddenly couldn't be honest with me, not as she had just been totally honest about her drug problem. "-My niece, Pamela...." Hazel finally got it out. "She came over to sort of look after me."
"Hello, Pamela," I concentrated on her fully and I was suddenly hooked on the fantastic comparison of the honey-haired beauty to Shirley, my very first love.
"Roger?" Hazel cut into my concentration of the young girl, my inner thoughts and concentration on the eternal question: is she a virgin? "Roger, what I just told you about Pamela...." And her eyes went to the young girl and I could sense the same interest that I felt, so damned sexual, coming from her. "It's a lot of crap!"
I moved my eyes from the young girl over to Hazel. Hazel was so damned wobbly on her feet and I had never seen her with her hair so straggly. And I peered over all the more, noting the heavy lines formed about her eyes.
"A lot of crap, Roger!" she stressed. "She's not my niece, and I get to take her from a very poor family of eleven kids! They let her stay with me, since I buy her clothes and she can eat decently with me. She stays with me whenever I want to-" And she nervously hooked her hands about the side of the bedroom door. "Hell, Roger!" she pounded her hands against the wall. "Haven't you figured me out yet?! Do I have to draw a diagram for you?! "
Now this is wild, and it's damned tough to describe that special moment when two people do so much communicating with absolutely no words. We had a very honest meeting of the eyes, and then we both concentrated on Pamela and it was as though I didn't have to put my hang-up into words. We both watched the beautiful child for the longest time, until Pamela seemed to be fidgeting about and growing uneasy. The honey-haired beauty sat on the couch and I could look right up her mini-skirt, that patch of powder-blue panty-crotch driving me wild. I told myself that there just had to be a virgin pussy behind that filmy material. I realized that Hazel had most-likely made love to it with her mouth, but I sensed the young girl had a fear of boys and men. She was ready, you just had to look at her to see that she was so beautifully ripe and ready to be taken by a man, but it had not happened as of the exact moment I stood there, a part of that seemingly baffling triangle.
"I need some rest," Hazel finally spoke. "I'll be all right then, and I promise I'll be back to work tomorrow, Roger. And then, still leaning up against her bedroom doorway, she made a very obvious gesture of looking between the two of us, eyes moving meaningfully from the teenager to me. "I want you two to get to know each other, to spend some time together-"
"Aunt Hazel!" Pamela rushed to her, and I realized that the girl thought of her as an Aunt, someone close to her, even though they weren't actually related.
"You'll like Roger," Hazel put an arm lovingly around the girl, flicking a few kisses at her forehead. "He'll be good to you, Pamela, you don't have to worry about him being mean to you...." And she practically spelled it out for us. "Stay a while with her, Roger," Hazel finally looked over at me.
She exited into her bedroom, closing the door behind her and leaving the two of us uneasily together. I couldn't take my eyes off Pamela, so damned certain that she was a virgin, and that Hazel sensed my very special need. I could sense Pamela's uneasiness and I had my doubts about it working out. I tried to ease the tension with a smile, but I was working too hard at it. I watched her nervously run her hands down the front of her mini-skirt, rubbing them firmly down toward the start of her exposed thighs, she seemed to be working the fingers inward slightly toward her love mound. And when she sensed my eyes fully on that movement she stopped and hurried toward the couch.
"Hazel has told me about you," Pamela started the conversation, sitting down and hurriedly bringing her thighs tightly together. She was tugging down on the brief skirt, my eyes solidly on the action.
"Good or bad?" I concentrated on smiling at her, moving slowly closer to the couch. I really wanted to ask her how old she was, guessing at thirteen or fourteen, but I decided that it would be better to not bring the age differential out in the open so quickly.
"All good!" she shrilled, and I decided to leave well enough alone on that score.
"Pamela...." And I couldn't think of what to say, except what I sincerely believed. "You're a very beautiful girl," And I sat down alongside her. I had to get things in motion and so I instantly took her hand in mine, holding it on her lap. She flustered and I had to keep conversation going. "Have you known Hazel for long? Do you come and stay with her very often?"
"When she wants me to she's really a very nice person!" she was suddenly defensive, as though she wanted to draw her hand away from mine.
"I didn't say she wasn't, Pamela."
"Well, I could tell the way you were talking and looking at me ... okay, so maybe she does like to kiss me and hold me and...." She couldn't seem to complete it and I drew in my own mental picture of Hazel lovingly eating out her delicate pussy. "But she really-likes me-" And the girl started trembling and I could tell that she was troubled. "I'm kinda afraid of boys, anyway!"
"Afraid...." And I didn't know where to take it from there, and I was a confused bag of mixed emotions. I appreciated what she had said, since that meant that she was most-likely still a virgin but it also made me realize that the chances of my having her in bed weren't very good.
"Tell me why you're afraid, Pamela," I worked both of my hands over to tenderly hold both of hers. "I'm older and maybe I can understand...."
"On the farm-" she started, tightening right up so that I could feel her little jutting knockers standing right out there, seemingly ready to throb right through that white T-shirt. "A couple of boys tried to force me-"
"Did they?"
"No!" she stressed. "They were grabbing me all over, but I kicked them and ran-" And she suddenly turned away from me. "I'd rather not talk about it, Mister!"
"Call me Roger," I worked a hand from her and tenderly cupped her chin. "Call me anything, but not Mister," I smiled, my fingers tingling at the delicate feel of her face.
"Hazel said you were a great guy...."
"I'd be gentle with you," I was suddenly pleading, and I found my other hand leaving hers, moving slowly up to the proud jut of one of her knockers. "Very gentle...." And I held the hand only inches away from the knocker, feeling her tighten up on me again, this time really tense. "May I touch you there, Pamela?"
She turned into me, her thigh brushing mine and she seemed surprised that I would ask her. It was as though she was silently telling me that those boys her age didn't bother to ask, they only grabbed. She finally nodded in the affirmative and I could feel her loosening again.
"Gentle ... ever so gentle...." I murmured my intentions, hooking the flat of my hand on the rock-hard knob, getting the added pleasure of the instant realization that she wasn't wearing a bra. My hand was scorching right through the T-shirt and I could feel the fine upturned tip accentuated so fantastically.
"Hazel wants me to let you do things to me," Pamela uttered with the total frankness of a child. "And I want to please Hazel...." She moved in closer to me. "But don't hurt me, please don't hurt me," she tightened again.
"Hey, easy," I moved my face up close to hers. "I wouldn't hurt you," I honestly replied, inwardly telling myself that I could reserve my sadistic streaks for a masochistic barroom slut-pickup.
I had a real need to be tender with the beautiful child even more so than the many times I'd had a need to be sadistic with slut-tramps. I found both of my hands slowly edging down underneath the loose T-shirt, the feel of the flat of her stomach so soothing.
"I could never hurt you," I slowly edged my hands upward, carefully hooking onto the rock-hard knockers. "Just relax and glide along with me," my hands rubbed and massaged ever so tenderly at the perfectly shaped young breasts.
"I believe you-"
"Let me see your body," I had to utter the words, my arms starting to push up on the T-shirt. "I want to undress you, Pamela and see all of your beauty really see it!"
"Don't hurt me," she echoed, indirectly giving me the go-ahead, and I knew I didn't have to ask her if she had ever really been hurt by anyone. And I knew that she had been hurt in other ways, by others than the boys who had tried to rape her. "Please don't hurt me...." She arched herself for me to remove the T-shirt.
"I'll be real gentle," And I reluctantly unhooked my hands from the hard knockers to remove the T-shirt. "I'd never hurt you-" And I tugged the boyish T-shirt off her lithe frame, my eyes instantly zooming in on the smallish, but rock-hard knockers, the brownish-hued tips unusually large.
"I'm going to kiss them, Pamela," I warned her, moving my mouth up close to her breasts. "Just relax and let me enjoy them-" And I had to control myself, kissing and working my tongue from one milk-white delight to the other.
I worked my hands down her smooth sides, pressing close and yet keeping true to my promise to be tender with her. I had to get my hands down about her trim waist, widening the fingers to make it around her. And all the while I grooved on the delicate taste of her milk-white breasts, traveling back and forth, flicking my tongue in circular motions of delight.
"I want to see all of you-" I had to struggle to catch my breath, so turned-on by my mouth work on the young knockers. "All of you," And I worked my fingers over to the button and short zipper at the side of her skirt, eyes going down to her bare feet. Don't ask me why, but I was grooving on the sight of her toes, my mouth watering to taste them.
"I'm afraid-" she tightened on me, the moment I unbuttoned her there. "Please-" And I had to slow up, my fingers tingling to get at the short zipper.
"I'll be very good to you, Pamela, please?" I found myself pleading. "I need you," I mouthed the truthful words, no matter how trite they sounded.
"Hazel wants me to," she murmured, "I know she does," and it was suddenly so much like a flower blooming, the petals opening in awareness and greeting.
"Don't be afraid-" And I slowly edged down the zipper, hearing her breathing coming heavy over that certain sound. "Just relax-" and I hooked my hands into the skirt and half-slip, wanting to ease them both down at the same time.
"I've thought about it from a guy," she whispered. "But I've always been so afraid," And I realized that her eyes were zooming in solidly on the bulging front of my trousers. "Those boys!" she suddenly went wide-eyed. "They pulled out their things-" she couldn't seem to use the word. "And they shoved them all over me, forcing me to touch them!"
"Just relax...." I eased up on my grip of her skirt and half-slip, waiting before tugging them down, realizing I would have to get her to lift her buttocks slightly off the couch to accomplish that feat.
"I want to touch yours-" she whispered hoarsely. "If you'll help me...."
I took her hand gently in mine and gently worked it over to the bulging crotch. I placed the flat of it on the throbbing high rise and didn't push too hard, letting her get used to the feel of a jam-packed crotch.
"Play take it cool-"
"I want to please you and Hazel," she trembled, the flat of her hand starting to move about the bulging front of me, and I knew that I didn't need my hand on top of hers. "I want to please you both," she stressed and then stopped the rubbing motion of her hand.
"Don't be afraid-" I tried to encourage her.
"Help me, please!" she stiffened. "Help me to really touch it, to get my hand right on it," was her way of asking me to unzip my fly and get her hand on my swollen prick.
"Just go easy," I purred, unzipping my fly and tugging and shifting about to reel out my hard cock. "Hold it, work your hand up and down on it," I instructed her, placing her hand firmly on the throbbing shaft.
"It's so big and thick!" she sucked in on her breath, her hand lava-hot on my prick.
I went for her skirt and half-slip like a damned schoolboy, trying to work out a way of doing it so that she could keep that hand solidly on my aching cock. I tugged down, slowing up to not frighten her. I had to urge her to push up slightly on her buttocks, to get those trim delights up off the couch so that I could glide off the two garments.
"Don't be frightened," I flicked a few quick kisses to her open mouth, running my tongue gently about her lips. "Don't be frightened," And she arched upward and I tugged down on the mini and half-slip, going wild at the sight of the powder-blue panties hugging her snatch. All the way down, I tugged the two garments off her, her hand still solidly planted on my hard shaft.
I eased my hands up her thighs, grooving on the feel of the curvy inner reaches, my eyes glued to the filmy panty-crotch. The panties were up-snug to her, accentuating every fine line, especially the delicate indentation of her pussy. I strained my line of sight all the more, my eyes scorching right through to make out the very light pubic bush forming so perfectly about the love-mound.
I slowed my hands up as they approached the filmy material, waiting to not frighten her off by any sudden movement. I worked fingers up along the thighs, waiting for a sign to move them in toward the delicate indentation of pussy.
"I'm so confused-" she moaned and tightened her hand on my swollen prick, and I took it as the encouragement I needed, angling my fingers carefully up inside the seams of the panties to get at the very real thing.
"Oh, wow!" she tightened, but more in pleasure than in fear, and I didn't slow the eager fingers up until they converged into the start of the pink moistness.
"Easy, Pam-honey," I slowed her writhing movements, continually probing my fingers into the delightful moistness. "Easy, honey," and I could feel the instant tightness the moment I worked past the pussy-lips.
"Don't hurt me!" she shrilled. "Please...."
"I'll be gentle ... real gentle...." And I brought my hands up to the waistband, dropping right down on my knees before her, her hand leaving my cock. I positioned myself into the V of her, tugging down on her panties as I did. I went wild at the sight of the young snatch so perfectly before me and I really had to anchor myself down from going bananas, widening my stance before her in the position of total worship.
"You're so beautiful-" And I swooped all the way down to get the panties off her feet, tossing them aside in victory. "So very beautiful," I ran both hands down on her feet, working the fingers from toe to toe. "This is how beautiful you are, Pamela I'll show you!" And I brought my mouth down to lovingly kiss her feet, moving my eager tongue from toe to toe, first one foot and then the other.
"Oh, wow!" she tightened, her hands nervously fevering up and down her thighs, continually edging in toward her bare snatch. "Oh, wow!" and she was widening herself.
I started the upward trip to the most delightful part of her, working my tongue anxiously back and forth, from thigh to thigh, getting right up there into her. I had my mouth so close to her delightful young pussy and I sensed a panic in her, a tightening-up again, and I thought there was a need to explain my desire to get my tongue right up into the delicate moistness.
"I want to kiss you there, Pamela."
"Just like Hazel does!" she giggled, loosening up for me.
"Just like Hazel," I nodded, getting my tongue right up into it, gliding it instantly up and down the length of it.
"Oh, wow, yes!" she fisted and unfisted her hands close to my head. "Yes-" And she placed them on my shoulders, hooking solidly into me.
"I'll really get you ready," I murmured, coming up slightly for air. "So that you'll be able to take all of me," And I went right back down into it, working my hands into her sleek sides, forcing her up so that I could get my hands on those trim buttocks.
I dug and jabbed my tongue deeper and deeper, only letting up and stopping when I was afraid that I might orgasm without even touching my cock. I edged my mouth continually upward, working easy kisses to the pussy-lips, letting her know how delightful she was down there.
"Don't laugh at me," she giggled, "if I tell you something!"
"I won't laugh, I promise!"
"I'm kinda anxious to see you with no clothes!" she giggled ;ill the more. "Get undressed for me," she lowered her voice, her eyes drifting down to my hard cock jutting out of my fly.
I got up on wobbly feet, that throbbing prick bobbing up and down and out of my control. I hurriedly started unbuttoning my shirt, then remembered that I still had my tie on. I loosened and yanked it off and let if fall on the floor, anxious to finish unbuttoning the shirt. That out of the way, I tugged the white T-shirt up and off my shoulders, getting a big and quite appreciative giggle out of her as my dark and hairy chest came into sight.
"I'm not afraid anymore!" she cheerfully edged forward, concentrating on my undressing. "I I really like you!"
I was like a damned schoolboy, almost tripping all over myself as I took off my shoes and socks and hurried my hands back up to the large buckle of my belt. I hesitated as I unbuckled it, recalling the many times I had used that very strap to work over a masochistic bitch. I didn't want to think about any of those times at that beautiful moment, the honey-haired child so fantastically nude and sprawled out on the couch before me. I tried to concentrate on the wide spread of Pamela's legs, her honey-hued snatch so great to hook my line of sight into. But the lewdness of those drunken bitches, the need to take my frustrations out on them, was etched solidly on my brain, no matter how I attempted to erase it all:
The slashing of the strap the pounding of my fists the slapping and pounding of my hands ... they had been a part of my sexual way of life for much too long.
"Why are you stopping?" Pamela leaned forward.
I could only manage a smile, hurriedly undoing the top button. The fly already unzipped, I tugged right down on my trousers, stepping out of them quickly.
"You're build real rugged!" she shrilled, watching me hurriedly yank down my undershorts and become as totally nude as she was. "Oh, wow...." she leaned over more, those ripe knockers aimed right at me.
"Don't be afraid of it," I moved right back up to her, taking both of her hands in mine and placing them solidly on the perfect just of my hard cock. "Don't be afraid," I urged her to glide her hands up and down the length of it, her mouth extremely close to the very tip of it.
"Oh, wow!" she was trembling, hands seemingly glued to it. "It's so very big!"
"Just kiss the tip of it, please, Pamela ... just the very tip of it."
"It feels so strange," she pressed her lips to it for a brief moment, her mouth still hovering over it. She giggled and kept aiming it upward. "I have to hold it down! It keeps trying to get away!"
"Just relax, precious baby," I spread her out on the couch, widening her thighs to straddle her. "I won't hurt you, I'll be very gentle," And I anxiously placed the cockhead at the start of her delicate pussy-lips, prying them apart the most I could without hurting her.
"Please be careful-" she tightened, the giggling coming to an end, the fear clearly etched on her face. "I'm afraid!"
"Don't be afraid, Pamela, just be ready to soar with me. This can be very beautiful," And I carefully thrust forward to get my thick cockhead started into the unbelievably tight pussy.
"I want to trust you-" she groaned and tried to widen herself for me. "Hazel said you're so good-"
And I felt a certain perverseness about the mention of her name at a moment like that, and I couldn't deny the strange bond that was forming with the woman supposedly asleep in the other room.
Was she really asleep?
I had the feeling that she was staying out of the way, giving me an opportunity to be alone with Pamela to get what I needed so desperately, the girl's ripening youth and virginity. Before someone else got it that seemed to be the big pressure.
I pushed forward on my knees, working more and more of the cock shaft into the tight vagina, listening to her special lament of wanting mingled with fear and physical hurt. I worked my hands carefully into her hips, holding her down there to me, feeling her start to twist and turn slightly.
"Don't hurt me-"
And I stifled a cry by placing my mouth fully to hers, letting my tongue slither and twine hers, covering for the steady initial thrust of my cock to the very core of her pussy. The cry of pain scorched right through my kiss and I pulled my mouth back, instantly flicking tender kisses to her face and then down about the soft of her neck.
"Stay loose, precious honey," I murmured, struggling to catch my breath, my hard cock on fire with the extreme friction of the tight vagina walls pressing it hard. "Loose and soar with me, Honey, I wouldn't want to purposely hurt you for anything in the world!" And once again I couldn't erase a mental image of all the slut-bitches of the world who really needed to be physically abused. I knew I could be tender with the beautiful child, just as long as the world was so jam-packed with masochistic bitches who craved and deserved the pounding of my fists and the slashing of heavy leather.
All those miserable bitches seemed to be swirling about in my brain, my cock buried to the hilt of the girl I knew had to be virgin. I had to wait, I had to give the young girl the chance to get accustomed to the feel of something she had never had enter her body before and all I could do was picture those older barroom sluts who forever lied and cheated and deserved to be punished. I could see them in one crummy circle and Angela was right there in the middle of them all, and they would deserve the slashing of heavy leather and even more physical abuse and humiliation.
I could suddenly feel Pamela's hands softly on the broad expanse of my back, and it pulled me out of the thoughts of all that sickness that I had been a part of, the sickness that I knew I would have to return to whenever all the frustrations mounted and got the best of me.
"Be careful with me," her voice was soft but no longer troubled, and the hands gently edging about my back told me that she trusted me, telling me to really put it all together.
"Stay with me, Pamela, we're really going to make it now." I hooked my hands more solidly into her sides, starting the upward glide of my cock within her. "All the way with me," And I started a smooth pistoning of her, going it at a steady pace, keeping her in close to me.
"It all seems so different with you!" she finally gasped and managed to utter the words, riding with each and every cock thrust to her pussy. "It's really terrific!" she girlishly shrilled, and I was turned-on all the more by the basic honesty of it all.
"Together, Pamela!" I speeded up for the finale. "I want you to make it with me-"
"Now!" was all she screeched, tightening on me in the anxiety of the first time out. I could sense her biting down hard on her lower lip and I hurriedly placed my mouth to hers, showing her that it could be filled with love. I pressed my mouth to hers, feeling her buckle and shudder, joining me in my wild eruption. Together, going solidly for the final spurt she had to offer, giving her my all.
Resting ... I can still remember the unbelievable tightness of her vagina walls on my spent cock, seemingly holding it prisoner. I glided my sweaty hands all about her, right down beneath her to clamp her buttocks, my fingers edging slowly and carefully to the crack of her ass. She writhed and twisted and I sensed that it would be a long time before she would be able to take my cock back there. I knew I just had to explore her back there with my tongue, that there wasn't a single part of her young body that I wouldn't want to taste. But I couldn't shove cock to her back there, not for quite a while, not while my fingers measured the unbelievable tightness of her back there.
I worked my hands further up her buttocks, right to the start of her back, touching that sensitive area that had her wiggling and squealing, my cock rapidly re-hardening within the tight confines of her pussy-walls. I pressed down into her, just as she pushed herself upward and her hard and very distinctly shaped knockers jammed into my chest.
"Roger...." she whispered in my ear, suddenly giggling again, her hands moving down my back. "Again?" she laughed.
"You'd better believe it," And that second time around was really fantastic. I knew I could take her a little further into it, hooking my hands solidly into her trim buttocks and raising her up to me. using deep cock thrusts, going right to the core of her. I continually widened her thighs, sensing when she could take more and more.
More and more ... leading to the second finale, this time she screeched the warning when she was ready and I assured her that I would make it with her.
I worked over to my side, resting and holding her lithe frame up against the back of the couch. We were resting so beautifully together, and that was when I heard the bedroom door open and Hazel cleared her throat to let us know she was coming. I didn't feel the least bit uneasy being in the nude and locked in with Pamela. I watched Hazel move closer to us, the bathrobe clinging to her statuesque frame.
"I feel much better now!" she smiled and I could tell the improvement in her, the color seemingly returned to her face.
"Oh, Hazel!" Pamela cried out, lifting herself and peering over my shoulder. "It was so wonderful! And I wasn't afraid with him!"
"My beautiful Pamela...." She got down on her knees alongside the couch. And then Hazel looked at me, that honest meeting of the eyes taking only a few seconds. "-Our beautiful Pamela," she corrected herself, taking my hand in hers.
You have those rare moments in life, and what might seem sick and perverse to someone else, can be so beautiful to you and the others involved in your own thing. Hazel used her other hand to hold Pamela's and the three of us were fantastically united.
So close together, Hazel worked her mouth over to Pamela's kissing her fully. And then Hazel guided the beautiful child toward me and I pressed my mouth to hers. Pamela was getting turned on and she worked her mouth fully over to Hazel's and then over to mine.
Wild really wild! And I worked a hand over to clamp one of the lithe, honey-haired nymphet's breasts, Hazel taking the lead and instantly clamping onto the other. I kissed the milk-white mound I had captured and Hazel lovingly did the same to the one she had conquered.
"So beautiful," Hazel moaned, running the hand down from the hard knocker, pressing the flat of her stomach and then toying with the navel.
"So very beautiful," I agreed, working my hand down Pamela's stomach, tracing down beyond the navel to the start of the pussy I had been the first to enter.
"So very beautiful to be shared!" Hazel moaned, looking at me first and then flicking a kiss to the delicate indentation of pussy.
"To share-" And I worked my mouth right down there close to Hazel's, sealing it with a quick but meaningful kiss. And then I flicked my mouth down on the young pussy.
Back and forth, we took turns kissing the young snatch, Pamela really going bananas in the process. Back and forth, first pressing my lips to the pussy, and then Hazel doing the same to it. Hazel ran her tongue up and down the length of it, and I had to do the same.
Wild really wild! Hazel took Pamela's hand and planted it solidly on my once again re-hardened cock, so damned swollen from the two-times around with the nymphet.
"She's a priceless beauty!" Hazel finally lifted her face from the beautiful love mound. And then she squared with me, and I didn't have to tell her that my big hang-up was the virgin stuff, that had long been established. "And just think, Roger ... there's five more young beauties in her family ... all about to ripen!"
"Five!" I couldn't hide my greed, my hand going to clamp down hard on Pamela's love mound.
"You'll have to be patient!" Hazel grinned. "That ripening process takes time, you know!"
"I was aching all over, my mind blazing ahead to an entire string of virgins, all as beautiful as Pamela. I wanted to know so much more about the large family with all the beautiful young girls, but I didn't know where to start asking. Hazel would fill me in, keep me posted and always share with me and I made the alliance with the fantastic woman.
"Cathy should be just about ready," Hazel calmly started. "But you'll have to wait for the twins, Roger."
"The twins?! " And I could instinctively feel and imagine slightly younger versions of Pamela. Yeah, and everything in exciting duplicate, my hands and mouth and all of me kept twice as busy. "You mean there's also twins?" I could feel my throat going dry, my hand once again fevering Pamela's delightful pussy.
"They're after Cathy," Hazel explained. "And they're not quite ready. "Cathy should be turning thirteen pretty soon-"
"She already did," Pamela cut in, ever so matter-of-factly, still holding my hard cock.
"You should have reminded me, Pamela," Hazel playfully scolded the girl. "I'll have to get her a belated birthday present now." And then Hazel looked over at me, giving me that all-knowing glance. "You'd probably like me to get Cathy a birthday present from you, wouldn't you?"
"Whatever she-likes," I gulped like a damned schoolboy, looking ahead to getting Cathy. "And for Pamela, I want you to buy her things and send me the bills."
"You're the boss," Hazel playfully winked.
So that was how it all started, and it wasn't long before Hazel moved into my pad, since I really needed the cover to have young girls coming in and out. Hazel passed as my wife, and we respected each other's privacy and then we did our thing together. Hazel always took care of my needs, picking up plenty of other young stuff as I started to work my way down all of Pamela's younger sisters.
"A pretty young thing I picked up at the bus station!" Hazel would announce, bringing a young teenager home for our share-and-share-alike bit. Hey, they weren't all virgins, but damned close enough to it that with a little imagination you could tell yourself they were.
Hazel had that certain way about her, people just seemed to trust her. And she didn't really try to hide how she lived. She had invited me to go to Pamela's house on more than one occasion, but I just couldn't seem to do it. And believe me, I was damned curious to hook my greedy eyes into Cathy, and then the twins, and then the other two girls younger than the twins. Yeah, the youngest that I would have to wait a few years to get, if I would ever get them at all. Believe me, the anticipation part of it got to be the wildest kick, life never got to be a bore that way, I'll tell the world.
Well, I was curious to go to the farm where they lived, but I couldn't seem to do it. I knew the old man was a drunken ass and he didn't even bother to show up too often. The mother of the girls worked the farm the best she could, and so I set up a fund for Hazel to use to help them out all she could. I was tempted to ask Hazel if the mother realized what was going on with Pamela, the sexual part of it, but I just couldn't seem to get around to asking about that phase of it, I stuck to the cliche on that score: leave well enough alone.
Cathy ... I flipped out of my mind the first time she came up to the pad with Hazel and Pamela. She looked more like fifteen or sixteen than her actual age of thirteen. She had that exciting lithe frame, so much like Pamela's, but her knockers were larger and had that melon-like quality to them. She had even lighter hair than
Pamela's and it flowed down to the start of her buttocks.
I'll tell you the one fearful pang I had the very first time I laid eyes on her. I worked my eyes up and down her fantastic frame, so girlishly clad in plaid mini-skirt and summerish blouse. She was wearing socks and those penny-loafers and I had that pang in the pit of my stomach that some damned schoolboy had beaten me to it, that there would not be any virginity for me to take.
Okay, I realize now how that can become a perversity all its own, and that it shouldn't be so damned important to a man anyway, not to a supposedly mature male. But it had become such an obsession with me. It was as though I would tolerate it if some of Hazel's other pickups weren't virgin. In fact, often I would purposely kid myself, even when I sensed some young girl she had picked up had been laid before I got to her. Since most of the young stuff was still tight, I could easily play the game that I was getting the virgin, but I had told myself that it couldn't be that way with Pamela's sisters, as they ripened and were ready to be delivered to me. They had to be the very real thing, and the thought of Cathy having been already laid had panicked me.
"No, Roger, she hasn't," Hazel took me to one side. "But there's a kid right after it," she whispered to me. "So I figured there wasn't much time to waste," she shrugged, moving matter-of-factly away from me to allow me to be closer to Cathy.
I was like a damned schoolboy about it first, not knowing where or how to start, and I was really nervous about Hazel and Pamela still being there. I was continually trying to get Hazel to one side and cornering her for all the clues as to how to get it rolling. You've got to play it careful when it comes to the young stuff.
"Maybe you should get Cathy going first?" I asked Hazel.
"Cathy doesn't dig my brand of lovemaking as much as Pamela," Hazel confided in me. "I've put my arm about her, kissed her on the face and there just isn't the reaction there," she shrugged.
"So what makes you think she's ready for me?"
"Cathy-darling was caught shoving a cucumber up her young pussy," Hazel whispered in my ear.
"How do I get started?" I anxiously asked, my mind ablaze with the sight of the young girl jamming the cucumber in and out of her pussy.
"Simple enough," Hazel shrugged, always the ready fixer. "I already told her what she's going to do for you, just as soon as we leave."
"Just like that-" I was dumbfounded.
"Cathy wants nice clothes for school, I told her we'll buy her what she wants," And just like that, Hazel told Pamela they were going to a movie, leaving me with the thirteen year-old girl, sister number two down the long line of ripening beauties.
"Hazel told you what I was caught doing to myself," Cathy giggled, the moment Pam and Hazel had left. "Didn't she?! " her eyes seemed to be hooked solidly into the rapidly bulging crotch of my trousers.
"Does it matter?" I moved up close to her, my eyes hooked to the throbbing of her lush knockers. "It's natural for a young girl to want to experiment," And I worked my hands on her trim hips for starters, eyes still hooked on the young knockers, the bra-cups coming through the summerish blouse.
"I haven't gone all the way with a boy," she informed me, arching and posing for me, seemingly waiting for me to start my hands feeling all over her lithe frame. "-Not yet, anyway," she slyly added, and I could see what Hazel meant when she said she was ready.
This was a different setup than with Cathy, and I could tell that this girl wasn't as sensitive as her sister Pamela. She was ready to take a man-sized cock and she wasn't afraid of it. She was damned anxious about it, and I couldn't help but wonder why she had not been laid by one of those anxious boys her age.
"You really haven't been...." I hesitated and sensed there was no need to hold back with her. "Screwed?" I accentuated the word.
"Why don't you use the other word?" she giggled, tensing her body the limit as I moved my hands right up there to capture the high rise of her firm knockers.
"What word?" I played the game.
"Fuck!" she seemed to enjoy using the word. "Just ask me if I've been fucked yet or not. And the answer is not, I haven't been fucked yet!"
"How come?" I asked, hurriedly unbuttoning the blouse and pulling it out of the skirt. "How close did you come?" My perverse curiosity was getting the best of me.
"I'd let him finger my pussy," she shrugged, but there were other kids around."
"There's nobody else around now," I informed her, undoing the clasp of her bra and letting the stretch garment fall to the floor.
"You want me to start fooling around with you, too?" she giggled, the very moment the flat of my hands touched those brownish-hued tips.
"Yeah," I groaned, realizing how totally different she was from the highly sensitive Pamela.
"Oh, wow!" she shrilled, the very moment she planted her hand on my bulging crotch. I could instantly hear her sucking in on her breath, her hand working fast and furious in full circular motions.
I didn't plan it, my hands were suddenly mauling and squeezing at her knockers, my body continually jamming up into her, spurred on by how greedily she was rubbing at my crotch. I pictured the girl in a number of years, telling myself that she was at the start of the road to becoming a real slut-bitch, most-likely cheating on a lot of guys along the way.
I dug being rough with her knockers and I worked my mouth to the side of her neck, sinking my teeth in to leave my brand on her.
"A hickey!" she shrilled, rubbing all the harder at my bulging crotch.
"Yeah, you'll be able to see it by the end of the day!" I tightened my hands on her knockers.
"That'll be wild!" And the little bitch unzipped my fly and went probing and digging until she latched solidly onto my thick shaft of prick. "Wild!" She echoed and pulled it out into the open, expertly stroking it back and forth for me.
"You did that to the boy, didn't you?" I asked, using my fingers to twist at the tips of her breasts.
"Yeah! He creamed all over the place!" she laughed.
"How big was the cucumber you shoved up your snatch?" I asked, her talk bringing out the worst in me.
"Big enough!" And she fisted her hand on my cock all the harder. "Almost as big as this!"
"I'll teach you to take it all!" I suddenly worked one hand off a knocker to jam it right up underneath her little mini. I got a great feel of panty-crotch and I pushed the hand up solidly to the inner reaches of her thighs, a finger pressing through the filmy material to trace pussy.
She was instantly squirming and letting the wildest string of sounds come from down deep in her throat. That was to be a totally different bag than my first time out with Pamela and so I changed my way of working. I backed off slightly and quickly started undressing myself. I hurried my shirt and T-shirt off, and the little bitch seemed reluctant to let go of my hard cock while I took off my shoes and socks. She seemed happy again the very moment I unbuckled my belt and undid the top button.
"Oh, wow!" she shrilled, eyes hooked into the sight of me yanking down my trousers and undershorts together. I just couldn't wait to be totally nudes and the moment I tugged the two garments off my feet, I moved right back into her.
"You're really something!" she was already at the button and short zipper at the side of her skirt. She had them down lightning-fast, stepping out of them as though she was born to do that bit.
"I'll take over," I informed her, hooking my hands into the waistband of her panties. I was damned rough about taking them off and even rougher as I urged her into my bedroom and flattened her out on the edge of the bed.
"This pussy ready for me?" I had the continued urge to lay it right on the line to her. "Because it's going to hurt at first," I informed her, lifting her legs and spreading them out the limit. "It's gonna really hurt!" I got up on my knees on the edge of the bed, positioning the thick cockhead at the start of the young pussy.
"Oh, wow-" she squirmed the moment the contact was made and she didn't seem the least bit concerned about the potential of pain shooting right through her lithe frame.
I sadistically hooked my hands up about her buttocks, treating her like an old pro, not giving a damn if I did hurt her or not. It was the wildest feeling, since I knew for certain I was getting a virgin, and yet I thought of her as a potential slut-tramp.
I was starting her off, that was all, and I was determined to give her a send-off that she would never forget. I slammed hard cock to her, fast and furious, so unlike the tender way I had taken Pamela.
She screeched at the sudden and excruciating pain, and I just held it to her, letting her take the full impact of hard cock on the initial thrust.
I pressed inward on my hands at her buttocks, the fingers going directly into the crack of her ass and she let out a string of other weird sounds, all mingling with that of pain.
"You'll get used to it," I smugly informed her.
"Promise you'll buy me a lot of clothes for school." She struggled to catch her breath, all of me pounded so solidly into her, my balls banging up into the inner reaches of her thighs. "I like pretty clothes!"
"All you want, Cathy!" I started pulling my throbbing cock up to set it into perpetual motion. "Hazel will see to that!" And I lifted her right up to me, her legs up high and wide and thrust hard and fast cock to me.
She let out a steady grinding of sounds of mixed pain and pleasure, never once complaining about it. I thrust harder and faster, loving the fantastic tightness of the vagina, knowing that once a lot of guy started plowing her it would become a super highway.
She was on her way, all right, and no matter how hard I cock thrusted her, those gyrations of female sexual hunger were under way. She couldn't get the motion going too wildly at first, not while I dominated the action. But as I kept it up, she seemed ready to surpass me, grinding and shoving the young pussy right up to me.
"Take it!" I slammed her all the harder, knowing that it wouldn't be long before I wouldn't be able to keep up with her. "Oh, take a lot of cock!" I dug my fingers up into the crack of her ass, having a need to treat her in total contrast to Pamela.
She had her mouth up to my ear and the hot breath was driving me wild, making me reel as I thrust her with every ounce of energy I could muster. I raced for the windup, wanting to sadistically shove all of me up into her, my hands planted savagely on her buttocks.
"Now, baby, now!" I warned her, racing her snatch like crazy. She was right there with me, suddenly working that pussy up hard and fast, her eruption coming only seconds after mine.
I could feel the animalism surging through her entire young frame, and I shoved my whole body right down on her, working her further up on the bed and letting her legs close and come down. The little bitch, she instantly hooked her legs ever so playfully up and around the back of my thighs, her hands tightening continually about the back of my neck. And, yeah, by instinct, her vagina walls were already starting to play wild and greedy tricks on my totally spent cock.
"Am I better than my sister?! " she giggled, working her legs up tighter about me.
"You were great!" I clamped down on her. "I want you to be my special girl," I informed her, and I had to admit to myself my need to have a young snatch that I could also get rough with. And with that, my cock hardened again, I started thrusting her again, giving her a really sadistic fucking that second time around.
"What if I fool around with other guys?" she slyly asked, resting after the second orgasm, just as I was about to lift myself up off her. "What will you do to me?" she was learning to be the bitch early in life.
"Some of this!" I suddenly backhanded her hard and high across the face. "And some of this!" I slapped her again. "I want you all for myself," I wondered why I wanted to buy all that trouble But I needed it, just as I knew that I needed the beautiful tenderness I always got when I swung with Pamela.
I had so damned many needs, I was beginning to realize. Just as I had the need for a new girl every so often, something I didn't want to get involved with. And, yeah, I really needed the thought of hope springing eternal as I waited for the younger sisters to ripen and be ready for me. Especially the twins ... continually running their names aloud in wild anticipation. "Beth ... Mary...."
I waited and waited, swinging back and forth between Pamela and Cathy, the twins growing up and finally edging into their teens. Yeah, I .had plenty of other young stuff sandwiched in, all recruited by Hazel. The odds always seemed to be in my favor, most of them were virgins. And those that weren't virgin were damned tight and just about new.
Hazel had that knack, she seemed to have that certain other sense in finding the young chicks that had held off for one reason or another. Hazel had a knack, all right, and I didn't realize it at first, but she had never gotten too involved with Cathy. She was very fond of, and extremely close to Pamela, but she seemed to have her doubts about Cathy.
Cathy and I had a thing going and it wasn't a very healthy relationship. I would get her whatever she wanted, clothes, Hi-Fi set, records and just about anything she would ask for. And she would ask, forever getting around me to get her the things she said all the other kids had. In return, I demanded ownership of her, forever warning her that I didn't want her fooling around with anyone else and that I wanted her to remain faithful to me.
I didn't need it believe me I didn't need it. But it gave me a reason to run "hot and cold" with her. I mean, I could make wild love to her, and then turn right around and slap her all over the place if I thought she had been a little bitch.
Yeah, I didn't realize it at first or I didn't want to but she would be continually giving me cause to be jealous, and then I would start punishing her. I took to strapping her, and that became a regular thing for me, really getting my kicks working the heavy leather across her young buttocks.
Cathy had replaced all the barroom sluts I had needed to work out my sadistic streak. I had a young body, and I had taken her maidenhead, and still I had a slut-bitch that I could abuse whenever I wanted to. And Cathy dug it, no matter how much she protested. I realized that it would only be a matter of time and maturity until she openly went into the Sado-masochistic route of lovemaking.
The twins had finally turned thirteen and they seemed so beautifully ripe to me. Hazel would treat them to picnics, taking along Pamela and Cathy. Let me tell you, I would go bananas watching the four teenaged sisters all together. They all had those lithe frames and the knockers that were so damned pronounced. The sight of all four clad in hot pants hugging their snatches, or bikini swimsuits accentuating their highlights was enough to keep me with a perpetual hard-on.
That day ... I should have sensed all the danger signals in the air. I had insisted on taking a drive out into the country, going to our favorite picnic grove with all four of the girls. Hazel had really given in to my wish that day, and I could hide from her my anxiety to get at the twins.
"Be careful, Roger," she kept warning me, day after day. "I really don't think they're ready!"
And then, I had never really discussed it with Hazel, but I had always set my heart on getting them together. The honey-haired beauties were almost identical and I couldn't imagine myself taking them separately. It had become a double obsession, from the first time that I had ever seen them together.
"Uncle Roger!" is what they called me, and their mother had told them that I was "the kind man that had helped them out so much!" Well, at times I wasn't too damned proud of what I was up to, but then as the old saying goes: "It all comes out in the wash." So if I didn't have the girls first, some poor slob would be right in there and they still wouldn't have a damned tiling.
So we made it to the picnic grove that day and while Hazel wanted to remain down in a clearing where quite a few other families had set up their camping equipment, I talked everybody into trudging all the way back, to find a secluded spot all our own.
Needless to say, we passed as a family husband and wife and their four young daughters. It was all too perfect a setup, and a guy can get careless about it. As far as I was concerned, it was two down and two to go. I had taken Pamela's cherry and then Cathy's. Pamela's might still have been there, but it had only been a matter of time before someone else would have beaten me to Cathy's maidenhead.
I couldn't get my eyes off the twins, that twin obsession refusing to leave me. I kept working my eyes back and forth, from one honey-haired beauty to the other, eyes zooming in on the snugness of their hot pants, certain that I could make out the delicate indentation of young pussy. And then those curvy legs that seemed so ready for the touching, they really drove me bananas. The twins seemed to have equal sized knockers, not especially large but so damned rock-hard and jutting beautifully out there in their matching halters.
Oh, I had felt the twins up a number of times, even before they had turned thirteen. like I said, they called me Uncle Roger and they were forever rushing into my arms and letting me kiss them on the forehead or cheek. And they seemed to dig sitting on my laps, giving them one apiece, my hands straying wildly about, innocently of course. But I had gotten a lay of the land, checking the development of the young girls that were still not allowed dates with young boys.
I had an aching hard-on for the twins that day, and I couldn't even hide it. I kept telling myself that the time had come, and that Hazel seemed too damned cautious about the twins. And then again, I started telling myself that maybe she wanted the young beauties for herself. She seemed to have an attitude that Cathy belonged to me and that Pamela belonged to her. The twins ... maybe they were up for grabs?
Well, I was going to do some grabbing that day and I was using just about every excuse in the book to rub up against them, almost openly feeling them up.
"I'm taking the twins for a hike," I suddenly announced. "They've never see all the hiking trails."
Hazel was about to protest, but I gave her that one harsh look that told her I wasn't about to wait any longer.
"I'll be careful," I tightlipped, the words could be taken a number of ways.
I turned suddenly, Cathy giggling and I was annoyed enough to really let her have the back of my hand. She had that bitchin' sly smile on her face and she sure as hell knew what I was up to. I couldn't give Cathy hell, not while the twins were there.
"Let's go, Uncle Roger!" Beth seemed anxious to get away from the others.
"Just us!" Mary was actually tugging at me. Her hand in mine was so warm and I loved the strain on her body accentuating the fine curves of her.
I had my arms about them both, heading all the way up into the hills. I got off the beaten paths, really making it through the shrubbery and rocks.
Their bare midriffs ... I had an arm about each one and as we raced about and talked it was so easy to keep sneaking my hands upward for touches at the rock-hard knockers. And everything in duplicate really had me going. Mr crotch was bulging like crazy, especially since I wore summerish slacks that accentuated my maleness.
Beth's eyes kept racing down to the outline of imprisoned cock and it didn't take me much to figure out that she was the fastest of the two. Strange ... but I suddenly started to think of Beth as a younger version of Cathy, and Mary as a younger version of Pamela.
I was about to re-live two of the most beautiful experiences in my life. Yeah, I had really dug both of the older girls in their different ways, and I realized that I had needed them to be so very different from one another. Now I had the twins with me, going for the most secluded spot I could find. There was the wildest and most perverse sensation of having them so much alike physically and yet so different.
"Look at all those rocks up there!" Beth shouted, moving quickly to one side of me, tugging at me, seemingly trying to pry me loose from Mary. "They seem so jagged!"
I tightened, and that was the first time that I felt the back of Beth's hand banging against the bulge of my crotch. I thought that it had to be an accident at first, but I caught that smug look on her face and I knew that she had managed it on her own and with a lot of meaning.
"If Mary's tired," Beth slyly started, "she can rest here while we go look at all those rocks!" Her eyes were fixed on my crotch.
"I'm not tired-" Mary started, and then she looked from her twin sister to me and she seemed to be flustered. Her eyes darted down to my crotch, the outline of imprisoned hard cock so obvious. "I know what you're looking at, Beth!" she smiled and then turned nervously the other way.
"Well, so have you!" Beth giggled, actually running her tongue over her lips.
That was all the encouragement I needed, after that I couldn't be reasonable about biding my time. And it had to be the two of them together. I conned them, telling them how much I adored the two of them and that I wanted to see both of them beautifully in the nude.
I thought we had a beautiful hiding place, up between a number of large and jagged rocks, thick shrubbery giving us a cozy trysting spot. Beth was the leader and Mary followed right behind her. I had them both down to their panties, playing with their rock-hard, smallish knockers until I thought I would go bananas.
I couldn't get enough of the scent and taste of those ripening knockers and I worked my hands on one pair, my mouth going wild on the other.
Yeah, I had my hard cock dangling right out there and I had urged the two of them to hold it and get the feel of it. My eyes kept scorching back and forth at their matching bikini panties of powder-blue and I was prolonging the agony, making out the slight indentations of young pussy.
I could get at them soon enough, I wanted to really groove on both panty-covered love mounds. I was about to start running my hands down about the joys, working my hands inside to explore the newness before tugging down the panties.
I was about to ... but the unbelievably tall and broad-shouldered state troopers moved in on me so damned fast. I couldn't be denied what I had waited so long to get, what I felt was rightfully mine, and I started swinging wildly all over the place.
They finally subdued me, handcuffing me like a common criminal. I was so stunned, I firmly believed that I had a right to the twins. I had waited ... And then, I just had to take one look at Cathy, the little bitch, and I knew damned well who had blown the whistle on me.
I'm out on bail, and I just don't know how I'll beat the rap. I'm hoping to get off easy ... I just don't know ... But the inner problems, that virgin obsession that got the best of me, that has to be resolved within myself. Maybe my case history will help other guys about to go this route? I'm not sure but I do know that telling it all has helped me. The problem is still there, but maybe now just maybe ... I'll be able to cope with it.
CASE HISTORY: "MARK"
I still wake up in the middle of the night from the dream of my old lady strapping my body, the thick leather pelting hard at my bare buttocks. It happens over and over again, so real that I can feel the heavy beads of perspiration forming and bouncing off my body, the black strap working furiously to punish me.
"You were bad, Mark! Bad!"
It's crazy, I know, but whenever I re-live the sadistic punishment I received that time ... I can actually feel the slashing of the strap falling all over my buttocks, up to my back and then down to the muscled tightness of the back of my thighs. Those stinging sensations seem so real, and so perversely pleasurable.
"You've ruined that girl!" my mother had yelled, over and over again, bringing the heavy black leather down faster and harder. "I'll teach you respect for the opposite sex!"
I was fifteen at the time and when you're that young you tell yourself that you got punished because you got caught, and not because you did something wrong. Any anyway, I never really thought I had done wrong all by myself. Edna was more than willing, that's for sure, and it was only fate that my buddy Danny didn't get her cherry first. Yeah, that was how I had ruined her, since she kept shouting that it was the first time she had ever been laid. When we were discovered in the attic she also kept shouting that I had forced her to do it. That was a laugh, let me tell you, that fourteen year old strawberry blonde was the neighborhood official cock-teaser.
"Edna...." More than once, waking up from that dream, the total recollection of how it had all happened, I find myself calling her name aloud. "Edna...." And I find myself vividly drawing in the mental image of the girl who seemed so tall for her age, her knockers so much riper than the other girls' on the block. She always wore her skirts and dresses shorter than the other girls, before it was called the mini-look. And she always wore her shorts much shorter and snugger than the other girls, before they were called hot pants.
"Hot pants!" That was what my buddy Danny used to call Edna. "She's got hot pants to get fucked, the little cock-teaser!" he would moan, and you could sense his pain as he would rub hard at his crotch. "I'm gonna nail her one of these days!"
Well, I did before Danny, and like I said, it was only a matter of fate. I'm the guy who got her cherry, and I'm the guy who got a sadistic strapping that was to linger with me solidly into my supposedly mature years. That and the big hang-up of getting the virgins. That beating, it only seemed to heighten the importance of getting a young girl for the very first time, before any other guy gets to lay her.
That day ... it was late in August and it suddenly seemed as though the entire summer school vacation had slipped by with nothing really great happening. By really great, Danny and I meant one thing and that was getting our first piece of ass. We did a lot of big talking, and we had both come damned close with various neighborhood girls, but never the real thing. Especially if we double-dated, it seemed as if the girls wouldn't let us take them too far apart in the park or wherever we'd try to score.
You know the bit, a lot of giggling and necking and petting. So the girl let's you sneak one hand under her blouse and up over the bra-cup. You get the other hand working up her thigh and you've got a hard cock banging like crazy up against your jockeys. You work the hand up the thigh, going bananas at the feel of her panty-crotch.
You know your buddy and his girl are making out and you can hear sounds coming from them, even if they are purposely exaggerated. He's getting close too, and you start to wonder just how bold he is about it. So you try to sneak fingers up into the seams of the panties, those thin hairs wild to the touch, so damned close to the moist indentation of pussy. Maybe you make it that far and your crotch is bulging like crazy and you're so damned certain that she's noticed it, even in the dark, and she's forever accidentally bumping into it, making it ache and throb all the more. Okay, so you take her hand and place it on the bulging front of you.
You go wild, since the last girl might have cooled you at that point. So you get overanxious and try to sneak those fingers right up solidly inside her little panties, digging the warm moistness of her snatch. Awkwardly, you really get all flustered and you try to unzip your fly and urge her hand up inside the tightness of your trousers.
So that was the limit of my summer, and I knew damned well that Danny had not gone beyond that point. So it would be home in a hurry to jerk off, to pound your prick like crazy, shooting thick loads into an old towel or sock, and telling yourself the day was about to come when you would be getting plenty of chicks and you wouldn't have to play with yourself.
It was that kind of a summer drawing to a close. And to add to the frustration, Danny and I had gone through that period of mutual masturbation and I really had pangs of guilt about that, since I worried about it being abnormal. Of course, we always talked like crazy about girls while we jerked off together and that made it much easier.
All those phases ... just about the time that I was ready to tell Danny that we shouldn't jerk off together especially because of the fear of being caught at it he came up with a stack of fantastic nude photos, even showing bare pussies. That started it all over again and he'd be over at my house when my parents when to work in the morning, or I'd be over at his house when his mother went out in the afternoon and we'd be jerking off together, all those nude pussy shots spread all over the place.
We had both set our hopes on Edna, since she cock-teased like crazy and we were convinced that she was ready to put out. That morning, Danny had one of the photos showing a close-up of a pussy, loaded with pubic hair, stuffed in his pocket. He had a lot of nerve, much more than I did and when we ran into Edna playing near her house he asked her if she wanted to see a picture of something she had.
"like what?! " she had that certain way of giggling, sitting on the steps of her front porch.
I can still remember looking up into the wide spread of her thighs, getting hot and bothered again at the sight of her panty-crotch. Yeah, the bitch always opened her legs when she sat around in front of you. I never really figured out if she did it on purpose or whether she was just careless, but it sure as hell drove me wild and kept me with plenty of sexual mental images for constant masturbation.
"Not here!" Danny pulled the folded picture out of his pocket. And he. started running off toward his house. I reluctantly followed him, working my eyes right up to her panty-crotch for a good look to hold me a while.
"She'll come around," Danny was smug. "The cock-teasing bitch!" he called the shots on her.
Well, she came around all right, and no one was over at Danny's house and he told her that if she wanted to see the picture it would have to be in the garage.
"But no fooling around," she giggled, following us into the garage.
Let me tell you, I was really sweating when Danny took the close-up photo of the nude pussy out and showed it to Edna.
"Where'd you get that!" she giggled all the more, and it was easy to see that she was getting turned-on, her eyes drifting from the photo over to Danny's crotch and then over to mine. Danny wasn't showing that much of a bulge, since he was wearing rather baggy trousers. But I had on a pair of cut-off dungaree shorts and I had grown so damned much over the summer that they were unbelievably tight and formfitting and whenever I had a hard-on, those cut-off shorts really advertised it.
"This is what you've got!" Danny laughed and he had the nerve to back up her into a stack of old newspapers and magazines, jamming an anxious hand underneath her dress.
"Hey, don't-" she giggled, and you wondered whether she really meant it or not.
"You love it!" Danny hiked her dress right up, hooking his hand into her panty-crotch.
"Don't!" she squirmed all the more, and I could spot her eyes on a straight line to the outline of hard cock traced at my crotch.
"And this is what you shove to a pussy!" Danny laughed and hurriedly unzipped his fly. "Grab it, Edna!" he yanked his hard cock out. Danny had an unbelievably thick prick. Mine was longer, but he had me beat in thickness. His heavy balls came rushing out of the fly, bouncing up and down as he pushed his cock up close to her.
"Hey, easy-" her voice was thick.
"Just hold it, Edna!"
She did, and I had to bite down hard on my lower lip as she stroked Danny's cock so fully, back and forth, working her hand right down to the very base of it.
He was working like crazy to get his hands inside her panties, but she seemed to be fighting him off on that score. I was suddenly starting to feel like a damned fool just standing there and my hand automatically went to rub my aching bulge.
"Latch on to her!" Danny cried over to me, and I nervously put a hand up to the high rise of her tightly sweatered breasts. I could trace the outline of her bra-cups, the lushness throbbing hard at the top. And my eyes were continually going down to how she had Danny's cock fisted so tightly and I longed to have her do the same to my cock.
"Let me feel it," Danny whimpered, still trying to work a lot of fingers up inside her panties. "Cmon, Edna!"
"Easy, don't hurt-" And she twisted and turned away from him, continually pushing up close to me. And then I really tightened, feeling her hand banging against he bulge of my crotch. It might have been an accident once or twice, but then I felt the flat of her hand rubbing right up against it, fingers actually tracing the hard outline.
Danny didn't catch it, so involved in his own thing, trying to get anxious fingers up into her panties. I worked a hand boldly up underneath her sweater and she did nothing to stop me. I clamped on solidly to a lush mound imprisoned within the bra-cup. I worked the flat of my hand in circular motions, pressing and squeezing and planning to lift the milk-white flesh out of the bra-cup.
"My old man!" Danny suddenly cried out and backed off from Edna, hurriedly reeling in his cock and zipping up his fly. Even faster, Edna yanked her dress and sweater down and was hurriedly smoothing out her clothing and hair as the car pulled into the driveway.
Safe ... I backed away and grabbed for a basketball on the garage floor, holding it up close to the front of my still-bulging cut-off shorts. The three of us edged out of the garage as Danny's father got out of the car and he seemed too deep into his own thoughts to be suspicious of what we might have been up to. He told Danny to get washed and dressed, that as soon as Danny's mother returned from shopping they had to make a trip to a very sick relative.
Crazy ... but I thought back to how things had been heating up in the garage and I realized that if we had not been interrupted, we would have broken our virgin status. Yeah, not only Edna's, but ours, since we had both yet to score.
I walked out of the driveway, side by side with Edna, and we were both so damned nervous and flustered as we approached the front sidewalk. Only then did I realize that I was still holding Danny's basketball where my crotch bulged so noticeably.
I turned and tossed the ball back into Danny's driveway, and Edna hooked her eyes solidly into the bulging front of me, right where she had brushed her hand so damned many times while fisting Danny's cock. My cut-off shorts and T-shirt suddenly seemed so damned small on me, stifling me, and I could feel all of my body aching.
We seemed lost without Danny, since he was the one with all the nerve. I worked my eyes repeatedly over the high points of her ripening body, recalling how my hand had fevered the knockers imprisoned within the bra-cups. I was so painfully aware of the pursing of her lips and I longed to slam my mouth to hers. And then right down the smooth flow of her body, suddenly seeming even more curvy. The skirt seemed even shorter and the thighs beautifully curvy. I could imagine her panties, from the solid impression left by Danny shoving the skirt up to reveal her panties. Up and down her curvy frame, my eyes started to ache, and all the while I could tell that she was fascinated by the bulge of me up front, where her hand had brushed so many times.
"Edna?! " her mother called from across the street. "Come and clean your room!"
That final glance, the meeting of the eyes, the making of the all-important sexual date it all happened. Crazy, but you don't need a single word at a time like that. In fact, it was one of those rare moments when even the slightest use of words could kill the animalistic thing you've got going for you.
"Edna?! " her mother called again and she ran, our date had been made.
I ached all the way over back to my house and I stopped short on the top step of the front porch. No one was home and I suddenly did not dare go inside. At any other time like that, my crotch bulging like crazy, I would have hurried inside and right up to my room. At any other time it would have been a ball to have the entire house to myself to jerk off. I had done it a number of times, yanking off all my clothes, usually with the exception of my jockey shorts and tugging my rock-hard cock out of the tight fly, balls and all, and jerking off all over the house.
Crazy, I know, but that summer I had done it a number of times while my mother and father were away at work. I would be in just my shorts, cock and balls sticking out of the pouch-fly, going from room to room and jerking off like crazy. It must be perverse, but often I would dig going into my mother and father's room and jerk off like crazy in the big mirror. Right up close to it, stroking my cock hard and fast, right up close to where my mother always sat to apply her makeup. All over the house, jerking off like crazy where I could smugly tell myself my parents would be during the evening. Yeah, I once even jerked off at the dining room table, spreading an old rag out on it to catch my heavy load of hot cream.
But not that day ... I didn't dare go in the house alone, because I didn't want to waste my load all by myself. My time had come, I kept silently telling myself, and I refused to even sneak my hand over my bulging crotch. I knew damned well I might weaken if I went in the house. I knew damned well that I would con myself into believing that I would just pull my hard prick out and stroke it a number of times and then put it back inside my shorts long before going for an orgasm.
That load had to be saved it was reserved for Edna's pussy, I told myself, and I wasn't about to go in the house and face the temptation of jerking off by myself and wasting it. I wasn't even about to fool myself into counting the strokes I would allow myself, and then hurry back out to wait for Edna.
I ached all over and my hard-on wasn't about to go down, but I forced myself to sit on the porch railing, my legs spread out wide and making a game of pounding the back of my feet against the railing.
I waited, watching other girls go by, shouting out a few words, noting knockers and thighs, and certain that some of the girls were looking up at my crotch, my thighs spread right out for them. It was that kind of aching period in my life and I was convinced that Edna was about to bring a lot of that special brand of suffering to an end for me. The waiting was murder, believe me, I can still remember every minute that seemed an eternity.
I spotted her coming out of her house from across the street, and I noticed a very delightful change in what she was wearing. The day had been grinding on past noon and it was getting hot and muggy out, and I grooved on the sight of Edna in a pair of unbelievably snug shorts that would put any pair of today's hot pants to shame. They were so beautifully low-slung, way down below her navel and the bottom seams crowding up at her snatch and uptight to the start of her buttocks. She wore a matching halter that seemed ready to pop open at any moment and fly in front of her.
She tried to appear casual as she walked over to my house, but it just didn't work. Of course, I couldn't play it cool either. I jumped off the railing and down on the lawn, but in my excitement I fell and tripped over myself. I got up brushing myself off, using an extra solid touch at the front of me, right where my crotch bulged and ached like crazy.
Edna was staring at me, her eyes once again hooking into the front of me. I didn't realize it then, but she had what I learned slightly later in life to be "cocksucker-eyes." She'd look right at the front of me and then you couldn't help but be aware of her tongue flicking over her lips, or the biting down hard on her lower lips.
At fifteen, I wasn't exactly the world's greatest conversationalist and I stood there like a damned fool, repeatedly kicking a sneakered-foot into the grass.
"How come you guys are always going up to your attic," she started, making it damned easy for me. "Have you got more of those pictures up there?"
"We might," I tried to sound nonchalant. "Wanna come up?"
I didn't need an answer and I had sense enough to start up the stairway and hold the door open, my breathing coming fast and hard until she bolted from her spot and right up inside the house.
The rest was easy, we couldn't seem to go up the first flight of stairs fast enough, and then even faster as we stumbled up the short and dusty flight leading to the musty attic. I didn't have any nude photos up there, and she didn't seem ready to press the issue. We were about to make our own nude photos and we both knew it.
Her eyes left my crotch long enough to travel over to an old bed in a musty corner of the attic and I used it as a conversation-starter, moving over closer to it, letting her follow me.
"I stay up here some of the time," I almost choked on the words, feeling her body come to an abrupt halt close to mine.
"I really like you!" she helped out again, and I didn't waste any time, taking up where I had left off in that damned garage but without Danny coming between us.
I went to get my hands back up there on her knockers, but she pushed right into me, my arms instantly circling her, my mouth jamming hers. I had my mouth open, caught off guard and I instantly felt the tip of her tongue against mine. We started a wild tongue-thing, our mouths slobbering together like crazy.
I finally had a place to jam the bulging front of me, right up flush to her love mound, pressed slightly above it. I was taller than her, going through that dangling stage and I had to work myself slightly downward to get the bulging front of me to groove in solidly where I figured her snatch to be.
I jammed in harder to her, using the forcefulness of my mouth on hers for a cover, really doing my thing down there with my crotch pressing into the perfect V of her. I was doing my number two thing up higher, those halter-imprisoned knockers lodged solidly into my lean and well-muscled chest. I could feel my bare thighs rubbing against hers, and I just couldn't wait until all our clothes could be pulled off and we could be touching each other, both totally nude.
"I like you more than Danny," she murmured, our mouths finally parting. "Honest I do, Mark!" She kept her love mound solid to my outline of imprisoned cock.
"You're really something, Edna!" I gasped, working my hands from her bare back to capture the high rise of her knockers.
"I'd be afraid to let Danny do anything to me!" she was twisting and shoving herself continually up into me. "Especially for the first time!"
"You haven't?" I stopped the rubbing and mauling of my hands on her knockers. "You really haven't made it yet, Edna?"
"No, I haven't!" She was indignant, but she kept her love mound up snug to me, only backing her face slightly away. "I'll tell you the truth, Danny," And the sincerity was there. "I've really been too afraid ... maybe that's why I tease, to look big shot ... but I've really been afraid of any boy going all the way with me, Mark, that's the truth!"
"Are you afraid now?" I was doing a steady humping thing to the front of her.
"No, not anymore if you promise to not hurt me too much!"
"I won't I promise!" I hurriedly was at the knot of her halter, trying to get it undone and meeting with very little success.
"Stand back," she edged away from me. "And I'll show you myself-" She undid the know of the halter, but held back from pulling it off her throbbing knockers.
"You have to promise you won't be too rough with me, Mark. Some girls told me how much it hurts the first time!"
"I won't hurt you," I tried to sound worldly, when I wasn't really too damned sure how I would treat her, since I was virgin, too. "I promise I won't hurt you, Edna!" I was so damned anxious to have her pull that halter away.
"I trust you-" And she yanked off the halter and I had to position my hand down at my aching crotch as my eyes zoomed in on the perfectly rounded mounds, the brownish-hued tips so unbelievably large. I had to wet my lips, knowing how I wanted to get my mouth on first one and then the other, and then race wildly back and forth.
I remained fixed, anxiously awaiting her hands crawling down her sides, the fingers of both hands converging on the button and short zipper on one side of the snug shorts. She held them on the spot, suddenly kicking off her loafers, even her bare feet seeming so sexual.
"First take off your T-shirt," she kept working her eyes up and down my dangling frame.
I hooked trembling hands into it and yanked upward damned fast, hearing a low groan come from down deep in her throat as I pulled the garment off me and tossed it on the daybed. I watched and waited, my hands going to the belt buckle, eyes fixed on her snug shorts.
"Promise you won't brag to the other boys, Mark!"
"I promise," I moaned, then bit down hard on my lower lip as I knew I would have to at least brag to Danny. "I won't tell!" I would have made a thousand promises at that moment, so damned anxious for her to tug down her shorts.
She undid the button and short zipper and started wiggling out of the shorts more than she was pulling them down, her shocking pink panties coming beautifully into sight. Down her thighs, she really wiggled out of them and I could make out the delicate indentation of pussy and the pubic bush about the love mound. She stepped out of the shorts and she had a wild way of running her thighs back up her curvy thighs, working right up into the inner reaches to accentuate the panty-covered snatch.
"You play with yourself a lot?! " she giggled, working her hands into the waistband of the panties.
"How about you?! " I smiled, answering the question with a question, the two of us calling it a draw.
"Take your shorts off now," she tensed, "you are wearing underwear, aren't you?"
"Yeah," I groaned, tugging upward on the elastic band of my jockeys, hurriedly unbuckling the belt and undoing the top button. Don't ask me why, but lean remember proudly posing for her as I unzipped my fly and started tugging down my dungaree cutoff shorts. I was proud of how my jockey-pouch was so jam-packed, my swollen prick aimed upward, the very tip of it just about to protrude through the elastic band.
"Oh, wow!" she groaned. "Maybe you're too big for me!"
"I'll be careful, I promise!" I would have promised her the moon at that precise moment, my hard cock tugging and pulling at the cotton stretch front of my underwear. "Please ... " I was whimpering, watching her hands on the elastic band of her panties, her sole remaining garment. "Please, Edna...."
I really ached all over, my body tensing unbelievably as she hurriedly brought down the panties, showing a moist and ready pussy, the reddish-blonde hair matter all about the pussy-lips, the pinkness within showing slightly.
"Now you!" she trembled, nervously working the panties off her feet and placing them at the foot of the daybed.
She didn't have to tell me a second time, my hands rushing into motion, tugging the shorts downward to let a lot of cock jut proudly forward. Not very thick meat, but long enough, I can proudly tell you. And at the age of fifteen, when my thighs had not really filled in, my cock seemed all the larger in comparison with my scrawny legs.
"Oh, wow-" she stiffened, still standing before me.
"Don't be afraid," I moved in on her, trembling unbelievably myself. "I won't hurt you-" And I aimed my swollen prick up inside her thighs, shoving into the inner reaches of her as I took her solidly in my arms. I could feel her moist love mound, the pubic hair so moist, rubbing up against the flat of my stomach and my pubic hair. My swollen cock felt so snug and comfortable in-between her legs and I didn't dare rub it too hard, sensing that I had better leave that until I had finally entered her pussy and started the very real thing.
I jammed my mouth to hers, our tongues both working like crazy, and it was the necessary stalling we both needed to get accustomed to having our nude bodies locked together. Our thighs touching warmly, I didn't dare press in too much more down there, since I thought I might orgasm at any moment, even before I had started screwing her. I worked my mouth in wild motions on hers, stalling stalling, working my chest solidly into her upper anatomy, grooving one the feel of the two very distinct mounds indenting my solid front.
"Promise you won't hurt me!" she groaned, the very moment our mouths parted, and I realized that her thoughts had raced ahead to when I would actually be screwing her. I had to show the initiative and I backed her continually to the daybed until she sat down on the edge of it.
The wildest instant-situation ever the very tip of my cock so damned close to her mouth as she rocked back and forth on the edge of that musty daybed. I was about to get down on it with her, but I had the most perverse desire to have my cock close to her face, actually placing my hand on the base of the shaft.
"I can't do that!" she protested much too fast and vehemently.
"Just kiss it," I tightened, placing one hand at the back of her head. "That's all, Edna, just put your lips to it!"
"Just for a second-"
That had to be the longest second in the world, let me tell you. Once she got her lips down there she started edging them all over the cockhead, then gliding down the shaft. She had a way of pretending that she was moving her mouth about to avoid really kissing it, but you could tell that she dug sampling the scent and taste of hard cock.
"That's all I'll do it!" she seemed to be trying to convince herself more than me. "No more-" she pushed her face away from the heavy throbbing of my moist cock.
"That was great!" I got down on the daybed with her, suddenly feeling so damned awkward about it as I stretched her out and instantly mounted her.
In all my fantasies, using my fisted hand in place of a pussy, I had been so expert at spreading the fantasy-girl out on the bed, widening her thighs and positioning my hard cock to the start of her pussy-lips. My great moment of reality had finally arrived and it wasn't working as smoothly as I had imagined it would so many countless times.
Edna helped, widening her thighs and getting me to move solidly into the anxious V of her. She moved her body slightly upward, getting my cockhead into position at the touch of her pussy-lips. And even then, when I wasn't quite ready, she took my cock in her hands and positioned it for the downward glide within her. She covered it all by groaning and whining fear.
"Don't hurt me, please be careful!" she chanted, over and over again, really going bananas at the contact of cock to pussy.
I was too excited to talk and I somehow managed to so something with my trembling hands, hooking them into her trim hips. The daybed sagged where the springs were ruined and I seemed to be molded to her and I thrust forward, stopping once the cockhead was solidly into her.
"Be careful!" she tightened her hands at my back in true pain. "Please, Mark," she pleaded, her hands easing up and starting to move in circular motions. "Oh, please...."
I could feel my hands getting sweaty on her hips, getting glued there, and I couldn't believe the tightness of her pussy. That had to be a first cocktrip down into it and the experience was a shattering one.
I moved up slightly, waiting until her groan died out and then I felt her hands easing up all the more on my back, moving once again in the circular massaging motions and I knew I had to go all the way and that we would have to get accustomed to the union after that.
All the way, I cock thrusted her as expertly as I had done it in all my lonely fantasies. I worked my hands downward, hooking more into the sides of her buttocks and I went the full distance, seemingly to the tune of that steady string of animalistic cries coming from down deep in her throat.
She was trying to call out my name, maybe to beg me to be careful. But I already had the full length of my swollen prick to the very core of her, my low-slung balls thudding into the inner reaches of her thighs, right up flush to the crack of her ass. I could only keep it there, waiting for her to get accustomed to the feel of a pussy full of hard cock. I was waiting for myself, too. Let me tell you, I had to get accustomed to the feel of having my cock lodged within the tight confines of a vagina. Locked in that was how I felt and I could sense the power of the female. And it didn't matter that I was solidly on top, I knew damned well that so much depended on her.
Then newness ... you can't really describe the unbelievably fantastic newness of penetrating a pussy for the very first time. The walls of her vagina seemed to be shouting their newness at every muscle and sinew of my swollen prick. It was as though her vagina wanted all of the heavy cock pulled out of her, and yet wanted the sensation of having it stuffed way out of proportion.
Edna's hands at my back at first I could feel the nails starting to claw at my back, to work out all her initial pain and sheer frustration. I felt the nails easing up, even if the flat of her hands were still solid on my back. And then, just as I started to move slightly working downward even more, even though there was nowhere else to go, I could feel her hands moving in that circular motion again. Crazy, but at a time like that I even realized that she had changed the direction of the movement in her hands. And that long string of animalistic cries was slowly but surely becoming a steady humming sound of joy.
She was ready for me and I lifted up higher on my knees, getting more encouragement from the various movements of her lithe frame imprisoned beneath me. She was more than ready, I told myself, lifting all the way and making a certain click come from down deep in my throat as I started the steady pistoning of cock-to-pussy.
"Oh, Mark!" she managed to shrill, and the voice and the sounds that went with it were an unmistakable mixture of pain and pleasure. And at my back, slowly but surely, I could feel the nails starting to claw into the solid flesh of me. But not in sheer pain or shock, but rather with an insistence, a begging for more and more.
I thrust harder, picking up the pace, feeling the walls of her vagina doing weird things to my cock on each trip. In all my sexual fantasies, masturbating all over the damned house, I had never once imagined the important role played by the female. I had always imagined what I would be doing to the girl and I had never worked in the real ecstasy of what she would be doing to me.
Edna was doing wild things to me, her hands racing from the lower portion of my back and slipping down over my buttocks, her nails continually clawing into the flesh of me to spell out want and urgency.
Up higher ... I discovered that I could plow her harder and faster up high on my knees, my cock strokes coming so sure and easy. And then I would get those extra groans from her, as though she sensed that she was supposed to complain of the added pain. I found the game of aiming my mouth to hers at those moments, letting our tongues play games of slithering and twining. That seemed to be a closer communication, telling each other that we did give a damn about each other. And all the while, never missing a cock stroke to the pussy that kept opening for me like a flower would bloom at the start of summer.
Faster and harder, riding together, I was learning by instinct what to do with my hands, riding them up and down her sides and then hooking solidly up under her as I sensed the explosion about to take place. I slowed the action, urging her to slow the writhing and twisting of her body, making it last longer longer so very much longer ... And then at the right moment, the need to quicken the pace. Instinct told me when to work my hands faster, employing all the fingers to edge up into the crack of her ass, continually lifting her lithe frame up into the heavy pistoning of my swollen prick.
"Mark...." she whimpered and she didn't have to spell it out, I knew that she was close to orgasm. I wanted to tell her that I was so damned close, that the eruption was about to send me shuddering all over her body. I had to use every ounce of my energy for the windup and I put my message across animal-style with my body.
I could feel all of her love juices gushing and spurting and I raced the action and I exploded only seconds after her, soaring wildly as it all mingled and flowed so freely together.
Resting ... all the sweat and juices mingling, I felt totally glued to her and that was exactly the way I wanted it. I held my spent cock right up tight within her, feeling the occasional movements of her vagina walls. I had the greatest sense of accomplishment and I told myself that I could hold my head high from that moment on, that I had experienced my first sexual encounter.
I had experienced a virgin in the losing of my virgin status, a real double victory. I didn't feel cheated as I always did whenever I had the need to masturbate. There wasn't that empty feeling, nor the loneliness.
I clung to Edna and I could sense her need to cling to me. I could sense a moment of doubt and fear within her and I quickly flicked kisses to her, starting at the soft of her neck, going to the lobe of her ear and then to the side of her face. She rushed her mouth to mine and I brought my mouth down fully on hers. I stretched all of my body over hers, a gesture seemingly to let her know that I would look after her, to protect her. Man's oldest union and we had discovered it together ages fifteen and fourteen. The two of us leaving our virginity on that musty daybed in the attic.
I could feel the rapid rehardening of my cock, her vagina walls rushing it along as her mouth had been clamped up to mine. We had a meeting of the eyes that said it all: Again!
I positioned myself up higher on my knees, hands hooked solidly to her buttocks, riding and thrusting and moving more expertly. We had another meeting of the eyes and we both had to smile. That second time around we were both conscious of the creaking sounds of the rusty springs. The first time, there could have been thunder and the roll of drums and the firing of cannon, and we would only have been aware of our own body sounds. But that second time around, the creaking of the old springs was loud and clear. I started into action, racing and shoving and trying to outdo the sounds from the rusty springs.
"Oh, Mark!" she shrilled, and the start of the search for kicks was on. I dug her calling my name and I shoved hard cock fast and furiously to her, all of it mingled with the steady creaking of the springs.
That second time-around I was learning fast to go for kicks, and Edna was right there with me. The rest of the world could take off for all we cared, initiated into lovemaking we were instantly out to get as much out of it as we humanly could.
We never heard my old lady coming up the attic stairway. She was almost on top of us when Edna spotted her first and let out a shrill cry of horror. I looked up, twisting my head to that side and catching a broom solidly across my buttocks as I did.
"Animals!" my old lady screeched, the two of us breaking up and trying to hide our naked bodies. "Get your clothes on and get out of here!" my mother screeched at Edna.
I couldn't comprehend it then, but the tone of my old lady's voice had so much of the "other woman" in it, the betrayed female discovering her man's unfaithfulness. My old lady turned the other way slightly, letting Edna gather her clothes and hurry into them at one end of the daybed.
"Go to your room!" she yelled at me, never giving me a chance to get on any of the items of my clothing that I had gathered. Once, I had almost started to tug on my underwear, but she caught me with the broom handle hard across my buttocks. Now this may sound like a perverse things to say, but I could spot my eyes forever going to my cock dangling low in its semi-hard condition. She seemed so nervous and upset and I could tell that part of it was due to watching me like that.
"Go to your room, Mark!" she finally ordered me, letting Edna slip out of the attic to hurry out. "You want to parade around like that like an animal!" she gestured at my nudity.
"-Then that's how you'll be punished."
"Ma-" I started, for the first time noting that she was still a young and attractive woman. But I didn't know how to start explaining my way out of it, and I just let it dangle there, slowly placing the items of clothing I had gathered in front of me.
"Go and get under the covers until I come to strap you!" she screeched.
In my room, I let my various items of clothing fall on the floor alongside the bed, and I hurried in beneath the covers, all of a sudden my entire lanky frame trembling. The craziest sensation was that I could feel a wild extension of everything sexual and I was fearful that my semi-hard cock would soon totally re-harden. I tried to brush my cock downward, hoping that it would go totally limp before my old lady came to yank the covers off me and give me the strapping.
It wasn't working and I hurried over flat on my stomach, just as I could hear my old lady's footsteps coming down the hallway, closer and closer to my opened bedroom door. I was grinding myself right into the bedsheets, but I had to stop as I sensed the re-hardening of my cock. I tried not to rub down there, lifting up slightly. But then I could feel my buttocks raising the covers and I tightened at the thought of that first slashing of the strap across them.
The first slashing ... that wild stinging sensation ... that was what really frightened. I had been strapped many times before, and often across the bare buttocks, and I could always remember the fear and frustration of that first slashing. After that, they all had a way of blending in. And after a steady barrage I would grown numb to it and I would push my thoughts to more pleasant things and I could actually escape the pain.
"Animal!" my mother roared the one word, angrily yanking off the covers. I could sense that she had other things to call me, but they seemed to be choking her, those grunts coming up loud and clear. It was as though she cleared her throat by starting the strap in motion and I can still distinctly recall that first solid slashing of the strap across my bare buttocks.
It was sexual ... so damned sexual that time ... and I was instantly relating it to the initial cock thrust of Edna's pussy. I had taken a cherry-pussy and the slashing of the strap across my bare buttocks was in payment. It was well worth it, every bit of the sadistic pain scorching my buttocks. It was worth it for the wild sensation of experiencing a tight pussy for the very first time, and I was ready to take the continual slashing of the strap.
"Animal!" was the final word my mother uttered, bringing the slashing of the strap finally to a halt. I could hear her breathing coming heavily and troubled, and all the while I remained there calmly, my face buried in the pillow, still vividly recalling the excitement of that first time around with Edna, the fantastic tightness of her pussy, her need to get accustomed to the feel of my hard cock.
I could hear those troubled sounds coming from my mother, and I was almost tempted to turn around and show her my hard-on. I don't think it was really necessary, since I didn't have the head of it tucked underneath my thigh, part of it showing at the V of my thighs, right there with the back of my balls.
My mother rushed out of the room, the strap falling from her hands as she did. I recall how she slammed my bedroom door closed behind her, as though she was trying desperately to shut a fear out.
I waited, finally lifting my head from the pillow and twisting my line of sight to view my leather-slashed buttocks. I made an inspection and was dumbfounded that they could be so red and badly bruised and yet I didn't feel any pain. I rubbed at them, noting a certain numbness, almost enjoying the perverse feel of it.
I got up and made it slowly over to the mirror, my cock jutting right out there. I turned slightly and inspected my badly bruised buttocks in the mirror, and still I felt no great pain. I was troubled and I couldn't pin it down then not at the age of fifteen, so much happening to me so fast but the last of the strap-slashings had actually been enjoyable to me, so totally sexually-drenched.
The thick, black leather strap ... I spotted in on the floor from my view into the mirror. I turned and walked over to it and picked it up with great respect. I moved slowly back toward the mirror, running my hands all over the thick leather strip. I was suddenly aware of an action in my nostrils and for the very first time I was aware of that special scent of leather. I brought the thick leather strap up close to my nose, my mouth so even closer to it.
The scent ... I inhaled and exhaled, repeating the process over and over again, wondering why I had never been so aware of the scent of my own leather strap. Mine wasn't as wide as that one and then and there I resolved to wear thicker and wider leather straps. I had my lips pressed to the leather, telling myself where the heaviest saturation of leather had come from, the stinging part of it across my buttocks, my back and even down about the back of my thighs.
Wild, I know, but I found myself running my mouth over the leather, actually kissing it, my cock hardening all the while until it actually ached. I suddenly thought of the black leather jacket I had been looking at in a store window and I told myself that I just had to have that jacket for the start of the Fall school term. I told myself that the girls would really go for that black leather jacket look, and I tried not to admit to myself how much I would enjoy wearing it.
I snapped the leather strap out, still holding it close to my mouth, letting it sting against my lips, and I wondered if I would actually have the nerve to snap it closer and closer to my mouth and really hurt myself. But why? I couldn't understand that, but I had the urge to continually experiment with the strap.
I concentrated on my nude image in the mirror, my hard cock jutting out there so proud. Proud yeah, because it had finally experienced a girl's pussy. And not a slut that all the other guys were getting. Edna might have been a cock-teaser and I did realize it then that it had been mostly to cover up for her fears of really swinging with a boy but she had never been laid before.
The virgin ... that was what all the guys bragged about, getting a cherry. Well, my long and slim cock had gotten itself a cherry and I was damned proud of it. I was about to fist a hand about the perfect jut of my cock when I realized that I was still holding the thick strap. And that was the very first time that I performed a leather-ritual that was to become a steady part of my sexual way of life.
I was annoyed with myself at first, even above and beyond my desire to experiment, but I couldn't stop myself from wrapping the thick leather strap around my hard cock.
Right down at the base that's where I started wrapping the leather around my cock. I had the thick silver buckle dangling down there and I kept wrapping the heavy leather all the way up my long and sleek shaft of swollen prick.
Harder and tighter I had to choke off the sounds that wanted to come up from down deep in my throat as I continually tightened on the leather around my cock. I glanced more than once at my closed bedroom door, knowing that it wasn't locked and fearing the fact of life that my mother might possibly reenter the room. But I couldn't stop myself, my perverse sense of curiosity forcing me to continually watch the action in the mirror, getting that leather wrapped tighter and tighter about my cock, right up solidly over the head of it.
I can still recall that sense of frustration that some of the long leather strip was left over, dangling free at the tip of my cock. I studied my leather-encased cock in the mirror and I couldn't comprehend why I was getting such a wild and very pleasurable kick our of it, even if it was paining me. I tightened my hand about the leather-covered cock, my thoughts racing back to the initial cock thrust of Edna's virgin pussy. That tightness that fantastic tightness I was grooving on that same sensation plus the wild feel of leather. I had to make it fast and furious, to find the release I needed before I could unwrap that leather strap from my cock. I stroked fast and full and it didn't take many before I orgasmed, the heavy cream spurting into the front of the dresser.
I had to ask myself why I had done it, unwrapping the leather belt from my cock and finding an old cloth to clean up my mess. I didn't have the answers and I got into thoughts of my other problems, wondering first if Edna's mother and father would be told by my mother and more importantly, if I would get to fuck her again. The answer to the first question was no the answer to the second was absolutely yes, over and over again. We were just much more careful, that was all, and it wasn't long before I was sharing Edna with my buddy, Danny.
You don't admit it, but I grooved on the three-way scenes. I dug showing off for my buddy, thrusting hard and fast cock to Edna while he was watching. And then I would have to admit that I got a perverse pleasure from watching him swing into action, anxiously tugging off his shorts and shoving his hard prick to her.
The exact moment or how it came about is hard to remember, but it was inevitable that we would realize that one of us did not have to remain the spectator while the other performed sexually with Edna. I believe it came about while Danny was shoving cock to her pussy and my hard-on was unbearable. I was standing up close to them, my hand fisted tightly about my prick. I had the tip of it up near her face and I just kept moving it right up to her.
Those sucking-in sounds were coming loud and clear from her and she was twisting her neck about, seemingly shouting that she wouldn't do it, even though I had not openly asked her to do it. I gave her the encouragement she needed, wrapping both of my hands about the back of her head and shoving the cockhead right up to her pursed lips.
"Suck his cock!" Danny went wild, banging cock to her pussy all the harder. "Lap it up!"
Edna got into the wild spirit of it, Danny's lewd way of telling-it-like-it was. doing the trick. She opened her mouth wide and I started fucking it, just as Danny was taking care of her pussy.
Wild times ... that seemed to be the theme of our three-member club for the remainder of that summer. We were forever experimenting, trying new positions and kicks. I was the first to realize how sensitive Edna was to the touch of her buttocks or especially to the fingering of her ass-hole. I rammed cock to her rear, and it was like taking another virgin part of her, listening to her scream and screech from the initial pain.
I can't describe it, but something had grown heartless within me and I was grooving more on the thought of her experiencing the excruciating pain than on my own pleasure. I had waited so long that first time that my cock had bulged her pussy. But up her ass-hole, I became instantly animal, thrusting her like crazy.
Yeah, Danny wanted to get right into it, and he worked her on her side and positioned cock to her pussy. Edna got the idea right away, taking cock front and back, the three of us continually busy.
Wild times ... and the thought of going back to school. And I had my way and got the black leather jacket I had wanted so badly. My mother didn't go with me when I went to buy my new shoes for the start of school and so I bought a pair of black leather boots.
The night before the first day of school ... I was sure my parents were asleep and I carefully locked my bedroom door, so anxious to try on my matching black leather jacket and boots in a very special way that had been racing about my brain for a number of days.
I stripped out of all my clothing in record time, my cock already rock-hard as I tugged down my shorts. I hurriedly put on the leather jacket, looking myself over in the mirror as I zipped the front of it up. And then I put on the black leather boots and posed in the mirror. Wild I know, but I imagined various girls I had thoughts of fucking, hoping that they were still virgins, seeing me in that wild outfit of only leather jacket and boots, my slim jim cock seemingly jutting out there for miles and miles.
I had bought a new black leather strap, a very wide one with a large silver buckle in the peace design. I dangled the large buckle down below the base of my cock, right at the side of my low-slung balls and started wrapping the new strap around my cock, so damned aware of the special scent of it, the newness of it accentuating it all.
Tight tighter unbearably tight! I fisted my hand over my leather-covered cock and I didn't give a damn about the bagful of mixed emotions I would experience once I orgasmed that way.
I fixed my line of sight in the mirror, grooving on the leather-sight of my dangling, young body. I wanted to think of really tight pussy, and I did not bring in my usual mental image of Edna's snatch.
That was old stuff to me, I realized, and I moved on to the wild anticipation of a thirteen year old girl living a few blocks down from us. Y had gone out of my way to pass her house a number of times, always making a game of whether of not the dark-haired beauty would be sitting carelessly on her front steps, showing a lot of panty-crotch. I had stopped to talk to her a few times, making conversation about the start of school. And maybe it was my imagination or just wishful thinking, but it seemed to me that she would widen her thighs all the more, nervously moving about and showing plenty of her curvy thighs and that panty-crotch.
"I'll get it," I inwardly murmured, thinking of the girl named Lisa.
I stroked my leather-encased cock, straining to imagine the dark-haired pussy beyond the panty-crotch I had viewed. I was swinging into the fantasy-bag, imagining a new and tighter pussy. Edna had become old stuff and I wanted to move on to new conquests. And I wanted them to be new and unused, just as Edna had been that very first time up in my attic.
I tightened my grasp on the massive amount of leather, pressing down hard for the full strain on my cock, and all the while I grooved on the sight of myself in the leather jacket and matching boots. I thought of how Lisa's pussy might even be tighter than Edna's had been, and as long as it was fantasy-time, I really went wild. I imagined myself thrusting cock hard to Lisa, blood oozing down her thigh at the completion of the initial thrust to the very core of her pussy.
Conquest ... the leather against my back and brushing my chest made me feel like a sexual warrior and my leather-masturbation was only in anticipation of when I would really get Lisa. I was that damned sure of myself. I didn't totally forget Danny and Edna, and I fantasized them fucking like crazy right alongside us. But the virgin pussy had to be mine, and I stroked my cock harder and faster, picturing Danny and Edna making it continually right alongside us.
The self-eruption ... it wasn't a lonely thing, not while I could bring in the mental images of my future conquest and my two old friends. I orgasmed like crazy, and then calmed myself, still enjoying the feel of leather, still damned confident of making my future conquest. Not bragging, it happened just as I had imagined it all. I made it with Lisa alone first, only a week after the start of the school term. She had to babysit for her older sister's children and I would sneak in through the kitchen door the moment her sister was off to work.
She was virgin beautifully virgin, and I had become quite a pro at handling sex. I knew when to go easy, when to push, and how to stay right with it until I had scored. The score to me that was accomplished the very moment I had made that initial cock thrust to the unbelievably tight pussy. She was mine after that, and I really dug balling the tight pussy.
I changed a lot that year, and this may be a crazy thing to say, but the wearing of as much leather as I possibly could was what gave me the bravado I needed. Before that year, I was always too damned timid about starting conversations with girls. Once I wore that leather jacket, I had assumed a certain air about myself and I had a certain way of walking.
I was sure of myself and I knew damned well that I could score one time right after another with the various girls I thought had not seen much action. Something else happened to me during that initiation to leather. I discovered that old saying: nice guys finish last. I realized that almost all girls are masochistic to one degree or another and the really important thing is how you manage to bring it out in them.
I moved on from Lisa to my next conquest, and always I looked for the virgins or at least came damned close to it. Okay, so if a chick was putting out for everybody and she was after me, too, I could really put her down.
A new kick ... I discovered another way of soaring to the heights of sexual excitement. The biggest to me was always the new score, the girl who was ready but no other guy had managed to get. Okay, you don't always get virgins I had also learned to get my kicks being dominant with girls who had been around.
I could spot a chick who dug the rough stuff, and that would be the only way I dug balling her. You get the reaction the moment you work their hands on them, especially when you hook into the back of their head to put across the message that you want some mouth-work done on your cock.
A third way of heightening kicks ... Yeah, I really dug "group swinging" from the very beginning. It must have all started from the sharing of Edna with Danny and that sexual kick developed into the urge for really swinging group weekend deals. Once I got out of high school and started earnings money, I had the ways and means of getting more involved, and life was really starting to swing for me.
The leather way ... it was really dominating me, even though at times it really frightened me. It was a way of setting myself up above the every day boredom, of advertising that I dug kicks real kicks. And then the constant quest for kicks is on, and you just can't seem to be satisfied. You find it here and then, working on and making a virgin piece of ass. But that wears off after a while, especially when she wants to tie you down and she keeps telling you how much she loves you.
That yoke around my neck even the thought of it always frightened me and you move on looking for more virgin territory to conquer. A pattern of life was setting in for me, and I refused to admit my dishonesty about it all. I would be forever looking around for new stuff, especially when I was convinced that they had yet to be balled. I could really put the charm on for the one I was trying to make, especially in the beginning stages while she was holding me off or making me crawl to the conquest at a slow pace. Yeah, they tell you all that crap that they've never been made and they're frightened by the thought of changing their status in life. Okay, a lot of them are on the level, but you get so damned cynical about them all.
The dishonesty for me was that I would be playing hard to make a new conquest and hanging on to the old stuff, letting her think I was in love with her.
In love ... to most chicks that gives you the right to argue and fight. And yeah, in the process you can start slapping them around and shoving a lot of humiliation at them. They'll take it, when they're all tied up in knots, so damned sure that they're in love.
I found myself working on three levels in search of kicks, and it was like balancing myself on a high wire. I would be forever trying to make a new conquest almost always one at a time in search of the cherry stuff. Don't ask me why, but when you start strutting your way in leather it seems as though that's what your male ego constantly demands. And then I would take out any delays or frustrations on a swinging chick that I could abuse yeah, because she was so "in love with me!"
"You're making it with some other guy!" I would open, and the uptight in-love chicks groove on the masochistic kick of being accused of cheating. You know when you can get away with it, you know when you can start slapping the chick around. And with some, who really dig being accused of cheating, you can go beyond the slapping around stages. The strap that's what a lot of them dig, and I found myself deep into that kick. Crazy, but I found myself working the heavy leather over a bitch and recalling how my old lady used to strap me. The strap had been the price I had paid for my first virgin pussy and I was getting my kicks that way as I supposedly matured in years.
My third big kick-area got to be the swinging weekend group parties, and once you're considered a real swinger you're in on the grapevine and you know where the action is. Maybe it's in one town one weekend and in another the next. You really take your chances of getting busted on those weekend deals, and not because of the sexual swinging. People will always look the other way whenever they sense people are balling yeah, even in group actions. The heavy flow of booze is no big problem, either. People have accepted drinking no matter how square they might be. I mean, at one time or another they drink a little too much and at one time or another they play on the side with an available chick.
It's the drug scene ... the pot and the pills and even the smack and acid that will get you into trouble on the swinging weekend deals. Some couples are always carrying and using the stuff even though that's never been my bag and that's when the neighbors start to make calls to the local fuzz. A lot of the people you swing with at the really wild parties aren't always the world's most honorable people and they're not above trying to push their drugs into your clothes to keep themselves clear of the law. The boredom sets in and you want to move faster and faster. That, and you want to be able to trust the people you're swinging with. Yeah, I followed the set pattern, once the love of the feel of leather had gotten the best of me. Only one thing could turn my head other than a young girl I thought had to be a virgin and that was a cycle speeding by me. A number of motorcycles passing me by really left an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I got my first cycle and the feeling of total freedom. Power, too, you just can't describe the kick of pushing off and moving along on a cycle. My cycle and my new way of life were all steps in what I wanted the most acceptance into a cycle gang.
I thought I was really living. I had my steady woman as did most of the guys in our outfit and I was still on my eternal search for the new stuff. like most of the other guys, I referred to my regular girl as "the wife," but you just don't bother getting married.
Property ... that's how I got to think of my regular woman, and I'd usually hang on to her for a few months or so. I kept tight reins on her and damned sure let her know I was the boss. Yeah, and she was a perfect target for my inner frustrations and doubts. All I would have to do is start a fight, any damned excuse to start slapping her around. If she still gave me backtalk, I would kick her around with a heavily studded leather boot. That, and the strap. And then after a while, I found myself getting rough with my regular woman just to show the other guys how rough I was.
A big man ... the constant need to show the world what a big man you are ... that really gets to be a very sick and perverse way of life. I'm in the grips of that sick way of life now, and I just can't seem to back out of it. I don't want to escape via drugs, but I'm drinking more and more and nothing really seems that important to me.
I've got a fantasy ... and it scares the hell out of me. Yeah, from when I was a kid, no matter how big a kick I was on I would always have a fantasy of an even greater kick. I've got this fantasy of all the guys in our outfit gathered about with their woman ... yeah, and all of them watching me take a virgin, a really young thing I'll pick up along the way, sooner or later. . .
... Sooner or later ... unless I check myself and find a saner sexual way of life. That's why I've told my story, maybe this way I can start to straighten my life out but I'll tell you, that fantasy persists, it won't go away....
CASE HISTORY: Iris G-, age 41
Iris G was born in a small town in Pennsylvania completed her elementary school there, and then went to live with an aunt in Denver, Colorado, where she attended high school.
The aunt had two children, a boy of twelve and a girl of ten. Her husband had died six months previously, and it was her intention to go back to work and have Iris help around the house while at the same time she would become the guardian of this orphaned girl who would go on with her education to prepare in time for her own livelihood. There was a certain basic sympathy existing between Iris and her aunt because both of them had been bereaved; Iris's parents had been stricken by pneumonia and died within a few weeks of each other just about the time Iris's uncle was dying of cancer.
Soon after Iris moved into her aunt's house, she was more than a little surprised to see Aunt Arabella take the ten-year-old girl, Sophie, over her lap, raise her little skirt and lower her underpants, and give her a very sound spanking on the bare seat. This is the first time Iris had ever seen a spanking, and although she felt sympathy for the crying, kicking, and pleading little girl whose bottom turned a vivid red, she also felt a singular excitement twitch in the lips of her pussy.
She tried to put the incident out of her mind and went about her chores and school. But later that week, Richard, the twelve-year-old boy, came in line for parental discipline and once more, with Iris in the same room, her aunt lowered Richard's clothes to expose his behind, took him over her lap and gave him a even harder spanking.
Now the fact that it was a boy receiving a bare-bottom spanking, Iris quickly realized, made it all the more thrilling to her. Since she had had no brothers in her own family, she had never before seen a male prick as she did when her Aunt Arabella exposed the boy's bottom and then, after he clambered off her lap, rubbing his flaming seat, tearfully pulled his clothes back up while allowing Iris to stare at his dangling cock.
Also, because the boy was bigger than his younger sister, Aunt Arabella seemed to have more trouble holding him over her lap while she spanked him. The result was that her skirt was hiked up so that Iris saw not only her aunt's still very attractive, rounded white thighs but also the tight crotch of her panties and the dark muff of pussy hair.
Thus this combination of the boy's half-naked body and her aunt's thighs and tightly nylon-sheathed crotch combined in a sexual titillation which made itself aware in Iris's psyche, although she did not quite comprehend its full extent.
During the next several weeks, she was witness to a few more spankings which involved both children, and each time she felt the same twitching of her pussy and quivering of her inner thighs. About six months later, Iris received a wire from her older sister, who was then twenty, and who had married and was living back in the Pennsylvania town where she herself had been born. Ruby was quite ill and her baby was also critically sick. She begged Iris to come back home and help. Aunt Arabella was very understanding, and reluctantly let her go back home. By this time she had got herself an excellent job and would probably be able to engage a housekeeper to look after her children or else enroll them in play schools while she was at work.
Iris stayed with her older sister for about three years, and when she was twenty she married a young service-station attendant from the village, who later moved to Indianapolis. Their marriage was relatively stable, they had the usual quarrels and reconciliations. After a year, Iris gave birth to a daughter, but she never spanked the girl. Perhaps her subconscious mind told her that spanking was the equivalent of sexual excitement and that it would be morally wrong to enjoy spanking her own child.
Her girl, Martha, got married at eighteen. A few days after the wedding, Iris's husband Dick came to her and told her he was leaving and that she could divorce him if she wanted to. Then he revealed that he had been in love with another woman for about two years and had merely postponed breaking up the house until Martha got married.
Naturally Iris was upset for a week or two, and then she accepted the inevitable. First, she found a job that would bring in enough money so that, combined with the settlement her husband agreed to make on her, she could live comfortably. And after a week after starting her new life, she found herself happier than she had been in years. She had been left the house, there was money enough to meet her own needs, and after twenty years of marriage she could make her own decisions.
She was then going through the change of life, but she had a relatively easy time, thanks to modern medications which her family doctor prescribed. Then, a few weeks after she had started this new life, one of her girl friends phoned to say that she had to leave the city to visit her mother who was very ill in a hospital in Minnesota. She didn't know how long she would be gone and she asked Iris if the latter could care for her twelve-year-old boy, since her husband was barely capable of taking care of himself, much less of their child.
At first, Iris wanted to refuse. It was true that Pearl was one of her best friends, but what with her own job and then caring for a twelve-year-old boy, she wasn't to sure she could manage. "But of course you can, Iris dear," Pearl coaxed. "Teddy isn't a bad boy. He's just high spirited, but there is nothing a good spanking can't cure."
"You mean to say you spank him?" Iris asked, and suddenly she could remember what she had seen when she was living in Denver with her aunt.
"But of course I do. You pull his pants down and you give it to him right on the bare tail. Why, it's the best treatment in the world for any kid. You have my permission to do it, and I promise you he won't be any trouble, none at all."
Those fateful words convinced Iris that not only would she take charge of the boy during her friends absence from the city, but that suddenly she wanted to with every bit of passion in her. However, reasoning that if she quickly accepted and showed enthusiasm after having first tried to beg off, Pearl might be suspicious, she pretended to be reluctant until finally Pearl was able to coax her to agree to the proposition.
Remember now, I want the truth or else you're really going to get it hard on your bare bottom."
"Why why yes, Aunt I-Iris," he stammered, turning crimson and averting his eyes from her.
"What made you do it, what excited you so much you had to play with yourself like that, you naughty boy?" she pursued.
He hesitated, shifted from foot to foot, gulped. "Now remember, Teddy, this is the test of truth, and if you don't tell me the truth, you're really going to get it on your bare seat," she reminded him.
"I I saw you standing there in the doorway, and I could see I could see through your nightie, Aunti Iris-and it and it that's why I did it-" he blurted.
"You mean you never seen a woman like that before?"
"Oh no!"
"And then, when I spanked you earlier today, what did you see then? '
"I I saw your legs, Aunt Iris."
"That wasn't a very good answer, Teddy, and that's not going to help you escape a spanking. You could see my legs when I'm walking around the house. Now I want you to tell me precisely what you saw, or else!"
"I I" he shifted again from foot to foot, twisting his fingers nervously, "I I saw all the way up your st-stockings, Aunt Iris, and your legs and some of your some of your panties," he finally averred.
"And when you saw all that, Teddy," she said, putting her right hand against the small of his back and pushing him up between her straddled legs, "Did you think you would do the same thing to yourself tonight that you did last night?"
"I I guess so but I but if you don't want me to, I promise I won't," he mumbled.
"But that's a very difficult promise to make, Teddy. If you get so excited by looking at a woman's body, I think you need some training, and I'm going to give it to you right now."
Thinking that she meant the spanking, Teddy began to sob and his hands went behind to rub his bottom in painful apprehension. But instead, Iris stood up and unbuttoned her blouse. As she removed it, she saw his eyes widen at the sight of her black bra, thrusting out from the snug caress against the jutting globes of her bubbies. A moment later, she began to push her skirt down her ripely curved hips and bottom-cheeks so that she stood in only bra and panties. This had been thrilling enough for her, but when she saw his cock harden and begin to twitch, she wanted to fling him down on the bed and ravish him right then and there, feel that small boyish tool digging into her hot, moistening pussy until she got exactly what she needed, a good creaming.
Then she took him across her lap, but the spanking she gave him was so light that it could hardly be called punishment at all, and his bottom turned only a light pink. She really wanted to spank him hard and make him cry, but at the same time she didn't want to spoil the elaborate program she had so artfully designed for both of them.
Then standing him on his feet, she reached behind her, unhooked her bra and drew it off. Cupping her titties from the base, she thrust them out to let him look, and one nipple brushed his cheek and she saw him tremble violently. With a little smile, she drew down her panties and stepped out of them.
Then, wearing only her garter belt, nylon hose and pumps, she placed her feed wide apart, and put her hands on her hips, and said cajolingly, "All right, Teddy, this is what a naked girl looks like. Do you like it?"
"Oh y-yes, Aunt I-Iris," his voice was choking. She grasped him, lifted him up and put him on the bed. Taking his hands in hers, she began to move them first over her titties, and then turned sideways so that he could squeeze her bottom cheeks and thighs. "Now look between my legs," she ordered. When she saw that he was doing just that, she took his right hand and put it up against her pussy, her eyes fixed all this while on his stiff bobbing prick. When she felt her pussy juices about to flow, she lay on her back, opened her legs wide and drew him down atop her.
Teddy's young body jerked and bounced as she guided his prick into her moist cunt and then told him, "Now go up and down on me, and do it hard." Because she had already approached creaming with all the prelude, Iris was able to enjoy a magnificent come just as Teddy began to burst for his essence inside her cunthole.
She kept him with her in bed all night long. The next day, after he had finished his homework, she took him back to her bedroom and they both undressed. This time, she taught him how to use his mouth on her titties and to her bottom and even the dainty little hole between the cheeks, and finally to gamahuch her until she came. Then, taking his prick in her mouth, she began to suck it until he was again hard, drew him down atop her and this time he was able to fuck her much longer.
Teddy's mother was away for slightly more than two weeks, during that time he and Iris spent all their available time naked and having love games.
Once, when she agreed to let Teddy take her over his lap for a spanking, she found that being spanked was just as much fun as spanking, and saw to it that he often did that as part of their preparations for a good fucking and gamahuching.
But Iris's world tumbled round her soon after Teddy's mother returned. Whether Teddy had talked to friends or shown so much guilt that his mother was able to force the story out of him, Iris never knew. All she knew was that she was suddenly in total and horrified disgrace when the woman came to see her one afternoon and faced her with the facts as she knew them.
Iris broke down and wept in shame and remorse, begging the woman not to turn her over to the police. But Teddy's mother had no such intention. Instead, she insisted that Iris consult with a psychiatrist.
Relieved of having been let off so easily, Iris did so at once and went through a long series of consultations, the psychiatrist being a good friend of mine. Teddy also was seen by a psychiatrist to make certain that this unusually early sexual initiation had not left any permanent trauma in his psyche. Eventually, Iris left the city and began a new life elsewhere, and I have since lost track of her.
There is always danger when a boy is seduced so early in age. After he has tasted sexual pleasures with a mature woman, it leaves him in the singular situation of having experienced the utmost delight which a grownup would do, and yet having to banish any notion of further pleasures until maturity. I have, however, kept in touch with Teddy's parents, and I have learned that he is channeling his excess energy into sports and studies so there is every hope that he will reach a healthy manhood.
We can understand Iris's case, seeing that an act of circumstance set off a memory from childhood and at a time when she was least prepared to cope with the problems. Also, when we understand that at the critical time of her change of life, her daughter left home to marry and at the same time her husband rejected her for another woman, we can sympathize. Many other women, given such circumstances in their lives, might well have suffered complete nervous breakdowns.
And yet, the unanswerable question is whether she would have seduced Teddy if his own mother had not set off a latent memory from childhood by having mentioned spanking the boy as punishment. Under normal circumstances, adults have their own self-imposed controls and moral codes. Iris's was weakened by what had happened to her. And it is fortunate that the only victim if we may call him such turned out so well.
* * *
It wasn't long ago when spanking, strapping, switching and the like were common practices in nearly every home. In earlier generations, it was rare to find a child who had not grown up without experiencing corporal punishment. All of us can remember the old tales about the parental woodshed to which a naughty boy or girl was taken, and many of these spankings were ritualistic, involving forcing the culprit to prepare himself or herself, to maintain a humiliating pose for perhaps a long time until the spanking was actually inflicted, and many other coercional methods as aftermath.
Pediatricians, notably our own Dr. Spock, began to analyze the subject of discipline in child training, and came to the conclusion that spanking was outmoded and even dangerous. Of course today we understand that because of its sexual overtones, it may well present implicit risks to both parent and child alike.
Today, if anything, corporal punishment has shifted into the adult field so that we find many movies made of the subject, special entertainment clubs staging live demonstrations of spanking, strapping and even whipping, and many correspondence societies whose members openly advertise to find new adherents of spanking.
While the method is new, the subject is not. In England, especially in the nineteenth century, spanking clubs were quite common among the upper classes, and many women placed cards in the windows of stores to advertise their services in the infliction of corporal punishment to men, women and children. Today, of course, in modern London, where the solicitation of prostitutes is forbidden by law, these women of commercial virtue advertise their wares by the same methods, with filling out a card which itemizes their physical dimensions, erotic talents and gives address and phone number for contact, so that a masochist who wishes to be spanked or a sadist who wishes to spank may engage their services.
As we go back in history, we know that the nobility and the wealthy found sensual amusement in having punishment administer to their male and female slaves, or doing it themselves. Public floggings were always well attended, particularly in Paris, London, and Berlin, at about the time of the notorious prisons where the Friday-afternoon floggings were actually a social event. We remember Reinhardt's "Nell in Bridwell," and its vivid and graphic descriptions of floggings that were administered to women in front of spectators who undoubtedly were sexually aroused by the scene.
Today, however, as we have indicated in previous writings, corporal punishment and domestic compatibility between the sexes have become linked, perhaps because the entire field of sadomasochism is being openly recognized in our sophisticated era. If we were to coin an aphorism today, we should say that a generation or so ago, Junior would be punished by being taken to the woodshed; today his allowance is cut or his use of the family car is curtailed, but in turn his rather and mother and often their friends meet in the recreation room when Junior is out with his dates or peer group, and there spanking goes on but with sexual overtones.
There can be no doubt that the erotic acceptance of what was once considered a disciplinary action has become part and parcel of our modern outlook on lovemaking, 20th-century style.
SUMMARY
The case studies in this volume vividly illustrate an area of sadomasochistic sexuality which is symbolic and almost stereotypically suggestive of the images conjured up in many minds when the term sadomasochism is brought up. This is especially apt applied to the sadistic element of the sadistic-masochistic sexual complex. Virginity has long been a much sought after prize by males. The virginity of the female was almost a prerequisite before many men would consider marriage. And perhaps females prized their virginity before marriage even more highly than their suitors prized it.
Even today in the atmosphere of the sex revolution with its more tolerant, relaxed attitudes toward sex and specifically toward pre-marital sex, many (perhaps most?) men prefer to marry virgins. And many females still preserve their virginity for the bridal bed. Now, the male desired a virgin for a number of reasons. Of course, he wanted to be the first to "take" his beloved in sexual union. But also, by that very fact, he was allowed to break the untouched hymen. The image of the virgin bride, a bit frightened and ashamed, suffering at the first "violation" of her nubile virginity is almost too trite.
This banal image, however, offers us some insights into the problems of men whose sadomasochistic sexual desires are caught in a vise that compels them to seek out virgins not one or a few, but many. The sadomasochistic urges and tendencies, the potential for combining sadistic and masochistic feelings with sexual feelings, exist in possibility in all human beings, but the probability of their reaching pathological proportions is contingent upon many factors of psychosexual development and experimental living. The loving husband controls the fury of primitive instincts he "takes" his virgin bride, he deflowers her, pierces the hymenal seal but gently, with tenderness and affection. The "violation" is not really a violation, but a consummation of ecstatic desire to achieve oneness with the female he has joined in marriage.
The sexually sadomasochistic male, however, delights in the violation, is more concerned with conquering and subduing than in achieving loving union. He is an atavistic male, reminiscent of the conquering vandal who raped and plundered his way across a continent. The deflowering of a virgin, to him, is not just a preliminary necessary part of preparing the female to enjoy the pleasures of sexual love it is the symbolically central part of the sexual experience he desires. He takes pleasure in the hurting; the hurting is not a physiologically necessary step toward the pleasure-of-two, it is the pleasure for him.
He often finds willing victims. The sexual sadist has an almost uncanny knack for seeking out his sexual counterpart, the sexual masochist. If his victim is unwilling he can be even more furious in his attempt to dominate. Either way, the sexual sadist gains pleasure from the pain of his "victim" whether she is willing or unwilling. He lusts but cannot love.
