Oral sex fellatio, analingus, cunnilingus, and other techniques is as old as the world. It has always existed, even though it was never discussed as widely and as openly as it is today. Perhaps the reason for that is because it has never been practiced and accepted as widely as it is today. As one famous anthropologist has said, "It started with Eve!" And why not? Eve was a woman; Adam was a man. They had the same bodies that men and women have today and they had the same sexual desires; and they no doubt sought and found the same methods of sexual gratification.
Every ancient culture which has left a record of itself has indicated that oral love was a part of that culture. Oral love is represented in classic sculpture, in paintings, in bas-reliefs and in literature. It is instinctive in people and in animals, sometimes even more so than other forms of intercourse. There have been periods of history and areas of the world where it was condemned and tabooed. But, for that matter, there are areas of the world today, where ordinary mouth-to-mouth kissing is considered obscene! To each his own erogenous zone!
This is a "now" book, written about today and for today. Consequently it is written in the language and idiom of today. Just as the sexual spectrum has become less inhibited and more candid and permissive, so too has the discussion of sexuality become more open.
Words and phrases that were once considered unfit for "polite society" are now used casually on the stage, in motion pictures and in best-selling and prize-winning literature. The whole concept of "forbidden phrases" is almost as outmoded as the concept of a "polite society" itself. Any book which intends to reflect the world today, must accept and reflect that new freedom of speech, as this book does. It has been done here in a manner which is not meant to be offensive, but rather to be realistic and true to life, in order to communicate the oral sex scene as it is now this very moment.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE - Why Oral Sex? Why Not!
CHAPTER TWO - The Valley of Orality
CHAPTER THREE - The Oral Influence
CHAPTER FOUR - The Willing Ladies
CHAPTER FIVE - Teen-agers and Oral Sex
CHAPTER SIX - Sauna Sex and Black Rape
CHAPTER SEVEN - "Nobody Gets Pregnant That Way"
CHAPTER EIGHT - "You Look So Sweet I Could Eat You Up!
CHAPTER NINE - The Urge Is Always Present
CHAPTER TEN - Doing What Comes Naturally
CHAPTER ELEVEN - "To Err Is Human But It Feels Divine"
CHAPTER TWELVE - A Three-way Pleasure Machine
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Learn By Doing
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - "A Girl From a Nice Family"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Sex Has Its Own Logic
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - The Ultimate Orgasm
CONCLUSION
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CHAPTER ONE
Why Oral Sex? Why Not!
Sexual techniques have changed dramatically since World War II, and the lid has been lifted from many taboos. Sex acts which were once considered perversions are now the rage in suburbia. People of all social classes are pursuing new means for greater sexual thrills, more intense and pleasurable climaxes. And they are doing it for a number of reasons.
Take the case of Harvey B., twenty-three, tall, with rugged good looks, a college graduate. Harvey was known on campus as a 'stud'. His sexual organ was thick and big, capped with a silky-textured mauve head, there was always a drop of natural lubricant trembling from its tip when it was hard, which was often.
Harvey liked his sex the regular way, and with his charm and good looks, he was able to get his share of it. He'd had his first blow job as a junior on campus when he'd dated a girl named Kathy W. Kathy was small and cute, and Harvey knew she was no virgin.
But what he didn't know was that she was too small to accommodate his big prick. She tried, but she was not successful.
"Let me suck it," she'd said.
Her breasts, full and heavy, grazed his thighs as she bent over his hairy loins, and tickling shivers went through him. She ran her hands over his warm belly and down along his naked hips. His cock, below her mouth, was big and throbbing, aslant his lower belly. Her reddish-brown hair touched his skin as she lowered her head. Her hungry mouth opened, and she grasped the thick, hairy base of his cock with her small right hand and raised the hard, blood-filled shaft.
They were both naked on the bed, moaning, making wet sounds. Harvey tried to shut away the whole world as his prick sank deep into her throat. He withdrew it slowly, then sank it again.
Oh, God, it felt good!
He clamped his big athlete's hands on her head and pushed down until her lips spread over the crown of his rigid organ. Kathy closed her eyes and was content. She later told him: "I'm really happy only when I have a man's sensitive, hard flesh in my mouth. I'm ashamed, but I like it and can't help myself."
She clasped his cock with both hands and worked her tongue, raising and lowering her head slowly. It was the greatest sensation Harvey had ever felt, and he became mindless, immersed in the act. She raised up once and released his prick to say, "I love sucking, love to feel a big cock in my mouth. It's a psychotic need in me that I can't still."
Harvey moaned, "Oh, Jesus, you're great!" He worked his hips to thrust deeper, and Kathy let his organ in to the back of her throat. Her lips slid down his hot column of flesh until she had almost all of it. She played with his scrotum and tickled his ass with her fingertip.
"Oh, Christ!" Harvey panted, the muscles in his thighs rock-hard.
He was coming!
The girl plunged her head faster, eager to make it good for him. Her tongue lashed the underside of his glans, and an animal sound tore from Harvey's throat as the orgasm exploded in him. Spurts of semen splashed deep into her mouth, and she accepted them willingly. She milked him after he had quieted, and sucked his softening cock clean. He relaxed, sighed, and watched.
He said weakly, "You're really something, Kathy. I want it that way again!"
'"Any time," she said. "You like to fuck?" he whispered. "Once in a while," she said. "But it usually doesn't mean too much to me that way."
"Why?"
"Well, lots of guys are too big, like you," she told him.
Harvey's fingers played with her breasts.
"I'd like you to suck my nipples and finger me," she said.
In his excitement and thrill over discovering this new way of finding sexual pleasure, Harvey had lost his inhibitions. "I'll go down on you if you want," he offered.
"No, just what I said. I like it that way."
"Okay."
Harvey shifted and lowered his head to her breasts. His left hand slid down her belly to the thick triangle of red-blonde hair on her mound. His middle finger probed.
He entered her wetness and heat and found her swollen clitoris. She shuddered at the instant sensations as his mouth clamped over one of her rather large, extended nipples. She moaned softly.
Pretty soon, she was gasping, clawing and babbling. Harvey's finger eeled quickly over her hard clitoris, and his mouth and tongue played with her nipple. She closed her eyes and arched her back. Then her pleasure boiled up and overflowed. She let out a soft, "Ahhh-"
Harvey learned later that Kathy had gone down on a lot of the other college fellows. Nobody felt guilty about it. "Unearned sexual guilt," writes A. Joseph Burstelin in his Sexual Taboos, "has destroyed more people than the horrendous plagues of olden days."
Say the editors of Sexology: "If the so-called deviate sex act occurs between two willing partners, and if it does not hurt either of them, or society, it should not be called sexual deviation." There is no such thing as deviate sexual behavior among married couples, claims another well-known psychiatrist.
Most psychoanalysts seem to agree that the only danger of sexual deviations is the guilt one of the partners might feel because of it. Even this, however, is becoming less frequent as a more sophisticated attitude about sex is developing generally among the people.
There are many opinions regarding the cause of this new interest and pursuit of greater sexual thrills through the practices of variants. Greater sophistication is one reason, of course. The acceleration of society's emotions through movies, advertising, and reading material in general may be another cause. And the faster-paced sense of our times contributes its part.
There are other motivations, including one that is subtle, usually subconscious, and defensive in nature. Perhaps fellatio and cunnilingus are the two most popular variant acts, and by their very oral nature, they refute the proposition that sex must be for procreation alone. Population expansion has become a serious problem, and pregnancies are not created by fellatio, cunnilingus, coitus inter mammae, sodomy, and other such sexual techniques. Nor are babies made by acts of lesbianism and male homosexuality.
But someone may ask, "Why use sexual deviations as a form of birth control? This is the era of The Pill, and of all kinds of contraceptives."
It is more subtle than that. Deviations are spurred by deep elements within the emotions of today's people themselves. They are psychic and often unrecognized defense mechanisms against the threat of population explosion and the terror it holds in the future for all people of all nations. It is subconsciously motivated and highly complex.
Deviations have become popular chiefly because they are fun, and they are gratifying.
Bob and Louise W. had a shot-gun wedding while still in high school. After a long and painful labor, Louise gave birth to a baby boy on the day Bob graduated from high school. They didn't want any more children, at least, for a time. Bob learned of The Pill from an older relative.
But Louise was allergic to The Pill. It caused her to break out as if she had the measles or hives. After a time, she refused to take it, and, as a result, she got pregnant again. She went through another long and painful labor.
After that, Louise refused to have sex with Bob. Her argument was that he wanted to get through college and they couldn't afford to have any more children. She didn't mention her fear of childbirth pain.
For a time, Bob gratified himself by merely rubbing against Louise, and by masturbating. It wasn't very satisfactory, and both partners became nervous, hard to get along with, and dissatisfied. Bob knew their marriage was failing. And he knew why.
But he didn't know what to do about it.
He started buying books and reading up on family relations. He talked with a few intimate friends.
He learned about eating a woman and having her go down on him.
But he didn't know how to approach Louise on the subject.
One evening, after dinner, Bob felt especially horny. He wanted sex. He helped Louise get the kids to bed. He patted her on the rump a couple of times and was generally friendlier and more cooperative than usual. He'd even declined an invitation to go out and shoot pool with the boys.
Louise settled down to watch TV, her favorite pastime.
Bob plunked down beside her.
"Anything good on?" he asked.
"Not much right now. But some doctor is going to talk later."
"What about?" Bob had sneaked his hand inside Louise's blouse.
"Stop it!" she scolded.
He didn't. While he stared at the television screen, he continued to knead her breasts. She allowed it.
Bob got up after a time and went to the bedroom He came back pretty soon dressed only in his shorts. He had a hard-on as he walked over to his wife.
"Come on to bed, honey," he begged. "Let's do it tonight."
"No, Bob. I want to hear the lecture."
"Hell!" Bob swore. But he didn't push the matter.
He sat with Louise and listened to the lecture. It was all about marriage and adult sex. The doctor even discussed anal and oral intercourse, but in terms which Bob hardly understood.
However, he understood enough to become wildly excited. He begged Louise to go down on him, but she said that, regardless of what the doctor had said on TV., it didn't seem right. He coaxed harder.
It did no good.
After the lecture was over, Bob got up and moped off to the bedroom. Louise turned off the TV and checked on the children. When she entered the bedroom, Bob was stretched out on the bed, minus his shorts. He was completely naked.
Louise sat on the edge of the bed and began undressing, aware that Bob's eyes were on her. It made her feel uncomfortable, and yet it also made her feel sort of good. When she had removed her clothing, she started for the closet to get her gown.
"Leave it off tonight, honey," Bob called from the bed.
Louise did. She turned out the light and crawled into bed next to her husband. He grabbed her to him at once, and she felt his erection throbbing against her body as they kissed.
Sighing, he swabbed her mouth with his tongue. Then he twisted around into a 69 position, and Louise knew instinctively what was expected of her. She wrapped her fingers around his ample penis, and for a moment she held it, as if investigating it.
"Come on, honey, let's go!" Bob whispered.
Louise bobbed forward and kissed the head of his prick.
"Come on. Take it," Bob ordered.
Louise hesitated. "Bob, I can't."
"Yes, you can. like this." Bob's mouth went over her cunt, and she admitted that the feeling was delightful. She adjusted her grip at the base of his cock and pointed its head toward her mouth. But, again, she hesitated.
"For crissakes, hurry up, will you? Get on it!"
She sat upright and looked at him. "I-I can't, Bob," she said. "I can't take it the way you want."
"Oh, shit!" Bob swore. He hooked his hand about her neck and pulled her down on him. She hunched her body, even slithered her lips around his cock and pressed down as far as she could. She started an up-and-down movement. Pretty soon, she felt Bob's cock throb in her throat and knew he was ready to shoot.
She didn't want to swallow his wad, but he held her head down on him, and she had to. His come kept spurting, and she moved on him and sucked. She had to swallow to get her breath. She didn't stop until Bob dragged her mouth away from him.
Later, Bob asked, "You want me to lick you, too?"
"Yes. But go easy," she said.
After that first time, Louise found cunnilingus more satisfying than regular intercourse. She didn't really know why, except she knew she couldn't get pregnant and so felt more relaxed. Discussing it once with Bob, she said, "It makes me feel free. There's not your heaviness on top of me, and I can move. I get awfully excited when you make me come with your mouth. I holler out and everything like that."
They had oral intercourse often after that night, and Louise got better and better. One night, after an especially hot session, Bob wanted to try anal intercourse.
Louise balked.
"Maybe you want some more of this, then, huh?" he asked. He brought his mouth down flush against her vagina. Louise's body arched as soon as he'd made contact with his tongue. As he played his tongue up and down her channel, and occasionally from side to side, she raised her hips and started a gentle motion.
She gave a little pleasurable cry when Bob's tongue began an attack upon her protruding clitoris. The act convulsed her and made her cry out hysterically.
Bob moved faster. She felt a new bloat within her body as her clitoris extended a little. And then her feelings soared and ripped her, making her shriek like a mad woman. She held Bob's head and pressed him tight until she was drained of the exquisite thrill.
Only seconds passed until Bob rolled her onto her stomach. Quickly, he moistened her crack with saliva. And then, with one huge thrust, he made complete entry. Louise writhed and howled in pain. Bob fucked her faster until she began to spin her ass in an erotic fashion, at the same time reaching back to grasp his hand. The end happened very fast.
They came at the same time. As Bob's ejaculation shot inside Louise, she jerked in her completion.
When Bob withdrew, she was crying.
"That hurt me," she sobbed.
Bob petted her. "This thing of mine can't hurt you," he contradicted. "But next time, I'll lubricate you better."
"There won't be any next time!"
And there wasn't.
But both Bob and Louise continued to enjoy oral intercourse. And they vow that it saved their marriage.
Two intense desires rule and govern mankind and control all man's thoughts, joys and sorrows. They are his appetites, hunger for food and a craving for sex. Curiously enough, while man takes great pains in the education of the young to prepare them for the gratification of hunger, the question of sex has been excluded, in our present civilization, from every discussion.
Yet sex, the basis for love, lies at the foundation of society. It permeates unconsciously the thoughts, the aspirations and hopes of mankind. Love is glorified as the source of the most admirable productions of art, of the sublime creations of poetry and music. It is accepted as the mightiest factor in human civilization, as the basis of family and State. The egoism of passion and the power of love absorb all other considerations. Virgil sings: "Love conquers all; let us yield to it." Solomon says: "Love is strong as death."
The word 'love' is used very loosely, as a rule, and is made to do duty for almost any attraction, whether purely physical or wholly sentimental. Philosophers and writers rarely differentiate between animalistic passion and love, or between pure sensuality or tie physical part of sex, and mental attraction, or the psychic phenomenon.
It is interesting to note that Plato believed that love between man and woman was a mere animal passion, far inferior in nobility and importance to love for boys, to friendship, to filial, parental and brotherly love. According to Plato, Socrates knew nothing about love except its science.
Plutarch says: "The passion for women causes at best the gain of sensual pleasure and the enjoyment of bodily beauty." The Greeks, therefore, applied the celestial kind of love only to friendships and to boy-love, never to the love between man and woman.
The oldest source of love is found in the chemical attraction which the male and female cells exercise upon each other. This sexual affinity is found even in the lower stages of plants, as in the protophytes, where both cells swim toward each other to unite.
In the old Greta Garbo movie, Ninotchka, Melvyn Douglas asks, "Why do doves bill and coo? Why do snails, the coldest of all creatures, circle interminably around each other?"
And, of course, the answer is love. Rosenkranz finds in nature only an empire of love that penetrates all things and leads them to a common end. Gravitation is love dominating nature. Organic life is a continued phenomenon of love. Even in inorganic nature, the combination of substances, one with the other, is a trait of love. The appearance of heat and the flash of light that accompanies the chemical process is, in a manner, the herald of lust felt by the substances while uniting. Lovers must perish in order that love may continually arise to new life: the individual dies that the species may live.
Love is not the aim, but the means, serving life and development.
Love is the joy of another's existence and is stronger than the delight of one's own existence. Love transforms the nuptials into a jubilee even where it is the eve of death.
It is said that when Mussolini was captured and knew that on the morrow he would be executed, he asked that his mistress be brought to his bed. According to the woman's testimony, given to the guards, Mussolini, even in the face of death, proved himself very much in need of, and capable of, sex.
There is not only this natural love, this sexual attraction, but also a spiritual love which is stronger than death. According to Thornton Wilder in The Bridge of San Luis Rey, it is the link between earth and heaven. Anyway, natural love is not the true love, but only a stepping stone to a greater love which is conscious and free.
One sees in amorousness an individualized sexual impulse. The growing affection of the two lovers is, in reality, the will of life of the new individual which they could and might beget. The species had a prior claim upon the individual than the frail individuality itself. The exact destiny of the individuals of the future generations is a much higher and worthier end than the extravagant and transient bubbles of the enamored. And yet, fear of an over-populated world tends to fight back at this biological fact. Present enjoyment is the aim, and the beauty or ugliness of the mate has nothing to do with the gratification itself, so far as it is a sensual pleasure depending upon a pressing necessity of the individual. However, if the individual has a choice, beauty becomes a matter of great consideration, because, once again, it represents the will of the species.
In defining human love, Schopenhauer says that every individual exercises a sexual attraction proportionate to the moral and physical perfection the individual possesses. Physical desire is that which drives one individual to unite with another of the opposite sex. The moral one is that which determines the desire and fixes it upon a single object exclusively, or at least gives it a greater degree of energy. Now, it is easily seen that the moral issue in love is a factitious sentiment born of the mores of society and glorified with assiduity and care by women to establish their domination.
Man is moved by instinct to seek out an individual, usually of the opposite sex, to satisfy his physical necessity, imagining that in this way he will enjoy a pleasure he would look for in vain elsewhere. This pleasure that one lover dreams to find in the arms of another is only a delusion. Subconsciousness uses these deceiving means to oppose the egotistic reflection and to dispose of the individual to sacrifice its own interests to the interest of future generations.
When man realizes he is deceived, he seeks out other means of gratification. He experiments, and among his many experiments, he finds oral love.
We find love through the senses, and it is a complete surrender of the ego to another ego, or to an ideal. When man is attracted to a woman because of her outward harmonious appearance, her beauty, it means that she pleases his sense of sight. He may be fascinated by her beautiful voice, also, and then his sense of hearing is appealed to. Certain odors occasion pleasurable sexual feelings, and so women use perfumes.
The sense of taste is sometimes in the service of sexuality. One patient in a state hospital had sexual sensations of a pleasurable character when she ate a sour pickle.
Callie Z. was eighteen, the daughter of a poor cotton farmer, when she was brought to the State Mental Hospital. She had lived with her mother and father and two sisters in a two-room shack in the cotton growing area of the state. She had had but little education. Her greatest ambition was to get to Tulsa and find herself a job, any kind of job. She was big-boned and fully mature at fourteen. She had full breasts and a narrow waist, and she would have been quite attractive with the proper clothes. Her legs were strong and tapered nicely and she had a catching laugh. In spite of her poverty, she laughed a lot.
Everybody liked Callie, and she could have had a number of local boy friends if her father had allowed her to date. But, being a man himself, he knew what all boys wanted of a girl, and he was determined that Callie remain a virgin until she married.
At twelve, Callie had discovered her own clitoris, and secretly, she'd learned to give herself some sexual enjoyment. In other words, she'd learned to masturbate.
She had never discussed any sexual matters with her older sisters. Finally, her secret practices led her to more urgent sexual feelings. She'd noticed boys, and she craved the feel of a man.
She got her chance one Sunday evening when her parents and sisters attended church. She'd begged off with the excuse of having a pounding headache. The truth was, however that Callie's ache was farther down, between her shapely legs.
She was sitting in their impoverished living room sort of playing with herself. It was when the house was empty that Callie enjoyed herself the most. On these rare occasions, she would fondle herself, inspect that sweet, hot place between her legs. She'd heard girls talk, of course, about what boys could do to a girl. They called it 'making-out'.
"You let a boy put his thing in you?" Callie had asked one of the girls.
"Oh, no!" the girl replied. "You can get a baby that way! We just play around."
"What do you mean?"
"We do things with our hands," the girl explained. "And sometimes, we take their cocks in our mouths."
"Oh!" Callie broke into a squeal of giggling.
"What's so funny about that?" the girl wanted to know.
"It just made me feel funny," Callie replied.
Callie was sitting there in her living room, thinking about how much fun it would be to suck a boy and have him fondle her. It was a hot, August evening. She heard somebody come whistling up the road.
Jake F., a neighbor boy, stopped and asked if he could have a drink of water.
"Sure," Callie said, pointing to the gourd dipper that hung out at the well. "Help yourself."
Jake took a long drink, but he didn't go on. As he came toward the house, Callie wondered if he'd seen her playing with herself. Without saying anything, he caught her by the shoulders and threw her from the chair to the floor. Callie was strong as any boy, and she could have resisted Jake, but she didn't, because she was feeling all swish y in her stomach by the contact of his body with hers. She went weak all over when he pulled up her dress and crawled on top of her. But she was able to squirm just a little bit.
"Hold still!" he ordered. "Let me put my prick in you!"
Callie was breathing hard, and it was the only sound in the room. She felt Jake's hard cock prodding her belly, and it seemed so stiff and big. She reached down and her fingers encircled it.
"Oh, Jesus, Jake, you're big!"
"Let's take our clothes off," Jake said.
"Sure," Callie said.
Naked, they locked arms in the center of the room Their bare feet scuffled against the wooden floor, sending up little puffs of dust. Jake hunched his body over Callie's. "Take my cock and guide it in your hole," he ordered.
Callie caught his cock and guided it to her gaping pussy. She felt the big head part her lips.
And then Jake pushed, and she screamed. It felt as if something had broken inside her. She felt her own warm blood oozing down her legs. She begged Jake to get off, but he only increased his pressure on her. Pretty soon, sensations started up, and it wasn't so bad then. She strained and wiggled beneath Jake until a feeling started to climb all over her, and she felt as if something was going to gush out of her somewhere.
She closed her eyes and groaned in half-pain, half-pleasure, experiencing her first sexual climax with a man.
"Hey, I'm fucking you!" Jake said.
Callie couldn't answer for a moment. When she finally did, there was a note of terror in her voice.
"No, Jake! You'll knock me up! I don't want to have a baby!"
She tried to push him off.
"Hell, you just came, didn't you? It's my turn!"
Callie bucked again, and Jake's hard cock slipped out of her. "Come on," he begged, opening her vagina with his fingers and touching her clitoris. "Let me rub that thing with my pecker," he breathed.
"No!"
"Suck me, then," he ordered, wiggling his big, hard cock before her mouth. "It's pretty good that way. In fact, sometimes I like it better than fuckin'. "
"I don't know what to do," Callie said.
"Just take it between your lips. Then tongue it." He pressed his cock to her mouth. She opened her lips and took it, tonguing the head of it gingerly.
"God!" Jake moaned.
"It tastes kind of salty," Callie said. "It tastes like a pickle!" She lifted her head and grinned up at Jake.
"Eat my pickle!"
Callie lowered her head again, making Jake moan as she made wet sounds with her lips. His cock sank deep into her throat, withdrew again, then sank deep...
"Come on, suck!" Jake's big hands pressed on her head. Her lips spread over the salt-tasting crown of his rigid cock, and her mouth was filled with his thickness and heat.
She worked her tongue, raising and lowering her head slowly. She became mindless, immersed in the act. Her lips slid down the hot column of flesh, and his belly went rigid. The muscles in his thighs hardened. Her tongue lashed the underside of his glans and an animal sound tore from his lips as his orgasm exploded. Callie accepted it willingly, letting it splash deep into her throat. She swallowed and kept her mouth on him during his frantic plunging seconds of sweet agony. She milked him until his cock softened.
He relaxed and sighed. "You were great," he said.
Callie had liked it, too. She'd liked the salty, sour taste of his semen, and, again, his big cock reminded her of an over-sized cucumber. From that evening on, Callie had a passionate desire for sour pickles.
Her crazy desire for pickles, plus a constant want to have a man's cock in her mouth had led her finally to the psychiatrist's couch and then to the state hospital for the insane.
Emotional persons are often excited sexually by certain music. An exaggerated fondness for reproduction was assiduously withheld from the people. While our ancestors considered the sex function sacred, by a strange mental process, it was later considered shameful. So deeply is this sense of shame morbidly associated with sensual desire that most people, and especially women, frequently disavow their sexual propensity and attempt to hide their ardor from the world. They do not recognize that normal, well-ordered sexuality is a physiological and moral virtue, while manifestations of spurious spirituality are often induced by certain perversions.
Indifference to amatory pleasures is often professed by those who resort to artificial stimulants. Only those most occupied with amatory delights pretend to look upon sex with contempt and to despise its wonderful functions. The tendency of the mind is to project in imagination upon the world about us what we possess in our own souls. An accentuated mental attitude in an individual is, as a rule, proof that in the subconsciousness dwells a type of reversed feeling to the one: that is active in the consciousness. The excessive prude is generally at heart a sensualist.
To the really innocent and pure, all things are pure. music is always suspected of being of a sexual nature.
The tactile sense is however the main sense in the service of sexuality. The touch of any part of the male body by the soft, female hand will cause sexual excitement. The touch of a woman's nipple will often cause intense libido, which plays an important part in the nursing of the young.
Children often feel their first sexual excitement at their mothers' breasts. Spankings have been known to excite children to masturbation. The main irritation of the genitals is induced by touch. Erection, orgasm and ejaculation may be induced by the tactile irritation of the penis in the male and the clitoris in the virgin, and after defloration, by the excitation of the anterior wall of the vagina.
Certain zones of the skin become secondarily related to sexuality, mostly at such points where the skin turns into mucous membrane.
These are the erogenous zones.
Love and sex attraction being the chief objects in the lives of a considerable part of mankind, it is surprising that until recently sexuality was not looked upon with great favor, and that a sane knowledge of sex and
CHAPTER TWO
The Valley of Orality
In the last decade, a wave of sex discussion has swept over the civilized world. The former taboo on the discussion of sexual matters has been more or less removed and the veil lifted. Matters which not so long ago could not have been mentioned in polite society except in whispers and in a low voice are now publicly discussed. Books and motion pictures have waxed bold on the subject. Perhaps we have turned from the one extreme of complete darkness to the other extreme of too glaring light.
However, man becomes free through knowledge, and it is probably time that he have some sex enlightenment. Sex discussions emphasize sex hygiene and the knowledge of the relations of sex functions to man's mental and physical development. Sex hygiene is a proper subject and is now taught in many schools and colleges. The emotion of love, however, is still very little studied and is kept wrapped in darkness.
Sexual passion is the passion of creation, the most important function in the universe. All altruistic feelings spring from the reproductive instinct.
And all religions have been sexually based. Sex worship has not been confined to any one race, and in antiquity, it was the only religion known to man. There are traces of the cult of the phallus to be found everywhere in profane and sacred history. Even the Hebrews worshipped in the phallus the principle of the production of life before the adoption of the cult of Jehovah. Records of phallicism can be found in the Old Testament. Instead of invoking the Diety in taking a solemn oath, Abraham orders his servant to place his hand upon his phallus. Slain enemies were deprived of the phallus. David bought Saul's daughter with a trophy of two hundred phalli, taken from the slain Philistines. Circumcision also shows the incorporation of phallic ritual with religion.
In the same light, and with the same veneration as the phallus, was the yoni worshipped. Yonism was the adoration of the vulva, the organ through which the sexual powers are manifested. It became the divine ark, the holy of holies, the mystery of life. The sanctum sanctorum of Jevoah's temple harbored an ark.
Thus, with the ancients, the passion of sex and the fervor of religion were closely interwoven. Accordingly, every ancient temple had within its confines a number of consecrated women whose office it was to submit to any man upon the payment of a specified sum. The money was used for religious purposes. To the mind of the ancients no more appropriate nor holier means could be devised for raising money for the maintenance of the temple than a sanctified indulgence in the sex act. It was the most sacred and sublime of all human functions. Hence, the temple courtesan was held in high honor and considered as sacred as a priest.
The lapse of Israel into the former sex-worship during the time of the prophets caused a reaction against sex manifestations. This was probably brought on by the various perverse sex habits. All temple courtesans became oralists. The pious people found the greatest virtue in chastity and celibacy, and looked with contempt upon sexuality. In the beginning, only individual persons took to celibacy, as did Elijah and Elisha. Later on, celibates became more numerous and formed different orders, of which the Order of Essenes was the most important because Christianity took its origins within the folds of this order.
In Christianity, the immaculate virgin became the ideal, and even holy matrimony was only tolerated. "It is good for a man not to touch a women," writes Paul in the Corinthians. Christianity has never looked with favor on sexuality of any kind.
Justinus writes that total sexual abstinence is the highest virtue, and that sexual activity is unnecessary to life, thus overlooking the tremendous strain upon the physical, mental and moral forces which such an unnatural life must carry with it.
Complete abstinence is possible and feasible during adolescence, but men and women, when mature in years, suffer under enforced abstinence and although the final act, the culmination of the sex-attraction, may be suppressed by the will, yet its emotions are irresistible. The neurotic nun who imagines herself being embraced by a saint thinks that she has subjugated the instinct of sex, but in reality her emotions have a sexual origin.
Even among the saints, abstinence caused dire results. A nun hears Christ promising to become her spouse. Saint Veronica was so enamored of the divine lion symbolizing Saint Mark that she took a lion whelp to bed, fondled it, kissed it, and suckled it to her breasts.
Thus, the preachings of the Church on the subjugation of the flesh were no great success, even among the saints. Mankind at large is surely ruled by the dictates of the sex urge in our days, no less than in the times of sex-worship.
A religious cult of specialized practices is popular throughout the Midwest. Brother Zeke Pierce was a member of this cult. Brother Pierce professed to love God and Christ, but he was also a sensual lover, the only kind of love the greater part of humanity knows.
In sensual love, a mate is only a tool in the hands of nature's one prosaic aim, the propagation of the species. It was reported that Brother Pierce was the father of twenty-four illegitimate offspring. His kind of love had no depth or duration, and when he was sexually satisfied, he cared no longer for the object for which he had temporarily hungered.
The sensual lover loves only himself, and his one object is to please his own beloved ego without regard for the feelings of his mate. His "I love you" means "I long for you, covet you, want to enjoy your body." The Spanish language has a better way of expressing it. "Yo te quiero" means, I want you physically. Spiritual love would be expressed by "Yo te amo."
All indulgences and favors shown to the mate by people like Zeke Pierce are only means to an end. At last, Zeke worried about the growing number of his offspring. So some strange ways of sex were devised by him.
He was adept at rousing his female congregation to the heights of emotionalism, and when they babbled inanely, he said they were talking in Unknown Tongues. It was at this point that Brother Zeke moved in. He knew that the only half-conscious women were as sexually aroused as he was, and he'd feel his huge, hard cock push at the front of his pants. A typical night under the brush arbor would go something like this...
While half a dozen women rolled in the straw beneath his feet, he would raise his large hands to heaven and deliver a closing prayer. After that, the unsaved element of his congregation would disperse, and the meeting proper would break up. Zeke would then blow out the coal oil lights, and the brush arbor would be bathed in darkness. Unzipping his pants and pulling his huge, hard cock out, he would go to kneel among the writhing women.
On one particular evening, one of the women whispered, "I'm cold."
Zeke Pierce took off his coat and put it about her shoulders. She leaned against him, and he drew her close. He kissed her hard, not giving her a chance to protest. He kissed her again and again, and finally she began to respond. He felt her tongue probe his mouth, and a fire licked through his brain. He pushed his cock toward her lips, and she began to struggle a little.
"No," she said, "I don't like that!"
She sounded a little hysterical, and Zeke was afraid she might yell out. He started to move off to try one of the other women. She called him back.
"All right," she said, "if that's what you want."
Zeke ran his hand over her tits, massaging them, feeling, squeezing, mauling. She had lovely big tits. He looked around sharply, frowning. Was anyone spying on them? Nothing moved except the few other women at his feet. He picked the woman up, and she was a good-sized handful. He carried her to a dark place just beyond the other women. He laid her down on a patch of grass and stared around him. A dog howled a long way off.
Zeke took his cock in his hands. Swollen and tingling, it was so hard it hurt a little. The cool night air seemed colder on it.
He straddled the woman's head. She moaned lightly, almost a sigh, as he forced the head of his cock between her lips. He licked his own lips, feeling her silky ones encircle his organ. God! It felt good! He moved forward and pushed his cock into her throat, running his fingers through her hair.
His tool was halfway in her mouth. He tried working it on in slowly. She moaned and her eyelids fluttered. Then her whole body jerked.
"I'll go easy, honey," he said.
He had his cock deep in her throat now. He began working it, fucking it to her, and she felt good. Jesus, her mouth felt good! She lunged and rolled and twisted, trying to get away from him, but he had her pinned down with his huge nail. The more she wiggled, the better he liked it.
Zeke felt religious. This was salvation! This was heaven! He rotated his cock in her mouth, and she groaned. He couldn't tell if she liked it or not, and he didn't care. It felt so damned good. Hell, a good mouth job beat fucking any time. Most of the women were married and had had babies, and their pussies were pretty big, even for an over-sized prick like Zeke had.
He began to batter her mouth with his cock, fucking it to her like fury. Yeah, man, that was it! His cock was in her right down to her navel. Christ, it wouldn't be long now until he'd crack his rocks, shoot his wad!
"Suck it!" he commanded. "I want to get my load off, give you a present!"
Yeah, he was coming! He could feel it wadding up down in his balls, boiling up and Yeah! He was hoarse with panting. She was grunting and rooting at his pecker like a pig. He convulsed as he held her tightly. He gushed semen into her throat. His cock twitched, and he breathed hard. Jesus, that was the best goddamned suck job he could remember!
A short time later, he started fucking one of the other women. But it wasn't too good. Just a goddamn piece of meat, a too-big hole, a gash big enough to put your foot into it. He pulled his hard cock out and demanded that she eat it.
"You don't like cunt?" she asked, sounding stupid.
"Yeah," he said, "but not a hole big enough to stick my head in! Suck it!"
She wiped his cock on the tail of his shirt, then took it into her mouth. It wasn't long until she'd made him come again. His dong was shriveled now, so he put it away and zipped up.
Several of the other women groaned slightly, an indication that they wanted it. "Fuck 'em!" Zeke said to himself, wanting to take the memory of that first woman's blow job with him. He would let her suck it again. She'd given him the best feeling he'd had in a long, long time.
Zeke cut across a vacant lot on his way home. His wife would be waiting up for him, wanting it. But he was tired and didn't know if he could shoot his wad again.
Near his house, he stopped and lit a cigarette. He often smoked in privacy, and now he puffed away, looking up at the sky. It was clear and filled with glittering stars. He looked down the street. It was deserted. A typical small, Midwestern town.
His wife had complained that he wasn't fucking her enough. He'd been wearing himself out on the sisters at the brush arbor meeting.
But tonight he had a plan. He would give her a tongue-fucking that she'd never forget.
And he did.
Six years ago, when she was forty-two and Max was fifty-two, Delia and he married. It was the second marriage for both of them. Delia had been a divorcee for fifteen years, and Max had recently shed his wife whose 'coldness' had finally driven him to outside companionship. Her uncontested charge was adultery.
He wooed Delia fervently, saying she was everything he had ever wanted in a wife. Those six years were blissful in all ways, and Delia thought herself the luckiest woman alive. They were both professional people. Delia worked from nine to five. Max worked from one in the afternoon until nine at night.
Then, a month ago, Max became suddenly ill. He was rushed to the hospital for emergency surgery. When Delia went into his dresser drawers for things to take to the hospital, she found diaries he had kept during the entire six years of their marriage. They were shockingly explicit.
After she had left for work, he had entertained women, whom he rated according to the degree of thrill each gave. A girl named Gwendolyn rated two stars. "She gives a good mouth job," he had penned. Grace got four stars every time. "Grace does everything," he had written. "She's good for an ass job, and she knows how to suck my cock dry every time!" Delia, whose matings with her husband were always pronounced 'exquisite', rated only one star. Of her, he'd written, "She's good the 'plain' way, but I like a 'imagine' job sometimes." He'd outlined in detail what he meant by 'imagine' sex.
"Grace sucks enthusiastically on my rigid cock while my fingers probe her slippery pussy lips. I moan and groan as she brings me closer to a climax, and my obvious pleasure seems to be her reward. She has the bulk of me between her lips, and I slide and feel her tongue moving against my glans.
"I'm the center of her attention! I fulfill her need! I become her world!
"She makes urgent sounds as she drinks my come. Then she falls away, and I lay panting, gloriously content. Her eyes are closed, but she begs helplessly, 'Feed me more cock! I can't get enough!"
Evidently, Grace was an expert cocksucker. Delia had sucked Max, of course, when he had insisted. But she knew she wasn't very good at it. She didn't care for the salty taste of his big prick in her mouth, stretching her lips. She didn't like to have him spurt his semen deep into her throat. She didn't like to have her mouth filled with his thickness and heat.
She liked 'plain' sex. She liked to take his cock deep into her cunt, then squeeze it tight and hard with every lunge he made. She liked the feel of his hands on her breasts, his stubby fingers tweaking her nipples. She liked to feel his hard, hot cock moving against her swollen clitoris. That was heaven. At such moments, she would close her eyes and arch her neck back. Pleasure would boil up in her and overflow, and she wouldn't be able to contain a long, soft, "Ahhh-"
While Max was still in the hospital, Delia went to visit his ex-wife and learned even more. He was really sixty-four years old, not fifty-two. His ex-wife said that his sexual demands were insatiable, although she had not denied him any more than she could help. But there was a limit to what any woman could take. "Other women" were the only thing they'd ever fought about. And he'd had many.
"At first, when I found out that my husband was unfaithful, I thought it implied that I was lacking in something. But I know now that there are men like Max for whom no one woman is enough," the ex-wife said.
Though that was no real news to her, Delia shuddered. She knew that there were also women for whom no one man was ever enough. She felt that these unfortunate people should not enter into marriage with 'normal' people, vowing to forsake all others.
They should marry each other!
Jacobus says that the average Muslim male lives only to have his penis sucked by a beautiful female or a handsome young male. Indeed, fellatio is to the Muslim the most exquisite voluptuous experience in the world, ranking far above vaginal or anal coitus. He says that to watch Arabs being fellated will verify this belief. The woman need only run her tongue up and down the sensitive underside of the glans penis, and the man's erection is immediately dynamic and ecstatic.
What a woman calls "swallowing it" consists in continuing the operation until all the sperm has been ejaculated into her mouth. Then she lets go of the penis and spits the semen out. If the woman withdraws her mouth at the precise moment when the sperm begins to spout out, and then merely masturbates the penis, ejaculation, of course, takes place. But the psychological pleasure is diminished to a very great degree, and the men are very angry when the woman breaks her word and withdraws her mouth at the moment ejaculation begins. They often abuse her violently.
Some women will take in the entire penis and swallows the semen. When a woman receives the man's semen into her mouth, it is a sign of special love. She says, "I love you so much I will swallow it all."
The man's glans is so unbearably supersensitive at the moment of orgasm that he holds her head or presses her cheeks in his hands and cries, "Oh, stop! I'm coming!"
She makes a final movement, and he ejaculates. Then he sighs in severe nervous exhaustion, having been drained of his desire.
Mouth coition is perhaps the most prevalent and popular contraceptive. It is safe, and in view of modern cleanliness, quite sanitary. It is often esteemed above vaginal intercourse, especially when the woman's organ is too large or loose. With mouth coition, man may assume either the active or passive role, depending on his mood. Moreover, fellatio allows greater variety and subtler nuances of pleasure than vaginal activity, which is more or less restricted in its execution and effect.
The Turks say, "Penis sucking is better than fucking."
Bud R. was a forty-year-old truck driver, balding, slightly overweight, and inclined to be lazy. Reared in a strict home where sex was never mentioned, except for infrequent admonitions as to its 'evil', and then always clouded in indirect speech, Bud was a virgin until he was nineteen years of age.
Then he had an affair with a waitress named Carrie. He developed a guilt complex and was convinced he had sinned. He was going to pieces because of it.
He went to see Doctor Dandridge. "Doc, I'm not the man I used to be," he wailed, reproaching himself for a number of things. "That's why I came to see you, Doc. I figure that somehow I've just got to straighten this awful mess I'm in."
Doctor Dandridge started out by questioning him on his early sex life. When Bud had finished, the doctor said, "From the details you've given me, plus other vital factors, it seems apparent that you have become the victim of self-punishment." Doctor Dandridge was also somewhat of a psychologist.
As the doctor well knew, Bud was afflicted by a psychological infirmity known as perverse sex habits. He'd had other cases. Lots of vigorous young men become afflicted by this type of impotence if they subject themselves to circumstances that go counter to their early upbringing.
Further questioning brought out the fact that Bud had let Carrie go down on him. "Gee," Bud said, "it felt good, and I didn't think it was wrong while she was doing it. We did other things, too, and she was good in bed."
The sudden onset of Bud's impotence had come one evening while he was in Carrie's apartment. Carrie, clad only in a black negligee, was her usual sexy self. Her golden-blonde hair flowed to her well-shaped shoulders. Bud took in her well-developed body, the fullness of her thighs, the firmness of her breasts, and his desire mounted. He suggested they retire to the bedroom.
Moments later, they were both stark naked. They embraced each other passionately, but when Bud tried to fuck Carrie, he could not.
"Honey, what's the matter with you tonight?" she asked teasingly. "You got a flat tire," she added dolefully, twicking his limp cock.
Experienced in the ways of sex, Carrie had introduced Bud to some novel, pleasurable sex play. At first, she had made him feel worldly, had changed his conventional attitude, and had made him like experimentation and desire for unusual pleasures. Though he was not aware of it at the time, she had also made him feel morbidly guilty, and his unconscious mind had rebelled against his actions.
Having strayed from what he considered the normal path with Carrie, feeling inwardly that it was wrong and contrary to his strict upbringing, Bud had decided to punish himself, and in the area where he would most vitally feel it. He would endure mental pain. The power of the mind being what it is, his psychic processes gained the upper hand over his body, shortly to cause sexual impotence. In time, the doctor helped Bud gain insight into this, and he became potent again.
Then, some years later, he married a girl named June. All this time, he had carried on with Carrie, but that ended abruptly before his future wife would discover the truth. His sexual adjustment in marriage was pretty good.
After a time, however, he missed Carrie and her oral love, a kind of love his wife refused to give him. Kinsey states that a wife's refusal to have sex in any other but the conventional way often prompts the husband to seek another woman.
Bud did. He sneaked back to Carrie. He'd been living in sheer agony. He was approaching forty now, and his old impotence had come back to him. He couldn't satisfy his wife, and he was panic-stricken. He'd heard rumors about impotence in middle-age, and he was certain he'd met up with it.
"I know now I should never have married you," his wife would say witheringly, repeatedly, on those nights when Bud couldn't satisfy her.
This all had a serious, profound effect on him, causing him nearly to have a breakdown. Fortunately, the doctor, through psychotherapy, restored his self-esteem and sexual potency. But there was a lot more to Bud's case than appeared on the surface.
Though rather large in body, Bud had not been gifted with a large sex organ. In fact, he was undersized. And this too made him feel ashamed.
On the other hand, his wife was so loose that Bud often felt almost nothing in the sex act. After a time, he resorted to manual self-relief.
There came a time when his wife caught him in the bathroom. She roared and fumed, angrily admonishing him. "No wonder you're no good with me!" she raged. "You haven't any more lead left in that pecker of yours!"
That scene made a deep and lasting impression on Bud.
Once more, he went to Doctor Dandridge. The doctor said that both he and his wife were victims of a sex fallacy, that the habit of self-gratification had not made him impotent, that his impotence was imagined and psychological.
The doctor questioned Bud on oral intercourse. Bud told him about Carrie, not mentioning her name, and the doctor suggested that he try to get his wife interested, since he enjoyed sex that way.
He tried, but his wife balked. Bud sent her to Doctor Dandridge, and it took five or six sessions with him before she agreed to try it. After a few times of going down on Bud and finding him completely potent that way, she admitted that she also liked it.
It can be seen that a great deal of psychological impotence, with its mental turmoil, is quite unnecessary. Most men are far more potent and virile than they can ever imagine, provided they find the proper outlet for their sex drives.
When faced with an ego-shattering problem, a man can readily be on the road to overcoming it if he is willing to assume certain basic attitudes about himself. Pride should not prevent him from admitting his fears. There is nothing wrong or unmanly about being fearful. He must keep an open mind about sex. There is a lot he doesn't know, and he must be prepared to learn, and from the right sources, and not some glib amateur.
In facing the reality of sex and what it can mean to him, his life, his happiness, he must realize that many of his faulty ideas came from another generation, that of his parents, who knew practically nothing about the subject. Questioning the wisdom of their attitudes does not constitute disloyalty.
One might do well to heed the wise words of Doctor Albert Ellis: "But man does not live for physical well-being alone, but for psychological and emotional satisfaction as well. All human acts, in fact, appear to be psychological ones, involving the total individual or organism."
There is no doubt but what a man's well-being can be enhanced through a satisfactory sex life.
CHAPTER THREE
The Oral Influence
A world of strange desires and wild longings lies hidden in the mind of every man.
Freud has given a key to the explanation of mind, the first key that has ever fitted, and that is the Freudian 'wish'. The 'wish' is a course of action which some mechanism of the body is set to carry out, whether it actually does so, or not. It is any purpose or project for a course of action even if it is merely entertained in the mind. It is dependent on a motor attitude of the physical body, which goes over into overt action when the wish is carried into execution. It is the interplay of compatible and antagonistic wishes that one finds to be the text of the entire Freudian psychology.
E. B. Holt adds that in Freudian psychology all emotions, as well as feelings of pleasure and displeasure, are separable from the 'wishes'. The idea or purpose, seemingly implied in the 'wish', is not involved. The 'wish' contemplates no end whatsoever. The doctrine of the 'wish' shows us that life is not lived for ends. It is a process, and its motive power comes not from in front, but from behind, from the wishes which are in ourselves. We play the game rightly if, instead of suppressing wishes, we lucidly discriminate the facts.
Biological and psychological development are inseparably related. The essential nature of the individual consists in strivings and urges, innate or unlearned, which originally are quite independent of environment. Whatever an individual is or does at any given moment is very largely predetermined by his earlier experiences and his reactions to them. The earliest years of life represent the period when biological and mental experiences most profoundly influence the individual because he is then less pre-formed or conditioned.
The child's first biological need is for food, so he sucks at the mother's breast. Sucking is a pleasure, and it becomes associated with the mother. The child is thus introduced to the
Oedipus Complex.
All men pursue pleasurable excitement and the avoidance of pain. Hence, according to Freud, the human organism is automatically regulated by a 'pleasure-principle'. As already shown, the child's first pleasure is found in food. Sexual activity comes next and is the most intense experience of pleasurable excitement. Freud explains that any given process originates in an unpleasant state of tension and therefore determines for itself such a path that its ultimate issue coincides with a relaxation of the tension.
A state of tension beyond a certain point is painful, while the process of releasing that tension carries with it a sense of pleasure, which, in the case of sexual orgasm, is poignantly intense.
Pleasure and pain are the opposite poles.
A child has his sexual impulses and activities from the beginning. He brings them with him into the world, and they develop through manifold stages.
Sexual or libidinal experiences, then, occur in inimagine. The mother's breast becomes the original object of the sexual desire of the infant. During the sucking of the infant there is revealed the first impression of the sexual instinct. Of course, sucking first involves the taking of food, which is an answer to another instinct, hunger. But an infant will wish to repeat the act of sucking without demanding more food. The mere act of sucking itself gives him pleasure. And this satisfaction, it is said, is libidinal or sexual.
Sucking excites the mouth and lips. Thus, the mouth and lips, together with other parts of the body, form the erogenous zones, areas of the body which afford sexual pleasure.
A little later, the child replaces the mother's breast as a source of gratification by a part of his own body, his thumb or tongue, or perhaps his genitals. When the child seeks and finds objects of sexual interest in his own body, he is said to behave autoerotically. Later, instruction awakens a reaction against this impulse of childhood gratification.
Let us return now to the first period of infant development, the oral or cannibalistic stage. As yet, there is no clear differentiation between the taking of food and sexual activity. The object of the one activity is also that of the other.
Anyway, the sexual aim seeks to take the object into its own body. During the latter part of this oral stage, biting becomes manifest, and so an oral-sadism stage develops. During this period, a kind of contradictory attitude toward objects, a love-hate mixture, appears.
This is the point at which oral love may develop. The first object for oral pleasure was the mother. The sucking of the mother's breasts becomes the model for every love relation. Kissing, fondling, even stimulating the genitals, adds to the pleasure. By the mother's tenderness, she further awakens sexual interest and prepares for its future intensity. She teaches the child to love.
In the case of a boy, his erotic attachment to his mother is by nature exclusive and jealous of any rivals. Of course, the father becomes the greatest and most foreboding rival. The Oedipus Complex offers the child two possibilities, one active, the other passive. Besides his wish to put himself in his father's place and have intercourse with his mother, he may want to supplement the mother and be loved by the father.
According to this theory, every human being has both male and female elements, or more accurately, active and passive tendencies. In the normal male, active tendencies will predominate. In the female, the passive ones.
In some cases, a person's entire character remains under the "oral influence". For such people, sucking is highly pleasurable, and they retain from the infantile period a deep conviction that sucking will make everything well for them They look forever for a mother substitute who will care for them and give them everything they need. Their whole attitude toward life is that they expect the mother's breast to flow eternally for them. They long to receive gratification by way of the mouth.
They become gum-chewers, smokers, and cocksuckers. They must forever have something in their mouths, something to substitute for the mother's breast.
They have an infantile hang-up they can't shake off.
Doctor D., a well-known Midwest psychiatrist, tells the story of Mala Pearson. The story begins one dark, winter evening in his consulting room. He'd had a heavy day and was just getting ready to close up and go home.
There was a knock on the outer door, and he said, "Come in."
An attractive young man opened the door, took a step inside, then paused nervously. Immediately, Doctor D. was on the alert. There was something about the young man's manner that made him uneasy, though he couldn't put his finger on it.
"Yes?" the doctor asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Are you the head shrinker?" the young man inquired.
"I'm a psychiatrist," Doctor D. answered, trying to account for the sense of frustration this strange young visitor gave him. He sensed that the mask the young man evidently wore was some kind of an attempt to confuse him.
The young fellow started talking about his wife. "She's beautiful blonde and blue-eyed." He gave the doctor a quick, sidelong glance and paused a moment. Then he went on, "But I'm not so much interested in her beauty. I prefer a woman to be normal, if you know what I mean?"
"No, I don't," Doctor D. admitted, the whole matter puzzling him "But won't you have a chair? Perhaps you can explain more about your wife to me." With effort, the doctor remained outwardly impassive, though a deep curiosity was now stirring in him.
The young man took a chair opposite the doctor's large mahogany desk. "Now, where were we?" he asked.
"You mentioned your wife-"
"Oh!" The young man looked faintly surprised, but explained rapidly, "We've been married two years, and I still love her. But our marriage is no good." Up went his eyebrows, and his lips curled. "I'm afraid of where it will end. I've got a conscience, but Mala hasn't. They say men are greedier than women. Do you agree?"
The doctor had been following the dissertation with interest, trying to get a more vivid picture of this young man and his wife.
"I don't believe you've been listening to me," the young man said.
"Why do you say that?"
The young man arched his eyebrows again and looked petulant. "Then why don't you answer my question?"
"First, I was listening to what you were not saying."
A startled look passed over the young man's face, but at once he covered it by smoothing out the creases in his trousers. "That's impossible! I don't know what you mean!" he said.
"Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words," the doctor quoted. "Greed, however, isn't confined to either sex. It's more a matter of the individual."
There was another long silence, and then the young man said, "I guess I'm a Puritan. At least, Mala says I am."
His mounting tension told the doctor to be prepared for either of two things: a confession, or an attack. He soon realized which it would be.
The young fellow leaned forward, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. His face, up until now, had been a mask of tragedy. Hostility, suspicion, and a certain slyness took over.
The doctor maintained silence.
Maybe this type of silence seems cruel to those who don't understand it. Speech is action and may well be felt as a threat, however encouraging its content may be. Silence is the absence of threatening action and will bring out feelings and attitudes that otherwise would remain hidden. The small animal hides because of anticipated danger and ventures out only when things are silent and motionless.
So Doctor D. retained his silence until the air between him and his visitor seemed to pulsate with it. Suddenly, the stranger lifted his hands and brought them down, tightly fisted, on his chair. His voice shook with suppressed fury, and his eyes blazed.
"Goddamn you! Why do you make it so hard for me to say it?" he demanded.
The doctor allowed another short pause. "But I have done nothing," he then said quietly.
Now, the fury on the young man's face turned to fear. He glanced around the room with a curious, furtive look. "We're alone?" he asked.
"We're alone," the doctor said.
The young man smiled a strange, secret smile. Then, with perfect composure, he met the doctor's glance, his hands folded in his lap. "I am Case Pearson," he said. "I have come to talk to you about my wife."
"All right, Mr. Pearson."
For some minutes, as Case Pearson chattered, the doctor could get no clear picture of the problem, other than that the couple's sex life wasn't all that it might be.
Meanwhile, Pearson kept up a running stream of self-justification. He was virile, all man, and so forth.
"Mala's interest is astrology. I don't know much about it." He paused, staring hard at the doctor. "I'm a Jupiter, she says. She can tell by the shape of my head. She's a Jupiter, too, and she says Jupiter people are wise. Perhaps that's true, unless they're afflicted, like her first husband."
He sighed and went on. "I sometimes think her knowing astrology does her no good. She can see something bad coming, but she can't do anything about it. But I guess it helps her to understand other people rather well. I know people can't help behaving certain ways, and I try to make allowances. But some things are dirty nasty-"
He paused again, evidently expecting Doctor D. to understand his observations.
"I'm not an expert at astrology, either," the doctor reminded the young man.
"What I'm trying to say is my wife's a confirmed-"
Suddenly, he left his words in the air, and his breath failed him. His frown deepened.
"A confirmed what?" Doctor D. probed.
The man shifted nervously, twisting his hands in his lap. "A confirmed cocksucker. She doesn't care much about sex in the regular way."
"And you?" the doctor asked calmly.
"It's repulsive to me! Oh, I like to suck nipples and finger a girl a bit. But I get nothing out of a blow job. I think it's degrading!"
The doctor felt a growing uneasiness in himself, a sense of impotence in seeing the horror and fear in the young man's eyes.
"Sometimes," the poor fellow added, "I think she's a witch!"
In his efforts to understand what was going on in this particular situation, Doctor D. let his mind wander back to his meetings with other women similar to Mala Pearson. Her story, as told by her husband, had started in the doctor a disturbing train of thought.
After a while, he asked, "Will your wife agree to visit me?"
"I think she will," the young man said. "At least, she says she will. The whole thing is making her as miserable as it makes me."
Two days later, Mala Pearson entered Doctor D's consulting room, breezing in like a sudden gust of wind that takes one unawares. She came toward the doctor with movements so subtle that they defied analytic description. Her blue eyes were large and luminous, and her smile brilliant. Doctor D. caught himself thinking that she was indeed a beautiful woman.
His first thoughts were: Did she know exactly why she'd come? Or had her husband misrepresented this visit to her? She began immediately to refer to her persistent sleeplessness, as if that were her basic problem. All medical treatment had failed to give her relief. She hadn't, as yet, started to rely on drugs, but she had to have relief before her general health was seriously threatened. In a second breath, she revealed that she was twenty-four years old, had suffered a loveless, poverty-stricken childhood, had married young and had a daughter by her previous marriage. She had been married two years to her present husband.
As she tugged off her gloves, she suddenly became shy. She supported her chin in her hand and said, "I do hope I'm not wasting your time, Doctor. You see, I came here only to please Case. I don't believe in psychiatrists."
This frank announcement was made with a smile which brought out her charming dimples. Their eyes met, and she lowered hers, her long, black lashes brushing her pale cheeks.
She blushed and continued, "At least, I don't believe in what they think. You talk to a psychiatrist, and he won't believe there's nothing really wrong with you. He'll try to make you think you're mentally unbalanced and that you have all sorts of complexes, that it's all wish fulfillment, and a lot of other crazy things. But here I am!"
She paused, as if gathering her thoughts, then relaxed gracefully in her chair.
"I don't know where to begin," she said. "You see, there's nothing really wrong with me, except I can't sleep. I've thought and thought, and I can't find any reason for it at all."
Her lips smiled sweetly while she eyed the psychiatrist wisely through half-lowered eyelashes. He kept silent and attentive, and after a long pause, she murmured sadly, "If I could feel well, I wouldn't worry about it. But my nerves go to pieces."
"You seem well now," he observed.
"Yes, but-" Suddenly, all light and laughter were gone, and her voice went hard, her eyelids became heavy. "If you want to know why I seem well, I'll tell you! I have a secret friend, but that won't last long. Those affairs never do." She looked up with a frown on her face.
The doctor read fear in her look, as if the whole world were her enemy. Then she started talking about her present life in a more animated manner.
After she'd married Case Pearson two years ago, she'd led a gay social life. She had everything that money could buy. She said nothing about her husband until Doctor D. prompted her. Then she gave only a factual description. He was a handsome, virile, refined man who liked sports and fishing. He had never worked because, at seventeen, he'd inherited a fortune from his father. He was an honest, sincere, loving man.
She'd mentioned nothing about the relationship between them, so Doctor D. remarked on that.
She gave a forced smile. "Oh, he never trifles, if that's what you mean. And I manage him all right."
"You speak as if he were some trained animal."
She laughed, fluttering her eyelashes. "Well, at times, he's rather difficult," she said. "He's spoiled from having too much money. And, you see-" Her mouth took on a curiously, self-conscious twist. "he's also pretty much of a Puritan. But he's very much in love with me."
"I'm not surprised at that," Doctor D. said, frankly admiring her beauty.
What did rather surprise him, though, was the change in Mala Pearson at the mention of her husband. She became cool, as if dimly aware of some danger that lurked about her.
"Do you enjoy sex?" he asked.
It was a blunt question that made Mala's lips twist into an amused smile. She drew herself up and said, "I suppose I must get used to such personal questions. Yes, I enjoy certain kinds of sex."
The doctor allowed a slight pause, before he continued. "I gather you don't enjoy the usual kind of man-woman sex."
Her lips had ceased to smile. "If you mean plain old fucking, I like it once in a while. But usually it doesn't mean much to me."
"How do you like it?"
Mala Pearson was obviously startled. But she controlled herself and said, "I like to suck, and to have a man mouth and tongue me."
There was an embarrassing pause, before Doctor D. asked about her child. Again, she became animated.
"Heather's six, and an absolute darling. I don't know what I should do without her!" Pride and affection showed on her face.
"Who is she like you, or her father?"
"Like me!" came the hostile answer.
"Is her father alive?"
"Oh, yes! But I divorced him. Hank was a washout. I only married him to get away from home. He was the best of the group I had to pick from at the time. But he had nothing to give me."
"He gave you a daughter."
She looked up with an aggrieved expression. Recovering herself, she said, "I suppose you could put it that way. But he's never done anything for me, or the child. Not like-" Her eyes clouded, and she frowned, as if concentrating on some memory that belonged in the dim, distant past. She seemed to forget the doctor's presence. Then, as if in reply to a question that had not been asked, she said, "I don't know whether I was happy as a child, or not. My life seemed very dull."
She told that her father had worked occasionally in the oil fields, but that her family had been very poor. She was the oldest child in a family of six. She paused and looked down at the carpet, her mouth set, her expression somber.
"My mother was sick all the time," she said. "I had to look after the other kids, scrub, wash, cook. I skipped a lot of school, which I didn't mind at the time." She laughed with a roguish look. "Of course, I was sorry later."
She told that her father had gone off on a job one time, promising to send back money, which he never did. He never returned.
"And then my mother died."
"When was that?"
"When I was sixteen."
Up to now, she had told her story with a careless air, as if the memory was of little interest to her. With difficulty, the doctor got out of her that the younger children were put in a Home, but that her father had sent for her.
"What was your mother like?" he asked.
She answered gravely and gently, "She was kind and generous, but she suffered great pain."
"And was she often irritable?"
Mala simply inclined her head, as if it would be a sacrilege to criticize her mother. She went on to eulogize her and to excuse her faults.
"She used to be full of vitality, but she found it hard to bear the constraint forced on her by her illness. She had a temper. But she wanted to be a good mother-"
"How did she die?"
"I don't really know. It had something to do with drugs she had to take. They weakened her heart."
Mala continued, "She couldn't have gone on much longer. Death was a merciful release."
"And you?"
"And then my father sent for me."
"I see. How did you feel about joining your father?"
"Both thrilled and terrified."
"Why the terror?"
She laughed and spread her hands. "A man wouldn't understand, I suppose. But I had no clothes, no training, no knowledge of the world. Of course, I was terrified."
"Well, what happened?"
She sat up straight and drew in a long breath, slowly letting it out. Her eyes went dreamy. "It was like a Cinderella story, and I was Cinderella. You see, my father had made a lot of money. He was rich. He gave me a check for a thousand dollars to start with, and opened a bank account in my name, telling me to do what I liked with the money. I'll never forget it!"
"That was a thrill, I can see. But I still don't understand the terror part of it."
"I I don't know how to tell you. I guess it started with the anger I felt when I found out he had a mistress." The outrage in her voice was clear.
"You didn't approve?"
"I had nothing against the woman as a person, but-"
"She was taking your Prince Charming away from you?"
She flashed a look of resentment, then said honestly, "I guess maybe that was it. But I got over it pretty quickly, what with the excitement of having money and new clothes, and a lot of men admiring me, including my own daddy."
She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. "He was tall, dark, and handsome, and all the women admired him."
"Including you?"
She laughed and shrugged.
"I caused some trouble between him and his girl friend," she admitted. "I didn't dislike her, but she disliked me. She was jealous of my father's attention to me."
"And then what happened?"
She hesitated. "Well," she answered at last, "I sort of took her place in my father's life."
"You mean--? "
"Yes. I know there's a name for it when you do it with your own blood and kin. But it was my own father who taught me the oral love way, and I liked to do it to him."
She closed her eyes and told about the first time she'd lowered her head over his cock, taking it into her mouth. "I had no feeling of doing anything wrong! There was only the bulk of him between my lips, the sliding of him, and the feel of his cock against my tongue.
"And then he groaned and made me suck faster. His hand came up to my breasts, and he kissed the back of my neck. And, oh, I knew I was loved! I was the center of his attention! He needed me to touch him, do things to him! And I became his world!"
She told how her father's obvious pleasure was her reward, how a tiny, sympathetic spasming began in her womb and rose to a point beyond her control, how she plunged her head faster and took his organ deep into the soft, constricting top of her throat. She'd felt his tension and shuddering as he cried out and jetted semen thick and fast so that she almost choked before she could swallow it.
His finger on her clitoris had slithered around in fast little movements. His other hand on her nipples kept rolling and teasing her sensitive stems.
Later, they both lay panting and gloriously content.
"And you'd never had sex until that time?" Doctor D. asked. ;
"No," she said. "And my father didn't deflower me."
She was silent for some time, and the psychiatrist felt it necessary to question her about her first husband. She was evasive, but with much patience, he found out that she rated him a good enough man in bed, though he flirted with a number of girls behind her back.
"He had a habit of picking his nose in public, and despite his splendid physique, he was immature. I mean, his cock was like a young boy's," she said.
"And you didn't like that?"
"No! My daddy had a big one. And I like a man to be a man!"
"Why did you marry him?"
"I guess it was mostly because of my daddy. You see, after a time, he got to feeling guilty over what we were doing. Anyway, he found himself another girl friend, and I guess he wanted me out of the way."
"Tell me more about your sex life."
"Well, it was Hank who deflowered me, and he was the first man to do it to me in the regular way. At first, he felt all right. And then, I realized his cock was much too little. I guess, after the first few times, he didn't get much satisfaction out of me, either. So we got to going down on each other. I'd mouth him, and he'd mouth me."
Doctor D. was strangely moved by some of the things Mala Pearson told him. "Are any of us what we appear to be?" he asked, causing her to draw back into herself, be on guard.
"My first husband certainly wasn't!" she said heatedly.
Doctor D. wanted to ask why she'd divorced him, but she started talking about her second husband. He was quite different from the first one.
"Then you married him for love?"
Her mouth twitched in amusement. "You're a sharp one, Doctor, I know!" she said. "But you're wrong this time! I married Case for his money!"
She recalled her childhood of poverty again and admitted she had a fear of being poor. "You see, I needed money at the time I met Case. My daddy was a born gambler, and by that time, he'd lost all of his money."
"You prefer being rich?"
She grimaced. "You ever try being poor? If not, you do it sometime!" She recalled sharing a stick of hard candy once with one of her brothers. What a luxury that stick of candy had seemed then! She'd done the shopping for her mother, and there never was enough money for all the items her mother told her to buy. One day, the grocer had given her that stick of candy, and she remembered the joy and fun of sucking that thick, milky, sweet stem. "It tasted like heaven," she said.
The psychiatrist asked, "Did your mother nurse you at her breast?"
"I don't really know," she said.
"And that stick of candy? Did it come to symbolize your brother in any way?"
"I don't know that, either. But the first time I sucked my daddy, I recalled that candy stick! Sucking his cock was like eating candy!" She gave a little laugh and blushed slightly. "But you're leading me astray, Doctor. I came to see you about my sleeplessness."
"Have you suffered from insomnia all your life?"
She looked puzzled and hesitated before answering, "not as a child," she said. "And I was all right with my first husband until we got to quarreling. After I divorced him, I was all right. And I slept while I was engaged to Case, and for a time after we were married, too. It's only the last six months that I've slipped back. It frightens me, for once it starts, I don't know when it will stop."
On the evidence given, it seemed to the doctor that her first sleeplessness coincided with her giving up of sex with husband number one. The doctor wondered if similar factors were working now.
He asked, "Are you satisfied with your present sex life?"
A baffled look crossed the girl's face. She seemed to be making up her mind as to what to say to that. "I couldn't satisfy my husband the last few times. But I think it's too much drink on his part, and no fault of mine."
"So he drinks a lot?"
She gave him a pained, but graciously forgiving, look. "He never did until recently. It started when I had my period."
She said she'd had no period until she was sixteen, the first one occurring right after she'd had sex with her father. She seemed embarrassed when telling about it and said that her mother had never explained such things to her. Being a woman had seemed a catastrophe menstruation and blood, and birthing babies and blood. "A woman feels and is unclean during her periods," she said. "That's why I got to sleeping in a separate room from my husband."
"You did with both your husbands?"
"No, I was too ignorant of those matters with my first one."
"Didn't your mother ever tell you anything at all about sex?"
"No, not directly. She warned me in a roundabout way about men and what they wanted. I'm afraid she was rather bitter about men in general."
"And in particular?"
Mala Pearson moved uneasily. "She suffered a lot when my father went away. I used to make excuses for him, saying he'd send for us. But she never believed me."
"Did you believe those things yourself?"
She paused before replying. "Maybe I'm psychic, or something." Her eyes went dreamy again. "I knew he would send for me. I learned it one night in a dream, when a huge snake was chasing me."
Doctor D. recalled that the snake was a symbol of male sexuality.
"You knew?" he asked. "And you knew the other thing was going to happen?"
Knowing exactly what he meant, Mala tried to make a joke of it. Then she said seriously that, as a little girl, she used to dream a great deal about snakes. "They would chase me, and I would fly away from them like a bird." She shuddered. "Sometimes, I'd have a terrible time waking up, and it was as if my life depended on it."
She fell silent, as if thinking over the meaning of her dreams. Then she asked, "What do those dreams mean?"
"Maybe we'll find out a little later."
She seemed displeased. "But I thought analysis was based on an interpretation of dreams!"
"It was your dream! What do you feel it means?"
"I don't know. I panic sometimes. Maybe it's my sense of insecurity."
"What things make you feel secure?"
"Well, having food. Being looked after-"
"Doesn't your husband look after you?"
"Oh, yes! And he has money."
"But you still don't sleep?"
She shifted restlessly. "You mean, my not sleeping has nothing to do with my insecurity?"
"I didn't say that."
"Then what has it to do with?"
"What do you think?"
She looked at him angrily. "Say, Doctor, what's the gimmick? I'm giving all the answers, and you're getting paid for it!"
Her tone was a rebuke. She'd assumed a regal pose, like a queen speaking to a slave. Then she slumped back and closed her eyes. Her face was empty of expression. The doctor remained silent.
At last, she stirred, sighed deeply, and asked, "Can you help me, Doctor, if I come again?"
"Are you coming back?" he asked.
She stared at him a long moment, then nodded. "Yes, anything is better than the way things are."
Life seemed to flood back into her, and she attempted one dazzling smile as she rose to leave. It vanished before it reached her eyes.
"Come back," the doctor said. "And bring your husband back too. It's possible he needs treatment even more than you do."
She went out ahead of the doctor, leaving a sense of dying light behind her, like the light in the sky after sunset.
The doctor remembered that she was only twenty-four, that she'd found her childhood security by sucking a stick of candy. She'd become an oralist after that one experience.
"It tasted sweet," she'd said.
like the milk from a mother's breast or a man's big, hard cock.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Willing Ladies
Dina S. was sitting in the psychiatrist's office. She jumped when the phone rang.
When Doctor M. had finished with the call, he asked, "Are you always nervous?"
She stiffened and answered indignantly that she was not at all nervous, that she loved speed and danger and wasn't afraid of heights. "It's only that unexpected noises upset me," she said.
"You didn't expect the telephone to ring?"
She looked black and remained silent with so polite an air that the doctor knew he was being regarded as a fool.
Dina was twenty-eight and unmarried. She had been referred to Doctor M. by her physician, whom she had pestered with demands for advice about everything in her life. She was constantly giving up jobs and moving to new locations. Several times, she'd been engaged to be married, but she had broken the engagement at the last moment.
She was a small, dainty, dark-eyed person, not beautiful but with a great deal of poise and charm. She had pointed features that sometimes reminded one of a cat. Her gentle, purring voice added to the impression.
"I hope you'll forgive me for not beating around the bush," she started out, talking quickly. "I'm a forthright person. I'm twenty-eight, and I want to get married because well, a woman should. It's normal, isn't it?"
"So?"
"I can't seem to find the right man, and frankly, it worries me. I hope I don't shock you, but I've had a dozen lovers and was engaged to four of them. Actually, I could have married any one of them, but none were right for me."
"You're looking for something in men you can't find?" the psychiatrist asked.
She had been folding the pleats in her skirt, and now she gave the material a final pat and looked at him. She shook her head emphatically. "Oh, no, it's not that! But as soon as I really get to know a man, I lose interest."
"I see. So you break their hearts?"
She looked startled. "Not me! I never broke a man's heart in my life!"
"Weren't any of those men in love with you?"
"I I don't know what you mean."
"Then they deserted you!"
"No!" she said indignantly. Then, as if she had never before considered this, she added, "Some of them bothered me for a long time afterward. A few still do. But I know they only want to get me in bed." She gave the doctor a quick look, before she smiled sweetly and lowered her head. "You see, I'm rather good on the sheets," she bragged.
"What do you mean by that?"
She fluttered her eyelashes coyly. "If youll forgive me for saying so, my lovers say I'm absolutely marvelous. I have no inhibitions. I give them anything they want."
"Do you enjoy yourself?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Do you have an orgasm?"
She beamed. "Yes!" Then she went on hurriedly, as if to stop the doctor's questioning. "And then and it's the same with my jobs I lose interest. I don't know why."
"What is your line of work?"
"I'm a beauty operator. At present, I own my own shop." She went on to say that each change, each new job, was a challenge. And then something would happen. The boss would try to get too intimate. Or she'd become bored and move on.
"You prefer to be independent."
"What?"
"Work for yourself, I mean."
"Yes."
"You don't like being a man's servant?"
"Oh, no, you got me wrong! I don't feel I'm anybody's servant. And I love to work for somebody, especially a man, so long as he appreciates what I'm doing. It's when he becomes indifferent, treats me like a robot and not a human being, that I up and move on."
"What type of boss have you liked best?"
She answered without hesitation. "The best boss I ever had was blind. He relied on me for everything. I stayed with him for almost a year."
"And why did you leave?"
"He turned out like all the rest. He finally got lecherous," she finished indignantly.
"What kind of boss did you like the least?"
She promptly told him of a recent boss who didn't mix business with pleasure. She had become furious with him and had walked out. She was silent a moment, then exploded, "They're all the same! Men!"
"Except doctors?" the psychiatrist asked.
She gave him a quick glance, and their eyes met.
"Except doctors, of course," she agreed. "I adore doctors."
"Why?"
She considered, her head to one side, her eyes wide as a child's. "I don't know because they give comfort, I suppose."
"You like that?"
"Oh, yes! Doctors remind me of my wonderful daddy. He used to comfort me at nights, after my mother had punished me, lots of times when it wasn't my fault!"
She said she'd been "Daddy's Girl" but that he was so seldom at home because he was a traveling salesman. She blinked as if trying to hold back the tears. "My mother never loved me," she managed in a hushed, tragic tone. Then she said warmly, "But my daddy did! Mother never understood me, but Daddy did. They were so different it was no wonder they didn't get along. They used to quarrel a lot."
"Is your mother still alive?"
"No. She died when I was seventeen. I was going to be married, but I felt so terrible about her death, I called the wedding off." Then she added quickly, "I know I had no cause to love my mother, but all the same, I felt awful about her death."
"Was your father at home at the time?"
"I sent for him right away," she said. "And I guess maybe he's why I couldn't go through with the marriage. He was wild with grief, and he sort of clung to me." She fell silent.
It was a long time before she spoke again. At last, she said, "I was terribly fond of my father."
"And is he also dead?"
"No, he's still alive. After a time, he married again." Her voice hardened. "I haven't forgiven him for that! I gave up a chance for marriage to be with him, and then he deserted me!"
Is this, Doctor M. wondered, the clue to why she turns men down, because of her father? The only man she ever really wanted, turned her down!
She went on telling about the numerous boy friends she'd had after that.
"Were you engaged to any of them?" Doctor M. asked.
"Oh, yes!" Avoiding the doctor's eyes, she asked, "Has my physician said anything about my present difficulty?"
Doctor M. asked simply, "What is it?"
"It's a man again," she said, looking as if she would burst into tears. "I'm in such a mess! I've gone to pieces!" Suddenly, she straightened up, squared her shoulders, and began brushing down her dress. She said that her present boy friend was married and middle-aged. "His wife's a shrew, and I guess I felt sorry for him. He's not even much good as a lover, but, somehow, I want to marry him."
"Why?"
She didn't know.
After much probing, the psychiatrist decided it was because he'd clung to her, looked to her for sympathy over his poor home life.
"Everything was fine," she said, "until he learned I wanted to marry him. Then trouble started."
She told of violent scenes between them, then sighed melodramatically. "I want so much to settle down and have a normal life. But I seem to be fated! The men I can have, I don't want. The ones I really want, I can't have!" Her voice broke, and she was actually weeping.
"The ones you can't have?" the psychiatrist repeated. "The ones like your daddy?"
She smiled ruefully. "Silly, isn't it?"
"No, not at all. Don't you see? Your father has been your protection against marriage."
She seemed astonished. "I'm sorry, but-"
He broke in. "Why are you always sorry?"
"I don't know. I think it's a habit I got into with my mother. She made me so nervous."
After a moment of silence, she went on, "I keep having terrible dreams about finding my mother in a pool of blood. What does that mean?"
"It depends."
She gave the psychiatrist a sharp, secretive look. "Depends on what."
"On you," he said.
After a moment, she admitted that it was sometimes her father who was dead in her dream. Then she would be overcome with horror and wake up in a terribly nervous state.
Doctor M. inquired if she dreamed much about anything else.
She smiled demurely and cast her eyes down. "Yes. Sometimes I have very pleasant dreams erotic dreams."
"Sex dreams? Tell me something about them."
She stared at him blankly for a moment, then laughed. "Well, they're mostly about my father. He comes and does things to me like he used to do."
"What does he do?"
"He puts his mouth over my private organ-" When she had finished, it was the doctor's turn to be silent. She waited a while, then asked, "When can I start my treatments, Doctor?"
Doctor M. knew that, in the future, there would be times when she would be a very difficult patient, but he went ahead and gave her an appointment anyway.
He watched her go out of his office, a charming woman, pursuing the unattainable through an endless succession of situations, started off by her father.
She'd found herself caught in the web of her own magic spells.
Older boys and men find little girls of four or five definitely female and attractive, and that attractiveness must be masked and guarded just as the male eye must be diverted from the attractiveness of his older sisters and mother.
A small girl, sweet and entrancing, is sufficiently a temptation to a grown man so that society usually has devices to protect her, to teach her not to exhibit her sex.
A small boy, on the other hand, however much his mother may treat him as a male, is less a temptation to her femininity than an extension of her maternity, while in the boy himself strong protections against his attraction to his mother have already been built. Mother-son incest is the rarest form of incest in the world, says Margaret Mead. But the groundwork for the greater attractiveness of the young female to the older male, of the older male to the young female, is laid down firmly in early childhood.
Boys reach a crisis which is technically called The Oedipus Complex, named for the Greek myth of Oedipus, who killed his father and married his mother. This is the period when the boy must give up his passion for his mother and his rivalry with his father, and the girl must give up her attachment for her father and rivalry with her mother. Normally, each must accept the own-sex parent as in some way a model for his or her future behavior, at the same time accepting a postponement of full sex satisfaction, and this includes a recognition of the parents belonging to each other, and not to the children.
When this goes wrong, trouble ensues.
Let us. continue the case of Dina S. As Doctor M. suspected, she soon made him a substitute for her father, an object for her sex drives.
A couple of days later, she breezed into his office looking as if she didn't have a care in the world. He motioned to a chair and told her to sit down. He fished out a pack of cigarettes and shook two down. He offered her one and put the other between his lips.
"Thanks," she said. She took the pack and put it back in his shirt pocket, running her hand down his body, her wrist lying lightly against his penis. In a moment she joggled his cock, and he felt it getting stronger, but he pretended indifference. The doctor started talking about her problem, but she just grinned, as if she knew he was wise to her. By now, he had a pretty good hard-on.
She said, "I think I've turned you on!" Rubbing her cigarette out, she lifted her left hand up and rubbed his cock. "Yeah, I sure have!"
She kept her left hand on it. Funny, Doctor M. hadn't been interested in sex when she'd entered his office. Now, he was feeling excitement. She nestled closer to him, and his arm went around her shoulders.
She unzipped his fly and snaked her hand inside to caress his naked cock.
He said softly, "That hits the spot. That's exactly where I itch!"
She giggled and pumped it. "Jesus, you've got a big one!" she breathed. She shrugged then, as if the size of it pleased her.
He asked, "Do you do this with the man you want to marry?"
"Yes and a lot more!"
The doctor's cock was hard as pig iron. She caressed it fondly with both hands, nestled in his arms.
He asked, "What does 'a lot more' mean?"
She rolled her head back and looked at him, frowning. "I thought you knew," she said. "I mean, things my daddy taught me. like this." She leaned forward and kissed the head of his cock. Then she squeezed it absently.
"Eat it," he said.
Instead, she wiggled around, straddling him and facing him. She'd pulled her panties off, and now she moved her body over his rampant cock. "Hey, aren't you going to stick it in me?" she asked.
She held his shoulders as he took his cock and put it into her without any preliminaries, introducing the head of it and pulling her hips. She plumped down, and his cock slid into her, full and eager. She writhed over it furiously.
"You're wild!" he said.
She giggled. "Shut up and fuck!"
The doctor knew she wanted it, all of it. Maybe it made her blot out her thoughts. It was easier to feel than to think. She could think about her problems later. But she had no problems now just his big, hard cock.
He was panting, thrusting it up into her wickedly. She clung to him, moaning in genuine delight, moving sinuously.
Then, suddenly, she stopped.
She raised up and his hard, wet dong slipped out.
Then she bent down and took it into her mouth.
She moved her tongue lasciviously over the head of it, enticing him, stimulating him. It was fun to fuck, but he had to admit it felt even better with the woman's mouth. They were two different ways, so different that there was no comparison, except they both ended in paroxysms. He sighed and leaned back, letting her eat him.
Dr. M. was becoming very excited. He felt his face flush as she cuddled her head in his nest of hairs. He began to stiffen, and then he felt his cock boiling into her mouth. "Oh, God!"
She sucked faster, and he panted and twisted to receive every vestige of friction. It was sheer ecstasy. He held her head, slithering and moaning until he'd shot every bit of his load.
Even after it was all over, she clung to him, his wilting cock still in her mouth. She was panting, sharing the aftermath of his bliss.
It had been a purely carnal act, but it had been gratifying. After he had zipped up, Doctor M. was silent, staring at his patient. She flicked a glance at him. His eyes were on her breasts, and he saw tiny drops of perspiration on her forehead. He smiled to himself.
"I'll have to make several appointments for you," he said huskily. "And there'll be physical examinations." He patted the examination table near him "Sit here, please," he said.
She sat there, and he clicked off the bright, overhead lamp. He came to her and expertly removed her skirt. She was still without her panties.
He had her lean back on the table, on her elbows. He parted her thighs and came in between them quickly. He was hard again, and he went into her strong and thrusting. He held her under the knees and fucked her strongly and ardently.
He sucked on her breasts and came again, spurting inside her.
He remained in her for long minutes, panting and regaining his breath.
"I'm not going to put you on my books," he said. "I'll make a note that I could find nothing wrong with you."
"Okay, Doc."
"I'll want you to come at nights."
"What time?"
"Eleven o'clock."
She nodded. "I'll be here at eleven o'clock tomorrow night."
He pulled out of her and wiped his cock. He gave her another cigarette with shaking fingers and said he'd enjoyed himself. She smoothed her dress and slipped into her panties.
"How many examinations will you need to make?" she asked.
He smiled and cupped one of her breasts, squeezing it gently and lovingly. "Lots of them, I think."
She sighed.
In Dina's passion for Doctor M., she forgot all about the married man she thought she was in love with. All of her desires had transferred to the young doctor, but she wished he liked the oral way better than fucking. Perhaps, she could bring him around to it. She liked cocksucking better than any other way, and she knew she was expert at it. Having a man's cock in her mouth was like having security. Having love. Having her daddy belong completely to her!
Doctor M. saw her for several months and, at each meeting, enjoyed having her go down on him. He got to liking it very much the oral way, but there came a time when he desired a change of women. For one thing, Dina S. was making him ejaculate too quickly. It got so he'd lose his wad almost as soon as she put her hot mouth over him.
By now, he had learned to know his patient very thoroughly. He knew the best way to get her to give him up....
He simply introduced her to a handsome bachelor friend.
Mary M. is another case of an early childhood sex hang-up.
She was in the psycho ward of a state hospital when Doctor L. was called in to see her. She was naked and ready for a man, and she immediately began telling him about all the men who came to visit her there at the hospital. "I'm the sexiest woman in the world," she proclaimed. "All the nurses here are jealous of me! And I was the best wife a man could have!"
"Your husband seemingly doesn't think so."
"What does he know? He was only my husband, and he was mean and foolish. He beat me. He started to beat me as soon as we came back from our honeymoon! I was surprised when Don slapped me that first time. No wife expects to be slapped by her husband while she's lying in bed with him. I mean, sex wasn't any different than it had been all those times in hotel and motel rooms.
"But I was putting up with it, letting him have his way. All wives have to suffer. My mother had told me that a thousand times, ever since I was a little girl. Men tore girls up inside, she'd said. They were like animals. They didn't care how much pain they caused, how much they soiled you."
"Tell me all about that first time he slapped you."
"Well, I was lying quietly beneath my husband's big, hairy body. He was hurting me, but I wasn't trying to push him off, or anything. I didn't know why he slapped me, but when he did, I tried to get off that bed and run away from him. But he was insane! He held me down an d pushed and twisted his big thing into me without stopping."
" 'Fight me!' " he grunted. " 'At least, it shows you're alive!' "
"I cried and begged him to stop. I told him I could be a perfect wife in every way but this one, that I didn't like sex that way. I told him I knew another, better, way.
"But panting, lurching, hammering away at my aching body, Don paid no attention to my pleas. He didn't pull away until he'd finished fucking me. And then he called me a beast and asked what the hell was the matter with me.
" 'You slapped me,' " I sobbed.
" 'I'm sorry about that,' " he told me. " 'I just exploded, I guess. But you're so stiff and cold. I don't want to harm you. I just want to love you.'
"Doctor, he raped me and made me dirty and then he beat me. Do you call that love?"
She said she wouldn't let him touch her again after that, that she hurt all over. He'd been like a snorting bull that wanted a cow.
"I should have known," she said.
Then she told about her stern, pinched-faced, mother with knife-edged lips. They say to look at a girl's mother if you want to know what the girl will be when she gets older. But all the doctor could see then was how lush her body was, how ripe and beautiful. It was hard to believe how much her razor-mouthed mother had poisoned her.
"He was crazy," she continued. "He cursed my mother and tried to make her look bad. And I wasn't dry and empty inside, like he said. Because I didn't act like a bitch in heat didn't mean I wasn't alive!"
Mary M. admitted that she'd gone home to her mother after that night. Because of her religion, divorce was out of the question, so she found sexual outlets with other men. She said she'd blossomed out with what Ralph and she were doing because it was so much like what her father had done to her. After each sex session, though, she would scrub her body until it was sore.
Doctor L. was sympathetic. He listened and agreed that perhaps Don had had a streak of sadism in him. He ended the session by saying he would come back later and let her tell him more about it when she felt better.
Alone again, Mary M. wanted to scream. She'd wanted sex with the doctor, and now she was burning all over. But if she screamed, they'd-likely put her in a strait-jacket. They were treating her as the insane one, when it was really Don! He was a case of another man betraying a woman, as all men did.
After the doctor had left, Mary babbled, insisting she wasn't frigid and empty. That evening, after supper, she became physically ill. A young, white-clad intern came to see her. The sight of him, a man, erased her sickness, and she said calmly that there was nothing the matter with her. She almost laughed at the way the young man's blue eyes bulged when she quickly slipped out of her dress and stood naked before him.
"Look," she whispered hoarsely, "I'm a woman! Don't you think I'm a beautiful woman?"
There was sweat on the intern's face. "I sure do, baby," he breathed.
She stepped closer and began fumbling with the buttons on his white coat. "Let me prove to you what kind of a woman I am," she said.
"You do that, baby," he said. "You just get busy and do that!" He helped her with the buttons, and the zipper on his pants.
His hands were soft and gentle on her body, not like Don's. His mouth, when he kissed her, was hungry and warm.
Involuntarily, she fell to her knees before him.
"I like to see what a man's got between his legs," she said, looking up.
"What are you waiting for? Feel it, baby! Take it out of my pants!"
He was statue-tall as he stretched, arching his back, his heavy chest puffed out, his trim belly sucked in. He dropped his pants, and his thumbs grabbed the tops of his briefs. He peeled them from his young body and stood naked and free.
"Sure feels good to get out of those clothes," he said, towering above Mary, wiggling his hard cock in her face. She looked up again, seeing everything he had revealed in detailed perfection.
"Suck it," he said, pounding a fist lightly into his palm.
"Sure," she said, circling his legs, drawing him closer to her. He gasped when she covered the head of his cock with her mouth. Her hands became personal, going all over his body, tickling and finding his crotch. She grabbed his big, hard penis, and her strong fingers felt, measured.
The intern grinned down at Mary, then laughed huskily. Mary found herself laughing, too, as she handled his cock.
Then she felt hard flesh pushing at her cheek, and his iron-like grasp was on her head. He forced his cock against her lips. She took it and sank her teeth lightly into the hard flesh.
"You tiger!" he cried. "No tricks!" He spread his legs.
She smoothed her hand over the man's body, his chest, belly, crotch. Crouching, she grabbed him and encircled the flesh she found. She felt him quiver all over as she stroked and pumped. Gentle, but firm. Then her mouth left his cock.
"Like it?" she asked, looking up.
He did not reply. He took her head and guided it back to his throbbing prick. She hugged his legs and rubbed his erection.
"Let me look at it," she said huskily, nibbling at his knees. "I like to look at a big cock."
God, he seemed huge! But his cock was perfectly proportioned. She grasped his thighs and spread them wide apart. She closed her eyes as her hungry mouth came on target, and her lips looped around his hardened flesh.
The young intern pulled her head closer. His hands were tight and commanding, and his nails dug into her neck, He writhed, pulsated, and moaned with pleasure. She sucked, feeling pure, velvety, wonderful sensuality.
"How was that?" she asked, pausing.
He didn't reply. He squeezed her shoulders hard.
"Do I know how to give a guy a blow job?" she asked, rubbing her tongue up and down the inner side of his cock.
"Like crazy, gal!"
She went down on him again, and they both were caught up in a web of pleasure as her moist mouth sucked on his cock. Her hard, hot tongue sought his cord, and he sank into an exquisite delirium
She worked hungrily on his cock, nibbling at its head, increasing his desire, making his meat throb. Her tongue trailed over the sensitive flesh of his scrotum, then back to his tilted erection, and he writhed in the pleasure she was giving him.
The joy couldn't last forever, and it didn't. She felt him shooting deep into her throat, and an indescribable pleasure coursed through her. They both were exhausted when it was all over.
He looked around then, and buttoned and zipped up his clothes. He said he'd been a little nervous for fear someone would come and catch them He was panting when he left, and she didn't want to see him go. She'd wanted to go down on him again.
There had been enchantment in it, pleasure and yes, even love.
She became unreasonably angry, afraid he'd never come back to her.
But there were other men, willing men, even behind locked doors. She'd already sucked the kitchen men, the laundry men, the men who took care of the ground, men who smelled of grease and earth and gasoline.
After her affair with the young intern, Mary improved for a time, and the psychiatrists didn't know why. They didn't know the young intern was sneaking back, that she was going down on him regularly.
He was satisfying some deep, hidden desire in her.
Since she seemed so much improved, she was given the run of the grounds. One day, one of the yard men cornered her, raped her. She'd tried to get away from him, but he was too fast. Too damned fast.
It hurt. It hurt like hell what he did to her. She'd tried to pull away from him as he fucked it to her, standing. She fell back, and he was immediately on her, pinning her down with his big, hard cock. There was nothing but utter agony in her body.
The back of her head felt matted and wet. She fought blindly as he tore deeper into her, ripping her very bowels apart. She beat him across the back, pounded her fists on his heavy shoulders.
But nothing worked. Nothing helped. She felt her own flesh rip, and then the world turned black.
Some time later, her eyes fluttered open at the bite of a hypodermic needle. The room was bright, but the faces over her were blurred. There were Nurse Jamison, Mandy Kims, Doctor Kemp. How the hell did they get here? She looked away from them
And then she saw the stripped flesh of her right breast. The bulge was gone and could never be put back. Damn that man! He had chewed it off!
She started to scream. She couldn't stop screaming, even after they strapped her down. Before the anesthetic took hold, she tried to stop the awful sounds keening out of her throat. They sounded like the mournful and mindless howls of a dying dog.
Later, Mary got her revenge. Willingly, she let Joe F., the man who had raped her, have his way with her. He'd sneaked into isolation to screw her.
She'd let him, and then she'd wiped his cock on her skirt hem and sucked him. Then, with razor-sharp teeth, she bit down!
"I had a sick-sweet taste in my mouth when I looked down where I'd severed Joe's penis from his body. There was nothing left but a bloody stub. I fought down the sickness," she told the officials when they questioned her. "He had it coming. I'd already warned him not to sneak in and try to screw me.
"He was a slob, a degenerate, a sadist," she continued. "He ought to feel lucky I didn't slit his throat. But he's through taking advantage of helpless women! I've seen to that!"
Though Joe screamed, it was some minutes before he was found. Later, one of the nurses said, "This is something for the record! Joe was a messed-up maniac, all right. He thought he could handle a girl as he damned pleased! I'm glad she got him!"
Doctors worked frantically over him in Emergency. Everybody was in a state of near shock over what had happened, Mary included. She was scared stiff, and the scare did something to her.
The very next time her husband came to visit her, she pulled him quickly into the linen closet and began kissing him passionately. Her voice rasped huskily in her throat when she said she wanted him to fuck her. There, in the intimate darkness that smelled of starch, disinfectants, and laundry soap, she had her first really successful sex with her husband.
She felt him press deeply into her and she liked it. She moaned once, softly, but from pleasure. They didn't talk, just enjoyed each other's bodies.
After it was over, they rested.
Then Don said she could blow him if she wanted to.
Mary's recovery was swift after that. On the day she was released from the asylum, Joe F. got out of the hospital. He breathed and lived, but he'd never be a man again. Mary had relieved him of his manhood.
But she'd gained back her womanhood. Don's letting her go down on him had done that. At last, he'd recognized her life-long need that couldn't be denied.
CHAPTER FIVE Teen-agers And Oral Sex
In this new era, the relationships between men and women have changed, though the War of the Sexes rages still. We must find some way to a lasting peace.
A wife finds both home and a career too much to manage, though home alone is not enough to give her a real sense of contributing. In the maternity hospital, she and her baby are separated. An anesthetized mother has to learn gradually to accept her baby, if she ever does. Of its actual birth, she is deeply unconscious. All these factors contribute to a new kind of family life.
As the gravity of the world situation deepens, the protective response to the young weakens. Society neglects certain problems almost completely.
It is, perhaps, too early to predict the results. Possibly, since Puritanism has broken down, something else will be unleashed which will be hard to control.
We live in a time of much leisure. And leisure breeds boredom. Sex has come to mean more than begetting babies. It is a pastime used to relieve boredom, and it has become uninhibited fun.
And it has torn down the natural developing stages of children. Boys and girls are taught to go steady before they are dry behind the ears. In many public school systems, junior high pupils are taught to vie with their older brothers and sisters. They date steady; they have their Proms and their drinking parties. Steady dating is a means of companionship and freedom from the uncertainties of an empty Saturday night. But it also causes early marriages, and a new pattern of sex relationships.
Adolescents are invariably much more sexually active than their parents are aware of. Because of parental disapproval and taboos, the average teen-ager seeks sexual outlet in secret. As a consequence, the extent of such practices has been largely veiled from public view.
The sex life of this younger generation usually starts with masturbation. Boys have nocturnal dreams of girls, of petting, kissing, love-making. The adolescent girl, according to Doctor Kinsey, often dreams of ardent love-making with some man of her acquaintance, or even with someone who is an entire stranger to her waking thoughts. Often, these dreams end with the fantasy of sexual intercourse, and even result in a complete sexual orgasm.
Necking and making out are terms used interchangeably by teen-agers, but when distinctions are made, they usually assign necking to love-making above the neck. Making out means sexual stimulation below the navel.
Necking, of course, often leads to making out. Orgasm is often reached by one form or another of manipulation of the genitals for both partners; by mouth contact to breasts, finger-fucking, oral contact by girl to the boy's penis, oral contact by the boy to the girl's vagina. Orgasm during this play is much more frequent in the boy than in the girl.
Oral contact is the preferred way. The boy-likes for the girl to go down on him, and the girl-likes mouth stimulation, knowing it will both protect her virginity and keep her from getting pregnant. Girls like oral intercourse because it affords a broad sexual outlet without the penalties of premarital intercourse, providing, of course, they restrain from complete intercourse. It relieves them of the worry of possible pregnancy and of venereal diseases.
Sexual release for teen-age boys comes easier than for girls. Most sex play sessions are over when the boy achieves climax. Thus, in a great many cases, the girl does not experience orgasm.
Doctor L. M. Terman found that premarital relations among young people were increasing steadily and predicted that premarital intercourse would soon become universal. Many college men expressed their preference for girls with sexual experience as marriage partners.
Most boys don't care whether their future wives are virgins, or not. When interviewed, on boy shrugged and said, "They probably won't be, anyhow. It doesn't matter. What the hell! We guys go around laying every girl we go with, and some guy's going to marry them. So it's obvious that right now, some guy's laying the broad we're going to marry!"
Another boy said, "I'd rather have a wife who's had some experience, who knows how to do different things. Me? I like eating pussy and getting sucked."
Most of the boys interviewed had experienced oral love from the girls, and over sixty per cent said they preferred it.
The Institute of Family Relations reports the typical case of Evie, a young girl who came to them half out her mind for fear she was pregnant.
Said Evie, "I don't know what's the matter with me. Tom and I get to playing around, doing it the oral way, because it's safe. But before I know it, Tom's stuck it in me. There's no pleasure for me, after the other. I hate myself at the time I'm letting him fuck me, and afterwards, I worry. Each time, I swear I won't do it that way again. But Tom coaxes, and I get carried away."
Sometimes, a boy reaches orgasm while rubbing against the girl's body, both of them fully clothed. Relatively few girls have strong objections to this practice since it 'costs' them nothing, leaving their virginity intact, and their dates (and sometimes themselves) sexually satisfied.
Many boys find this unsatisfactory, however, and upon being stimulated, urge their dates either to masturbate them or go down on them to make them climax. In some cases, the party will terminate in mutual masturbation, or in oral contact.
Whenever teen-agers get together, some form of sex may be the result. There seems to be a casual indifference with many young people to what those about them say or see regarding their activities in public. It is difficult to evaluate what this all means. Petting in all its forms is, perhaps, being utilized more and more as a sublimation.
Says Doctor Douglas A. Thorn: "Petting, and especially oral stimulation, is now practiced more generally among those who are considered 'nice' people. It has become a pastime, and perhaps less well-defined, as a step leading to matrimony."
Irene was caught by the police in a parked car with a forty-three-year-old married man. She hadn't quite reached her fifteenth birthday, but the lipstick, the hair-do, the dress made her appear closer to twenty. She acted like a tough little floozy when the police matron questioned her.
"Hell, yes, I'd been blowing him!" she admitted boldly. "And he'd been mouthing me. Everything was all right. And then he fucked it to me-"
She broke down in tears when the matron told her she was pregnant and also had VD.
Ever since she was born, her father had been able to obtain work only on a part-time basis. To escape a nagging wife, he had joined the Army and volunteered for overseas duty. Irene's mother dated men night after night, and lived in much more comfort than an army allowance would permit. At twelve, Irene was pretty much on her own. And worldly wise. She had often heard her mother and various men friends going through deviate acts. At fourteen, a girl friend showed her how to earn pretty things by going with men for sex. It wasn't too long until she learned to earn big money.
Irene's going down on boys and men had non-sexual motives. It was not a means to sexual release, but a desire for pretty things.
With the high school boys, she often had sex in parked cars. Older men usually suggested a motel, where they could have a cheap but comfortable sex session.
An unusual case occurred in Los Angeles when a sixteen-year-old boy was seduced by a thirty-year-old woman a few minutes after they'd met at a family gathering. Both left the group under the pretense of doing some shopping at a nearby store, and didn't return.
They were found three days later in a tourist motel. When the police caught up with them, the woman declared, "He's more of a man than most guys my age!"
Probing further, the police discovered that the woman preferred oral intercourse and that the young boy never gave up on her. "Why, he could come time after time!" she exclaimed, pleased.
Commenting on the case, one official declared: "Such housewife seductions of gangling youths are common features of our present-day society and its sexual habits. Probably every city block has one or more such affairs."
Doctor Kinsey reported that among young men he studied, cases of teen-age, and even pre-adolescent, boys who had some kind of sex with older, married women was not uncommon.
Adolescent boys are easy prey for older, frustrated women because such an encounter makes the young boy feel like a man of the world, older than his years. And he can be enticed into almost any kind of sexual play. He also thinks the older woman makes a better sexual partner because she is more experienced than a younger girl.
Girls, too, often prefer older men, and for about the same reasons. These older men make them feel important. Most authorities agree that the motive which drives teen-age girls into sexual relations with older men is basically an unsound father-daughter relationship. Sometimes it is a need for a father substitute, to replace a father who has died, or has freed himself somehow from the home scene.
Young girls are flattered by the attentions of older men because it creates in them a sense of maturity. "Girls are often more obedient to their fathers," says Doctor David L. Caldwell, "than to their mothers. Hence, young women have more respect for older males and often find themselves unexpectedly sexually involved. Elderly males find young females more attractive and pliable of will than they do older females."
Our morals are in a state of transition. In the early stages of American life, morality was controlled very strictly by the group. Offenders were punished harshly. Intolerance and sternness on the part of the 'righteous' were very marked. Long after the Puritan spirit ceased to exert as tight a hold upon the masses, moral standards were still determined largely by the community, and the narrow conventions of the small American town today are reminiscent of New England in 1700.
As long as America remained basically small-town ish, this Puritan spirit prevailed. It endowed many Americans with a crusading zeal. Scores of supposedly worthwhile causes prohibition, elimination of movies and baseball on Sunday, making the world safe for democracy were to be advocated. The principle behind many of these endeavors was that the world had to be saved, whether it wanted to be saved, or not.
In the nineteenth century, Puritanism, combined with a code of business morality and respectability, became the main goal of middle-class society. To be respectable, meant that one's actions were approved by the community, that one's ideas were neither eccentric, irrational, nor immoral. The world was govered by immutable laws and by a god as rational and respectable as Bostonian society.
The nineteenth century fought again and again to preserve traditional values. Woman were regarded as fragile creatures, divinely appointed to take care to the home, rear children, and remain subject to their husbands. Men were surprised, and even shocked, when woman finally showed she had a mind of her own on specific issues. It had been long believed that woman was intellectually inferior to man.
True, this period had its rebels, like Thoreau, who deliberately gave up the advantages of a machine civilization and retired to Walden to cultivate a spirit of simplicity. He attacked the gospel of wealth, refused to rush to California for gold and wealth. He felt that man needed very little wealth to gain real happiness, stressing that the life of the spirit was more important than the material goods which most people treasured so highly.
Thoreau was the forerunner of the reaction against middle-class materialism which was to develop in certain sections of twentieth-century American society.
Many forces made themselves felt after Thoreau, resulting in a "new morality". There was a renewed interest and emphasis upon the "cult of sex."
Pleasure became the goal of existence. Epicurus long ago said that the greatest pleasures were those of the mind, but the average American did not agree. He was quite sure that the greatest pleasures were those of the senses. To feel, to experience, to eat hugely, to love, to hate these were the emotions that dominated the American soul. It was a vengeance taken on nineteenth-century Victorianism. And the natural result was skepticism regarding all moral ideals, along with a glorification of the body.
Two World Wars took a toll both in terms of morals and juvenile delinquency. Today, fear of the draft creates much waywardness and sexual freedom
The decline of tradition, the flux of moral ideals, uncertainty regarding the future are all parts of the contemporary American scene. Problems of personal and social morality are intertwined. Issues of national and international significance must be faced honestly. We are forced to see ourselves objectively, without praise or blame.
And there is no better place to start than in the American home. In looking at some portraits of the American family, let us remember that there is always a vast gap between the ideal and actuality, and it is this gap which often creates a dualism in our moral attitudes.
Ken D. fell for the young girl, Donna H., who had moved in next door. He was aware of the charms nature had lavished upon her, and he wondered what whim of fate had brought him to the kitchen window. He was in pajama bottoms and barefooted. His wife and he had retired for the night, but he'd wanted a glass of water.
The house next door was separated from Ken's place only by the driveway and a low hedge. Either out of adolescent exhibitionism, or because she simply didn't care, Donna had neglected to close the bathroom curtains when she went to take a shower.
The impact of her naked body on Ken was devastating, and he was rooted to the spot. He knew the girl had arrived that afternoon to spend the summer with her aunt. Ken understood that her parents were divorced, and Donna lived among relatives. He had not yet met the girl, and here he was seeing her in the nude.
Ken was a law-abiding citizen, with a sense of morals that told him to turn away. But he found that impossible. The girl's smooth, young, naked back was toward him. She reached for a towel and bent over to dry her legs. Then she straightened and turned.
Ken felt himself tremble from head to foot.
She slipped into a robe, opened the bathroom door, switched off the light, and left.
For several minutes, Ken continued to stare at the black square of the bathroom window, his senses alert and tingling, the scene of a moment ago still vivid in his mind.
Then he let out his breath, drew a glass of water, swallowed it quickly, and went out on the back steps. He heard the frenzy of late traffic on the highway only a few blocks away.
He wondered what was really disturbing him. He was a married man in his mid-thirties. All right, he'd had a glimpse of a naked seventeen-year-old girl. Why should he have been so shaken up over that?
Any man with a single male hormone left would have felt a jolt over seeing Donna in the nude. But Ken's reactions had been far too strong. Why? He brooded.
Maybe Donna had reminded him in one acute moment of the beauty and excitement of youth, of all the glittering promises life held but seldom kept. He had been reminded that his own youth was gone. He missed the young way of life.
At the core of his restlessness, Ken finally admitted, was a marriage that had long ago gone stale. It was not something he liked to think about. And, as a rule, he pushed it back out of his conscious mind.
But other men his age were content with things as they were, comfortable in their marriages. They talked fondly about their children and joked about their wives in ways that hinted at deep affection.
Maybe, if he and his wife had had children ... They had tried often enough. She wasn't a frigid wife.
The girl, Donna, in all her youthful splendor, had reminded Ken of those first years with his wife, Lois, when the world had been young. She'd had a lovely body, like Donna's. Not that she'd become a hag now. She was still a very attractive woman, but they had lost contact with each other, and their relationship had become meaningless. They stayed together out of inertia, he supposed. Ken was devoted to his business, and his wife had the home and her community projects. They both pretended that nothing was missing and studiously avoided ever putting into words that their marriage had gone flat.
It was a dangerous situation.
Ken felt thoroughly frustrated as he went back into the house and locked up for the night. He knew that retiring, for his wife, included a nightly ritual involving creams, curlers, and other unromantic accessories.
He stepped into the bedroom and caught his image in the mirror. He still had a flat belly, and his hairline had not receded. He didn't look old, he assured himself.
Pushing away thoughts of the girl, Ken fluffed his pillow and concentrated on some business problem. He'd kept his business relatively small, and safe. He didn't want to risk trying for something bigger.
His train of thought was interrupted by his wife's voice. She'd gone to the bathroom, and when she came back, Ken observed that she still had quite a figure. He felt the stirrings of desire.
She switched off the bed lamp, and the springs sighed. Ken listened until he thought she'd gone to sleep.
But then she said, "Ken-" And her hand slipped under the waistband of his pajamas. Sexual relations between them had long ago become mechanical, but now Ken was glad her juices were simmering. The memory of the neighbor girl had raised his temperature.
He turned to his wife, and she began breathing hard. Her body pressed warmly to his. His palms slid down and caressed her flanks. She moaned and squirmed against him. Then she panted, "Ken, wait a minute." She pulled her nightgown off, then clamped her arms and legs about him
Ken felt a tremor shake his body. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she inched up to him.
"Oh, Ken," she begged, "do it to me!"
He penetrated her, and she gasped loudly.
He kissed her, and they clung to each other, and Ken felt his cock growing bigger inside her. He wanted to take it out of her too-large pussy and put it into her mouth.
He asked, "Will you suck it? I want to put it in your mouth."
"Oh, Ken!" she said noncommittally.
He stroked her pussy with his hand and said, "You've gotten pretty big, honey. I don't get much out of it."
"I don't feel too much, either," she said. She was playing with his cock. It was rock-hard, and he wanted so much to slip it into her mouth, have her use her tongue on it, cram it deep.
"Will you suck it, baby."
"No, Ken, I can't."
They kissed and played, and finally Ken moved on top of her, and she guided his cock again into her vagina. He felt little sensation. He was big, but not big enough to hurt or go deep. And only when he pressed tight could he make her feel a sparkle from her nudged clitoris.
He moved in and out, and asked, "Feel good?"
"Not much," she said.
He stopped. "A pussy doesn't have a mouth and tongue, and throat muscles. It's nothing."
He moved off her, kissed her belly. His lips drifted lower, towards her cunt. His tongue licked along her sensitive pussy lips, and she trembled slightly. "I'll move around so you can suck me," he said.
In a moment, they were in a sixty-nine position. He had his hard cock in her mouth, and she was tonguing the underside of his glans, playing with his testicles with her free hand, massaging them, warming them.
He had his head deep between her opened thighs. His tongue was in her, exploring, always returning to her expanded, swollen clitoris.
He raised up a moment. "It's damned good!" he said.
It was love given and received in as intimate way as possible. Mouth to cock, pussy to mouth. And it demanded that minds be free of prudery and sex shame.
She worked her mouth tightly over his cock, and he quivered as she lashed its head with her tongue.
What he was doing to her was incredible. She was getting her clitoris sucked voraciously. His lips were clamped over it, and his tongue was frictioning its ultra-sensitive tip.
She moaned and spasmed into a blinding orgasm. He plunged his cock deeper into her mouth, into her throat. He shuddered and spurted his semen into her throat. He felt her swallow, and he spurted more, and more.
Finally, when he had been drained, his wife released his wilting cock from her mouth. She licked it clean of its sheen of semen as he lay on his back, his arms spread wide, his eyes closed. In that blurred moment of exquisite culmination, he'd had an image of the young neighbor girl, her body beaded and glistening, as she'd stepped from the shower.
"It was so good-good," he breathed.
"Umm."
"Let's try it again pretty soon," he said.
She opened her mouth hungrily for his cock. She sucked it, and it began to grow in her mouth. It gave Ken a wonderful feeling.
He caressed her pussy lazily with his hand and found a new flowing of slipperiness. He eeled a finger into her and found her clitoris. She took her mouth from his cock long enough to ask, "Suck my nipples?"
He pushed her onto her back and took one of her long, fat nipples and sucked, sucked. Then the other one.
She squirmed and sighed. His finger was still in her, sliding on her clitoris. She writhed in ecstasy.
Now, she was back on his hard cock, sucking and licking it. He closed his eyes as she slid her wet lips over its velvet head, down its hard column, and greedily worked her mouth and tongue to build up his pleasure, to, once more, draw out his spurts of semen.
It took him longer to come the second time, but he enjoyed every moment of it. She sucked at him like an infant at its mother's breast. She was sucking love from him by giving him such exquisite pleasure.
He moaned as he came, and she helped him with her tongue and mouth, as if she were earning a place once more in his life, as if she were needed.
Later, Ken vowed that in that one night of oral love their marriage was revived.
Habit and practice, he'd learned, were the two words that helped shape the biggest part of man's behavior. In the process of not getting much satisfaction from his wife, he'd become sex-shy. But he'd learned, once more, to become confident and self-assured. There is no self-assured man who could not have been shy, if circumstances had been wrong.
Ken learned to get into the habit of doing the best he could with what nature gave him.
CHAPTER SIX Sauna Sex and Black Rape
An infantile hang-up can turn one to the habit of cocksucking. So can isolation, like the loneliness of soldiers on far-off battle fields. Curiosity, a desire for thrills, is also a contributing factor. And there are those, like prostitutes, who are drawn into it.
Many prostitutes have long been known for their addiction to oral intercourse. They refuse to have regular sex, wishing to save it for their lovers. When in bed with a customer, there is a remarkable vigor and violence in a prostitute's manipulations and sucking, and delights in drinking the semen and draining the cup of bliss. Most prostitutes love cunnilingus.
One Juarez 'puta' exclaimed that she preferred oral intercourse with strange males. There are brothels all over Mexico where only oral coitus is practiced. This is also true in seaport cities from Morocco to Egypt.
Many Mexican males prefer their sex by some perverse method. Being Catholic, regular sex means babies, and there are too many babies. They become analists and oralists to enjoy pleasure and yet cut down the birth rate.
There is an old belief that sexual connection with a Negress is a sure cure for temporary impotence. This may be attributed to the fact that many Negro women are famous for fellatio, which is perhaps the most effective means for provoking an erection. They often employ mouth coitus for the purpose of arousing or rearousing their bedmates.
It is said that the black woman feels no disgust at semen. She will continue to suck the penis until the process of orgasm and ejaculation is ended. She either swallows the semen or secretly spits it out on a towel. When nearing a climax, the usual impulse is for the man to hold the woman's head to make certain she does not withdraw and thus break the acute current of sensation.
Oral coitus, which has been extremely common and customary in the East, is growing also in the West.
The scene is a windowless torture chamber. Naked figures leap and writhe amid clouds of scalding steam Flames crackle. White-hot rocks hiss like a nest of angry serpents. It is a sauna bath.
Nude men and women are sprawled on tiers of smoking benches. Some lay as limp as poppy-puffers in an opium den. Sweating couples on the top benches are locked in passionate wrestling holds behind veils of liquid smoke.
Other naked people run around the blistering floor and are lashed with stinging switches by two husky men. Screams of agony, moans of ecstasy, hysterical laughter and other strange ' sounds echo in the searing, suffocating gloom.
These people are indulging in Society's newest and most weird kick Sauna Sex!
The sauna, a Finnish bathing custom a thousand years old, is replacing the swimming pool as an American status symbol. It has at least one major advantage over swimming pools complete privacy.
No one knows what goes on inside a windowless, soundproof, air-tight sauna bath except those who are there. And, in the clouds of swirling steam, even they can't always be sure.
The sauna is a high-voltage sweatbox where superheated steam is produced by pouring water over hot rocks. The rocks are preheated by cordwood or coal stoves. When the temperatures inside the room are high enough to sear the flesh and boil the blood, the bath is ready. The usual Sauna temperatures range from 200 to 250 degrees Fahrenheit.
Water and blood boil at 212 degrees, but the dryness of sauna steam keeps bathers from being scalded.
When the bather has soaked up all the heat he can stand, he is supposed to dash outdoors and jump into the nearest body of cold water, the colder the better. Americans usually leap into their swimming pools, or take a cold shower. After that, they are ready for more activity, but of a different sort.
Many sauna baths are the scenes of sexual orgies that would make Nero blush. Not only do saunas encourage men and women to mingle without any clothing, but they also melt inhibitions, along with excess pounds. The higher the temperature, the lower the resistance, and in mixed company, passion rises along with the clouds of steam. The wall-to-wall benches in any sauna provide a perfect excuse to lie down and do what comes naturally, especially when in heat.
Furthermore, the secluded sauna gives bathers the chance to try forbidden pleasures without fear of reprimand or arrest.
In Finland, the whipping is quite painful, but Americans have adapted the wooden whips to stimulate nothing more than sexual appetites.
In Suburbia, bored married couples have a new version of the wife-swapping game. It is called Sauna Swapping. Any number can play.
And it goes something like this: Under the pretense of massaging, a man will embrace and draw toward himself the thighs of the woman he is handling. He touches her groin and belly, slowly feeling his way around to the central portion of her body.
Then he finds her clitoris and teases it.
He may work on her some time before she does anything to him. Finally, she finds his stiffened cock and takes it in her hands. She teases him for getting into such a state, but keeps squeezing his cock and rubbing it to keep it in an erect condition. It he does not tell her to suck on it, she begins oral congress anyway. If, however, he orders her to suck him, she becomes coy and consents only at last after long begging.
Now, she holds his prick in her hand and places it between her lips. She moves her mouth up and down and around and around in a churning manner. After a time, she withdraws it, and forming her fingers into a bud, with them collected or joined together, she cups the head and presses her lips to its sides. She kisses it again, then puts it into her mouth, and presses it with her lips, then takes it out. Again, she puts half of it in her mouth and sucks it. Lastly, she presses it all in, as if she would swallow it up. She devours the penis until he ejaculates.
Even dressed, these women from the sauna bath are alluring. Clothing was first worn to allure. It wasn't a feeling of shame at first that provoked clothing, but in time, it was.
Clothing was a form of sex attraction. Fashion bears witness to this and hints of intimate sexual relationships brought about by provocative attire. A sexily-clothed body is more exciting than nudity. Fashion always starts from the ranks of courtesans.
Fashion has introduced a sensual element in dress in two ways. Either it renders certain parts of the body conspicuous and exaggerates then-size by the shape of the garment, its drapery and trimmings, or it leaves parts uncovered to catch the eye. Both maneuvers aim at the production of a sensual effect.
The stretching of the skirt over the buttocks and legs in such a way that the outlines of the hips and thighs obtrude themselves upon the eye was surely invented by a Parisian demi-mondaine to serve sensuality. The corset aims to render conspicuous and prominent the female bosom. It tries to effect an exciting contrast between the form of the bosom and the slimness of the waist, increased by tight lacing. At the same time, fashion dictates for a great number of occasions an ample nudity of this most alluring female organ.
The bosom of the woman is the organ by which she is able to express herself most ingeniously. Its undulations were always her most expressive and skillful rhetoric. The bosom represents the woman's language and her poetry, her history and music, her purity and her longing, her policy and her religion, her worship and her art, her secret and her convention, her character and her pride, her consciousness, her magic mirror, and her mystery.
Since World War II, people's interest in the bosom seems to have grown. Perhaps, in this day of unisex, it is the one way to emphasize the difference between the sexes.
It is a paying project. Registration figures from the American Guild of Variety Artists shows that there are more than three thousand and five hundred strippers currently paying dues. The bosom has come into its own.
Today, busts are booming.
And there seems to be no doubt that the trend will continue without let-up into the far distant future.
Delia R., a big-bosomed stripper in a French Quarter nightclub in New Orleans says, "I know both sides of this color line because I pass for white. Even my fellow strippers think I'm white, and they've seen everything."
Delia went on to explain that she didn't try to hide the fact that she was part Negro, "half coffee and half crea."
"But people won't believe me, because I look a hundred per cent white."
Even the few people who knew she was a mulatto didn't care. It was like one of her white boy friends told her, "When a girl's got boobies like you've got, her color doesn't make any difference!"
And he was right. A beautiful, full-breasted woman is looked at as a woman, and a few skin tones one way or the other don't stop the boys from whistling.
Delia's ex-husband was a successful Negro business man. They didn't get divorced for racial reasons. "Personal differences split us up," Delia said.
But, perhaps, she was only partly right. She went on to say that she had always lived comfortably on both sides of the color line. "I consider myself free, mulatto, and twenty-one, which happens to be my age," she joked. She sighed deeply and added, "But I would never marry a Negro man again."
Asked why, she said, "Negro men are too primitive. In spite of what people say about Negroes as lovers, I think white men are sexier. First of all, they're more aggressive and confident with a woman. This is probably because they've been around more, have better jobs, and are just more worldly than Negroes. And because of their worldliness, they've usually had more experience with women, and this always makes a man a better lover."
Asked about her sex life with her ex-husband, she shrugged and said, "The morning after our wedding night, I set him out a bowl of lettuce for breakfast. He looked surprised and asked, 'What's this?' "
" 'You fuck like a rabbit, so I thought maybe you'd want to eat like a rabbit!' I told him."
She said he would hardly give her time to get ready. "He'd crawl onto me and start pumping, and there wasn't much in it for me. His huge cock would slip in and out of me right on target, and I'd feel as if I'd burst. He'd push its big head in and out of me, and he'd bite my breasts like some hungry animal. And then he'd come. But he'd keep his hard, throbbing tool buried in me.
"Once, I forced him out of me. I grabbed his cock by its head and started licking it like it was ice cream, almost out of my mind with pleasure. He twisted and moaned and pulled away from me, saying my sucking was too intense.
"He stuck his cock into me again and just sort of twisted it around inside my cunt. Then he started bouncing up and down on me, working harder. It hurt. Pretty soon, the whole big shaft of his cock was coming in and out, then ramming hard and deep into my cunt until I thought he'd tear me to pieces. On every downward slam, I'd cry out. He grunted and drove even more violently until he came again. He was obviously a savage now, biting, hurting me. He grabbed my ass and pinched until it was black and blue."
"You're something of a mouth-girl, is that it?" she was asked.
"Yes, I guess so," Delia admitted rather reluctantly. "You see, it's like having food, having love, having everything a girl wants. The sex act has always made my mouth water, and I guess there's a pretty sensitive erotic zone in my mouth." She ran her tongue around her lips.
Delia had an older brother. Once, when she was quite small, only five or six, he tried to have intercourse with her. But she was too small to take his hard, blood-filled shaft. He was made so different from a girl, and she was excited. When he coaxed, she let him persuade her to take it into her mouth. It tasted sweet and made her feel very close to him. She moaned and made wet sounds over it, letting him sink it deep into her throat. She closed her eyes and felt content. It was the happiest moment she could remember, and it was because of her brother's hard, sensitive flesh in her mouth. She was ashamed afterward, she admitted, but she couldn't help herself.
"I love sucking," she said. "To feel a big, hard cock in my mouth is a psychotic need, I guess, a need I cannot ignore. I sucked my brother many times after that."
"And when you married?"
"My ex-husband didn't go for that kind of stuff. Again, that's one of the reasons I like white men better. They're more sophisticated. They'll do and let you do more things."
"Like submitting to a blow job?"
"I've never dated a white man who wouldn't. And I love to have their spurt of come splash deep into my throat. I accept it willingly. It is my reward, my proof, that I have pleased them I keep my mouth on a man during his frantic plunging when he's in sweet agony, and I milk him after he's quieted. I suck his softening cock as he relaxes and sighs in contentment.
"I never get mad if, occasionally, someone uses a derogatory term about my habits. I don't think such language necessarily means they're prejudiced, rather that they are exposing an inner urge and are trying to hide it.
"But, if they keep on making slurs, I get mad. Because what I do is my own business!"
For a moment, her eyes showed anger. Her face tightened into a frown.'"As I said, though," she continued, "mostly I have no opposition. And especially from white men. They like me and my habits.
"You see, I'm really coffee that they put then-cream in. And coffee, with a bit of cream, makes a tasty drink, don't you think?"
Sabra B. was a victim of one of those race riots which have beset our major cities in the last several years. She was not a racist. She had nothing at all against the black race. She learned from her sad experience that actions committed under one set of circumstances are not necessarily actions that would have been committed under another set of circumstances. She learned that the hardened ghetto gang leader, Spike, could be tender in given moments, when he felt tenderness was being returned. Sabra, perhaps, was the first and only person in the world who ever convinced Spike that there were true feelings in the world.
Her story starts one evening when she became angry with her mother and left the house for a walk. She walked to the end of the block and aimlessly turned toward the park. The night was warm, but she didn't notice. She had too many things to think about.
She hadn't realized how far she'd gone until a car drew up at the curb and a coarse voice asked, "Ride, baby?"
Sabra jerked around to stare into the shadowed face of a Negro, speaking to her from the opened car window.
"You look lonely, baby, all by yourself," the man said in a low tone.
It was then Sabra noticed with sudden panic that she'd walked far beyond the park, into a rather run-down section of the city. She also noticed that there were other people in the car.
"I think she's a stuck-up little bitch," the first boy said to the others.
"But look at her cute little ass, Spike! How'd you like to get your hands on that?" another boy asked.
"Honey, we'll give ya two dollars."
There were chuckles and loud laughter from the car. "It's just one fuck a piece, if you come with us nice-like, baby," Spike said. "But if you don't, we just might take all we want."
Sabra could stand the horrible insults no longer. Suddenly, from sheer panic, she broke and ran. The Negro boys piled out of the car and came after her. She was in a lonely district. There were no houses close.
"Goddamn, she's a fast little bitch! Look at her go!"
But a hand grabbed her hair, and she screamed, "Help me! Somebody help me!"
There was no one around. The boys dragged her back to the car. They took her to an old, abandoned house at the outskirts of the city. There, Spike had the other boys hold her down on a dirty cot. She sobbed helplessly as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his large, hot, black penis. "Oh, God," she prayed, "don't let him."
She felt her legs being spread wide. Spike's breath was coming heavier as he pressed his body tightly against her soft flesh. She moaned her protest into the hand over her mouth as she felt Spike's knee inserting itself between her legs and prying them relentlessly and cruelly apart.
She fought, but there was no stopping him.
"Man, I just can't hold back," Spike said. "I gotta fuck her now, or my balls gonna explode!"
"Go on," one of the other boys encouraged. "Fuck 'er now!"
Sabra squirmed hard against the Negro's binding hands, but the slow, seductive movements of her buttocks crushing back into the hardness of his loins only served to sharpen his desire for her. She sobbed into the hand covering her mouth, and broke away from it with a jerk of her head.
"Oh, God, please don't! Don't do it to me!"
Her piteous supplications were cut short again by the rough hand clamping down over her mouth. Spike reached down and jerked her dress up around her neck. With trembling hands, he caressed the lust-inciting nakedness of her inner thighs. He pinched her ass, delighting in her groans. He pulled her nylon panties down.
Sabra was wild with fear now. She was going to be raped! Raped by a vicious gang of Negroes who thought and acted like animals and had no compassion or feeling toward her, or any other human being. Her buttocks quivered convulsively from the terrifying thought of what fate would surely be hers in a few minutes. There was nothing in the world that could save her now.
"Man, just look at that cute little cunt!" Spike was saying, his face contorted crazily as he spoke almost in a trance.
Sabra groaned as she felt a hardness from Spike's crotch pushing into her cheek. She felt a small, wet circle of seminal fluid seeping through his pants, sticky against her cheek. His hands began working at his zipper.
Now, he was playing with her breasts, teasing her nipples until they sprang into defensive hardness, their tiny, bud-like tips throbbing.
"Hold 'er back, damn it!" Spike commanded.
Sabra trembled in abject terror. And then she felt his hardened cock pressing against the tender backsides of her thighs. She felt its stickiness where the wet, hot seminal fluid seeped from its large, inflated head. She wiggled her ass in desperation, attempting with all her strength to evade the thrusting of his big cock into her unprotected vagina.
But he had found the wet, smooth opening. He rammed forward with a hard, cruel thrust that burst into her with the hot, fiery pain of a thousand Roman candles.
"Oh, God," she screamed wildly, as she felt him skewering into her like a red-hot poker. He broke through the tight ring of her virginity and on into the warm, wet cavern beyond.
He ground his thick, fat cock around and around without mercy deep inside her painfully expanding channel, while Sabra twisted and groaned in anguish before the depraved attack on her defenseless body. She felt as though her vaginal passage was ablaze and burning as she sensed through the dim consciousness of her brain and slight giving and tearing of her flesh. Her body went limp from the sudden shock and pain.
Finally, it was over.
She knew when Spike's huge cock slipped with a wet, sucking noise from between the fleshy folds of her cunt. Now, one of the other black boys was upon her.
"No! No!" she screamed.
Spike pulled him off of her.
"I gotta right to some of it, too!" the boy yelled.
"You ain't gettin' none of that, you hear? If you lay another hand on her, I'll kill you!" Spike threatened.
The boy cringed back before Spike's verbal attack. He glared at Spike, but he obeyed.
Spike turned his gaze back down to Sabra's hammered body. "Now, you're gonna give it to me another way," he said between clenched teeth.
"No, no, please, please, don't," she pleaded through her tears of shame and humiliation. She felt his hands begin kneading and stretching the open and unprotected twin mounds of her buttocks. Her body jerked up as she felt his thumbs on either side, spreading them wider apart.
"Oh, God, no!" she screamed.
Spike's middle finger thrust between her thighs and into the soft, protective folds of flesh around her vagina. She cringed as he found and touched her clitoris. She squirmed and moaned as his finger wormed around her sensitive organ.
"I'll slip it in nice and easy this time," he promised.
Sabra whimpered as she felt his cock part her cunt lips and its slow, agonizing pressure beginning. She groaned incoherently.
"Ooooooh, noooo!"
The huge, blood-filled head of his prick slipped wetly inside with a rush that left Sabra gasping for breath. She struggled wildly, squirming and trying to escape the cruel and painful impalement of her cunt.
"God, what a pussy!" Spike gasped. His cock spread into her without mercy, battering and slashing. Sabra's muffled moans of pain and humiliation went unheeded and unheard as his thick, hard cock sank to its fullest depth into her quivering, white belly, and she felt its hard head pressed tight against her cervix.
There was no stopping him, and there was nothing she could do but accept the vile, obscene rape of her body without resistance.
"Christ!" Spike muttered as he watched his long, black, glistening cock, moist from her cunt's secretions, pistoning into her white flesh. He thrust forward into her with the powerful in-and-out rhythm he had begun. He pumped into her like she was a bitch in heat. His fingers dug cruelly into her tiny, puckered anus, and then jerked forward again, pulling her back over his cock while he continued to ram into her with growing abandon. She felt his heated cock grow thicker and thicker in her belly. She ached and burned inside as he continued to skewer into her with long, hard strokes.
Sabra's whimpers stretched into a long, low, continuous whine. Through the dim haze of her tortured mind, she felt him growing deep inside her as this horrible, unknown Negro filled her helpless belly and womb with his hot, sticky lust.
Oh, God, she thought, what if she got pregnant! She tried to clench her buttocks as a senseless gesture of defense.
As her warm, wet muscles clasped tight around his hard-driving cock, Spike threw back his head with a wild scream, and his lewd, hot sperm shot in to Sabra's cuntal passage. She groaned in helpless submission before him as he emptied himself with spurt after spurt of his driving lust juices deep inside her, filling her womb and belly to the bursting point.
She screamed as she felt his cock moving around in the warm, wet pool in her vagina, a hot, fiery reminder of her total subjugation to his cruel, inhuman fucking. He pitched forward in total exhaustion along the length of her flattened body and lay there, breathing fast, unable to move.
Sabra lay sobbing out her humiliation and fear beneath him, the sudden, horrible thought coming to her that it wasn't over. The other fellows would want to fuck her, too!
"Get off her, Spike," one of them said. "Let me at her now."
Spike lifted, and Sabra felt his deflated penis slip wetly from her forever expanded passage.
"You heard me you bastard!" Spike swore. "You touch her, and I'll kill you!"
The others groaned, but they didn't pursue the matter. Spike's pronouncement indicated he was the boss and in no mood for an argument.
To Sabra's surprise, he became protective and kind. Her hand tightened around his arm, and in spite of his brutal assault, she found herself clinging to him for protection against the others. In spite of her still smoldering dread of his touch, he seemed to be the only barrier that stood between her and total rape by all the others. She tightened her grip on his arm.
That seemed to please him. He became gentle and kind, and Sabra remembered he hadn't screwed her in the ass, as he'd started to do. Did Spike, the hater of all white people, have some goodness in him?
At least, he was trying to comfort her now as she sobbed because of her pain and humiliation. Little by little, some of the pain went away. Spike ordered one of the boys to bring a pan of warm water and a cloth, and when he did, Spike bathed Sabra's hot and hurting genitals.
Later, when he wanted to fuck her again, she begged him not to. "You tore me up and I hurt too bad," she sobbed to him. "And I might get pregnant-"
"All right, I won't," he said, "if you'll suck it for me."
Sabra had never sucked cocks in her life.
Spike's big, black prick, pushing against her, was getting pretty hard. She looked at it, and an odd sensation began to grow in her mouth. She knew that by taking it into her mouth, she couldn't get pregnant. And she could save her cunt for some future white lover. As Spike's hard cock throbbed against her, she became curious about the taste of it, and her mouth began to water.
But she hesitated.
She looked at the other black boys. They were repulsive to her, but Spike wasn't. He had a good build, and his skin was smooth and a light chocolate color. At least, he looked good, and she feared him less than the rest of them. It had become a matter of what one had to choose from, and not what one wanted to choose. The weakest had to choose the strongest of the group for mere survival, provided, of course, the strongest wanted her. And Spike wanted her now. She had no choice if she were to escape the others. And physically, he had already taken her.
He was there, and she knew she would have to be his by virtue of his leadership over the others. His hold on her was the strength and protection he offered.
She would have to obey him.
"Get on it," he said.
He pressed his great, thick cock against her lips. She opened her mouth, and it slid in. It stretched her mouth, and she could only take a few inches of it.
Spike reached out, got a pillow, and slipped it under her head. She looked up at his big, powerful body over her, and his cock was huge, hanging from between his legs like a big, black club. It filled her mouth with only its head and a small portion of its thick shaft. It was gigantic. No wonder it hurt so bad when he stuck it into her pussy. It was at least ten inches long.
He was on his knees and elbows over her now. "Lie still," he said. "I'm going to fuck your mouth now."
Sabra couldn't speak. She didn't want to. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she put her hands on his powerful, black, naked thighs. She slid her hands up to his buttocks and dug a finger into his ass.
That seemed to please him. She gagged as he pressed his prick against the back of her throat. Her head was pressed back into the pillow. His giant cock retreated, surged forward, filled her mouth.
And then he pulled it out again. Suddenly, his mouth covered her pussy, and his tongue started licking her. He switched around so that his cock was at her mouth, and she became a mindless thing, a body that gave and took, a mouth that was filled and battered by Spike's massive cock, a clitoris that pulsed with exquisite sensations from a fluttering, knowing tongue.
Then Spike's cock-thrusts became powerful, violent, almost splitting her mouth. He grunted, and then thick spurts of his juice flooded Sabra's mouth. Her throat worked to swallow. There was no more room for all the semen he was pumping into her. It overflowed her mouth and ran down her lips and chin.
Sabra was dazed. She kept urging him on and on with her hands on his dark, rippling buttocks.
Eventually, there was no more come in him. He pulled his softening cock from her mouth, but he was still going down on her. She worked her pussy against his hot mouth as her hands clawed his head. She whimpered and convulsed.
When it was over, she lay there like a dead woman.
Someone began washing her face and neck. She opened her eyes, and it was Spike. She smiled up at him. He smiled back.
She was content.
It was the first real sex satisfaction she'd had in her life. She decided right then there were a lot of advantages in doing it the oral way.
Satisfied, Spike would have let her go after that. But she didn't want to go. She knew Spike looked on her without hate or malice now.
But the others didn't. When Spike told her she could go of her own free will, the other Negro men protested.
"Man, you crazy?" they responded incredulously. "She'll have the fuzz down our necks before we get two miles!"
"No, I won't," Sabra said. But only Spike believed her.
To prove she meant it, she kissed Spike's full mouth, his chest, his belly, his cock. His cock began to grow again, and she closed her eyes and slid her wet lips over its velvet head, down the now hard column, and greedily worked her mouth and tongue to build up pleasure; to, once more, draw out those satisfying spurts of semen.
It took longer that second time, but she enjoyed every second of it. She clung to him with hands and mouth and throat, and in that dark, dreamy world behind her closed eyelids, she sucked like an infant at its mother's breast. And she sucked love from him by giving pleasure.
He cried out as he came, and she helped with her tongue and mouth. She knew she was earning a place in his life, knew that she was needed.
And, strangely enough, she felt closer to him than she had ever felt toward any other man.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nobody Gets Pregnant That Way
What is civilization? It is no more than an intense effort to make life beautiful. If life is trivial, then civilization is vanity and vexation of the spirit.
For too long, civilization believed in the justification of the double standard on the grounds that it was thought men had greater sexual needs than women.
We are now pursuing a single standard for both men and women.
This, however, tears down the idea of rigorous chastity for the woman, and since a child inherits its father's name, the heritage line is all clouded with the possibility of a bastard offspring.
Adultery on the part of the husband does not necessarily alter the relations of the children to the parent and to each other. Lack of chastity in the wife, however, either breaks the family bond or weakens it through doubt. The purity of the woman and her faithfulness are, therefore, of the greatest importance. With this spotless purity of the wife, the family stays intact. Children are full brothers and sisters.
But sex being what it is, the woman often devises ways to have her extra-marital sex and keep the strain pure through perverse acts. In many swap parties, the rules call for only the use of the mouth by the woman.
Millie S. had masturbated as far back as she could remember. As a small child, she would often rub herself against a piece of furniture until she had an orgasm. She had done this to herself to the point of hurting her sex organs. At the age of nine, she was forced to suck an older brother. She learned to like it, and she saved her virginity that way until she was in college. On her first fuck, by the fellow she later married, she was asked how she liked it.
Her glib answer was, "Is that all there is to it?"
Millie had long ago learned more intense ways of satisfying herself sexually. A man's penis gave her very little satisfaction.
She had been rejected emotionally by her mother, a cold, vindictive woman who blamed the child for the pain she'd suffered in childbirth. The older brother had inherited many of the characteristics of his mother. He treated his little sister kindly only when she sucked him, so she did it for reassurance and love.
Sucking a cock was like sucking a pacifier, soothing and calming. She knew why she was a compulsive cocksucker, but that didn't change the powerful emotional conditioning that had created and reinforced her behavior patterns, her triggers, her needs.
And she didn't want to change.
She married the man who had first fucked her, a weak, sickly, somewhat degenerate person whose greatest interests were in scientific inventions and sex. They went through a period of natural intercourse, combined with other ways and methods, and, finally, Millie got pregnant.
She had a male child after a very difficult delivery.
For a long time afterward, she wouldn't let her husband, John, fuck her.
And the old pattern, established by her mother, began again. She rejected the child and refused to play the part of a mother to it.
She and John finally indulged exclusively in oral love to keep her from getting pregnant again.
Around the age of forty, John's .sexual powers, which had never been too strong despite all his bragging, began to diminish. But Millie's didn't.
Millie sought satisfaction with other men, with John's full approval, provided he was allowed to watch them. She had sex with a number of males in various perverse ways.
And then, one night at a party, she and John met Milo H., an unmarried man in his mid-twenties, some sixteen or seventeen years younger than Millie. There was an attraction between them at first sight. John liked Milo, too. There was something in common between them, chiefly a huge desire to brag.
And did they brag to each other! Milo was a newspaper reporter, and be bragged about his job. John countered with stories about his inventions which he'd never sold. Milo promised to give him a lot of newspaper publicity.
Millie's interest in Milo was lower down. She rubbed up to him, practically raping him. He was reluctant to take her up on her obvious offers and asked about her husband, John.
"Oh, he won't care," she said, then told him all John would want was the chance to watch them.
A few nights later, the three of them got naked in bed. Milo's rather small cock was hard, but John's stayed limp like a piece of rubber, though he was obviously burning up with a desire for some kind of sex.
Milo tried fucking Millie with his undersized cock, but she didn't like it and finally shoved him off. He wanted her to play with it, which she did. Finally, he slipped it into her mouth and told her to suck it.
She did.
At last, he guided it into her vagina again, but her vagina was big, and his cock was too little to go deep or give her much sensation. Only when he pressed tight did she feel a sparkle from her nudged clitoris.
He pulled out and asked, "Did it feel good?"
"Not much," she admitted dryly.
He said: "We're both spoiled. Let's try something else."
So they switched around to a sixty-nine position, and while Millie sucked Milo's cock and he mouthed her pussy, John fingered both their asses and played with Milo's balls.
And Millie was happy with Milo's sensitive, hard flesh in her mouth. Once, he broke away to reach up and suck her small, sensitive nipples. But she liked the other better and again forced his head down on her throbbing cunt.
Oh, Jesus, she liked oral love!
It was like sucking her mother's breasts and momentarily feeling love and security. It was like sucking her brother greedily while he petted and praised her, the only petting and praise she ever received.
In sucking, Millie sought to recreate the few golden moments of her otherwise drab and ugly childhood.
John's introduction to oral love had been somewhat different.
At fourteen, he'd gone into the men's room of a bus depot. The sign on the door simply said 'Men'. It gave no hint that he was about to enter one of the local contact places for a group of cocksuckers. Nothing indicated that this was anything but a place for a man to relieve himself.
A few seconds after he had entered the deserted men's room, a pale young man, not much older than he was, came through the door. John noticed that the young man now standing at the urinal beside him looked quite ill. He seemed to be swaying on his feet. Then he gasped, his legs buckled, and he slumped toward John, who managed to catch him in time to save him from crashing to the floor.
It was at this exact moment that two older men walked in. This split second timing was no accident, and they were not police, as they claimed to be. They were connected with a 'ring'. And they always managed to arrive at this compromising moment, and in their outspoken version of what they'd seen, they branded both John and the other young man as cocksuckers.
In horrified disbelief, John heard them identify the young, sick man as "Gertie," an oft-convicted offender. In a false soprano, "Gertie" proclaimed his innocence in a fashion that made matters seem worse than appearances indicated. He heard one of the pseudo-detectives say, "Save it for the judge!"
Trapped by embarrassing circumstances, panic-stricken, John never thought to ask the fake detectives to show their credentials. When they ordered him to come along with them, he did what he was told.
He was not taken to the police station.
Instead, he ended up in an old two-story house in the seamier section of the city. There, he was introduced to a new kind of sex.
Their love-making session included both men and women.
As John was led into a large room, with several beds in it, a woman raised up and said, "Hey, that kid's not dry behind the ears!"
She'd been sucking some man, and now he raised up and kissed her, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. The woman reached over and found John's crotch. She probed it carelessly. "Let me suck it, kid," she said. "You won't be sorry. You might even be glad."
John drew back in fright. He'd had his cock sucked before, but by kids.
But this was a woman, at least thirty, who was pulling him to her. The man she'd been sucking got up and went to look for another mouth to take his hard, erect pecker. John began to feel a little better. What did he have to lose? He let the woman unbuckle his belt and slip his pants down. She eeled her fingers under the top of his shorts and peeled them down, also. Pretty soon, she had him naked. She was breathing heavily as her fingers circled John's rising cock.
John expelled a sigh and snuggled closer to the naked woman. She squinted to take in his naked form, and he saw crow's-feet form at the corners of her eyes.
A man appeared. "What have you got there, Jenny?" he inquired.
John noted that his eyes were blue and that he had a straight, handsome nose. He was very masculine.
When Jenny didn't answer, he went on, "You two been having a bunch of fun?" He was staring at John's body.
"The most," the woman said, now turning and grinning up at him.
"Got any of that nice stuff left for me, buddy?" the man asked, looking directly at John.
"Go find yourself another chicken, if you've got the urge," the woman told him angrily.
"Hell, I've always got the urge!" the man said. "I figure this kid's got enough cock to satisfy us both. What about it, kid?"
John kept quiet. But his whole body tensed.
"I figured it's my turn about right now," the man said. He fell to his knees before John. He took John's cock in his hands. "Relax, kid. I like sex, too. Any reason why I shouldn't? I'm going to show you how much I dig sex." He stuffed John's swollen penis into his mouth and sucked.
John had wanted to run, but now, what the man was doing fascinated him. It felt so damned good! The man was like an animal too long caged as he sucked John's cock and played with his ass. Then John heard the rasp of a jar being uncapped, and, in a moment, felt the man smooth an ointment into his ass. The man's fingers were stiff, probing. Then a hard knee straddled John, and he felt the man's hands kneading his back.
"You're going to love this," he breathed hoarsely, both his hands on John's shoulders. "They all love it with me."
John felt the man's big, stiff cock slide against his ass-hole, trying to force entrance. This was something new to him He'd always been fascinated by the idea of it, but he'd never tried it before. He feared it, and especially with a guy with a prick as big as this man's was.
"Relax, kid," the man said. "I'll be easy."
Despite his fear, John felt a certain amount of curiosity about how it would be.
"I've never been fucked in the ass," he told the man.
"Boy, it's a long time since I had me a cherry ass-hole," the man said. He patted John's quivering ass, and rubbed another glob of ointment into his hole.
Then he put his hands on John's hips and started easing his cock slowly into him. The woman on the bed watched interestedly. "Try not to hurt the kid," she told the man.
The man pressed his cock deeper into John's ass, at the same time tightening his hold on his hips.
"Am I hurting you, kid?" the man asked.
"A little," John said, nevertheless moving his ass back against the man.
"You want me to stop?" the man asked in a teasing voice.
"No," John said.
The man laughed pleasantly again. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"Keep fucking my ass," John said. "Push it in deeper."
"See!" the man said. "I told you, you'd like it!"
He started fucking John solidly, pulling his cock almost all the way out of his ass-hole, then plunging it in again, in a steady rhythm. John's own cock was throbbing. The man reached around in front of him and started playing with it. John moaned with pleasure. "I'm gonna come pretty quick," John said.
"Good!" the man said. "So am I." He fucked John's ass-hole faster, until both of them spurted at the same time.
When the man pulled his cock out, it was still hard. "I'm ready for another go," he said.
The man then fell upon the woman who was lying on her stomach. Entry into her ass must have been sudden and searing. She moaned in quick agony but didn't resist the man's attack. Entrance had been achieved, John knew, but with much pain. Now, the man performed, plodding, plowing, thumping agony into the woman's body.
"How's it feelin' now?" he asked. "You liking it?"
The woman moaned, half in pain, half in genuine pleasure.
"Wow! I'm going to shoot my load!"
He wasn't lying. He did.
Now, the woman squirmed as the man's wilting cock left her. She positioned around, grabbed John, and took his cock into her mouth. God, John had never known it could be as wonderful as this! Her lips were soft and gentle. She reached up and explored his naked body, her mouth still working hungrily over his swollen cock. She took it out of her mouth and encircled John's hard organ with her fingers, jerking it back and forth. She played with his tufts of black hair.
Now, the man was down on her pussy with his mouth, and the three of them became a single pleasure machine. John heard the man gasp and knew he had finished. It wasn't a second longer until John exploded into the woman's mouth.
After that, the three of them showered together. Then the man began to yawn. John, unmindful of the love-making still going on on the various beds, put on his clothes and started to leave.
At the door, both the man and woman hugged him. "You're a pretty cute kid," the woman told him. "When you get horny, come again!"
John merely scratched his head and crotch and grunted.
"See you," the man said.
As John left, he turned and glanced back at the house, eager to get the correct house number.
He told himself he'd come back.
The truth was that John liked very much what had happened, though it had all been new to him.
In one evening, that man and woman had taught John the facts of life according to then-own way-out sexual code. He'd gotten a post-graduate course in the ways of certain sexual pleasures, and he'd learned about newer and greener pastures of sex.
Frank B. and his wife, Harriet, lived in a rather exclusive section of a certain eastern United States city. Frank made good money in the insurance business, and they owned their lovely home. Frank and Harriet had everything money could buy, but they often felt dissatisfied. For one thing, Frank had worked so hard 'getting ahead' that they'd dropped old-time friends and now sometimes felt quite lonely. Frank began to get bored with his routine married life. He wondered about the new craze of wife-swapping. He wanted to try it.
Frank had first been approached by some of his neighbors, but when he tried to convince Harriet that they should join in a party along the sophisticated couples' circuit, she balked. She said he'd simply been reading too many of those girlie magazines.
A week later, however, he convinced her to let him send away for lists of 'sophisticated couples' and to join friendship clubs which advertised for "adventurous, uninhibited, broadminded couples".
At first, the pen pal letters they received were just chatty. But with each letter, matters got hotter.
Frank was going on forty. He was plump and balding, and a mere echo of the handsome athlete he'd been back in college.
Harriet, on the other hand, was a bit younger, pert and still pretty. She seemed to be everything a middle-aged man could want, sensible, feminine, and desirable.
There had been no children during their fourteen years of marriage.
"We just don't get out enough," Frank sighed as he sorted through some of their mail from other "adventurous, broadminded, and uninhibited" people.
Then he handed Harriet a letter from a pile. It was from a couple in a nearby city, both of whom, judging from their photos, were in their middle or late thirties. They wrote that they were happy that Frank and Harriet also liked "unusual experiences" and suggested that they exchange detailed accounts of their different experiences.
Another couple suggested trading snapshots. "Candid, uninhibited poses," their letter suggested. Then they'd like to arrange a meeting as soon as possible.
Still another couple wrote that they felt they were missing something vital after eight years of faithful and unadventurous marriage and were eager to broaden their experiences with other couples similarly inclined.
These replies were causing some dissension between Frank and Harriet. Frank was hot for a trot, but Harriet's feet were growing cold.
Eventually, though, Frank cajoled Harriet into accepting a dinner invitation from the couple in the nearby city. They had called unexpectedly after several rounds of correspondence, and after an especially pleasant chat, had suggested that Frank and Harriet come over for dinner.
Frank accepted, and despite Harriet's suggestion that they cancel the whole thing, they set our one Saturday evening for some 'sophisticated' entertainment in split-level suburbia.
This couple, George and Ellen, proved to be quite different from what they'd expected. They lived in a lovely home, and one's first impression was that they were like any other people on their block.
Over the phone, George had suggested, "Maybe, after dinner, we can watch some movies or plan a party for later on."
To everyone's surprise, the four of them hit it off well from the beginning. George had quite a sense of humor, and from Harriet's point of view was strikingly handsome and masculine.
Frank was happy that Ellen was a blonde. She had a trim figure.
After the delicious dinner, George suggested that Frank and he carry the dishes to the kitchen. Out there, in a man-to-man talk, they agreed that they were game for anything their wives would go along with. Upon returning to the living room, they found that their wives had had a girl-to-girl talk along similar lines, and were agreeable.
Harriet, consenting more to please Frank, settled down on the couch next to George, while Ellen led Frank into one of the bedrooms.
Immediately, Ellen got naked. She had a lovely body, and the very sight of her made Frank's passion begin to rise. His cock was pushing hurtingly at the front of his pants even before Ellen unzipped him. She took his hard cock out and held it gently in her hands.
"Oooh, Jesus Christ!" Frank cried.
Ellen pushed Frank gently upon the bed. The mattress was very soft, like feathers, and they sank into it with a floating sensation.
Ellen laughed as Frank's hands went to her breasts, squeezing, rubbing gently. She arched her back and pushed her tits against him. "Ummm, I love what you're doing to me!" she said.
"Want me to do more?"
Frank kissed her, and his hand roamed along her thigh and stroked her pussy lips. She was moistening down there.
"Get out of your clothes," she ordered.
Frank got off the bed and stripped. She caught him and engulfed his hard cock with her mouth. She closed her eyes and sighed, and began sucking with love.
Frank's cock felt good in her mouth. He liked the sensation of it sliding in and out. It was sensual and satisfying. She plunged her lips down his shaft to the curly fringe of hair around his organ, and her throat constricted on his glans.
Frank groaned.
Ellen kept her face tight against him, his cock totally in her mouth and throat. He felt her throat work in minor spasms.
He began gasping and moaning as an orgasm built swiftly in his loins. He moved a bit to be more comfortable.
Frank had never sucked a pussy, but he wanted to sixty-nine with Ellen now. However, she was leeched upon him and he couldn't pull away.
He began thrusting his hips into her face, trying to bury his cock in her deeper even than it was. He felt close to shooting his load.
He tried to hold back. Ellen raised her head until only his glans was between her lips. She massaged it with her tongue until he thought he'd go crazy. And then she plunged, retreated, plunged again, her lips clinging wetly, tightly to his sensitive skin. She worked her tongue against the pleasure centers on the underside of his glans.
Frank gripped her head and cried, "Oooh-uhhh!"
He was at the moment of his peak, and his juice began squirting into her mouth.
He heard the door open. He opened his eyes, and Harriet and George were standing there.
He met Harriet's gaze for an endless second.
Then Ellen plunged her head once more to give him the last bit of pleasure possible. He gasped with his own excitement.
Seconds later, when he looked up again, Harriet and George were gone. The door was closed.
In another bedroom, George was saying, "I'm partial to the way Ellen makes love." He was squeezing Harriet's shoulder.
She looked up at him, and a shiver went through her. She was getting an all-gone, sick feeling in her stomach. She was breathing fast.
"No please, no " she begged.
"You are going to suck me off, Harriet. You are going to do it to me like Ellen did it to Frank."
"No!"
"Yes!" He was opening his pants. "It's part of our rules in wife-swapping. Nobody gets pregnant that way."
Harriet saw his hands bring out his hardened cock, a long, thick column whose skin drew back as it grew to reveal a violet head.
She gasped.
"Look at it, Harriet. You want it in your mouth, don't you? You want to taste it and suck it. You want to make me come."
Harriet's gaze fastened on his cock which was barely a foot from her face now. There was something hypnotic in what he was saying. He pushed his hips closer, and she could not turn her head away. His cock touched her cheek.
"Suck it, Harriet. Suck it. I want to come in your mouth."
Harriet no longer felt as much reluctance as she had earlier.
Slowly, he moved the head of his cock along her cheek, to her lips. He nudged her mouth.
Her lips opened and spread over his warm, silky glans. She placed her hands on his buttocks and pressed her head forward. Her mouth took the long inches of his cock, deep into her throat. She sucked.
He caressed her hair and said hypnotically, "Suck, suck, suck."
His voice began shaking, and he was panting. He dug his fingers into her scalp.
She felt his almost-sweet semen splash into her throat. He swayed and grunted over her head. She sucked until he had nothing left to give her. He pulled his cock from her hot, willing mouth.
He whispered, "Oh, God, Harriet, that was good!"
Harriet lay writhing on the bed. George turned away and started to zip up. She begged him to do something for her-to her. She writhed her cunt suggestively at him.
He clamped his mouth over her hot pussy, and it was no time at all until she'd had an orgasm.
It had been the first time for both Frank and Harriet, and on the way home that night, they decided not to discuss the details between themselves. That way, they'd avoid making each other jealous.
As a result of that night, both of them had learned about oral love. And they liked sex that way. They began practicing it on each other.
They began getting more invitations to small parties and several pen-pals wanted to trade snapshots of each other "going all the way." It was Harriet who admitted one day that just 'raw sex' with a man wasn't very good, and she wished to terminate their partying.
Talking with some of the other men, Frank found out that frequently the women preferred a secure life to a sophisticated one.
He suggested first that Harriet and he date separately; that is, go to different parties. Harriet said she'd had her fill, but for Frank to go alone if he wanted to, so long as she wasn't involved.
He did a time or two. Then, one evening he threw away all of their correspondence. He'd decided that he had all the good stuff he could use right at home. By this time Harriet had become a pretty efficient cocksucker, and was able to provide Frank with as much sexual pleasure as he could find in any other woman. In fact, he told Harriet, their discovery of the pleasures of oral love had made "a new woman" of Harriet. Naturally, Frank's recently found enthusiasm for cunnilingus had a lot to do with making Harriet into that "new woman."
CHAPTER EIGHT "You Look So Sweet I Could Eat You Up!"
History tells us that the Phoenician and Egyptian girls and women of the ancient world were the inventors of lipstick, the original significance of which would surprise many modem women.
For it was the fellatrices of Phoenicia and Egypt who were the first to employ red lip paint or rouge to make their mouths appear like the vulva and thereby indicate their profession. Consequently, any female who painted or rouged her lips so that they resembled the lower labia was at once recognized as one who specialized in oral stimulation of the penis.
It is said that Cleopatra of Egypt set the nonprofessional fashion for fellatio, and was, perhaps, the most famous free-love fellatrice of the ancient world. Cleopatra wore lip paint like all fashionable and promiscuous ladies, and is said to have sucked a thousand men. She was supposed to have fellated a hundred Roman soldiers in one night.
The ancient Egyptians, like the Muslims, were notorious for their sexual abuse of strangers, and especially Jews.
A homecoming traveler was usually asked if he had experienced an attack of 'sore throat' while in Egypt. This was the same as asking if he had become the victim of an Egyptian sexual custom and had been orally ravished by a big Egyptian penis.
A common Muslim curse is: "You son of a dog! You lick your wife between her legs where her beard grows!"
Lip and tongue stimulation of the genitals is common and customary among all classes and races of Asia and Africa, according to famous anthropologist, Margaret Mead. It is traditional both heterosexually and homosexually.
Mutual fellatio and cunnilingus is deemed even more intimate and enrapturing than genital union, perhaps because oral excitation yields the most acute and intense pleasure. The early Arabs and Jews learned oral eroticism in the most natural manner, by observing nature. Dogs, cats, hyenas, and other domesticated and wild animals can be seen licking each other's genitals.
Doctor Jacobus states that Oriental females become fellatrices by early addiction to oral activities. Traumatic childhood experiences are influential, for fellatory rape perpetuated by older boys upon small girls is very common among the Arabs. Such a rape may have a lasting effect upon the young girl's libido, yielding intensification of oral eroticism.
For little sister to take her older brother's penis into her mouth is but one phase in a vast and continuing variety of pre-puberty sex play fashioned and fostered by environmental factors.
According to Jacobus, four out of five North African Muslim women recalled having been coaxed or forced into fellatio by their older brothers. Most of the girls were between the ages of three and five at the time of their first oral experience. The oldest was six.
In Arabia, boys will perform repeated cunnilingus on little Arab girls, then induce them to "eat their banana" (perform fellatio). This was a necessity, in that the little Arab girls often could not take the boys' over-large penises in regular intercourse.
It is said that cunnilingus, fellatio, and so-called homosexual pleasures are endemic at Mecca and Medina, where all men are bisexuals and three out of five women are active lesbians.
It would be difficult to speculate at length about the cause of this; why the Easterner is so often bisexual in his inclinations and activities, while the Westerner has so often tended to become exclusively heterosexual or exclusively homosexual. The either/or values of the Christian West undoubtedly have much to do with such results. It is surely no accident that just now, when an ethical relativism is particularly noticeable in the United States, we are producing bisexuals to an extent far beyond anything hitherto experienced in this country.
But life is a constant change.
Half the evils of the world can be traced to the fact that people fight or are afraid of change.
A desire for change led handsome, young Dan D., after a year at one of our leading universities, to hitchhike to the West Coast, a twenty-day hardship-filled trek but one which he feels helped to mature him considerably.
"Ever since I was a young boy, I have been shy with women," he explained shakily to a psychologist. Blue-eyed, blonde-haired, robust in appearance, Dan looked like any other healthy young college student, and he had been well-liked on campus. "Other guys always seemed so sure of themselves, and I bet they didn't break out in a sweat when a girl wanted to go to bed with them," he fumed, throwing up his hands.
From years of experience, the West Coast psychologist observed that Dan was typical of the many sex-shy men he had treated. He knew, too, that in making the long trek West, Dan was really running away from himself. His condition, it was learned, stemmed from thwarting childhood experiences. Now, as a young man, he was tortured by his strong sexual drive which conflicted with his inordinate fear of women. Secretive and shy about this condition, he never discussed it with anybody, fearing that it would throw suspicion on his virility and manhood and mark him as one who was not a 'regular guy'.
So he had gone on from year to year, marked by self-doubts, inner reproaches, self-hate, and intense frustrations.
During the time he was being treated by the psychologist, Dan met a tall, shapely, red-haired girl named Helen. She had an engaging manner and rarely failed to interest men. She felt strongly attracted to Dan when they were first introduced by a mutual friend. Quick to note his shyness, and being attracted by it, too, she went out of her way to seek him out. Dan dated her for two months, but they never became intimate.
Each date, though, was a challenge to him, as he sought to overcome his fear.
"Why don't you come up to my apartment?" Helen suggested one night.
Dan went, and once inside, Helen became ardent, snuggling her well-molded body next to him. The heavy petting roused Dan and made him increasingly anxious.
Helen suggested he spend the night with her.
Dan became frantic. He panicked and ran out of her apartment like a scared rabbit.
He ran to his psychologist.
"In the past, you've had similar experiences with women," the doctor commented.
"If people knew how many-well, they'd think I was some kind of freak," Dan sighed.
During that session, Dan gave the psychologist more information on his childhood. He'd been dominated by two older sisters and a man-hating mother. Dan's father had deserted the family when Dan was only an infant.
"Sex is dirty! Promise you'll never dishonor a girl or hurt her in any way," his mother would often demand, tears in her eyes. And Dan would nod submissively when his mother said, "Men are animals who use sex to hurt and degrade women!"
So, to Dan, sex became something 'evil'.
According to his mother, women were all angels to be respected and revered. Unconsciously, he came to reason that men were inferior to women.
And, of course, the guilty and ashamed man is led to suspect, if not to believe, that others have noticed his fear. That is when the individual becomes prey to suspicion, avoids social gatherings, blushes, observes himself in the mirror, and develops self-consciousness. Guilt, shame, and fear have finally joined hands to convince him of his inferiority.
Dan was reluctant to have sex with a woman, though his desires were normal. His shyness was based on ignorance, as well as unfortunate experiences in his adolescent years. Friends make jokes about his bashfulness. "A guy like you ain't got what it takes to please a woman! Your cock ain't big enough!" the boys would mock sadistically.
The truth was that Dan's penis was undersized, but not abnormally so.
Humiliation, failure, and defeat drove him to visit a local prostitute one night.
"Okay, kid," she'd said laconically, as she began to strip, "Let's get down to business and get this whole thing over with!"
Dan looked at her curiously. She certainly didn't seem to have an enticing or encouraging attitude.
Beads of sweat began to form on his brow as his sense of fear mounted. Terror coursed through his body. He tried to get out of the room, but she had locked the door.
"I knew you'd panic," she said. "But I've handled kids like you before."
She turned out to be a better psychologist than the professional one Dan had gone to. She did not ridicule him. She bragged on his masculine virility, and when she saw he was ashamed of his small penis, she told him a story. Taking a small feather from a hat that lay on the dresser, she stuck it up his nostril. He winced.
"Feel it?" she asked. "It tickles?"
Dan agreed that it did.
Now, she removed the feather and inserted her finger. "Feel the same as the feather."
"No," Dan said.
"Well, that just goes to show you it ain't the size of the cock that counts. It's the way you wiggle it!"
That little experiment did Dan a world of good.
He was a victim of a misleading superstition. She helped him get over his ungrounded fears.
When his organ wouldn't harden by hand manipulation, she went down on him. And, before the night was over, she'd taught him how to suck her.
Everett I. was a well-dressed, forty-year-old car salesman who had long been troubled by his lack of confidence in sexual relations. Recently divorced, he recalled that he had had, prior to his marriage, many satisfactory affairs with women. Shortly after he was married, his wife began to complain about his sex hungers and habits. She tried to deny him, and finally the situation became so difficult that Everett became impotent. When, later, he tried to have sexual intercourse with other women, he encountered the same humiliating failure, until finally he became extremely shy of women.
He did not realize that he had fallen into the trap his former wife had set for him. A man-hater, with a strong resentment against all males, she had married him only for convenience. Determined to lower his self-esteem, damage his male ego, and lower the value of his masculine appeal, she witheringly criticized him in bed. In time, her sneers had their intended effect. Everett's sex capacity disintegrated.
Psychiatrists, psychologists, marriage counselors all know only too well that a perfectly normal, reasonably assured man can become impotent and eventually sex-shy if repeatedly exposed to carping and reproaches from an inconsiderate partner.
In a survey by Doctor G. V. Hamilton, a noted social scientist, one hundred married men were asked, "Do you have difficulty in getting an erection for intercourse with your wife?"
Only fifty-nine of them gave an unqualified No.
Practically any man's sexual energy can be seriously undermined if the wife has narrow and prudish ideas about what is proper in bed. If she sets herself up as the moral arbiter, takes the position that it is her duty to set limiting standards of moral acceptance upon her husband's actions, then trouble ensues.
Men become highly sensitive, sex-shy.
This kind of background made Everett find his real kicks with a whore. "When I'm with a whore," he said, "I get along fine. A 'nice' girl makes me feel low and disgusted with myself."
Feeling as he did about 'nice' girls, Everett sought out prostitutes, and, as most of them were 'suckie-fuckie' girls, he learned to enjoy a good mouth job.
Ben W., like most sex-shy men, suffered from a condition known as "post-coital triste". This condition causes extreme depression and sadness, marked by anxiety, and makes a man experience revulsion and disgust for the woman he's just had, along with an intense desire to separate himself from her. The mood may last from several hours to several months. In the unconscious mind of the individual, there is a terrible feeling that he has committed a horrible sin, that the sex act has made him 'dirty'.
Before the act began, he may have desperately craved sex, often to the point of uncontrollable obsession. Once he has had it, he undergoes an almost instant change in his feelings. He has no further feeling for the girl.
So, for a time, at least, he avoids women.
Psychologists know that one emotion is often a disguise for another, a deeper one that the individual does not want to admit even to himself. Part of the man's guilt may he in having sex with a girl he does not love.
When Ben described his problem in detail, his inability to attract a desirable female, or so he thought, this all made sense to his psychiatrist. In view of Ben's early background, it was determined that he really suffered from hostility impotence, that his shyness was really a hatred for women, started by his mother, turned inside out.
As a victim of hostility impotence, Ben found that during the sex act, he was unable to experience ejaculation. "No woman wants me the way I am I'd only disappoint them. So what's the use?" he asked.
"The truth is that your inability to have adequate sexual relations with a woman is merely an expression of your hostility toward them," the doctor said.
"My what? Hostility, did you say? Why, that's impossible!" Ben answered.
But it wasn't. And in time, Ben learned to accept the truth about himself. He'd been a pretty baby and had enjoyed not only the indulgences of his mother and sisters, but of teachers and other doting women, as well. Spoiled at a very early age, Ben took it as a matter of course that others should submit to his wishes, indulge his whims. Later, developing into a handsome youth, Ben was not accustomed to frustrations. The inflated image he had of himself made him believe that women would seek him out and be sexually free with him.
Few women could put up with his abrupt, impetuous demands and almost always refused to see him again. With considerable bitterness and disappointment, Ben refused to accept the idea that women would not fall at his feet. He developed in time, unaware of it even himself, a smoldering resentment of women.
Doctor Albert Ellis says of this type of man: "He becomes obsessed with the idea of females as sex partners, instead of human personalities. He becomes so sexually excited and trigger-finger tuned by continued non-concluded sexual arousal that he acquires varying degrees of sexual impotence. He frequently harbors tremendous feelings of anxiety, guilt, and sexual inadequacy. Often, these men retreat into homosexuality, and if not, the average kind of sexual relations is hardly-likely to satisfy their unrealistic desires."
This problem of sex shyness is widespread and can have serious consequences for a man afflicted with it. In most cases, shyness of this type is due to ignorance, a lack of facts about the sexual function. Much of this can be traced back to childhood and the inadequate understanding of the sex impulse.
Society imposes vague, unrealistic, contradictory sex standards on young people. Titillated on the one hand by provocative films, books, pictures, and inhibited on the other hand by a limiting books, pictures, and inhibited on the other hand by a limiting American males are shy, confused, uncertain, and frequently suffering from an emotional problem.
Doctor Elhs says that we consistently find that the majority of males in our culture have some kind of sexual difficulty at various times during their early adulthood and maturity, especially premature ejaculation and the ability to attain a full erection. In marriage, impotence seems to be quite frequent in some degree or at some time or period.
Shyness is a state of mind. The male who is shy is prone to have a vivid imagination in which he is also prone to exaggerate some type of shortcoming. With this imagination working full time, the sex-shy male is apt to develop an unrealistic view of females, or reverence for them to the point of convincing himself that he is unworthy of them.
There is risk in any undertaking. That includes getting along with members of the opposite sex. No man can go through life without experiencing some type of hurt, or rejection, from a woman. Still, females have no more intrinsic worth than do males. Now and again, both men and women will have cause to feel bruised at the hands of the opposite sex. But a male has worth to a woman, even to the point where she may desire him sexually even more than he values her in that regard.
One practical hint is to be natural at all times, forget the stereotyped versions of masculinity. If a man is out of practice due to long-standing shyness, he should get back into the swing of things. He should date girls who are not too attractive, all kinds of girls. He will learn to be pleasantly surprised at the large number of girls who will say yes when asked for a date. Soon, shyness will fade.
Don't feel put down and give up just because you meet a setback now and then. A girl wants to feel sufficiently at ease with a man before she goes to bed with him. Give her time. Don't rush things.
Remember, there is no sex-shy man who cannot learn to be confident and self-assured.
Bob C. had been sex-shy all through high school. Came time for the Senior Prom, and he had no date. He'd always been too shy to date the high school girls.
Cleora D. was a girl with a reputation, the kind the boys had sex with down at the lakeshore, then made jokes about. She asked
Bob to take her to the Prom, and he said he would.
In those few days before the Prom, Bob had all kinds of fears and doubts. Would the other boys laugh at him for taking Cleora? But he also had other thoughts, sexual thoughts. He knew all about Cleora's escapades with other boys and men, and he hoped she'd put out for him.
He went to get her the night of the Prom in his father's old Dodge. Cleora was pretty good-looking. She had a nice face and dark hair. And she was filled out plenty. He got a look at her ample tits and felt all tense inside.
Things went off pretty well during the banquet part of the evening. After that, some of the other guys got to sort of ribbing Bob about his date. He and Cleora decided not to stay for the Prom
They drove out into the country and Bob pulled up under some trees and parked. When he cut the engine, he looked at Cleora, and she grinned back at him When she slid close to him, he tried not to jump like a kid.
He put his arm around her, and she started kissing him And, man, could she kiss! She snuggled up warm and cozy and offered him her lips.
She took his hand and pressed it on her tits. His cock was getting hard.
"Come on, man, get to me," she laughed. Bob sucked in his breath at the crazy feel of her. He began rolling the tips of her tits around in his hands, and she seemed to like that.
She smiled up at him, and he kissed her, feeling her tongue dart into his throat. He ran his hand down her belly and felt her twitch.
She kissed him harder, as an invitation. Bob moved his hand slowly up her thigh and into her crotch. He worked his fingers slowly, inquisitively.
Cleora let out her breath. "Ohhhhhh-" Her own hand guided his to her mound that felt soft and rounded. She pushed herself closer to him, and he teased her cleft. She parted her thighs.
Bob's heart beat fast as he slipped his finger into her wet slit.
She squirmed, but he continued fingering her.
"God," she whispered, "you're gonna drive me mad!"
"I want to."
"Want to what?"
"Want to fuck you!"
"Yeah?"
He continued finger-fucking her and he could tell she liked it. She was panting a little now, and it made him feel bold. She was hot as a fireman's ass, and so was he. Her cunt was pretty squishy. But, hell, it was big!
She was looking up at him. Her lashes were jet black and gritty with mascara. She began to buck and gasp, and Bob didn't know what was happening, until she cried, "Oh, Bob, I'm coming!" Her eyes glazed, and her whole body jerked crazily. Bob held her tight and masturbated her excitedly.
It was wild, jazzing a dame that way while she heaved and bucked. His cock was rock-hard.
Slowly, she subsided, panting and sighing, and snuggling close to him. She kissed him hotly, and her legs went wide.
"Now, put it to me," she said, grabbing his dick. She closed her hand around it and sucked in her breath. "Jeez, it's nice!"
She masturbated him for a time, kissing and sighing. Then Bob slipped down in front of her. She took his cock and guided it in, and he heard her gasp as he slipped into her pussy.
"No, Bob, I can't," she said, after a moment.
"Why not, for crissake?"
"I don't want to get pregnant."
He growled at her. "For God's sake, don't you know what to do?"
"Bob, don't get sore-"
"Well, stop teasing. What do you do with the other guys?"
"This," she said, burying her head in his hot crotch.
Bob jerked back when her lips encircled his cock and began sucking. But it felt so good! She went for it like it was jam and jelly. He fondled her as she squeezed it with her lips. He was going to come, but he'd better not tell her. She might stop. It welled up in him, and he began to shudder. It spurted into her throat, and he heard her gasp. He'd given her a mouthful! He grabbed her head and held it tight, humping up between her lips. She was making sloppy noises now, and he could smell his own come.
"Get it all, baby," he breathed.
It took her a long time to lick him clean. But the longer, the better. She kept his cock in her mouth until it became soft.
He sat up on the seat after his prick was all wrinkled and soft. He put it inside his pants and started to zip up.
She asked him for a cigarette.
He lit two cigarettes and gave her one. She puffed on it, then asked, "What's the matter, Bob?"
Bob was beginning to feel guilty. "Well, nothing," he said. "I I just never had my cock sucked before."
"No kiddin'? " Cleora was astonished. "Most of the guys like it that way." She smiled then, and glanced up at him from under her long, dusky lashes. "Was I okay?"
"You were great," Bob said.
They stopped at a hamburger stand on the way home and had hamburgers and cokes.
"You can drop me at the comer," she said. "I can walk on home."
Bob was glad enough to do it. He was beginning to want to get away from her. He slowed the old Dodge and came to a stop a block from her house.
Before she got out, she said, "Next time, bring some rubbers. You can fuck me the regular way then." She reached down, grabbed his dong, and squeezed it.
"All right," he said.
"Tomorrow, huh?"
"Yeah, see you, baby." He watched her walk to the corner. She was shapely as all get-out, and hot as an oven. His cock tingled where she'd squeezed it. He'd get some rubbers and get it in her the next time.
Now, his inhibitions and guilt feelings were all gone. He anticipated his next meeting with Cleora.
He slipped down to the bus depot the next afternoon and got a package of rubbers from a machine.
Bob picked Cleora up that evening, already hot in anticipation. The moment she got into the car, he slipped his hand up her thigh under her skirt.
"I got the hots for you, baby," he said.
She giggled and asked if he'd brought any rubbers. He said yes, and touched her on her mound. She crossed her legs when he slid his finger down toward her clit.
She ran her hand over his fly and grinned. She felt his bump, and the bump stirred, a long, sausage-shaped thing. It began sticking up.
He whispered, "Let's get out of here."
She teased, "Why?"
"Because I want to fuck you, that's why!"
She unzipped his pants, took his cock out. She squeezed it hard, making him squirm. His face felt hot, hot as his throbbing cock. He started up the car, and she let go of him.
There was a sliver of a moon, but it cast no light. Bob wanted to kiss Cleora, but he held off until they were out in the country and under the clump of trees again. Then he took her into his arms and kissed until his hard-on poked at her.
Reaching down, she grabbed it and squeezed hard. He kissed her harder. Then he raised his lips a moment and said, "I want to lay you down somewhere."
She giggled. "The ground is too hard. Let's get in the back of the car."
They did, and he pushed himself at her, prodding his cock into' her. Her arms went around his neck, and Bob began dreaming about getting his first real fuck.
She opened her legs when his hand explored her thighs and closed on her pussy. He pushed her panties aside, and his hot finger licked up her slit. She gasped.
"Hey, you're hot, baby!"
"So are you!"
He felt her hand unzipping his pants, and there it was. He squirmed upward and let her pull down his pants and shorts. He touched her with his naked cock, and his fingers guided it to her cunt opening. He hunched down to get then-organs to meet.
He was breathing hard as he eased his cock into her, and she clamped her teeth down on his lip. Bob pushed it easy, hissing his breath, pushing.
When it was all inside her, it felt hot. He very slowly began to move in and out, in and out. She had it all, every fucking inch of it, but she felt loose.
He fucked her steadily, slowly, without feeling much. Hell, this was nothing at all like he'd thought his first piece of ass would be like. Cleora was very disappointing. He'd figured she'd be tight. But this was for the birds. He began to feel his cock wilting inside her.
She was convulsing, grappling frantically, writhing and bucking, and it scared Bob. He was losing rhythm, jabbing her with a weakening cock. She kept writhing over his deflated organ, wanting him to stick it deep. She kissed him sensuously, rolling her loins and trying to squeeze his tool inside her. But it slipped out.
Still, Cleora tried to provoke him with her writhing.
"Cool it," he said. "My motor went dead."
"Oh, shit!" Cleora said, wiping his cock on a handkerchief. She wiped herself and said she was still hot and anxious. She took his cock, felt it, played with it, but it wouldn't get hard again.
"Man, I'm throbbing!" She snuggled close, still working his cock with her fingers. Then she giggled and put her mouth over it. She cupped his balls, and Bob felt them squirm and harden. His cock began to grow in her mouth.
Now, his cock was hard again. Should he put it in her cunt right away? He rubbed her ass, and she seemed to enjoy his hands on her. He took his hard cock in his hand, and it felt hot and dry. He stuck it in her, and immediately it began to wither. Quickly, he pulled it out, and she began to mouth it, moving her head, squeezing with her lips, laving with her tongue.
She looked up at him once with a gleam in her eyes. He ran his fingers through her hair, and she sucked him hard and fast.
His cock seemed to swell inside her throat. And he knew he was starting. She knew it, too, and began to rub his shaft with her fingers, holding her lips at the head.
It spurted.
Bob's hands closed about her head to keep her lips on him. He wanted her to get it all. He was bending over her, trembling and hissing, and his cock throbbed. She sucked it, every bit, gobbling it down and squeezing it with her lips.
Bob groaned, and his body wracked with a spasmodic twitching, but his cock stayed hard, and she kept mauling it with her lips.
"Don't stop don't stop!" he breathed.
She sucked it until it got soft. It took a long time, and he loved every second of it. She wanted him to finger her, and he did.
He worked his finger against her swollen clit and made her come. He held her as she writhed and jerked in the grip of it.
Then he zipped up his pants and examined himself for any telltale signs of come on his pants.
On the way home, Bob was reminded that he still hadn't had a real piece of ass.
However, his fooling with Cleora had given him some confidence, and sometime later, when he was out on the lake, he met up with some of the guys who had brought out a small trailer. They'd called Bob over and offered him a drink.
One of them said, "We've got a girl inside. Wanna stick it to her?"
"Who is she?" Bob asked.
"Some broad Kenny picked up. It'll cost you a buck."
Bob grinned, accepting the drink. They were all leaning against the back of the trailer. The door opened and a blonde girl stuck her head out. Bob saw she was naked, and her tits were big.
"Who's next?" she asked.
"Me!" one of the guys said. He entered the trailer. The door closed, and the trailer began to jibble.
"She ain't bad," Kenny said. "Got a goddamned slippery cunt. An' she'll let you stick it in her ass!"
Bob shrugged. The noises coming from the trailer were heating him up. The gal squealed a little. The guy inside was making her laugh.
"Who's next?" Bob asked.
"You can have her next."
The guy opened the door and stepped out, grinning. "You get your rocks off?" someone asked.
"Yeah, man!"
The boys were pushing Bob up to the door. He went in and the girl looked up at him. She was completely naked, sitting on a cot. Even in the semi-dark, Bob saw that she was at least thirty, and not even pretty. He slammed the door behind him and took out his wallet. He handed her a buck, and she reached for his cock.
Then she spread her legs and leaned back. "Okay, buster, climb on," she invited.
Bob was hard by now, so he got down in front of her and let her guide his prick in. It went in like a spoon into mush, right to her hair at the first push. She wasn't even as tight as Cleora had been. Bob just lay on her, disappointed.
"You like it?" she asked.
"Hell, yes! It's like sticking your prick in a bucket of axle grease!"
She ruffled his hair. "You know, a girl gets her crack stretched when she's fucked by a dozen guys. But you've got a nice rod." She moved her ass a little. "I can take care of you, I think."
Bob felt his pecker wilting. Then something happened, and it got like steel again. The girl was squeezing him with her pussy, making it tight. It felt like it had when Cleora clamped her lips around it. Oh, Jesus, it felt good!
She made him come, and when he got his gun off, it felt like everything was draining from him. He didn't know how long he spurted into her. He finally stopped, and she pulled him from her and wiped his cock on a towel.
Bob zipped up, but he kept smelling the girl's smell, an odor of sex and gardenia perfume, and it clung to his nostrils. He thought his cock would never completely wilt.
The woman giggled and ran her hands over it. She grabbed the curving cock and squeezed. "You want more, huh?" she asked.
"Not right now," he told her. "Some other time."
"Sure," she said, petting his organ and smiling. "You got a damned good rod, man!"
That filled Bob with enormous pride.
After that experience in the trailer, Bob never had any more trouble getting ready for a woman. He liked his sex in a number of ways. He liked to sink his hard cock deep into a juicy pussy, and he liked to be sucked.
On several occasions, he was filled with so much love for his partner, that he felt a compulsion to suck her cunt. It seemed that his passion had gathered in his mouth and throat. In his childhood, he had been told often, "You're so sweet I could eat you up!"
And that's the way he felt about his sex mates.
CHAPTER NINE
The Urge Is Always Present
The force by which the sexual instinct is represented in the mind is called the libido. The libido is the energy of all those instincts which have to do with all that may be comprised under the word 'love'.
Freudian-wise, at least, the word 'sexual' has a wide meaning. It explains not only sexual desires, but much else. It is Eros, self-love, love of parents, friends, sexual love, and love for humanity in general.
Libido, as conceived by Freud, has certain important characteristics. It varies in intensity even in the same individual. There is a certain ebb and flow, corresponding to the different periods of psychological development. The urge is always present, even in early childhood. Libidinal sensations do not belong to the sexual organs alone, but become attached to various body areas, namely the organs of nutrition, excretion and procreation, and are manifested in localized excitation, which is relieved by appropriate stimulation.
The whole localization process has been accomplished by the end of the fifth year, according to Freud. But the distribution of libido, that is, the direction of the libidinal flow, is constantly changing. It may, for example, be directed outward or inward (object-love and narcissism), or it may be arrested in its forward flow (fixation). It may flow to levels representing earlier stages of development (regression). It may become dammed up (repression), or it may be deflected into other more socially accepted channels (sublimation).
The narcissistic type of object love is found in persons whose libidinal development has suffered some disturbance, and they have taken as their model, not an other, but their own selves. They are plainly seeking themselves as love objects.
In normal individuals, the first real love experience takes place in early childhood, and the parent, usually of the opposite sex, becomes the first love-object. Normally, the child libido detaches itself comparatively swiftly from the parent, but sometimes there is a clinging to some phase or aspect of his first love relationship, and all subsequent love objects bear its impress, if ever so faintly. Several types of adult object love can be traced back to this first early love experience.
Sam W., at twenty, had all the material things a young man could need. He'd inherited a thousand acres of good timber land from his parents, and with his own hands, and the advice of the county agent, had turned it into a rich hunting preserve. City men paid good money to spend their holidays there fishing and hunting. For a single fee, Sam gave them a package deal which included bunk beds, three square meals a day, refrigerator privileges, and games such as cards, darts, and pinball machines. There was also a well-stocked bar.
For the novice hunter, Sam also provided a young woods guide. His lodge flourished, for city men wanted to get back to nature and live among themselves. Many of them also used the lodge to escape nagging wives.
Sam was single. He'd never been in love, unless you could count as love his rather unusual attachment to his now dead mother. Often, he found solace even yet in dreaming he was a little child, sucking at her breast. Those were the times when Sam really felt secure, and he often longed to relive his childhood.
His dreams of sucking often turned into sex dreams, but it was quite by accident that he was awakened to oral love one afternoon when he went over to a neighbor's house to hire one of the boys to work for him. He'd gone up to the porch and called, but nobody answered.
He'd slipped down to the barn.
He heard some young calves bleating, but he saw nobody.
He entered the barn and started to call. But the sounds he heard kept him silent. He slipped up quietly across the straw-covered floor, knelt, and peered through a knot hole.
He saw two boys. One was a redhead, tall and lanky. He had his fly unbuttoned, and his erect penis was hanging out. He waved it about, making a big deal of it. The other boy was dark and short. Sam saw him open his fly and pull his cock out. The two boys eyed each other's meat, then began to whip his own with his fist.
Sam was getting hot as hell from the scene he was witnessing. The redhead said something he couldn't make out, but both boys stopped beating. The redhead turned his back to the knothole and disappeared. The other boy waited there, his prick jutting out stiffly from the opening in his jeans.
A moment later, the redhead reappeared, leading a young calf. The other boy helped him slide its head between triangular bolted boards. The redhead grinned and rubbed his hand over his swollen cock. He dropped his jeans and moved a milking stool up before the calf. He knelt upon it and stuck his cock out to the bleating calf.
Both boys laughed as the calf took it, as if it were a milk cow's udder. It bucked its head into the redhead's groin, and the redhead grunted. Sam didn't know if it was from pain or pleasure. The other boy grinned as the calf continued its unrelenting assault upon the redhead's penis. The redhead moaned, then cried out with great enjoyment. The dark boy now was also stripping out of his jeans.
Sam wondered if they often got their nuts off this way, making the scene with a calf. He was unable to see the redhead's big cock, for it was buried deeply in the calf's mouth. He saw the other boy's meat clearly. It was big, too, thick and knobbed-headed. It tilted up throbbingly. It was tantalizing to Sam, and he watched, fascinated, his own hard rod clasped in his fist.
The calf bleated, and the redhead pumped into it. It stopped sucking, and the redhead's cock slipped out. He cursed. He kicked the stool away and humped up to the calf's slobbery mouth. The young calf swallowed his long, glistening penis again.
"Ahhhh," the redhead moaned, and Sam was sure he was shooting his wad. The other boy moved up, and the redhead toyed with his erection.
The redhead cried out, and it was all over.
The dark boy did not immediately offer his penis to the calf. Lowering his head, the redhead took it into his mouth and sucked upon it.
Sam writhed as he watched the two boys pant together. He felt his bulging erection and fingered it hotly, wishing he could join the fun. He'd never seen anything like that before. His passion roused, he continued to stare through the knothole.
Finally, the dark boy gave his cock to the calf, and the calf sucked it frantically. Sam saw by the sweet look on his face that the boy was coming.
"That's too much," Sam told himself, "especially when you're on the outside without an invite."
He started to get up, at the same time adjusting his trousers and pushing his erection down. He'd made an unintended noise, and the boys had heard him!
One of them called out, "Who's there?"
Before Sam could escape, they had found him. They merely grinned and asked if he had seen the show. And when he said yes, they invited him to join them.
Sam found the calf's sucking his cock too intense. But when the redhead went down on him, it felt wonderful. It was Sam's first experience doing it that way. After he'd come, he and the boys talked about it, and they both admitted they'd had sex quite often with a number of his paying guests.
Sam then imagined several of the guests he wouldn't mind doing such things with at all. His throat contracted and his mouth watered, and suddenly, he was wanting a big, hot cock in his mouth. He sucked both boys that afternoon and liked it.
Back at the lodge, two evenings later, one of his guests came to his room. He was a good-looking young fellow named Eric. Sam sat on a sofa with one leg curled under him. Eric sat in an easy chair, his long legs spread before him. They talked about hunting and the weather, and then Eric finally said something about getting lonesome. "I hear you know a cure for the blues," he said meaningfully to Sam.
"Word gets around," Sam said.
"Yeah, those two kids over at the Randall place sometimes tattle-"
Sam grinned. He knew now for sure what Eric wanted. But he didn't know what to do about it. So he got up and went to fetch each of them a beer. As he handed the can of beer to Eric, his eyes ran over the young man's body. And it was the first time he's really noticed Eric's face, lean, tan, and handsome. He found himself studying Eric's eyes that were dark as night. He was perspiring.
"Take off your shirt, if you want to," Sam said.
Immediately, Eric stood up and stripped off his shirt. His chest was hefty and covered with a great patch of dark hair. Out of the hair, his dark nipples protruded firmly. His waist was narrow, his belly trim, his legs long, lean and muscular.
Eric smiled and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Rivulets of sweat poured through the hair on his chest and ran down into his jeans.
"I feel sweaty all over," he said. "A shower would sure feel good right now."
"Help yourself," Sam told him, pointing to the tiled shower.
"Why don't you join me?"
They both stripped. The moment Sam dropped his jeans, he felt Eric's eyes upon him. Eric's gaze upon his nakedness warmed his body, and his cock began to rise. He felt timid and embarrassed for a minute, but Eric's horseplay soon got him over that.
And then their bodies touched as if by accident, and Eric uttered animal noises in his throat and quickly shot his tongue into Sam's mouth. Sam gasped as he felt a mounting excitement. Eric continued to give his tongue to Sam, who mouthed it and sucked it and gave of his own to Eric. Eric began to pinch his nipples, and down below, their hard cocks rubbed together. They continued to kiss so passionately that Sam thought any minute he would shoot.
He tried to free himself from Eric, who had moved down to nibble his nipples. Eric kissed his belly, then bent down and grabbed the base of his cock with one hand. He went to his knees and encircled the inflamed penis-head with his lips. Sam was mesmerized by Eric's rough-tenderness as he sucked.
Then quickly it happened. He moaned and spilled himself deep inside Eric's throat. He cried out as he experienced the last spasms of orgasm.
Sometime afterward, Sam viewed Eric's magnificent, erect cock and compared it to his own. Both were big, long and thick, with large, angry cockheads. Eric said, "I've never seen you suck a cock."
"No, I guess you haven't," Sam laughed. "Suck mine! Let me see you suck it!" Eric panted.
It was an invitation Sam had wanted. He took the helmeted end of the prick into his hand and slid his lips around it teasingly. Then he went down all the way, taking the entire length into his throat. He caressed Eric's balls with his hand. It was the first time he'd ever sucked a grown man's cock, and it was great. He felt secure. He felt like a child again, taking nectar from his mother's breasts. He felt Eric spout sweet honey into his throat.
All that season, Sam made love to Eric from time to time. And Eric taught him a score of different ways. There was much satisfaction in it all for Sam, but finally, there seemed to be something missing. What he and Eric had been doing was known among the other men at the lodge, and when several approached Sam, he tried two of them.
But, still, something seemed to be missing.
He realized finally that while he was being sucked, he'd close his eyes and go off into a sort of dream. And in his dream, he'd lost his fear of women. Gorgeous, naked women would be all about him, and he would be fucking them.
Sam wished desperately to try sex with a woman. Often, he found himself possessed of a growing erection beneath his corduroys when he'd think of some gorgeous female.
He was lying alone on the rug in his room one night, feeling hot all over, though it was winter outside. He unzipped his pants and freed his stiffened organ. He wished Eric were there to drop to his knees and take his stiffened organ in his mouth. He felt his cock rise in his hand until it was swollen stiff and aching. He moved his fist up and down its shaft and pretended now he had it in a woman. He thought of Eric and imagined his lips pressed against his thick rod. He knew Eric made a lot of time with other young hunters in the woods, and he would like to fill his throat with his thick juices tonight.
Soon, he was trembling all over. God, he wanted sex! He lay there writhing before the dying fire. He heard a noise outside.
He got up quickly, put on a robe, and went to the door.
An elderly man and a young girl stood there, shivering in the cold. The man said, "My car broke down up the road. I can't get help till morning, and it's icy outside-"
"Please, come in," Sam said.
The girl was blonde and beautiful. Sam caught her studying him carefully, and when he smiled into her blue eyes, and she grinned back, his heart did flipflops, and his passion began to rise.
He put the girl and her father up for the night.
Along about midnight, Sam felt a hand grope him Or was he dreaming under a pile of covers? No! Somebody was over him, taking the knot of his flesh into a hot mouth.
"Eric?" he asked, feeling lips sucking every inch of his hard flesh.
There was no answer. He eased his cock out of the mouth and felt it dangling between his legs.
"Ann," a voice said, and somebody mouthed the large head again, then went down to his forest of hair. The mouth moved up and down, giving Sam exquisite pleasure.
He caught the head that was on him, and felt thick hair. He looked, and the hair was blonde. The girl took her mouth from his cock long enough to say, "I want it all!" She took the head of his prick into her throat and anchored it there.
She sucked hungrily. Sam began to ram his stiff cock in and out of her lips, as if they were a pussy.
He feared he was approaching a climax. He forced her head away, and quickly slipped his cock from her mouth. He held it tightly to his belly, seeking to stay its eruption. He pushed the girl down on her back.
Then, in one quick stab, he rammed his cock into her pussy and began fucking her with his hard shaft. Crazed, he could hardly wait for his orgasm to flood her with his spurting cream. He filled her completely, and his cock quivered in her. He stabbed her to the hilt, and her legs thrashed wildly. He shot a fountain of nectar deep into her, and she received it eagerly.
It was the most wonderful sexual experience Sam had ever had! He lay exhausted beside the girl, and they both rested complacently.
Later, Sam cleaned them both up with a damp towel, then pulled the blanket up to the girl's chin.
She wanted to suck him again, but he wouldn't let her. He mouthed her nice breasts, and she closed her hand pleasurably around his hardening cock and held it there. Pretty soon, they were both fast asleep.
Sam never lost his desire for oral excitement, which had been his preliminary to man-woman sex. But he liked regular sex, too. Once over his timidity and fright, he'd learned to enjoy sex to its fullest, though he still carried an oral love hang-up, planted in him in inimagine.
The saving thing was that Sam learned to know himself. It is staggering, in this world of enlightenment, how many people still need to know themselves in order to find a satisfactory sex life.
A high school girl recently reported excitedly to her mother that a dog on their front porch was about to have pups. The mother investigated. "I'll admit the dog was fat," said the mother, "but never, under any circumstances, would it have had pups!"
The story may be amusing, but its implications are not. There is a staggering amount of ignorance, not only among teen-agers, but adults as well, even those who claim to be sophisticated. How many boys and young men can explain what a clitoris is?
A group of young men admitted they never bothered to use contraceptives. Asked if they weren't afraid of VD, they all shrugged and said unanimously, "Naw, not much. You hear of a case now and then, but that's all. And you can get penicillin shots."
When asked whether they worried about impregnating a girl, they said, "That's the girl's lookout, not ours."
A young girl in one of our southern states recently sued the city in a paternity case, naming the local swimming pool as the father of her unborn baby! She claimed she had been impregnated from semen in the water!
How many married people have a clear idea of the process of birth? They have only vague ideas of what the womb is, or where it is located. Few have received any sex education from then-parents. Most of them did not understand the occasional fuzzy talk engulfed in Latin phrases which they'd heard from social hygiene lecturers. Why must books use Latin terms to make reading and understanding difficult? Why should the Anglo-Saxon term be more offensive than the Latin one?
Fucking and intercourse are one and the same!
Perhaps, with a change of vocabulary, every reader can gain from his reading the knowledge which he seeks concerning the fundamental and one of the most important aspects of his life.
CHAPTER TEN
Doing What Comes Naturally
Effie J., at eighteen, went to Chicago to work as a desk clerk in one of the large hotels. She was interested in art and wanted to attend the Chicago Art Institute. However, she found the night classes, the only ones she could take because of her job, offered rather poor courses, so she sought to find art instruction elsewhere.
Her landlady told her of a man who lived just down the street, Mr. Meiser, a Russian who was an artist, teacher, and buyer of art objects. Effie went to see him. A pretty, dark girl with much vitality and a great deal of artistic talent, she immediately won him over, and he agreed to take her on as a student, if she would perform certain small duties around the studio.
She agreed and moved in with him, his dowdy wife, and three children. He went all out to instruct her, also teaching her how to clean and restore old paintings. She became so good at this work that she was later assigned to work at a museum for one whole year.
Effie adored Mr. Meiser. Her father had left her mother when she was only six, and her mother had married a succession of men, none of them amounting to much. Effie had been ashamed of all of them. Mr. Meiser became a sort of father image to her.
Some time later, Mr. Meiser coaxed Effie into becoming his mistress. Old in years, he was impotent in the natural way, but he liked to satisfy Effie with his mouth.
Effie learned to like her sex that way. Also, it let her remain a virgin.
Mr. Meiser died suddenly, and a few months later, Effie married a man ten years her senior. For a time, things were ideal between her and Tom.
But Tom, also an art buyer, had tastes that were different from Effie's, and they began to disagree on certain points of art. Also, since Effie liked oral love, she craved it now, but it wasn't Tom's kind of fun.
She and Tom never talked about sexual matters. But, frustrated, Effie took to drink. And drink made her fat and not as attractive as she once had been.
Matters went from bad to worse, and finally, Tom divorced her.
Sexual frustration results in unhappiness. One feels deep inside that one's sex life isn't all it should be. As a result, periods of depression, feelings of isolation, arise.
Effie and her kind have more company than one might think.
like any other bodily function, when the sex urge is frustrated, a great number of other undesirable psychological and anatomical consequences will arise. Sex frustration can make one sick in mind and body. Millions of men and women would be shocked and angry to learn that many of their body and personality handicaps stem from an emotional problem, probably unconscious and mainly in the sexual area. In realizing that there is a very intimate connection between mind and body, that one can affect the other, scientists now give prime emphasis to psychological problems as a cause for physical complaints.
Karl W. was a handsome young bachelor who bitterly despaired about the inability of medical specialists to explain the pain he experienced around his sex organ, until he recently visited a consultant in psychosomatic disorders.
Red-faced, shaking with rage, glaring angrily at the specialist who only a moment before had delivered his diagnosis, Karl could hardly believe his ears.
"So it's all emotional!" he raged. "So that's what you think! Next, you'll tell me I'm some sort of kook who goes around pretending like he's got real pain like I've got because that's how I get my kicks!"
The doctor remained calm. "After taking everything into consideration," he said carefully, "after evaluating your emotional history, I find your symptom typical of so many men who use a body complaint, particularly in the genital area, as a way of expressing resentment against an unsatisfactory sex life."
Touchy and sensitive about his sex frustration, Karl was reluctant to accept the idea that an emotional problem could get the upper hand. Knowing this, the specialist approached him delicately, suggesting he seek psychotherapy.
Karl did, and some months later, when the symptoms disappeared, he was grateful that the specialist had been on the right track.
Competitive by nature, and not unaware of his good looks, Karl knew he was attractive to women. But his good looks did not always assure him that the young lady felt undying love for him, especially when she refused his fumbling, impetuous overtures for sexual intercourse. It all left him feeling empty and morose.
Haunted by the belief that other men breezed through life, making one conquest after another, Karl had developed a feeling of anger and hostility. He was sure that all young women were sadistically withholding from him what they freely gave to other men.
So he had approached females with a "conquer or die" attitude, and, not liking his rapacious manner, they broke off relationships. As time went on, this situation became worse.
And so did his body pains.
Of this type of emotionally troubled patient, the psychoanalyst explains: "Such terms of feeling as heavy, unbearable sensations, constant nagging pains in the genital organs, tearing sensations when voiding are but a few of the expressions used when patients try to describe their plight. Diseases may be brought about by intense emotional upheavals. Envy, jealousy, sorrow, fear, ambition, self-centeredness, frustration, rage are all part of the pattern."
Men seek sexual liaison with a female, not only for release, but also to attain a feeling of worthiness. Though the average man is often able to attain this feeling of worth through position, clubs, hobbies, and other creative activities, he changes most severely if he is frustrated in his sexual gratification. Let a man have all he desires, and usually it will not suffice if he repeatedly finds his body, his masculinity, his essence as a person, unpalatable to members of the opposite sex. The pangs of rejection are more than he can bear, and, in time, they take their toll.
Sexual frustration makes one lash out at whatever it is that prevents him from getting what he wants, or, failing that, the handiest substitute, or at the world in general. It's the same sort of mood we experience when a door strikes us. We're-likely to want to kick the daylights out of it!
The cry has gone up that poor health of our young is endangering national security. Our armed forced are having difficulty in finding young men who are able to pass the physicals. Medical boards are appalled by the alarming number of young men who suffer from backaches.
One rejected young man went back to the factory where he had formerly worked. But from the day of his rejection notice, he was never quite the same. He secretly brooded about his inner sense of humiliation. Though he didn't know it, he was typical of the young men with a psychosomatically caused backache condition. like them, this was the only way he could channel his seething sex frustration.
Still virginal at twenty-six, he was proud of his self-control, took pride in abiding by the moral exhortations of his very strict and upright parents. "My marriage is going to be something pure, not filthy like some of those wild kids have," he would assure his parents.
Finally, he found a girl friend. Helen was plain-looking, but even without make-up, she had that rare, effortless quality of ripe sexiness, as if nature had refused to heed her inner need for modesty. When she got engaged to John, she felt her disguise against life had ended. She would no longer have the tiresome chore of picking clothes that would disguise or conceal her voluptuous shape, her trim waist, and taut, but ample, nipples and breasts. John appreciated her purity, and this made her happy. It no longer mattered if other men appraised her hungrily.
But John saw her so pure that he was unable to come to grips with his sexual desires. One does not have intercourse with The Virgin. As a result, John again developed his psychic backache. He felt that his physical desires for Helen were sinful, evil, corrupting.
A British doctor of psychosomatic problems calls such people obsessive-rheumatics. He claims their personality characteristics are formed as a reaction to a very stern, authoritarian figure in childhood. They develop a very powerful super-ego, or conscience, thereby paving the way for a great deal of repressed hostility, resentment and guilt. All of these together make them unelastic, rigid in their emotional reactions, leading to a similar quality in their physical responses.
All along, Donald D. had hated his parents unknowingly for having reared him so strictly, inhibiting him, making him feel guilty about sex. He felt cheated and deprived, the unwilling victim of their narrow thinking. Loyal and conforming to their every wish, he nonetheless could not release his inner hatred for them. Rather than admit it to himself, he developed a jealousy for the sexually free ways of other young men and women. He adopted a sour attitude, rationalizing that he was pure.
For a time, he adopted masturbation as a means to sexual release.
At seventeen, he found a neighbor girl who was willing to give him sex.
On his first try, he was unsuccessful. They were out in the garage alone, and suddenly, she was grinning at him, inviting him to put his arms around her, kiss her rosebud mouth. She felt soft and firm, and she could kiss! Man, she could kiss!
She sucked his tongue and tickled the roof of his mouth until he could hardly bear the sweet ecstasy of it all. He ran his hand down and played with her tits. She had nice, big tits. His cock was getting as hard as a crowbar.
She laughed, and Donald began to feel a little timid. He felt his cock wilt. She turned and begged him to play with both of her tits. He squeezed them and sucked in his breath at the crazy feel of her. He rolled her nipples around in his hands and pinched them.
She yelled, then looked up at him, smiling, looking at his lips. He kissed her, feeling her tongue again. Then he ran his hand down over her belly and felt her mound. She didn't jump when he worked his finger slowly into her juicy opening.
He touched her clit, and she let out her breath.
Donald's heart was beating fast as he began to finger-fuck her. She clamped her lips to his mouth, and he continued to jazz her with his finger.
She was panting a little now, hot as she could be, with a squishy pussy. Her eyes were begging him to do something. Her body began jerking crazily toward him.
Donald's cock had hardened again and was pushing at the front of his pants. She reached down, unzipped him, and released it. It sprang out, big and stiff, and she spread her legs wide as an invitation for him to fuck her. He looked down at her curly, dark hair that was all wet and shining. He smoothed her thighs, then moved to mount her.
Suddenly, his cock shriveled. "Oh, God, for crissake, take me," she begged. He tried to push his wilted cock in her, but it wouldn't go. She growled at him, and he felt terrible.
"Gee, I'm sorry I'm really sorry," he told her. "I want to fuck you, honest! I really want to fuck it to you."
"With that wilted thing?" she asked disgustedly. She took hold of his cock and manipulated it hotly. Then she ducked her head and licked it. That started him again. She went after him passionately, sucking and licking, pulling at it and bobbing her head up and down. Donald began to smile.
She slipped down between his legs and butted him with her head like a calf sucking its mother. She went for his cock like it had chocolate candy on it. He fondled her as she squeezed it with her lips.
Now, she grasped the thick, hairy base of his prick with one hand and made moaning sounds over its head. She took his cock deep into her throat, withdrew it slowly, then sank it deep again.
Donald's hands came to her head and pushed down until her lips were spread over the base of his rigid dong. She clasped it with both hands and worked her tongue over its head. Donald became mindless over what she was doing to him. He worked his hips to thrust his cock deeper.
"Oh, Christ!" he panted. He was coming! He felt the girl's tongue lash the underside of his glans. An animal sound tore from his throat as his orgasm exploded in him and he shot his thick, sweet sperm into her hot throat.
She kept her mouth on him until his cock got wrinkled and soft. He sat up and put it inside his pants and zipped up.
"Don't you want to fuck me?" she asked.
"You know I do, baby," he told her. "But my cock's limp."
She grabbed his dong through his pants and squeezed it.
"Tomorrow, then, huh?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Again, here in the garage."
He watched her get up, smooth down her dress, and slip out of the garage. She was a dish, all right, shapely as hell, and hot as Mexican chili. His cock tingled with the memory of what she'd done to him. He told himself he'd get it in her the next time.
But he never did, though he let her suck him a couple more times after that. The girl was probably not a virgin, but Donald didn't know. Anyway, sucking didn't deflower her. And it was something his parents had never mentioned to him. It was not in the pattern of things which made him feel guilty about sex. Sucking was a hell of a lot more enjoyable than hand manipulation!
Mr. S, twenty-three years of age, had caught gonorrhea while in high school. He masturbated moderately at the time of puberty. He had always considered himself healthy, but two days after he married, he went to Doctor H. for consultation. On approaching his young bride, he had found that his erection was too weak to pierce the virginal portals. After his first failure, every repeated attempt caused his cock to shrink about half its normal size.
The most frequent cause of psychic impotence is the thought of failure. An accidental single failure, such as Mr. S. had, or one brought on through the temporary abuse of alcohol, tobacco, coffee, tea, or through too intense desire, may occur in a healthy man. And it will pass almost unnoticed.
But the nervous man will begin to brood over his failure, and his brooding will prevent the formation of associative paths in the brain as every subsequent attempt at coition.
In the nervous man, the imagination, having once become impressed with groundless fears, may retain them with extreme tenacity and busy itself with constant brooding in solitude over the fancied ills. Thus, a disorder of adjustment is established, and a psychic trauma is created. This psychic trauma is translated into fear again.
A pathological state is thus induced where the natural course of erection fails to follow the sexual excitement. In this way a veritable disease is produced, where there is strong desire without full power. Every additional failure provokes more intense broodings which are naturally again the cause of failure.
A vicious circle is created which may render an occasional innocent failure into a permanent impotency.
Mr. S. feared that his problem was caused either by early masturbation, or by disease. Neither proved to be the case. He revealed that when he did not try copulation, his erection lasted. Taking this as a clue, his doctor advised a lot of foreplay and experimentation.
Luckily, his young wife was not as hung-up on sex as was her husband. She licked the side of his penis, using at first just the tip of her tongue. Then she went around his testicles and put them in her mouth, sucking them gently. The husband moaned out his pleasure. She came back up his penis, working along the big vein underneath. And then she covered the head with her lips.
He went wild. He'd never done anything queer in his life, but she was giving him oral satisfaction like he'd only dreamed about! He thought he'd die when she put the whole thing in her mouth and took it all the way down.
He didn't want her to stop. But he wanted to give her pleasure, too. So he moved around and began to work the tip of his tongue into her cunt. She went wild, screaming out and lashing him with her fingernails. He made his tongue hard like his cock, and she commenced squealing and thrashing around.
"Suck me!" he ordered. They were in a sixty-nine position, and she had hold of his cock, jerking him off, skinning the flesh back and forth. He pulled away, and she caught him and stuffed his hard rod into her mouth. Suddenly, he felt himself spurting tremendous amounts of come.
Then his cock went limp in her mouth.
Another time, about a week later, she started sucking his prick before he could get his clothes off and get ready for bed. She gave him a first rate blow job! The next night, she blew him by kneeling down in front of him before they got undressed. He held her head in his hands and shot his come into her throat, and she said it was good.
It was so good for him that his knees went weak.
Through oral love, they both developed a healthy interest in the pleasures of the flesh. Through trial and error, they discovered a new sexual world, one where the pinnacle of erotic pleasure is obtainable, not occasionally, but constantly. The learned techniques for obtaining complete sexual fulfillment. And Mr. S. was able to perform as few men are capable.
Among other things, Mr. S. and his wife discovered the best positions to narrow the vaginal opening, thus giving the man more stimulation. They learned positions that automatically forced the woman's thighs to add to penile stimulation, and discovered positions that most directly excited the clitoris.
Mr. S. was delighted that his wife worked out a position which held his organ after climax, preventing its rapid contraction. And she knew a position that held his partial erection most firmly!
No one is ever born with knowledge of how to engage in sexual intercourse. It must be learned.
Schools have ignored such education, leaving it up to the instruction of parents or to chance. So few young couples have much real sexual knowledge.
And our married couples? Many of them are not completely satisfied with their sex lives. Sexual unhappiness disturbs them, and, in many cases, breaks up the marriage. Sexual unhappiness is something private, something personal, something one person does not quickly turn to another and reveal. In far too many cases, a person remains unhappy and silent, when he might, by reading and experiment, find a successful sex life.
One young wife confesses: "The first time, I didn't have any idea what to do or how to do it. If Bob hadn't been so patient and understanding, I don't know what I should have done. First, he had me play with his cock with my hand, and he taught me what excited a man. Bob had me so excited I was half out of my mind. I had his penis in my hand, and it was only an inch or two from my lips. Kissing it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. He kept talking to me, telling me how to rub my lips over it, run my tongue up and down it, then gently suck it. It was just beautiful!"
The husband praised: "She'd place her hands on the bed for support and begin licking my cock from the base up. She wouldn't do this for long, just long enough to tease me. Then she'd usually wrap her hand around its base and hold it while she kissed its head. When she'd take it into her mouth, she'd always be very moist and a little tight, but not too tight. She knew that a penis is sensitive and too much pressure can be uncomfortable for a man. And if a girl's mouth is too loose, a man won't respond. She had a way of making me feel all sides of her mouth, but the pressure was very moderate."
A wife reports: "Lips to lips, we sank down on the bed. I was on my back, and Mel lay on top of me, holding me tightly, possessively, in his great eagerness to weld his body to mine. Then I felt his lips slide down, down-"
" 'Do you still think this is perversion?' " he whispered, his tongue finding my slit. " 'Do you find it repulsive and dirty?' "
" 'Oh, no, no! It's perfect!' I said."
" 'Then don't ever say I didn't tell you so!' "
"His tongue entered my cunt, found my clit, and I writhed. 'Oh, please,' I breathed.
" 'Let's not waste any more time talking.'"
"He covered my cunt with his lips. Free of the inhibitions that had kept us apart until now, our lips and hands eagerly explored each other's bodies, but with tenderness and a sort of awe at the beauty of oral contact.
"Mel's tongue began to move inside me. And I experienced pure ecstasy."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"To Err Is Human But It Feels Divine"
A doctor recently stated that many couples are never able to adjust to the vital, intimate part of marriage, that these couples have hang-ups which are very rarely physical ones.
He broke down their emotional problems into five categories. These were things the sexually compatible couple takes for granted, but to others they are incapacitating obstacles to marital love, at least, until recognized and attacked.
Communication, in its truest sense, is not merely an exchange of words. It is the expression of intangibles, a discussion of hopes and fears and, among other verbal intimacies, the enjoyment, as well as the frustration, that prevails in a marriage relationship.
A young wife came to see the above doctor. She was frightened and unhappy about her marriage, and she said that her husband and she were no longer close.
This couple had never made any effort to confide to each other their innermost thoughts and feelings. During their first year of marriage, it had been enough that they had each other and a new home. Sex was soon taken for granted, and slowly, they settled down to a life of watching TV. They watched it during dinner and throughout the evening. They shut out any opportunity or need to talk to one another.
The doctor suggested that they seek to share their thoughts and feelings and to discuss their marriage relationship. Startled, the wife said, "We just wouldn't know how to start. And we'd both be embarrassed to talk about sex."
"All right," the doctor said, "why don't you start by admitting all this and then try to trace the reasons for it?" He knew that-likely they would find that childhood prejudices or perhaps the shock of some youthful experience was at fault. He assured the young woman that just sharing this knowledge could well prove a giant step toward future communications.
Neither person was particularly articulate, and it took months for them to achieve true communication. But the wife, at least, rates their efforts as infintely worthwhile.
"Jack has taught me how to use my tongue on the underside of his cock," the wife confessed, "to suck him softly, lightly. I like the feel of his prick when it tightens and swells, and our new discoveries have added much to our sex lives."
Said the husband a few days later, "I begin to suck deeply at her clitoris, moving my lips back and forth. She clutches my head and enjoys oral contact. It's like a new life! Sometimes she leans forward and puts my testicles in her mouth, one after the other. She licks over my penis, taking it deep into her throat. Then she goes wild, and we really have a session!"
"We're so relaxed these days," the wife added, "that neither of us hesitates to ask for special favors and caresses."
Resentment and hostility impede the warm drawing together that should be the essence of the marital embrace. A husband may resent a wife who seems more concerned with her own family than with his. A wife may resent her husband's refusal to become indignant any time his mother is critical of her. A husband may be irritated by what he considers his wife's poor housekeeping and extravagance.
Mary D., in her forties, was resentful because her husband had bought a boat and spent his weekends fishing. "He paid so much for that boat," she said bitterly, "that there's no money left for a vacation trip for me."
Ben, her husband, made good money, and they owned a lovely country home and were prosperous.
"Your husband has worked hard," the psychologist told her. "It could be he needs the precious escape from pressure that fishing provides. Men in his position are often subject to heart attacks, and his boat and fishing could add years to his life."
"My husband isn't going to have a heart attack," she said indignantly. "He's a big, healthy guy, and when it comes to making love, he sure saves himself! He gets his bang from reading sexy books!"
The psychologist knew that this wife was punishing her husband by being deliberately unresponsive, indulging in a dangerous form of retaliation. It was important that she correct this at once.
He recommended that she confess to her husband how she felt, assuring him also that, if he had the need for relaxation that fishing provided, she should be grateful for his boat and the hours he spent on it.
Because of her resentment, she did not find this easy to do. But she did it. Later, she was very glad. Her husband admitted he had been reacting badly to work pressures, had several times lost his temper, but that his weekends on the water were making him feel almost human again. Then, taking her into his arms, he said, "So that is what has been bothering you! I knew something was wrong!"
Tensions relieved, they resumed a normal sex life. They even learned new techniques. "I let him go the limit with me now," the wife admitted. "And sometimes I rub his penis between my hands and put it in my mouth. I begin to suck him. Later, I straddle him and almost scream with joy when he enters me to the hilt. I move my hips and cry out as I feel him working inside me. He says I'm getting to be a tongue and finger expert."
A lack of communication had been the root of their trouble. Had this husband confided his problem to his wife, she would not have turned resentful and unresponsive to him.
Preoccupation with the children is probably the most unfortunate problem of marriage. When women transfer their attention from husband to children, they risk estranging their husbands and depriving their children of the most valuable thing in family life, a happy, relaxed home and loving parents.
A successful banker went to a psychiatrist, insisting he no longer loved his wife. He wanted a divorce so he could marry an actress.
"Don't think I'm taken in by her youth ant beauty," he said. "Oh, she's beautiful, all right. But the important thing is the way she makes me feel, like I'm ten feet tall!"
He could not understand why his wife opposed the divorce.
"We never have sex. She shuts me out, and she doesn't give a damn about me! The kids are her life. She's all wrapped up in them and doesn't want to go anywhere or do anything! Of course, I'll fix her up financially."
The psychiatrist first pointed out that the children were his responsibility, too, that it would be bad for them to grow up without a father. "You and your wife surely once had excellent sexual relations," the psychiatrist reminded. "And it's possible, of course, that you could again."
He shook his head. "It won't work any more. Who wants a woman who sloshes around with cold cream all over her face and her hair up in curlers?"
Nevertheless, he agreed to try the psychiatrist's suggested experiment. He was to take his wife on a luxurious holiday, leaving the children at home.
When the wife came to see him, she admitted that she'd been warned by her mother that she was making a mistake in concentrating on the children.
"Should you go on this holiday, I hope you'll be well-groomed," the psychiatrist said. "Remember, men are visually stimulated."
Later, he also reminded the husband that women respond to verbal endearments which make them feel desirable and loved.
This couple vacationed in the Caribbean. "My husband was a real lover," the wife later confessed. "He laid his head on my leg and began to work on me, kissing and sucking until I thought I'd die. I took his big, stiff thing and put it into my mouth and began to suck it like it was a lollipop. Later, he took me orally, and I came. I let him do everything to me, and he did it every night, and I loved it. We'd never done it orally before, but it got so I loved his big penis in my mouth."
Because of their mutual willingness to please, their marriage probably can be saved.
Insecurity takes many forms, all detrimental to marital harmony, with physical insecurities especially so.
Men may worry unnecessarily about their masculinity or advancing age. Those who are sterile may fear impotence, although the two conditions are quite separate. And those who heed the tall tales of their friends may wonder if their lesser need for sex indicates a lack of virility. It is the quality of a couple's love-making, not its frequency, that is important.
Women with small bosoms may think they're undersexed. Following a hysterectomy or the menopause, a woman may worry that she will be an unsatisfactory lover or find sex less enjoyable. Often, with the fear of pregnancy removed, the contrary is-likely to be true.
Women who are frigid may need analysis. Many women, however, are incapable of a completed enjoyment of sex because of upbringing. They believe nice people don't talk about it, and its activities are things nice people don't do. As a result, they are only passive partners and do nothing to add to their husband's pleasure.
Helen B. confesses: "His mouth found mine, this time open. His full lips were warm, wet, searching. It was a new experience to me, and for a time, it was my world. He buried his face in my breasts and kissed my nipples. Gradually, his mouth slid down, his open lips sliding back and forth like a snail. He kissed my navel, and I heard the sound of my own breathing. The lower he went, the louder and harder the sound. His hand went around my legs, along my thighs. His face eased slowly down, down Suddenly, I jerked away. I couldn't let him do that to me! I just couldn't!
"His cock was hot. Reluctantly, I let him work it at me. He was successful at finding my opening. He wiggled it in, then thrust further. He panted heavily as he worked his cock in and out. He moved his hips now, dancing the dance of love as he wiggled in his excitement. I lay there, feeling very little. Finally, when it was over, all I could think of was to take a shower. My body was thoroughly contaminated. I got under the shower and stayed a long time."
Helen confessed that her mother had insisted that sex was dirty. She'd never been able to get over that childhood impression, and so she'd never been a satisfactory sex partner to her husband, Jim.
Only after she'd been seduced by a neighbor did she warm up sexually. It had happened one night at a party. After drinking and dancing, the neighbor had led her to the outside darkness, into the garden. He ran his hands over her thighs, and then over her buttocks. He grabbed her two mounds with steel-like fingers and dug his nails into her soft flesh. Then his hand raced to her face, pulled her mouth down, and began frantic kissing. She tried to stop him, but he pleaded that his thirst was great.
He threw her down on the grass and worked his turgid cock into her. His bulky frame worked lasciviously as he screwed her. She tried to endure the humiliation and hurt, but she felt as if her insides were being torn by his monstrous cock. He struck a steady rhythm, and she lay there, giving him the outlet he craved.
For a long time, she felt nothing but shame and hurt. She couldn't even bite her lips because of his cruel hand over her mouth. He worked his body in crazy animal lust as he moved up and down on top of her, breathing heavily and panting loudly. Then, with a final thrust, he started to come. He kept his cock in her as far as possible.
All at once, for the first time, she began feeling something. "Oh, God! Oh, God!" she cried, and it was like living dangerously. Something was building up in her, and she felt as if she would explode. Her hands began to explore the man's body eagerly. She felt a tenderness now in his caress and was awed by the beauty of their act. Her tensions broke, and she experienced pure ecstasy.
Now, the man did something strange. He gripped her and put his mouth on her cunt, and she yelped at the intimate contact of his hot tongue. He was making her come alive in a way she'd never experienced before. It felt so good.
She was excited beyond words.
Helen didn't dislike the taste of semen and described it to her psychiatrist as thick and warm She'd later let the man force his penis down her throat and she'd taken it with full-length strokes until he'd come. "My clitoris throbbed in response to his tongue again. For a short time, he did nothing more than suck it gently. And then as he sucked, he tickled my anus with his finger, and I was sensitive and went absolutely wild!"
That evening, Helen learned detailed information on the performance of mouth-genital acts, including the steps a woman must take in performing fellatio, and the ways men can satisfy women with cunnilingus.
Of course, when she first tried oral love on her husband, he was surprised. But pleased. Somehow, it gave them both the most possible in sexual pleasure.
Often after that, Helen was the sexual aggressor with her husband.
Another hindrance to sexual compatibility is the unrealistic descriptions of the marital embrace found in magazines and books. The human body is capable of holding considerable pleasure, but it just isn't up to the raptures some writers attribute to it. This fanciful reporting often causes couples to regard each other with dissatisfaction and criticism.
Emotional immaturity doesn't contribute to sexual harmony. The immature are-likely to want what they do not have, and this sense of unrest engentlers disharmony. The resulting quarrels of the immature are apt to be fraught with accusations and sneers, and even degrading insults.
The immature are unable to adjust from courtship and the honeymoon to the practical facts of married life. They may seek escape in the romance and excitement of a clandestine courtship.
Women enjoy flirting, sneak-dates, and the flattery of being wooed again. Men relish the joy of conquest and seek to prove they haven't lost the old magic. And they relish the flattery of such attention that they no longer receive at home.
Kinsey reports that 75 per cent of married men and 25 per cent of married women indulge in extramarital affairs. Probably, since the advent of The Pill, those figures have risen.
Trapped in extramarital affairs, the victims will cry, "It all began so innocently. We just liked to talk to each other. We enjoyed dancing together."
A person whose imagination is drawn toward someone outside his marriage is, understandably enough, less drawn to his marriage partner. He may even resent her. Often he will blame her for what has happened.
Margaret B. liked her sex with young boys. She fed her lusts from the mouths and bodies of young boys and hard, bronzed, athletic adolescents. She found her satisfaction in bizarre acts.
"I enjoy making it with boys," she confessed. "I like to feel a hard, young cock working inside me. And I like tongue and finger experts. I like the ones who kiss and lick and take me into their mouths and tongue my clit ...
"The best fuck I ever had was from a sixteen-year-old service station attendant. He lay down on an old cot in the back of the station and I straddled him, almost screaming in joy as he pushed up and entered me to the hilt. A lot of boys like Bill know more about sex than I do."
Margaret had found no joy in sex with her husband. There was something about a clandestine affair that excited her and gave her greater sensation. With her husband, she always felt she should be getting more. With the virile boys, she felt she was "doing it like an angel."
Of another young bedmate, she says: "His talented hands, fingers and mouth would work on my hot body. He knew what sex was really about! He'd close his hand over my cunt, then massage carefully. One of his fingers would slip slowly down into my slit while his organ stood stiff and straight out. He'd push in, and I'd feel my sex closing around him. He'd suck me, and I'd suck him, and once, we had a three-way session with a friend of his. This boy knew some of the French thrills and skills, and things happened that time that I never before dreamed possible! He sucked softly, lightly, and then he'd go in deep. His swift tongue wouldn't stop. He showed me how to use my tongue on the underside of a man's prick."
When caught in one of these affairs, a wife will insist that she would never have become involved had her husband not been immersed in business or taken her for granted. A husband will blame his wife for lack of interest in his business, or antagonism toward his family, or for interrupting him
All, of course, are justifiable complaints. But not excuses. It is most unlikely these matters would have led to any extramarital embroilments had not the husband or wife, emotionally immature, sought the excitement of a new courtship.
The couple who feel sexually incompatible should seek the reasons and attempt to correct the faults. Cure is quite possible once the psychological fault, which deprives one of the joy of marriage, is known.
One husband flippantly said, "If I came home early, my wife figured I was after something. If I came home late, she figured I'd had it."
Still another, who had had extramarital relations, put it this way: "To err is human, but it feels divine."
CHAPTER TWELVE
A Three-Way Pleasure Machine
Kevin S. recalled having masturbated at the time he was nine years old. At ten, he had confided his discovery to a neighbor boy, and they had masturbated together. Then his mother died, and he went to live with an aunt. He was lonesome in his new environment where he had no friends, and his habits of self-manipulation accelerated.
His aunt enrolled him in a dancing school, and he soon became an expert ballet dancer.
The dancing master had a hang-up for young boys. He took to Kevin, who was a handsome kid. Later, Kevin said: "Every time we were alone, he just couldn't get close enough to me. He'd look at me lovingly, and then he'd say, 'I want to eat you, Kevin!' His hands would go all over me, and his wet mouth would bathe my face and neck."
At first, Kevin was repulsed. He didn't remember exactly when a pleasant physical reaction started. "He'd put his hand on my prick, and I'd groan and feel it getting hard, and I would be terribly embarrassed. He'd lower me slowly onto my back, and then he'd take my cock out of my pants and suck on it. At first, I didn't like it at all. Then it got to feeling good."
Kevin admitted that he kissed the older man, and had let him kiss and suck his nipples. Kevin was old enough to know this kind of play wasn't 'normal', but he liked it.
The first time Kevin tried to take the man's big, throbbing cock into his mouth, he choked and gagged. When it wouldn't go in because of its bigness, Kevin tongued the end of it where it dripped sweet wetness. "Make me come with your hand," the man ordered. He leaned back and spread his legs, and Kevin began to squeeze his dong, then move his hand up and down.
The dancing master also liked young girls. There was Melda who, at fifteen, said she loved the feel of a man deep within her. Several times, Kevin watched the dancing master and her having sex together. The dancing master would press his big, hard column into her, and she'd squeal and writhe. He'd kiss her breasts, and a shudder would go over her.
"I could actually see him entering her pussy," Kevin said. "I'd watch his thick shaft move in and out, while Melda moaned and her body shook. He would pull out and go down on her, the same as he did on me. It was exciting!"
Kevin had watched, but he hadn't entered into the fun. Alone later, he would recall the dancing master's hard cock and relieve himself through masturbation. He'd been going through all kinds of physical exercises in his dancing classes, and his body had become very limber. Finally, he was able to lean forward enough to stimulate himself orally to a climax.
"I would bend slowly forward and downward until I had my head between my legs. I'd whimper as my mouth sought my small cock. I'd get the whole of the thing into my mouth and try to get my balls in, too. I'd lick and suck, and it felt like somebody else's mouth was on me. Then I'd be aware only of my cock in my throat, and I'd tongue the head of it and abandon myself to sheer pleasure."
When Kevin was old enough to cream, he'd shoot his own load deep into his throat. "I liked the taste of my own come," he said.
He practiced tongue strengthening, and he learned how to keep his mouth and tongue wet. He even learned to triple tongue himself.
Kevin became more than ever a 'loner.' Once in a while, the dancing master would suck him, but he had turned more now to the dark-lipped
Melda for sexual pleasure. She loved to handle his genitals, massaging and manipulating them with delicious delight, then pressing them feverishly to her flushed and burning cheeks. She'd suck him ravenously, forcing his entire organ in and out of her mouth, kissing and squeezing, and biting and licking it in a frenzy of lust.
Once, Kevin saw her smear vaseline on her hands before clasping the man's penis firmly and sliding rapidly up and down. She rotated and rubbed his penis with her fist until he ejaculated. She kept on pumping and playing until he lost his erection.
She enticed Kevin to finger her vulva affectionately, to kiss it, then touch his tongue to her clitoris. He licked her smooth, delicate labia until she squirmed and squeezed her legs together in a reaction against the acute titillation. With his tongue, he tickled her clitoris to orgasm, and enjoyed watching her writhe and squirm
The dancing master taught Melda to belly dance. She learned to approach alikely male who was seated, and to straddle herself in his lap, making coital movements back and forth until she felt his erection. Then she'd lead him off to some private place and passionately mouth and handle his cock. Taking her clue from the dancing teacher, she firmly believed that the average male lived only to have his prick sucked. It was the most exquisite voluptuous experience in the world! She need only run her tongue up and down the sensitive underside of some man's penis, and the erection was dynamic and ecstatic.
What she termed "swallowing it" consisted in continuing the operation until all the sperm had been ejaculated into her mouth, then she'd let go of the penis and spit the semen out.
Most men don't like to have a woman withdraw her mouth at the precise moment when the sperm begins to spout out. That's a mere masturbating job, and it makes them angry. Often, they'll seize the woman's head with both hands and force her to swallow every last drop of their thick come.
"Mouth coition gives greater pleasure," the dancing master explained, "but the nervous exhaustion is also greater."
He often cried out as he shot his come, then panted passionately afterward, ordering Melda to release his cock.
Some women will, as their partner approaches his climax, press the penis as far as possible into their mouths, plunging full length up and down. These women invariably swallow the semen. Others, however, merely apply their lips and tongue to the glans, kissing and licking it, tickling the orifice, and sucking the corona. They merely move the head of the swollen cock around in their mouths and squeeze and stroke the shaft with their hands in a sort of combined fellatio and masturbation process. Many men like this method, though they don't want their partner to remove her mouth at the critical moment. They wish her to drink every last drop of their seminal fluid.
The bisexual dancing master wanted anal intercourse. Perhaps it was an answer to his extravagant needs. One time, Melda refused to suck him, having heard that swallowing the semen could result in pregnancy. Many women among the lower economic classes believe this to be true, and physicians are not always able to convince them that this is not possible.
"Let me fuck you in the ass then," he begged Melda.
"With that big thing? You'd tear me to pieces!"
Kevin was present. The dancing teacher looked at him and asked, "How about you, Kevin. Let me fuck you?"
Kevin shuddered.
"Come on," the teacher coaxed. "I'll get you hot and it won't hurt. A good-looking kid like you deserves to get his ass fucked!"
Kevin usually had no objections to trying sexual variations. The teacher had, before this, already licked and sucked his ass-hole, and Kevin had found the sensation most enjoyable. But what about having a nine-inch cock stuck up there? Kevin shook his head. "My hole is too small," he said.
"Then fucking it is the best way to stretch it," the teacher said. He caught hold of Kevin and started to pull his pants down. Kevin freed himself and said, "Okay, I'll try it." He started undressing himself. The teacher was already naked. Kevin looked at the man's big cock, and then started fingering his own ass-hole, as though he were judging whether he could take that huge column of flesh. He looked very doubtful. "Gee," he said, "you'll never get it in me."
"Oh, go on, Kevin," Melda said. "Let him fuck you. I want to watch."
Kevin gave her a dirty look. The teacher stepped quickly over to Kevin and started caressing his bare ass. It felt good to Kevin and he moved his ass sensuously. The teacher told Melda to get the jar of vaseline from a desk drawer. Melda hurried and brought it over.
The teacher told Kevin to get onto the cot on his hands and knees. "Now relax your muscles so that your hole is nice and open," he said, "so that I can get this vaseline all around in it."
Kevin felt the man's fingers probing his ass-hole. The vaseline felt smooth and soothing. "Put plenty on," Kevin said.
"Oh, Christ," the teacher said impatiently, "you'd think you were the first kid in the world ever got fucked in the ass!"
"Well, it's the first time for me, anyway," Kevin said. "Now spread some of that stuff on your cock too."
"It doesn't sound like it's your first time," the teacher said."
"Well, it is," Kevin insisted, truthfully.
"Are you guys going to talk or fuck?" Melda asked petulantly.
"Fuck!" the teacher said. He positioned himself behind Kevin.
When the teacher's stiff cock started to slide into Kevin's ass-hole, he cried out instinctively. The teacher didn't stop. He continued easing his nine inches into the greased ass-hole. Kevin pressed his face into a pillow and raised his ass up a little higher. The man made a sudden, complete plunge into him, and Kevin cried out again, in real pain.
"Relax!" the teacher ordered. He held onto Kevin's hips tightly so that Kevin could not move away from him "Just hold it still for a minute," Kevin pleaded. "Don't fuck it in and out. Let me get used to it."
The older man paid no attention to him. He fucked it in and out of Kevin's hole, knowing that the vaseline would soon ease whatever pain Kevin was feeling, and that the sooner Kevin got used to it, the better it would be for both of them
"Jesus, you're tight!" the teacher breathed.
By now the pain had leveled off, and Kevin was finding that he enjoyed getting fucked.
Melda was dancing around in impatience, watching the scene.
Kevin pressed his ass back, to get as much of the big cock inside him as he could. "Are you all the way in?" he asked.
"All nine inches," the teacher said, fucking away like a stallion. "Like it?"
Kevin only nodded his head, while he moved his ass rhythmically. "Are you near to coming?" he asked the teacher.
For answer, the teacher only increased the speed of his fucking movements. Kevin could now feel the cock swelling larger in his hole, and he knew the answer. Then, in a moment, he felt the hot spurts of come shooting way up into his ass. The teacher breathed heavily, and then pressed Kevin flat onto the cot.
"You okay, Kevin?" he asked.
"If having an ass full of come is okay, then I'm okay" Kevin said.
Melda was laughing and fingering her cunt.
"I'D give you a couple of minutes to catch your breath," the man told Kevin. "Then the three of us are going to have some fun together."
The teacher was soon hard again. He made Melda kneel on the cot on all fours and slipped his cock into her cunt from the back. Soon, their coupled bodies began to move in unison. Melda moaned as he worked away. He reached out and drew Kevin directly in front of him, his mouth searching and hungry. With a heavy jerk, he pulled Kevin flat against his face and took his cock in completely. Kevin moaned as some of his pain went away and was replaced by a hot feeling. He reached up and explored the dancing teacher's body, running his hand over his thick chest and hard, trim belly. Further down, he found the terrific hardness he was pumping into Melda, and his fingers circled its base. He jerked it back and forth in precision movements timed to meet the man's thrusting into Melda. A three-way pleasure machine, he thought wildly, just as the dancing master gasped and was finished. In a matter of moments, Kevin felt himself and Melda explode almost at the same time.
All three of them were spent. After the thrill and excitement of sex was over, Kevin's ass-hole throbbed and burned again.
Fellatio has for centuries been the specialty of a particular breed of men and boys who frequent bathhouses. Bathhouses are the hang-outs for men and boys who are homosexuals. These people are by habit masturbators. In fact, their addiction to solitary and mutual manipulation amounts to a kind of autoerotic frenzy. Often, these men abandon themselves to anal intercourse, and their supreme pleasure lies in being masturbated by their active partner. Their motto is: "Mutual jerking is sweeter than fucking."
In Algiers there are brothels where only oral coitus is practiced, mostly by Arabs. This is also true of other seaport cities from Morocco to Egypt and down the East Coast of Africa. In Morocco, these practitioners called maricones, a Spanish word which means a male prostitute. These maricones, many of whom are transvestites, have their own houses and districts like their sisters. They are passionate mastubators, fellators, and passive analists. Some of them are fastidious in the extreme, refusing to serve any male who is uncircumcised. They have a peculiar fascination for handling and mouthing the circumcised penis.
It is said that the Arabs will take infants not yet weaned and put them to their organs as to the mother's teat, their being indeed both by natural disposition and time of life more apt for this form of indulgence.
Eastern females have always employed mouth coitus for the purpose of arousing or rearousing their bedmates. Hindu and Negro women derive great pleasure out of receiving a man's vital essence in their oral cavity, and continue to suck the glans penis until all the process of orgasm and ejaculation is ended.
Oral rape is not uncommon in Algiers. Some Algerian girls, when orally raped by older boys, told an English doctor: "They plunged it down our throats a thousand times and said we had to drink their sperm until we drowned! We bit their penises, and they slapped our cheeks until they were black and blue."
In Zanzibar, young males will seize little girls in the streets at night, and holding their heads between their legs, thrust their penises furiously into their mouths until ejaculation is produced. The little girls are then made to swallow the semen. Often, these little girls are brutally raped in the anus and vagina, also, for nothing pleases these boys more than to force their large, erect cocks into the smallest receptacle.
To "Lick the lotus blossom," which means to enact cunnilingus, is common and customary throughout India. "Licking a lotus stamen" signifies oral excitation of the clitoris.
Under the pretense of massaging, a girl attendant in an eastern bathhouse, will draw toward her the thighs of the man whom she is handling. After this, she touches his groin and belly, slowly feeling her way around the central portion of the man's body.
If she finds the man's cock erect, she presses it with her hands and teases him for getting into such a state. But, while she scolds him, she continues to play with his organ, being sure to keep it in a condition of erection.
Soon, she begins oral congress and enjoys feeling the man writhe under her mouth.
If the bathhouse is large, the scene is the same all over the room On every table, a girl will be sucking a man. While the man lies at full length on the table, or sits reclined in a chair, the girl, kneeling or stooping, holds and kisses his penis, sucks it, and receives the emission of semen in her mouth, right up to the very last drop. Sucking is a specialty with these women. They will do it for nothing, for the act becomes a pressing need with them.
It is said that a Chinese woman will jerk, suck and futter by either orifice, that she may not leave anything untried and so lived in vain! She loves to eat the erect male organ The men believe that impotence can be cured by applying the lips and tongue to a highly passionate girl's vulva and performing cunnilingus until she experiences an orgasm, then lap up and swallow down her vital secretions. Some women like to be sucked by a male because it elevates them and humbles the male.
Chung Hu was such a woman. Wearing crimson silk trousers that were so transparent that her cool flesh clearly showed beneath them, she approached her lover with the idea of arousing him to sexual passion. They were alone, and she let him carry her to a couch. He pulled aside her robe and his hand went under the crimson trousers. He played with her cunt a long time until she was delighted beyond all measure. He set both hands upon her legs, and she, beneath him, raised herself to welcome his penis.
Later, he pulled it out, and she sat upon some cushions and sucked it for him. Grasping his treasure, she tickled it with her lips and fondled it, ever unsatisfied. She held it in her mouth, drawing in and out. Delighted, the man cried out and shot into her mouth. She drank his semen quickly.
Then she took down her trousers and stretched out on the couch. She told the man to put his mouth over her cunt.
"Sure," he said, "I'll suck and eat it all night long."
His fingers played with her between her legs, and he pressed his cheeks to it. Finally, he put his tongue into it, and she felt his whiskers upon her delicate flesh. "I will suck it for you," he said.
She lay back upon the couch and let him suck and tickle her with his tongue. Finally, the joy was too great, and she said, "You must forgive me, but I can stand it no longer."
"No! No!" he cried. "I want to suck it!"
He sucked, and she writhed in blissful agony. He began pushing his hard tongue in and pulling it out. What he was doing inflated her ego.
Oral intercourse has until lately been rare in American literature. Henry Miller's novels, once banned in the U.S., and Erskine Caldwell's God's Little Acre are the exceptions.
Recently, however, oral intercourse has become commonplace in American fiction. Other previously taboo sexual practices also are being dealt with.
There is no question but that the acceptance of such material reflects changes in the sexual standards and practices of Americans. Heterosexual fellatio and cunnilingus, previously for the most part the property of the better educated, are becoming the rule rather than the exception of most levels of our society.
Moralists lament the trend and complain that we are falling into depravity, but the plain fact is that American people are beginning to behave sexually as most other people have always behaved, and as a good many of the more intelligent members of our society have always behaved.
The pleasure of sucking is perhaps the first and strongest gratification known to male or female. The powerful desire for oral stimulation of the genitals is doubtless at least partially a throwback to the euphoric contentment known at a mother's breast. Moreover, fellatio and cunnilingus are more exciting to many persons than vaginal coitus.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Learn By Doing
Margaret W. had an abnormal hymen. It was so tough that sexual intercourse was impossible, even after three months of marriage. Her husband's attempts to fuck her always gave her great pain.
A girl friend suggested she use a dildo, or something like an artificial penis, and slowly and carefully open herself. The friend claimed that she used an instrument six inches long and fairly thick, and that by forcing it in and out, she could enjoy orgasms until she was thoroughly exhausted and would go to sleep.
Margaret tried, but she was unable to break her hymen.
Her husband, Jim, was patient for a long time. Then, one night, he said, "If you won't fuck, suck me!"
Margaret shook her head.
Jim had been kissing her passionately, and she'd been liking it. He broke the kiss and whispered, "Go down on me!"
Margaret wanted his warmth and closeness, and she wondered if she could give him pleasure with her mouth, relieve the pressure of semen in his testicles.
Maybe she could satisfy herself that way, too. She tugged his pajamas down over his hips, kissed his chest, and tasted sweat. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his healthy young heart. She took his long, white, hard cock in her hand and squeezed. Then she pumped it slowly, and it made her feel more secure, more wanted.
Jim was quiet. She closed her eyes and lowered her head over his cock. She took it into her mouth, and it tasted salty. Then there was no taste, only the bulk of him between her lips, the sliding of him and the feel of his flesh against her moving tongue.
For a moment, she was alone with his cock. And then he groaned and she knew he was receiving pleasure that, until now, she had been unable to give him It thrilled her and made her suck faster.
She became the center of attention, for she knew he needed her! She was his world!
She shifted slightly to allow his fingers to find her breasts, to open her thighs and touch her slippery pussy lips, to probe, to find her hard clitoris.
He didn't press deep or hard, and she sucked enthusiastically on his rigid cock. She began taking more and more of it into her throat as he moaned and gasped. She knew he was getting close to a climax.
His obvious pleasure was her reward.
A tiny sympathetic spasming began in her womb as she felt him reaching the point of no control. She plunged her head faster and took his cock into the soft, constricting top of her throat. She felt his tension and shuddering as he cried out and jetted semen so thick and fast that she almost choked.
She gasped, too, as his fingers probed her pussy gently. She made urgent sounds as she drank his come. Her lips jerked and she finally released his wilting cock.
They both lay panting, gloriously content. She closed her eyes and begged, "Feed me more cock."
He was hard again. He pressed his great, thick prick against her lips. She opened wider and it slipped into her mouth. Her mouth stretched, and she fluttered her eyes open. His cock was huge, hanging from his loins. He was on his knees and elbows above her, his head toward her feet. "Lie still, honey," he said. "I'm going to fuck your mouth."
She gagged as his cock pressed against the back of her throat. The giant cock retreated, surged forward, filling her mouth. Then, unashamedly, his mouth came to her pussy and a tongue started licking her.
She became mindless, a body that gave and took, a mouth that was filled and battered by Jim's massive cock, a clitoris that pulsed with exquisite sensation from a fluttering, knowing tongue.
Then the cock thrusts became brutal, powerful, violent. Jim grunted, "Holy Christ! Shit!"
Thick spurts of semen flooded her mouth, and her throat worked to swallow. The thick cock was swollen, like iron! There was no room at all for the semen he was pumping into her mouth. It overflowed and ran down her lips and chin.
But she kept urging him on with her hands on his buttocks. Eventually, there was no more semen in him. He pulled his softening cock from her mouth.
He worked his lips against her pussy as her hands clawed his head. She whimpered and convulsed.
When it was all over, she lay there like a dead woman.
Jim began washing her face and neck. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. He smiled back.
She was content.
Shortly after that, the removal of Margaret's hymen brought a cure, but Jim and she continued oral love. They both got their greatest thrills from it.
The genital kiss is particularly calculated to overcome frigidity and fear in hitherto inexperienced women who have had no erotic practice. "Fingering" is highly stimulating, although the most dramatic arousal which the man can use is cunnilingus. He places his mouth against the vagina and sucks and kisses the lips and entrance to the vagina until he senses the woman getting 'hot'. Then he will quickly dart his tongue through the curtain of the lips and into the vagina itself, licking and moving the tongue back and forth.
The pressure of this licking and sucking should be varied to create an unexpected potpourri of sensations calculated to drive the unsuspecting woman to the very brink of sexual madness.
Sandy D. was terribly attracted to a boy named Kito. She enticed him to her room one night with a bottle of sherry. After the party was over, Kito seemed to want to pretend that it never happened, though Sandy wouldn't have minded enjoying his goodies all over again.
They remained friends, but Sandy could get hot just looking at him. What she'd done to him on that one occasion had shocked the hell out of him, though she had enjoyed it immensely. She had gone down on him.
She'd never tried it again because she knew he would think that such actions made her some kind of a goddamned pervert.
"People are so silly with their shitty sexual labels!" Sandy said. "A cocksucker! The word has a sinister ring when you say it a certain way, and yet there's nothing goddamned sinister about it. If making love to Kito that way makes me a cocksucker, I can't help it!" Sandy raved. "I can't help it, and the word gives me a pain. I'll tell you what it makes me! It doesn't make me anything but happy!"
Kito would tell her sometimes that he envied her freedom and courage to do as she pleased. She'd want to strip out of her panties and show him exactly what he was missing by being a prude. Oh, she knew that Kito had screwed a lot of girls, but that didn't emancipate him, for he was afraid of certain kinds of thrilling sex.
And he wasn't free because he sneaked around with his sex, and that didn't mean he was free. As long as you hold something back, Sandy knew, you couldn't be free. She didn't tell him that, though she wanted to. She'd just decided that as long as she got her full and complete orgasm, other people could do as they pleased.
Still, she felt it was a pity about Kito and her. Oh, she wasn't in love with him, or anything like that. But she did have a fond feeling for him. He was good-looking and had a big cock, which he knew how to use in the regular way. He also liked to talk about sex and knew all the percentages of men and women who'd had sexual experiences with members of the same sex, members of the opposite sex, dogs and sheep and goats. He'd read the Kinsey Report.
Sometimes, she ached all over to go down on his big, beautiful tool. She'd dream about him, and, damn it, it made her mad when she could only dream! And it made her even madder that Kito wouldn't even discuss that one great, wonderful night with her.
She didn't believe Kito had ever had a suck job before that night. She knew he screwed, of course, and she supposed he masturbated when he couldn't find a girl. Didn't they all? Boys were always having climaxes, it seemed. If you went out with a boy and didn't give in to him, he'd stain his pants in the course of trying a dry hump. She guessed he got his thrills that way, too. Sandy was fascinated about the way boys have their climaxes so easily. One time, a boy even had a climax while dancing too close with her! This seemed a wondrous thing to her. But boys were like that.
The night Sandy had smuggled Kito into her room, they'd discussed the way boys have their climaxes. Kito said his father had once caught him masturbating in the bathroom and had cuffed him good, then had tried to reason with him. Kito wanted to know if she thought her brother did things to himself in the bathroom, and she said she was pretty sure he did, though she didn't really know.
She told him about catching her brother once jerking off another boy. She said she guessed her brother masturbated a lot because he spent so much time in the bathroom.
In a mock-moral voice, Kito said, "And I thought your brother was such a nice boy!" They both laughed.
Then Kito wanted to know if she did things to herself in the bathroom or in bed.
"Of course, I do, silly!" she answered. "What girl doesn't?"
Kito blushed, and she had to shove him playfully and say she preferred to have a boy do it to her. She thought he would never get the idea that she wanted her pink clit tickled.
"Do what?" he wanted to know.
"Oh, different things," she said.
They drank more sherry, and pretty soon, Kito asked, "You sleepy?"
"A little," she answered. "Let's get in bed."
Sandy felt a sort of tension, but it wasn't a tension toward Kito, because they were friends, and there was nothing to be tense about. A feeling of something about to happen was what was making her tense up.
She saw that Kito was now as excited as she was.
They got naked and crawled into bed, and Kito put his hand between her legs and stroked her pussy. Sandy tensed for a moment, but it didn't last. He continued to stroke, saying how nice it was for them to be together. She took his hard cock in her hands and gently played with it.
She let Kito put it in her. It was big, and she felt full. It wasn't any time at all until she was climaxing. Kito had given her a beautiful orgasm, and she wanted to return the favor.
She made him withdraw from her, and put her lips on his muscular thighs, letting her tongue search downward, giving him pleasure there in the darkness.
They both learned by doing, which is how everything must be learned. And, in sex, if you have the right partner, it doesn't matter how awkward you are. The art of sex is like any other art. It has to be learned. And it seems ridiculous that knowledge can be acquired without some effort.
Sandy put effort into her work. She loved Kito, and he loved her at least, for the time being, there on the bed. They tried to express their friendship in the best possible way. At the time, Kito made no objections, and their love-making went on all night, each of them discovering new ways to fuck each other, new thrills. At the height of passion, there was no guilt, no thought that anything they were doing was wrong. Kito let Sandy suck him, and a couple of times he even teased her clit with his tongue.
Kito hung over her, his cock sucked deep into her cunt. He gasped and lunged and slapped tight and hard with each move.
She watched his face and saw the pleasure on it each time he came into her. She began crying and sobbing, "Oh, no, not yet! Don't go off yet!"
His hips moved to work his cock deeper. But she wanted the big, wonderful thing in her mouth. She pushed him off and said, "I want to suck."
Her lips spread over the crown and she pushed down until her mouth filled with his thickness and heat.
She closed her eyes and was content. She loved having a man's hard cock in her mouth. She clasped its base with both hands and worked her tongue. She raised and lowered her head slowly and became mindless, immersed in the act.
Kito moaned, "Oh, Christ, you're great!" His hips worked to thrust his cock deeper into her throat, and she gagged. Then her lips slid down and played with his scrotum, and she sucked on his balls.
"Oh, Christ, I'm coming!" Kito panted. He was excited. Sandy's tongue lashed the underside of his cock.
An animal sound escaped his throat as his orgasm exploded in him. He shot spurts of semen deep into Sandy's mouth, and she accepted them willingly. She tasted him, and he tasted different, somehow, from all the other men and boys she had sucked. She whimpered along with him, but kept her mouth over his cock during his frantic writhing, until she had milked him clean. His cock began to soften, and she let it slip from her mouth.
He looked shocked and sheepish. "Oh, God!" he cried. "I shouldn't have done that! I let you do that to me!"
She tried to tell him that it was all right, that it had been something beautiful, but she knew he was unhappy. She rested her head on his massive shoulder, wanting him to lie down again and let her comfort him.
She'd given him the best blow job of her life. Oh, she knew he would never admit that she could use her mouth better than her cunt, but she hoped he'd admit to himself, at least, that it was the best sex job he'd ever had.
A good mouth job isn't just a matter of taking a cock between your lips and working on it like a kid with a lollipop. Naturally, there is some of that, but it isn't all there is. Cocksucking is an art that takes finesse, a thorough knowledge of male responses, and a good sense of timing. Sandy knew what she was doing and she did it. Kito had squirmed on the bed while she sucked him upwards and onwards. She dragged it out a bit because she wanted to give him time to work up a big charge. "That's what you have to do with a blow job," she told herself. "You have to give a man the kind of come that isn't over in a few seconds."
Kito had tried to come, but couldn't make it. She'd already made him come three times, and he couldn't make it for the fourth. Sandy felt his balls constrict in a heroic effort to shoot his load that wasn't there to shoot. Not just then, anyway.
She worked on him some more, giving him that special tongue action that all the other boys had liked so much. Kito's body responded manfully to the challenge, and she could hear his balls sending out an SOS for more lead for his pencil.
She really wanted to make him have his fourth come, and she wanted it to be the best of them all. The others had been super, judging from his writhing and crying out, but she wanted this last one to be real heaven. Perhaps, she should have let him lie there a while and rest. But she didn't. It was hell for him to come up with that last great orgasm, but she had to make him come just once more.
She lipped him like a trumpet player, and he groaned while she kneaded his balls with urgent fingers. The signs were showing, and Sandy knew the signs didn't lie. She squeezed his balls some more. Then, the first spasm that heralds the start of a come rippled through him. She sucked hard, applying great pressure to his cock.
"Oh, Jesus!" he cried out. He started to come and he kept on coming. Sandy felt content. She knew that Kito would always remember this night. He might not talk about it, but he surely would remember it!
In numerous old colored prints found in sex books of another generation, acts of heterosexual fellatio and cunnilingus are often depicted. In these books or erotic art, the penis is generally shown in enormous proportions. The short prepuce is in all cases fully retracted, and the exposed glans is huge and red. The woman is barely able to clutch the shaft with her hand, but the wrinkles in the skin of the penis reveal that she is flipping it with her small, clamping fingers in order to retain the erection and impart stimulation. Her mouth is unable to receive the gigantic glans all the way, for it is at least as large as her fist. But she strokes it and kisses it while the man fondles her hairy and exceedingly gaping cunt with his hand.
In other scenes, the woman, her legs wrapped about the man's shoulders, is taking an active role by gripping his penis and fellating it while he, lying beneath her, is ardently caressing her cunt with his tongue. They are in the sixty-nine position. This act of simultaneous fellatio and cunnilingus is a mutual love-licking and is very exciting. The woman, teasing the shaft with her hand and kissing the glans with her lips is probably thinking, "While I suck your penis, it swells until I can hardly take it in my mouth." But she does, making repeated sucking sounds with her mouth. The man, his legs tense and his toes flexed, begins to ejaculate. He plays with the inside of her scarlet cunt. After he comes, he begins to lick the place between the woman's legs.
Says Harry B. about a group party he attended: "There we were, naked, me and three chicks. We hit the rug and one of the groovy chicks starts to blow me. Another is playing with my nipples. She pushes the other girl away, and I feel her start to feed my cock inside her. And, Jesus, she has a hot cunt! I'm sucking off the first broad, and the third one's riding me and has her finger up my ass."
In another case of group sex, Melinda M.-likes to be gang-banged while her boy friend watches. "I just keep popping off one time after the next," she says. "The guys showed me how to suck them off hard, and I made a few of them come around three times. I started with one of the boys by blowing him. Then I put his prick between my breasts and ran the head across my nipples. This fellow had a very big cock and little control. He began shooting his come into my face.
"Later, he said, 'I wanna see your pussy.' He parted my legs wide and lowered his mouth to my mound and began to lick it. Then he ran his tongue deep, and it felt like a hard cock," Mary said.
Doctor Van de Velte says that the genital kiss is particularly calculated to overcome frigidity and fear in hitherto inexperienced women who have had no erotic practice. He recommends it as an introduction to sex on the wedding night.
If a man doesn't do a good fuck job on a woman, she usually gets mad. One woman told a man who was wanting to screw her after a finger-fucking session, "You just pulled out a six inch finger, and now you want to put in a two inch tool!"
He pulled her to the floor and decided to mouth her. "You're awfully dry," he said.
"Move up a bit. You've got a mouthful of rug!" she snapped.
Oral love is practiced in many fashions. There are even those devoted to self-fellatio. There are homosexual and lesbian orality, and even oral sex with animals. A man who had performed self-fellatio all his life recently advertised, "In recent years, I have discovered a new position. It is very easy, and for ten dollars, I will describe exactly how it is achieved."
A young nurse recently told of her introduction to sex and loss of her virginity through cunnilingus performed by a doctor. "He began to suck deeply at my clitoris," she says. "He moved his strong lips back and forth, and I clutched his head. Then, suddenly, his strong, hard tongue entered me and-"
Kenny D., a sixteen-year-old junior in high school was taught fellatio by his math teacher. "He showed me how to use my tongue on the underside, to suck him softly, lightly. I could feel his prick tighten and swell as he thrust it into my throat."
A teen-age delinquent girl claims she learned lesbian cunnilingus from a matron in the reformatory. "She parted my legs wide, then lowered her mouth to my cunt and began to suck and lick it."
A suburban delivery man says of a certain housewife, "She starts whimpering the minute I finger her. She has a nice, tight, juicy pussy. She had my whole thing in it and is trying to get my balls in, too. We do that for a while, and then she wants me to suck her. So I lick and suck her moist opening. I asked her what I was going to do with my hard-on. She said pretty soon she'd suck me."
One thirty-two year old man says of his wife, "She doesn't dislike the taste of my semen. She'll take a deep breath and force my penis down her throat. It's pretty big, but she can take full-length strokes for about thirty seconds. And, man, does she make me come! She says my come is thick and warm."
Another man describes his first cunnilingual experience: "Her clitoris throbbed in response and I enclosed it with my lips. For a short time, I did no more than suck it gently. Then I hardened my tongue and shot it deep, and she squirmed and cried out."
Human sexuality is an extended excursion into many realms, and, at its best, it is art. There is a clear difference between pornography and art.
The splendor of the mating urge can be dramatically revealed as art. Even so, more than the portrayal of man's love urge is the love force driving him.
And that goes beyond art.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN "A Girl From A Nice Family"
Most people spend a great deal of time thinking about sex. The marvels of sex provide the most interesting subject in the world to think about. It makes a lot of people pensive.
Dina B. says it makes her dreamy. "I'm inclined to be a dreamer anyway," she offered. "I was sitting there in the park, thinking about sex, and I had my skirt hiked up, but not enough to show my twat. A man walked up and said something to me."
It was getting dark, but she hadn't noticed. "What did you say?" she asked the man.
The man answered, "I said you're looking for trouble, young lady, sitting around in the park, showing your legs! Don't you know what sort of people may come along this time of night? All kinds of perverts and degenerates. You don't know what those people are like!"
"Like what?" she asked innocently.
"Bad people," he said. "Bad isn't the half of it," he added sagely, taking a good look at Dina's pretty legs. "Some of the people who come into this park surprise me, and I don't surprise easy! You look like a nice girl, and I'm telling you for your own good. Why don't you go home before you get into trouble?"
"Trouble?" Dina echoed in a little girl's voice. But she saw immediately that her little girl act wasn't quite good enough. The men looked at her with professional suspicion. He was innately suspicious, she knew, and she figured that suspicious persons knew the ropes.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
She told him, making her voice sound open and frank. And yet, she managed to put a sort of invitation in it, too. He was a middle-aged man, but he was pretty well built and looked as if he weren't entirely innocent of sex. "I live with my daddy," she said. "My daddy's a doctor-"
"I knew you were a nice girl and sort of figured you didn't know this part of town," he hurried to tell her. "It's a rotten district. It's no good. Take it from me! I know!"
"What do you know?" she asked, still giving him that innocent look.
He looked at her intently and stepped closer to her. "Didn't you see that old man in sneakers? He's a dirty rat, a filthy degenerate!"
"I saw him," Dina said. "I saw him scratching himself under his coat. What does he do?"
"Do?" the irate man asked. "Why, it's too filthy for me to tell you! I don't know how a human being could sink so low!" He was talking to the whole wide world now, and the world didn't answer. Nearby, on a patch of darkened grass, two people were carrying on, but the man was so interested in Dina that he didn't notice them
"I guess people are funny," Dina declared.
"I'd say the word's peculiar!" the man said.
"You mean they're sexually abnormal?" Dina asked, batting her eyes. "My daddy says there's an awful lot of that going around these days. He thinks it's the decline of religion, or something."
"You're daddy's right," the middle-aged man said. "But it doesn't seem right for a girl like you to mention sex. I mean, a girl who's educated and has had upbringing."
The man was looking at Dina's legs when he said that. He licked his lips, and Dina wondered if he'd be interested in a little offbeat sex. She didn't know, but she had hopes of finding out.
She wondered what kind of shape the man's cock was in. Was it big? Did he have big balls? She hoped it was big. Other people, she knew, tried to suppress thoughts like that, but she gloried in them.
The man said, "You look like a girl come from a nice family. Don't you think you'd better go home?"
"I come from a family of nice twats," she said, giving him a come-on look.
She saw that the man was heating up a little. His pants were bulging out.
"You're a young lady with some experience? Is that what you mean?"
She gave him an innocent smile and furrowed her pretty brow. "I mean, a man like you should know a lot about sex."
She saw that the man was delighted. He looked proud.
"Tell me this," she said, "do you sometimes get an erection while you're looking at a pair of pretty legs, legs like mine?"
The man blushed, and his face reddened. But he said honestly, "A pretty ass, or a nice pair of legs will make me get a hard-on."
"You hard now?" Dina asked.
"You bet!"
She invited, "Want me to do something about it?"
They sat on a park bench, and Dina herself unzipped the man's pants and pulled his big, hard cock out. Her mouth watered to taste the man's hard prick. Its red head stood up straight in the air.
She soothed it with her hands, then bent down and kissed it tenderly with her lips. The man pushed up and squirmed. He may have been in his forties, but he was young as all get-out in his lower parts. She'd never seen a young buck get that hard that fast.
When she took his cock into her mouth, it felt like a lead pipe, only warm and sort of salty-sweet. It spread her lips until they almost hurt. It was difficult to keep her teeth from contacting it. She lashed her tongue as best she could and began to move her head up and down.
"That's good," he said. "But I like it better if you move the skin up and down with your hand while you suck."
Dina obeyed, loving the feel of the big, bulky thing in her mouth while she sucked. She hoped that he'd shoot a lot of cream into her throat.
She pumped his cock and sucked contentedly on his big glans. It was no time at all until he said shakily, "I'm gonna come!"
She pumped his cock faster and sucked quickly with her mouth and tongue. His cock felt enormous, tension-stiff. Then he groaned loudly, and his semen, thick as syrup, gushed deep into her mouth. She tried to swallow, but the size of his cock prevented it. The thick, white stuff escaped her mouth and ran down onto her pumping hand.
She didn't stop until he commanded her to. He took a handkerchief from his hip pocket and wiped her hands, then gently kissed them.
He didn't put his cock away, but it lost size and drooped upon his pants. He wiped it with the handkerchief and grinned. He said, "You're damned good at that!"
"I'll do it again, if you want," she said.
"I'll take you up on that in a few minutes. I can go as many as three times if I'm primed good."
Dina took his cock into her hand again and pumped it slowly. It became half hard.
She leaned over and kissed its red head, then licked it for a moment. She felt it surge once more with vitality. She made cooing sounds, then opened her mouth to take it again. She continued pumping and sucking.
It was only a minute until the man spurted into her mouth again. There was not as much this time, and not as thick. He grasped the bench arm and gasped, throwing his head from side to side.
Afterward, he put his cock away and zipped up his pants. He glanced at his watch and sighed, "That will have to do for tonight. I've got to get on home."
He looked down at Dina, cuddled against him.
"Let me come with you," she said. "We can do it some more at your place."
"No, that's not a good idea," he said.
"Oh, please let me come with you!" Dina begged.
"I can't, don't you see? I've got a wife and three kids. Three little girls. They're six, eight and ten." He smiled, and his smile asked Dina not to make a fuss, not to be troublesome.
"All right," she said, pouting.
"Look, you're making me feel guilty as hell. Do you need any money anything?"
"Only your nice cock in my mouth," Dina said. She started walking away, toward the street. Suddenly, she stopped and turned back to look at the man. "Tell me one thing," she demanded. "Do you ever let your three little girls suck your cock?"
"What?" the man sputtered, his face turning red. "What did you say? Why, in all my life-"
"I was just asking," Dina said. "Nice fucking around with you."
She got out of the park fast.
Recently, there was a sex trial which was of unusual interest. The case of Henry O. got only a brief mention in the newspapers. Perhaps it was because the whole thing seemed so unbelievable, so fantastic. After all, how many men do you know who have fucked and sucked five hundred women by false pretenses? Henry O. was such a man.
Nancy Z. was a society girl from a good family, who was working as a newspaper reporter. She became interested in Henry O's case. As she told her boss, even if he had managed to screw only 499 women, it still would have been an extraordinary case. According to his few newspaper photos, he was an ugly man. "Yet he must have something the cameras didn't catch," Nancy told her boss.
She intended to find out what it was.
Nancy had read about Casanova in her college days. He had lost count of his conquests somewhere in the six hundreds. He had been the greatest cocksman of his time. It looked now as if Henry O. might have outdone him.
For Nancy, there was magic in this man, Henry O. He was to go on trial on a number of charges, and she was grateful for the opportunity to cover the trial; perhaps see, and even touch, this great man. If he were acquitted, she'd try to be the first in line to congratulate this great cocksman.
She hurried to Kansas City and informally interviewed a number of people. One woman said they ought to put him away for life. "My husband is just as disgusted as I am," she added.
Nancy talked to the husband. She asked, giving the gentleman her best smile, "Now, if you're truly honest, don't you feel just a little bit jealous of this man?"
The man was nervous. He cleared his throat and tried to protest. But it was the wife who was furious. Nancy knew that if she were a man, she'd sure as hell hate to be that woman's husband.
Most men, away from their wives, admitted they were a little envious of Henry O's sexual powers. A few thought that Henry was sort of 'touched in the head'.
But confusion, Nancy had already discovered, was a typical American reaction to any inquiry about sex.
"Why would that man do such a crazy thing?" one man asked. "It doesn't make sense. All those girls, I mean."
"Perhaps he seduced them because he enjoyed it," Nancy suggested. "That could be his reason, couldn't it?"
"Oh, I guess he enjoyed it, all right. But that doesn't prove he isn't crazy! like I said a real nut case."
Nancy wanted desperately to interview at least one of the five hundred girls Henry O. had seduced. She finally was able to approach Olga M., who was pretty and brainless.
"What was your reaction?" Nancy pushed.
"Oh, he was just a little man-"
Nancy giggled in spite of her attempt to appear professional. "He couldn't have been so little, could he, what with all those women?"
"What I mean," Olga M. babbled. "What I mean is that I don't know what I mean. If you know what I mean?"
"I think I do," Nancy said, smiling. "He couldn't have had a little dong, or he wouldn't have had all those sexy women." She paused and giggled. "Tell me," she added, "did you ever think you might get involved in something like this?"
Olga M. was offended, and she pouted. She looked so annoyed that Nancy decided not to question her further. But there was one more question, and she had to ask it.
"How did it feel?" she asked brashly.
Olga M. colored delicately. "How can you ask such a thing?"
Nancy thought the girl's question was stupid. But she knew what the girl meant. And she figured somebody had fooled around with some kinky sex.
Hell, she knew that man had something, else he wouldn't have been such a success. She thought about Henry O. and the emotions he seemed to arouse in so many people. God, she wanted to see him close-up.
She had a very difficult time getting into the jail. Only when she got a bit sexy with one of the jailers was she let in. "Why is this Henry O. so despicable?" she asked the jailer. "What has he done that makes him so terrible?"
"This fellow is a criminal. Yeah, a criminal type, sure!"
"You mean, he stole money from all those women?" she asked innocently, knowing the prisoner hadn't. "It certainly would be criminal if he did that."
"Naw, he never stole nothin'. He seduced them five hundred women!"
"So that makes him a bad man? Didn't these women want to be seduced?"
"I don't know. All I know is this man's crazy!"
"It's crazy to sleep with five hundred girls? Wouldn't you like to sleep with five hundred girls?"
The guard was angry. He didn't say another word.
But he did lead Nancy on to the cell that held Henry O., the prisoner. He wasn't very talkative, but Nancy did decide that he was amazingly well hung.
At the trial, that fact came out when a doctor gave his medical testimony. "No doubt about it," the doctor said, "that fellow is abnormally sexually potent." Nancy enjoyed the doctor's testimony. He used the word penis, then explained to the jury that the penis was the male sex organ. Nancy stifled a laugh.
"The penis is small at birth and grows only slightly until just before puberty," the doctor declared. "After puberty, it increases considerably in size. Without an erection, it is normally between three and four-and-one-half inches in size."
"Let's not bring small cocks into this discussion," Nancy said to herself.
The doctor continued, "In many instances, unusually large penises have been observed in males of small size."
The doctor was interrupted by the prosecutor. "How would you describe the size of the penis of the defendant?" He gave a sickening smile.
Nancy leaned forward. She wondered if the male members of the jury were beginning to stroke their own cocks.
"Doctor-" The foxy prosecutor paused dramatically. "First, give us the approximate size of the normal man's organ then, perhaps, you can compare it with what the defendant-has."
There goes that nasty word normal again, Nancy thought. For Christ's sake, what was normal and what wasn't?
The doctor took his time, dragging things out. At last, he said, "There is no doubt in my mind that this man's male member-his, ahem, penis is of a most unusual size. Not only that, but his capacity for multiple ejaculations is equally unusual."
"How did you arrive at your conclusions?"
"I have observed this man during his stay in prison. I've seen him, in a period of thirty minutes, induce four seminal emissions by means of vigorous masturbation."
"What does that mean in everyday terms?"
Oh, shit, Nancy thought! You dumb bastards! He jacked himself off! And he shot his load four times! That's a sign he's a pretty damned good man. The whole trouble, she decided, was that these lesser-endowed men were jealous. She figured that the poor prisoner would get a heavy prison term.
He got five years. And for what? Nancy wondered. Because he'd liked a piece of ass, liked to blow women. liked to have them blow him. For that, several lawyers had called him insane!
Nancy wished to see him, talk to him again, before they took him off to the state penitentiary. She had even a more difficult time getting in to see the condemned man. But she finally got permission because she said she wanted to write a magazine article about him.
She told the officials, "I don't want to force myself upon the poor man. If he doesn't want to see me-"
"Oh, but he does!" she was told.
She shrugged. "You're sure he wants to see me?"
"Not the slightest doubt. I'll take you now to see the poor fellow."
Poor fellow, indeed! Nancy felt he was pretty lucky to have laid five hundred girls. She'd decided she really would write a magazine article about it. It ought to go over big in one of the popular women's magazines.
"Has anyone come to see the prisoner?" Nancy inquired, as she was led down the long, dreary corridor, to the cells.
"Nobody," the jailer said.
"Not even his family? You mean, none of those five hundred women? Not even one of them?"
"That's right. This way, Miss." Nancy was ushered through an iron door that locked behind them She was in a section now that smelled strongly of disinfectant and lye soap.
She signed her name to some kind of paper, then was led into Henry O's. cell. "You're not afraid?" the jailer asked.
Nancy shrugged.
"Well, the risk is yours. You're on your own."
Henry O. was sitting, bent over a barren table. He didn't look much like a man who had seduced five hundred women, and yet he had, and was being punished for it. He was uglier than his photos, Nancy thought, and yet more handsome, too. He looked like a man who knew all sorts of things. Hell, he did! He'd fucked five hundred women, hadn't he?
Alone with this man, Nancy studied his scared-looking face. He was scared about something.
She spoke to him and told him why she'd come to see him.
He didn't answer, except to ask if she had a cigarette. She gave him her pack, but he took only one and handed the pack back to her. He lit the cigarette, then looked at her. It was a look she couldn't describe, not a cold, hostile look. It was simply a look that didn't ask any questions.
Nancy's first impulse was to tell him to cut the horseshit, that they were kindred souls, sexniks, that she liked her sex as well as he did. "You're cock; I'm cunt," she wanted to tell him.
Henry O. dragged cigarette smoke deep into his lungs. It distressed Nancy. She'd read somewhere that too much smoking was bad for the penis. And she didn't want to see a champion ruining his health.
Henry O. spoke at last. "I don't think it's possible for me to remain alive for five years in prison." He was fast becoming irritable. "They call me a sex maniac. They do not understand sex, my need for it. And they won't believe that not one of those five hundred women ever tried to stop me. They liked it as well as I did! Only when one woman's husband caught us did anybody report me!"
Hurray for Henry! Nancy thought.
Nancy's look much encouraged Henry. The ratty little fellow looked directly at her and began to talk. As he talked, she pictured him as some kind of a sex philosopher.
"Too many people are prigs," he said. "They all like sex, but, at the same time, they're scared of it. They hate me for fucking five hundred women just because it proves I'm a better man than they are!"
Nancy was now sitting opposite him at the bare table. The table was so narrow that their knees touched. Henry O. didn't move his knee out of the way.
"You think you want to write about me?" he asked.
"Yes," Nancy said.
"And will there be any money in it for me? I'm going to need money if I want to get out of this. Without a fuck, I'll die."
"What are your chances?" Nancy asked.
The man gave her a cold look. "Not very good, I suppose. I'm guilty under the law. But the fact is, laws are out-of-date. People know more facts now than they did when the laws were made."
It was Nancy's turn to need a cigarette. She shook one from her pack. Then she gave a little rusty laugh and admitted Henry O. had given her something to think about. He didn't look so ugly now.
"Yes," he went on, "I did all those things they charged me with. I fucked and sucked all of those ladies, and most of them sucked me. And I would do it again if I had the chance. How do you like the word fuck? Do I shock you?"
"Hell, no!" Nancy said. "It's a good old American word! I hate these foreign terms for the same thing. They sound so affected." She stopped for breath, before she asked, "Wasn't it a big job, taking care of all those women, I mean? Didn't you get tired sometimes?"
Henry O. said simply, "I have a great hunger for the female sex organs."
"Since we're on words, why don't you say pussy?" Nancy asked. "It sounds friendlier."
Henry gave a creaking laugh. "I like you, Miss," he said. "I think I would very much like to fuck you."
"Thank you," Nancy said, taking his words as a compliment.
He bowed his head into his lap, and Nancy wouldn't have been surprised if he'd raised her dress and stuck his tongue in her cunt. In a way, she even wished he would. After all, how many girls ever had a chance at a man who had already serviced five hundred women?
She liked his honesty, too. How many men ever came right out and said they'd like to fuck you? Maybe that was his key to sexual success. No flattery. No gallantry. No woman would have reason to tell herself later that she'd been seduced. Lots of women were like that. They had to find an excuse.
Henry O. suddenly became despondent. "I'll never get out of prison. At least, I won't get out until I'm an old man," he wailed.
"You won't be an old man in only five more years."
"Without sex, I will. Sex keeps a man young a woman, too."
He got up and walked around the table. It was then that Nancy saw the wonderful, enormous bulge in his pants. It was so big she gaped at it. He stopped and looked down at her.
"There's one thing I want to do," she said to him as he stood beside her. "I want to touch it."
He nodded, and she touched it. It was wonderful and unlike anything she'd ever before touched. She started taking it out of his pants. She was cramming the huge thing into her mouth just as the jailer opened the door. There she was, sucking that eleven inch cock, while the guard stared at the floor. In a short time, she brought Henry O. to a climax, while the jailer watched, stunned. He was still too stunned to move when Henry O. went down on her. When it was all over, the prisoner buttoned up his pants.
The guard had lost respect for her. "This way," he snapped, pointing to the door.
Nancy turned to tell the prisoner goodbye. It occurred to her then that she was just one more of the girls Henry O. had given his beautiful cock to.
"Goodbye," she said.
Henry said goodbye, but he didn't smile.
As Nancy was being led out by the disgusted guard, she wished Henry O. had been sentenced in some state like Louisiana, at least. In Louisiana and in Mexico, she'd read, prisoners were allowed sexual visits from their women once a week.
She asked the guard, "Will they keep him in prison for the full five years?"
The guard growled, "I hope they make it a hundred! The truth is, a man like him ain't fit to be alive!"
Of course, Nancy disagreed, but she didn't argue with the guard.
That night, she had a dream about Henry O. In the dream, she sucked him, and he came five hundred times. Then he just shriveled up like a balloon when all the air goes out of it.
At last, the wind blew him away.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sex Has Its Own Logic
Some people devote their lives to sex. Others make sex a hobby. However, the majority of the population treat sex like going to the bathroom. There's a sudden need to do it, so they go and do it.
They lay or get laid when they can. When they can't, they jerk off. And they do whatever they do without any real enjoyment. They don't know that sex is like a good whisky, something to be sipped and savored.
To most people, sex is like hamburger, which may be all right, if they haven't tasted filet mignon. They make sex such a dull diet, when it should be sauced and spiced up like a bit of elegant French cooking.
The sex gourmet-likes to try other sex dishes, or else he gets bored. He-likes to change his sex routine.
Charley N. is one man who enjoys his sex. And maybe it's because he has a sense of humor. Charley's a single man who makes it with the girls when he can. But if no girl is available, he'll laugh with that good sense of humor and turn on his TV set. He has the best of fun stroking himself while the music plays for a group of scantily-clad dancers. And he doesn't have dull Saturday afternoons, with nothing to do. He'll pull his chair close to the TV and have a ball, just fooling with himself. He'll ball real chicks when they're around, but if they aren't, he'll go ahead and have his fun with what he's got.
He doesn't think he's weird, and he isn't. He says that when the TVs on, he'll pick out one pretty, sexy chick, and he'll masturbate in her honor. Hell stroke himself like a wild man, his eyes glued to the girl's jiggling ass. And what happens? Pretty soon, he shoots his come all over the place.
Sometimes, he'll stroke easy, holding his cock against his belly when he's about to shoot off and doesn't want to lose it yet. "Look at that little bitch," hell say aloud, to himself. "My, but wouldn't I like to get a piece of that little ass, suck that lovely cunt!"
Well, Charley gets what he wants by going ahead and dreaming about it. He says it's such a nice feeling, sitting in the living room with his pants unzipped and his ample cock hanging out.
He'll try something new in the sex line every time he gets a chance. He has absolutely no sense of embarrassment about sex.
Once, a young lady selling something door-to-door rang his bell during the time he was watching TV and jacking off. He hated to leave the TV set, for he'd been watching a cute little Chinese dancer, and he liked the girl's abilities. He stuffed his hard cock in his pants, but didn't zip up.
He answered the door, but he kept looking back. "It's that TV movie," he told the lady. "I sure got excited about that cute little Chinese chick."
Without invitation, the lady came in and followed him back to the TV set. "Where? Which is the girl?" she cried out, seeming to be getting excited herself. Once more, Charley had taken his tool out. Its sight and size thrilled the lady.
"Want me to help you with that?" she asked Charley, watching him jack himself off.
Charley shook his head. His eyes didn't leave the TV screen as he continued to play with his meat. "I'm doing it with her," he explained. "I mean, I'm pretending. Oh, Christ, what an ass that kid's got!"
Charley was juicy and happy and all tensed up, longing to put it in that little Chinese bopper. The fact that he couldn't, made it seem rather poignant. He sure was feeling a lot for that sexy little chick on the TV screen. She was going through the motions of a hump with a boy dancer, but you could tell they weren't doing anything. She wasn't even turned on by her partner.
When Charley couldn't stand it any longer, he reached out for the lady's cunt. He hiked up her dress and found her hole wet and juicy. His fingers got busy rubbing her clit. His eyes were on the TV screen. "I could die happy between those silken thighs," he sighed, while the Chinese cutie shook her golden ass. Then the picture went off.
At last, Charley could concentrate on the lady. He found her having sex with herself. He wondered what she was thinking about. Maybe she wondered if he really had a big one! Hell, hadn't she seen? He had an eight inch prick and was ready to shove it into her. He'd been about to come when the picture stopped. He'd held it back.
Her hot-box was behaving beautifully. Her clit was on fire with longing, so he ran his rod right into her, up to the roof.
Sweet Jesus! He felt himself starting to come. His muscles jerked, and there he was, shooting quarts of gooey, sweet stuff up the lady's snatch. And that sweet lady was looking as if she couldn't get enough of it.
But he wasn't thinking about her. His thoughts were still on that cute little Chinese thing. He gave a strangled noise that sounded like a choking rooster. "Oh, sweet little Oriental orchid!" he wailed in ecstasy, still shooting hard into the lady. The stuff was running out, moist and sticky around the base of his cock.
He could tell the lady was having an orgasm. She writhed and wiggled beneath him, and he kept coming into her as he looked down to get a view of her legs and crotch.
After it was all over, Charley felt gloomy. His massive ejaculation had left him sexually satisfied but moody. Maybe wistful would be t he better word.
"Rest a while," the lady suggested.
Charley did, and pretty soon, he started playing with his rising cock again. He and the lady got down on the floor.
The lady tried to stuff his cock into her pussy, but it wouldn't go. He came to half mast, then teetered a bit, before he slid downward again. When she jerked him with her hand, his old dong began to rise again. It grew larger and firmer.
He eyed her little furry hole with a hungry gaze. It was a cute little thing, and it was ready for more of the same thing.
Charley's meat, that had been standing up straight for a time, began to wilt again. "Shit!" Charley gasped, not at all satisfied with the way his penis was acting.
He tried to think some more about the Chinese girl on TV. He wondered if her pussy was as sweet as the lady's who was with him, and he concluded that what a man had his cock into was the sweetest, for the time being, at least.
"Oh, Christ!" Charley groaned. "I don't know what's the matter with me!"
"Here, let me help you," the lady offered, dropping to her knees in front of him, between his wide-spread legs. She licked the head of his dick, and it responded. Pretty soon, she had old Charley as hard as a huge, long bologna.
She swallowed it, and it was really a mouthful.
In moments, she had him panting for a come, but she released him
"Come on," she said. "Poke it to me while it's hot!"
Charley was solid now, with no fear of wilt or waver.
They went to the bedroom, and Charley steamed the lady up with his educated tongue. He was an expert in that field and it was no time at all until he had the lady gasping. She opened her legs and Charley pronged her deep and true, burying his spear to the handle.
He pumped away steadily, happily. Charley tried not to come before the woman did. It was a point of honor with him, but a lot of men don't think about it. Always, when he was fucking, he'd asked the lady to squeeze his hand when she was about to come. That way, he could get his own orgasm ready.
Well, the lady was squeezing his hand and sort of weeping and bucking beneath him. She yelled, and he yelled, and then they began mixing their orgasms together. Old Charley creamed real good.
And, man, it was pure sex without any inhibitions! The way sex should be. The way sex is really good!
They rested a while, and then they got in a sixty-nine position. The lady began rolling his prick and sucking it while he ardently caressed her cunt with his tongue. They had a long session of mutual love-licking. The woman excited Charley's shaft with her hand and lips, lavishing kisses upon his glans until his cock swelled up big and tremendously tall. She made repeated sucking sounds, and Charley's legs got tense, and his toes curled up as he approached an ejaculation. "Oh, oh!" he cried.
His tongue kept licking the pink and scarlet inside of her cunt, and he felt that licking it would lengthen his life at least a thousand years.
Charley couldn't understand those people who thought there was too much sex in the world. Saying there was too much sex was like saying there was too much love, or money. And, hell, everybody knew there wasn't enough of either!
Charley didn't think there was too much sex. He felt the trouble was, there wasn't enough sex in the world nowadays. Sex might solve a lot of the world's problems. How in the hell could there be wars if men and women spent their time in bed?
Getting your rocks off-shooting your wad was an important thing to Charley. It was a part of life, the major part. Maybe it was even life itself. Even more than life, perhaps, more than just a bunch of people living on the Earth for a while. People come and go, but man's sperm lasts forever.
Charley thought that people should devote their whole lives to sex, make sex a profession.
Sex was man's major drive. If he made it work, enjoyed it fully, then those other drives took care of themselves. It was as simple as that.
But too many people had to complicate it. Man's natural urge is to want everything at one time, and that's where the problem comes in. People who want everything get all fucked-up because they don't settle for anything. A man's got to have some direction.
Charley asked the lady, "You love fucking, don't you?"
"Yes," she said.
Charley knew you had to love fucking to really make it work. You can't just dive into bed and pump your hips until your sex nerves can't stand it any more, and then shoot your load. That's one way of doing it, the way so many hurry-hurry people do it. But it's a waste.
You have to make sex into something happy, or it won't work. You have to forget your guilt. You have to forget the idea that you have to love everyone you have sex with. That's sentimental and more disturbing than moral guilt. Fucking can be an expression of love, of solidarity.
But fucking is fucking, and it can be anything you want it to be. There are plain and imagine ways of fucking, and you can be concerned with your partner's enjoyment and orgasm. But, deep down, you're always more concerned with yourself. It's selfish, but it's true.
Sex has its own logic and rules. If a person persists in thinking sex is debauchery, it isn't good sex. Thinking of it that way is simply your guilt turned inside out.
There has always been sex; there will always be sex.
The ideal sex scene might go something like this:
The girl kissed him and sent her tongue into his mouth. She lured his tongue into hers, then closed on it and sucked.
His arms tightened around her, and his nostrils flared. He made a sound of passion in his throat, then fondled her breasts through her dress.
"Get this dress off!" he said.
Moments later, they were naked on the bed. She mouthed his scrotum and sucked his testicles, warming them between her lips while her fingers brushed lightly up and down the hard shaft of his cock.
There were no hang-ups, no hold-backs, in their sex. No feelings of guilt. Only the desire to find and give pleasure. He kissed her belly, then put his hands inside her knees and pulled her legs open. He nestled his head on the insides of her thighs and began a slow, long licking of her pussy lips. She felt her secretions flowg from her to his mouth. Her large clitoris swelled and peeped its head out to be promptly attacked by his tongue.
She whimpered at the sudden sensations, then took his whole cock into her mouth and throat. She began sucking his glans with her throat muscles.
In too short a time, her mouth and throat were awash with rapid spurting of his semen and he was grunting with his mouth fastened tightly against her flushed vulva, fluttering his tongue wildly over her hard clitoris.
It was unbelievably good. They were fine together, so well suited.
They didn't think sex was weird. They'd try for new thrills, and without any sense of embarrassment. Their sex was without inhibitions, just sex that was really good.
Some authorities would say that, in sucking each other, they were seeking to recreate the golden years of their early childhood.
A child finds love and security at its mother's breast. One's earliest memories are of being held, smiled at, played with, given a breast on which one fed. until there was no milk left. Even then, the child was given a big nipple or a sugar-tit, if it wanted it. If a child cries, it is taken to the mother's breast, cuddled, soothed, and given the breast. The baby sucks contentedly, filling its little mouth with the nipple.
To so many girls, a nipple is so much like a man's cock. To suck it greedily warms them, makes them safe. In this period of bottle-fed babies, too many people have missed the warmth and security of a mother's breast.
Perhaps that accounts for, in part, at least, the popularity of penis sucking.
It has become a special way to say, "I love you very much."
To be conscious is to be able to touch with reality. To be more alive is to have more feeling. And feeling is of the body. Therefore, to overcome the prohibition regarding bodily self-exploration is to overcome the unconscious inhibitions of our bodies. We must lay aside our revulsions about the human body and learn to experiment with it if we are to learn what we really are. One may need privacy to start with, and then the courage to share with others what he has discovered.
When we learn there are no dark, shameful secrets about our bodies, we can then walk proudly in the light.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Ultimate Orgasm
The sexual position known as "sixty-nine" is the most sacred expression of mutual love and devotion known to the traditional Japanese. Ovid's dulce opus was fellatio and cunnilingus, which he described as a masculine-feminine secret of winning mutual affection. For a wife orally to absorb her husband's semen is deemed, among the Orientals, a most blessed and beneficial deed. And a husband's absorption of his wife's secretions is thought to have a rejuvenating effect upon his whole system.
The ways of the world are a wonder to behold and to contemplate.
The dramatic loosening in the United States of what are termed 'our sexual morals' is a part and product of an over-all trend for-likeness of all peoples of the world. Soldiers, returning from Viet Nam, have brought home with them unusual methods of sexual pleasure, thus giving us a greater sophistication, draining off traditional rigidities and erasing our puritanical trends.
The sophisticates have pretty well convinced us that much of what we thought to be vice is not vicious, in the area of sex. There will be some, of course, who will claim the new freedom is immoral, that many of the modern sexual practices can only give further encouragement to the drift to demoralization already so apparent in the United States and throughout the world.
But the careful thinker will know better.
Sexual freedom alone is not a good remedy for the psycho-sexual problems of the West. It has become the custom to regard the West as materialistic, the East as idealistic. Both are generalizations. But in sexual matters, the exact reverse is often the case. What is most commendable in the Oriental approach to sexual relationships is the clear, realistic understanding that the needs of the flesh should be met. However, it must be recognized that sexual intercourse need not be just a physical experience. It may also involve mind and emotions, blending selfless benevolence with self-interest, to the enrichment of both participants.
The materialistic-egotistic approach often found in the East sometimes leads to coarseness and brutality, and so fails to realize the potential value of the sexual experience. There is a widespread, though less than fully understood, recognition in the United States today that we have ideologically fouled up our sex. Even while paying lip service to the old doctrines, most people are in full-fledged rebellion against them. By trying to deny the physical joy of sexual contact, we have become loveless in our untempered sensuality. This leads to brutality.
Lacking insight into the nature of their difficulties, conscious only of their misery, many tend to abandon all sexual values. They disapprove of their elders. They become "free souls", hippies, and what have you. They lose all discrimination in their revolt against society. They are the leaders of gangs, mobs, people possessed with the idea of utter destruction.
They protest, but they do not have the power to offer constructive remedies for the ills of society.
As a great many Western scientists now understand, the attempt to defer sexual intercourse beyond the time when it is desired and the individual is competent to engage in it, is fraught with grave risks. Contrary to old beliefs, the longer normal sexual fulfillment is denied, the greater are the chances that a satisfactory sexual life will be impossible later on. Sexual and mental disorders are much more-likely to beset those who live in sex starvation over a long period of time than those who experience sexual gratification at sufficient intervals.
However, a system of morals which condemns much of our sexual behavior may largely negate he benefits of regular gratification, and even make full gratification impossible. The individual who abides by the prohibitions suffers frustrations. His brother, who ignores the prohibitions, may avoid frustration. But will he also be able to avoid guilt?
Teen-agers today tend to have less sense of guilt about sexual matters than ever before.
One high school girl described an experience in the following words:
"He seized me in the dark hallway and pressed me against the wall. Without pulling up my dress and jerking down my panties, he pressed his cock between my legs and rubbed back and forth. The rubbing excited me, and I stopped my struggling. I wanted his hard cock in me so bad, I myself pulled up my dress.
"He ripped down my panties and shoved it into me deep, breaking my cherry until I began to bleed all over the place. He worked it fiercely in and out, then suddenly withdrew and just put it between my legs again.
" 'That's good,' I said. 'It hurt inside me, and, besides, I don't want to get pregnant.'
"He held me tight and rammed it into me again. I screamed, but he kept on fucking me forcefully. When he finally pulled his cock out again, it was bloody. He wiped it on his handkerchief and ordered me to take it in my mouth, which I did.
"I liked the taste of his cock. All the time I sucked him, I was rising to a most intense orgiastic satisfaction. It was a thrill to feel him pounding his cock into my throat. He was virile, and when he came, he spurted his semen deep into my throat. I'd given him satisfaction, and, at the same time, I'd avoided getting a baby.
"It's a good way to have sex with a boy," the girl concluded. "All the other girls do it."
Another girl said, "These cats around here take their sex where, when and how they find it, and in any way, shape, or form. There are absolutely no holds barred, and some of the things they do would blow your mind!"
These are common confessions all over our country. A virgin is a rare thing today, and the few girls who have preserved their virginity claim they have done so through oral intercourse. "Most boys like it better," one girl said.
Sexual free-thinkers are creating new sexual scenes everywhere. They have their organizations. They have their rules. One group goes in for sexual practices that include every exciting nuance of sexuality, up to and including mutual orgasm, but forbids actual penetration or coitus. Their desires are satisfied only with the lips and mouth.
One of the newer dimensions on America's torrid sex scene include gangs of girls who perpetrate mass rape on boys. They are hard, leather-jacketed kids who can straddle a motorcycle as well as a man can straddle them! Their sexual desires are insatiable. Their appetites are constantly craving more and bigger thrills, more freaky ways to have sex, more bizarre kicks. They like kinky sex.
"The only way to make it," one girl said, "is with cunt, mouth and tongue!"
Boys and girls are searching for the "ultimate orgasm" Pretty soon, there will be no such thing as deviation. Some of the things these kids do are shocking, almost incredible. They'll do anything to satiate their desires for sexual activity.
On her very first date with her boyfriend, Wayne, Nancy N. had sex in several ways. She'd snuggled up warm and cozy to him and had given her lips. He ran his hand down her thigh, and she felt his hard cock.
"Come on, baby," he said, "Let's fuck!"
She laughed and let him squeeze her tits. He sucked in his breath and pinched her nipples until she squealed. He kissed her and stuck his tongue into her mouth. At the same time, he could feel her body twitching.
She didn't jump, just twisted a bit and kissed him harder. Wayne moved his hand slowly up her thigh and into her crotch. His fingers worked there, slowly, inquisitively.
He felt her mound, all soft and warm and rounded. She pushed herself deeper into his embrace, and his fingers ducked under her panties and began tracing her cleft. She parted her thighs.
When Wayne slipped a finger into her wet slit, she squirmed.
She stopped kissing and looked at him, their lips only inches apart. He continued jazzing her with his finger there in the car. He was getting to her, making her pant. Her cunt was plenty squishy.
Her cunt, under his hand, was coming, erupting. Her whole body jerked as Wayne held her tightly and masturbated her.
It was exciting, and she heaved and bucked. He'd humped her off, and she kissed him again hotly. Her legs went wide when he took a good look at her.
He let her cool a bit, then took her hand and guided it to his cock. She closed her hand around it and sucked in her breath.
"Jesus, it's big!" she said.
"Put it into your mouth!"
She did, and it stretched her lips. She could get only a little more than the head in. But she sucked it and licked it, and bobbed her head over it. He fondled her as she squeezed it with her lips. Yeah, he was going to come! It welled up, and he began to shudder. It spurted, and she gasped. She suddenly had a mouthful, but he'd grabbed her head and held it to him tightly. She could only make sloppy noises, and now she could smell his come.
She sucked him and licked him clean.
When Wayne sat up, his cock was wrinkled and soft. He put it inside his pants without zipping up. Then he took out two cigarettes and gave her one.
They smoked there in each other's arms, contented.
There are those who would call what she'd done to Wayne a 'deviation'.
After Wayne had twisted around and sucked her, Nancy said, "That's the greatest pleasure a woman can receive!"
CONCLUSION
Most of us have progressed beyond the notion that sex is only permissible for procreation. We accept it as being pleasurable in its own right. Books inform us on how to obtain more pleasure from our sexual activities, yet most people are beset with taboos, laws, and restrictions which have their roots in what Freud called 'the tyranny of the genital organization'.
The transition from infantile sexuality, to genital arousal as a focus, is in part biologically determined as the bodies of both male and female become ready to participate in the process of procreation. This is the phallic stage in which man's main sexual interest is in coitus. But when genital organization supplants infantile sexuality through repression and sublimation, becoming the exclusive focal point for all sexual release, it becomes a tyranny which keeps us from realizing the full potential of our sexuality. This is the bind in which modern Western man is caught, the results of which are far-reaching and devastating.
The tyranny of genital organization accounts for the taboo against physical touching of any kind, for touch implies intent to gratify genital desires. Therefore, most people don't touch each other unless there is sexual intent, either overt or covert. When there is a desire to touch just for the sake of touch, we suppress it for fear that it will be interpreted as sexual.
When we do touch for the purpose of sexual arousal, our touching is directed toward genital fulfillment. The marriage manuals call this foreplay.
Even people who do not fear the naked body, such as nudists, are also genitally oriented. Nudists who prohibit any bodily contact do so on the assumption that tactile stimulation leads automatically to genital arousal and intercourse. Nudists do, however, delight in the pleasurable sensations of water, wind and sun on their bodies. Swingers, whose nakedness invites sexual touching for the purpose of genital arousal and release, obviously are attempting to release themselves from the repression of sexual desires.
This tyranny of genital organization has caused us to lose our capacity for total bodily pleasure of infantile sexuality. We are split between our urges and the restraints of our culture. The genital function has been placed in opposition to the more generalized sexual function, and we have become somewhat de-sexualized and de-humanized. We are alienated from our bodies, which leads to alienation from nature and from other members of the human race.
For most people, their love life is separate from their sex life.
They have been taught to feel guilty about things which pleasure them most. They are to exalt their minds and debase their bodies, deny themselves the expression of their feelings. A child knows no distinction between his higher and lower functions. The life of the mind and spirit and the life of the body are one.
We need to re-unite our bodies with our minds and to live in erotic exuberance if we are to overcome our self-alienation. We can't return to childhood, but the development of our sexuality from inimagine through puberty need not become a tyranny of genital organization.
There is a way out.
If we can but act on our instincts, we may come to realize that the very essence of our being is erotic, and that, in the broadest sense, ALL activities of our body are sexual.
The life instinct, which is the sexual instinct, demands activity of a kind that, in contrast to our current mode of activity, can only be called play. Play is not only a realistic necessity, but also an economic possibility. We must escape the repression of pleasure and create a new reality, an erotic reality based on the abolition of repression and the resurrection of the body.
This may not be easy. We will begin by consciously disciplining and separating each of our five senses from automatic genital arousal, then learn to recognize our body signals and urges for what they really are, learn to act on them.
The fun will begin when we discover a whole new world of sensations. Breathing each other's breath, titillating explorations of tongues and lips, long caresses, all will produce a knowing intimacy far richer than many have before achieved.
Finally, we must rid ourselves of the guilt of sexual pleasure. Let there be no shame, no sense of guilt in the sex act, whatever you choose to make it.
