Pedophilia, or the desire to have sexual contact with young children, is a phenomenon of sexual perversion that has received wide-spread notoriety in these days of the "battered child." Often, sexual abuse goes hand in hand with physical abuse, but in many cases the adult who suffers from a neurotic compulsion to seek sexual gratification and fulfillment from a young child is more than-likely a deeply disturbed individual.
As a psychiatrist in a large metropolitan city, I have observed growing numbers of women who have come to me seeking help from their psychosexual problems. Many of these troubled patients have involved themselves in sexual situations with young boys, youths whose ages vary from about twelve or thirteen to sixteen or seventeen.
Many of them have unhappy married lives and have sought physical fulfillment elsewhere. But the lack of marital conviviality is no easy excuse for seeking a sexual partner in a minor, a child many years their junior.
I have discovered that most of my female patients with pedophilic urges suffer from a neurotic fear of growing old. They seek a young partner as a means of halting the flow of time, convincing themselves with the strange rationalizations of the truly neurotic and fixated, that if they make love to a child, they will stop aging, finding youth a means of psychic rejuvenation.
This, of course, is foolishness. But it has been my career to help my patients understand the things they do, and especially to help them come to grips with their own inner conflicts, fears and resultant psychosexual disorders.
As a result, I have prepared this volume of case histories in the hope that it will prove to be a highly educational tool for the average reader, for the layman who seeks answers to some of his questions concerning sexual disorders and perversions.
CASE NUMBER ONE
Patient: Mary Rose G. Age: 30
Marital Status: Single Occupation: High School Teacher.
Miss G. came to me originally by way of a mutual friend who knew that Miss G. had some kind of problem but was unaware of the details which Miss G. did not feel free to discuss with her. They were both teachers in the same school and Miss G. did not think it wise to let her friend in on her secret. She felt that since her problem was her uncontrollable attraction to young boys, it was too much of a responsibility to place on her friend. It would be much easier for all concerned if she would maintain silence.
Miss G. was a very attractive young lady. Her breasts were large and well rounded. She wore a low-cut blouse with a scooped neck-line which allowed the full, soft flesh of her white bosom to be seen. The blouse fit snugly thus forcing her sharply pointed nipples forward. As she spoke, there were times when she became extremely emotional. When she did so, she began to breathe quite heavily and her breasts rose and fell upon the crest of each breath. I could almost see the tender skin of each breast rub gently against each other and quite readily imagined what this young lady must have felt. She seemed quite sensitive with an acute sense of awareness which would make her especially alive in the vicinity of her large, protruding nipples.
This was only my first impression. And it was merely conjecture, but I was to find out that I was not far from right. I have seen many patients during the course of my professional career and I found that first impressions are extremely important, not only in getting to know my patient, but also in the treatment and diagnosis of their problems. Often, my immediate impression bore out to truth even above the sometimes loud objections of my patient.
If I would have mentioned this on her first visit, I'm quite sure she would not have returned. I did not believe that she could accept the fact of her full physical awareness nor the subconscious attempt to attract me sexually. It was obvious to me that she was attempting to obscure the real issue.
She was nervous. She fidgeted. She ground her well rounded hips into the chair as she spoke and there, again, I became aware of her feelings. She emanated an almost aromatic physical sense as the tender skin of her thighs gently rubbed together beneath the skin thin fabric of her skirt. Her abdomen rolled with the emotional stresses arising within her and I could almost hear the walls of her vagina touching each other.
I maintained my professional cool air and it seemed to be disconcerting to her. She was not able to crack my exterior and her failure conquered her. It was not until this point that we could begin constructive treatment.
It was during the third visit when this point occurred. I will not become involved in the first two visits since they are not directly relative to the case. I shall begin at this point:
"Don't you see, doctor? I can't go on like this much longer." Her voice developed a tone of pleading and her eyes began to moisten.
"How do you mean," I asked.
"I headed for trouble," her voice became plaintive and uncertain.
"You mean that you're pregnant?"
"No, doctor ... it's all going to blow up. I. . " at this point she leaned forward and broke into tears. Her body shook with heavy sobs and her large breasts hung down away from her body. It was then I became fully aware that she was not wearing a bra.
"Just let it out," I said. "Don't hold back."
I tried to be reassuring as possible. I didn't want to subdue her tears. I wanted her to cry. This was a long, awaited for moment. She had managed to break an emotional dam which was held back by too many guilt complexes.
I reached forward handing her a tissue and she began to mumble through her tears. Her head shook from side to side and her loose hair style hung forward in disarray, her soft shoulders quivered as she tried to gain control.
"Just take your time," I said, "that's what we're here for. You finally managed to look at a portion of yourself honestly which is evidently what you have not been doing. As a result, you are reacting with shame and guilt. That is not necessary."
"But you don't understand," she mumbled.
"But I do. You don't understand that there is no need for guilt here. This is the one place on the face of the earth where you can freely and openly look at yourself and not be ashamed at what you see."
My words seemed to soothe her and she gradually gained control. Before long, her tears lessened and were reduced to gentle sobs. I handed her another tissue, the first was wet beyond recognition, and she dabbed at her eyes. It was at this point that she realized her tears had trickled down her face and splashed upon her breasts. Quickly, lightly, and with great facility, she passed the new tissue across her white bosom and as the soft tissue touched her skin, she reacted with little goose bumps which ran playfully across the expanse of skin.
"Now," I said, "about this problem that is going to blow up."
"It is," she said not lifting her eyes. She was toying with the tissue. "I'm going to lose my job and I'm going to be arrested."
"Now, it really couldn't be that bad. Let's not be dramatic. Let's just get down to the basics."
"But ... " she began to stammer.
"The basics," I insisted. "Let's discuss the problem not your self-inflicted punishment. You are acting like a judge and jury. It's about time you acted like a patient."
"All right," she said finally. "What do you want to know."
"What ever you have to tell me. Let's start with this problem that is going to blow up."
"It's one of my students," she said. "He's getting out of hand."
"In what way? Is he becoming familiar with you?"
"Oh no, doctor. It's not his familiarity which bothers me. He's threatened me."
"How?"
"With exposure!"
"Exposure? Of what and to whom?"
"Of our affair ... to the authorities."
"Affair? Have you been intimate with him?"
"Yes, doctor. I'm sorry to say."
"I was under the impression that we got that straightened out. We are not concerned with guilt. We are concerned only with truth.
Please don't cloud the issue. Just tell me the facts as they occurred."
"Well, where should I begin I don't know where to start."
"Why don't you iry the beginning. For instance, when you met Che boy."
"All right, but I don't think he's the problem." At this point she began to display extreme nervousness. "I don't think he's the problem at all."
"You just stated that he is becoming a problem. Are you changing your mind or are you being honest?"
"I think I'm being honest."
"That what is the problem?"
"I think it's me. I don't think solving him would end it. It would only be repeated. I know."
"I take it then that this is not the first time. This is a link in what we call a pattern. Am I correct?"
"Yes, doctor, you're correct. There were quite a few before him and there will probably be quite a few after him."
"You mean intimate relations with young boys."
"Yes, doctor, the most intimate! When I sit back and think over what I've done and quite often immediately after I've done it, it seems like somebody else. It doesn't seem like me at all and I am so ashamed and disgusted. Disgusted with myself. I really don't see how I could do those things."
She looked at me pleadingly. Her eyes, once again, welled with tears. Her breasts began to heave with sobs. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a thin voice came forth.
"But it's the only satisfaction I can find." She began to weep. "I tried several times with men my own age or older, but I am so repulsed and unsatisfied that I hate myself even more than when I pursue my other side the side that seeks younger boys."
"How young? In their late teens or younger?"
She hesitated. She tried to speak, but he words would not break loose. Her mouth moved futilely and finally, the word escaped. "Younger. The older I get, the younger they get."
"Why do you suppose they get younger."
"I don't know. It seems that every time I try someone older, I get into trouble."
"How trouble?"
"Well, like this boy I was telling you about ... he's older than usual. It was an attempt on my part to try to work up to someone my own age."
"Joey, that's the boy's name, is seventeen," she continued.
"How old was he when you first became attracted to him?"
"He was sixteen. He was a junior in my school and we have been seeing each other and sleeping with each other for two school terms.
That's the problem right now-how to deal with Joey and his demands.
You see, doctor, when I first met Joey, he was a very sweet and unassuming boy and somehow our relationship has made him somewhat arrogant. In the beginning, he was happy to just be with me and accept what I had to offer. But, then, he gradually changed and started to make demands.
First of all, he started to look after girls his own age and I know he was fooling around with them. He acted like such a big man. He thinks all he has to do is run around and have sex. He goes out a night and satisfies his loins rather than studying.
Now it's time for the final examination and he has discovered that he does not know the subjects. And that's the problem, doctor. He's demanding a passing grade, or he will tell all."
"How did this happen? Did he just come up to you in class one day and inform you of his demands?"
"No, doctor, he's a very clever young man. When I pick them, I pick them good. I knew he had a mind when I met him and I was right. Except that he is now using it to no good for himself or anyone else's, especially mine.
He has discovered how to use his sex.
The last time we were together, he taunted me with his ... his . . ah, I don't know exactly how to say it."
"Just say it. Don't be concerned about the niceties here. I will not be shocked by any term you choose to use. So, please be as frank as you wish."
"Thank you, doctor. It would be much easier. It just doesn't seem quite right to call a cock a penis. To a biologist it's a penis, but to someone who has it inside her, it's a cock."
"I know what you mean," I smiled. "I've spoken to many young ladies who are in complete agreement with you."
"It's not lady-like, but I don't feel very much like a lady." She seemed to be relaxing. Her manner became much more casual as she broke the ice.
"Joey found my weakness. I become quite physical when I am engaged in sex and I build to a fever pitch before I come.
Well, he had that big cock, and it is big, inside me-stretching and pounding me. I was going crazy with passion. His skin touched mine. His hairy thighs against my smooth buttocks! I was hot as hell. I felt as though my entire insides were going to blow up. I kept sucking him in farther and I could feel that bulbous head touching bottom.
I was just at the point where I was going to come all over the place when he stopped. I continued to grind my hips against his thighs. I could feel his balls resting against my ass. That magnificent soft skin! That tender, crinkled skin which held those hot nuts was burning against my aching flesh. Every time I tried to pump up and down on his cock to get him going again, he pinioned me with his thighs; curtailing my movements and not allowing me to get the full length of his cock inside me.
It's incredible, doctor! I don't know if you're aware of it or not, but after you have had the full length of a large cock shoved all the way in you to the fullest extent till there is nothing between you and your partner except pubic hairs and you feel the tip of that cock kissing the very end of your canal-when you have the smooth skin of that hot head rubbing the mouth of your uterus until you feel as though your insides are going to fall out-you can't stop. You've got to continue on to the end and if your partner withdraws his cock-even an inch-you go crazy trying to get it all the way back in. You go out of your mind until you feel that all the way back up inside again, rubbing those nerves that are hidden away and are not touched except by one of those magnificent cocks which can reach all the way up there.
Well, this was where we were. He had been massaging the very end of my canal with his pounding dick. Then he withdrew it just far enough so that I couldn't move; just far enough so I felt the hot meat, that stiff rod parting the walls of my vagina which were, by this time, sucking like a baby nursing. He just held me this way. He's very strong.
His hard, lean muscles were all tense. He surrounded me with his firm, naked body and filled me with his hard, ramrod cock. I was literally going out of my mind.
I'm so glad to finally voice this, to tell someone about it, to get it off my chest so that I can make it stop eating away inside me. The only reason I'm telling you this in such detail is so that you'll realize that I was completely at his mercy . . .that I had completely given myself to him at that moment. I had no will of my own. When I am in control of myself, I am quite firm. I know what I'm about and I cannot be shaken from my position. But in this situation, it was entirely different.
He saw that I was in agony and asked if I wanted to get the rest of it. Of course, I pleaded but he just knelt before me, hovering over me with a strange smile on his face.
'Don't stop,' I begged. 'Please don't stop. You know I can't stand hanging in the middle like this.'
'Okay,' he said, 'I'll finish it if...' he just let his words trail off.
I was in no mood for a discussion. My body was aching. I felt like every nerve was tense and standing out from my body at least three inches. I was not feeling very intellectual and I did not wish to pursue the world of the mind.
'I'll take care of you,' he said, 'if you take care of me.'
'Of course,' I said quickly, 'you know I never left you hanging. You know I'm not that sort of person.'
'No, you're not a cock teaser. You're something else.'
I was getting the idea that he was toying with me for some ulterior purpose which did not interest me, under the circumstances.
'You are a teacher with a grade book.'
'How does that have any bearing on the present situation? I'm in the middle of fucking, not in any way teaching.'
'No. But you can give me a passing grade.'
'You pass,' I laughed. 'You get an A plus-plus in fuckingthat is only if you don't stop.'
'That's not what I mean. I'm referring to a passing grade on my finals.'
Of course, I didn't agree. I refused. When I did so he jammed his cock all the way home several times just enough to work me up to that point again when he would stop.
It was like the Chinese Water Torture. He was ripping me apart emotionally until, finally, I agreed to give him a passing grade. When I saw him the next day in class, I was more composed. I was on my own ground and I informed him that I was not about to do so and that if it meant the end of our affair, then there was no alternative. If he was going to base our relationship at this level then it was all pointless.
It was then he informed me that I would comply with his wishes or I would be out of a job.
I laughed. I told him that he had no proof. I told him that he was merely acting like a stupid child.
All he said was, 'We'll see what happens when I cry with conviction to my parents.'
That's the last I saw of him. The finals are approaching and I just don't know what to do.
It was when this happened I realized I had a serious problem. Not only at school with Joey, but with myself. My uncontrollable desire to find a young boy with whom I can be intimate.
Oh, doctor, I don't mean only sex. It's the whole thing. It's the discussions and the airing of ideas. It's watching the mind come alive, watching him develop and helping him to become a man with understanding and character. Helping him to realize his potential."
"This is a very noble attitude," I said, "but couldn't this be accomplished without sex? Isn't that the basis of teaching to perform these duties without becoming intimate with your students?"
"I suppose so, doctor. I guess I'll have to think about that in more depth."
"Meanwhile, you have a much greater problem which demands immediacy ... that of what to do about Joey."
"Actually, I'm not that worried about him. He was merely an excuse to get me here. I think I can deal with him on his own level. I've been teaching long enough to know what is happening in that age mind."
"Maybe it would help if I would talk to him and point out exactly what he is doing."
"No, thank you, doctor. It's very kind of you to offer to take the time, but let me see what I can do first. If I fail, then I may take you up on your offer.
I really think that it would give him too much importance. I think it would all go to his head and give him the idea that he's on to something good."
"All right, then, until next time ... good luck."
"Thank you, doctor, I may need it."
I decided it was time to delve into her family situation. Miss G. seemed to be sufficiently open to freely recall her early childhood remembrances of sex and what circumstances precipitated her discovery.
At this session she appeared in a costume that was less seductive than the previous ones she had been wearing. It was obvious that her sexual frustration was being sublimated and her need to seduce me had lessened. Even though her blouse was buttoned to the neck, and the sleeves were long, her body was quite still in evidence beneath the fabric. She was still not wearing what 'polite society' might refer to as proper underclothing.
Rather than revealing the actual flesh of her bosoms which she had done previously, she was merely displaying the outline beneath her clothing. Her attitude was much calmer.
In contrast to her previous visits, she was collected. Her bearing was a show of confidence but there was still a trace of indecision about her emotional deportment.
"You seem to be much more content today," I commented. "Is there some specific reason for this new development?"
"Yes, doctor. My problem with Joey has cleared up."
"Oh," I said. "How did this come about?"
"Well, I refused to give into his demands and as he threatened, he went screaming to his parents. But fortunately, they did not believe him. It seems that Joey suffers from a case of extreme exaggeration when it come to telling tales about his school teachers, and his parents, fortunately, know this and therefore have a tendency to stand behind the accused rather than give into their son's hysterical fantasies, as his mother put it."
"Oh, then you've had a conversation with his mother about this?"
"Yes, she stopped by the school to assure me, in case I had any kind of inkling into Joey's intentions of telling this ridiculous story, that neither she nor her husband believed a word of what the boy said and that they had no intentions of giving into his demands that they initiate a petition for my dismissal."
"Well," I said. "That solves your immediate problem, now what about the overall one?"
"That's why I'm back. I've decided that since I've already started with you, I might as well go on and complete my analysis. After all, Joey could be repeated and the next time I may not come off so well."
"That's very wise," I said, "it's what I would call an astute patient."
"Thank you, doctor, I feel so much better about the decision to continue my therapy."
"All right, so let's begin. Let's start where you started with your family."
"Well, let me see. I had a mother and father, both of whom were very nice, and I had a brother with whom I got along very well."
"Was your brother younger or older?"
"Younger."
"How much younger."
"Four years."
"And what exactly was your relationship with him?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean?"
"Well, when he first came into your house; when you first learned that you had a little brother."
"Oh, come on doctor, do you think I was the type who hated her little brother, who wanted to do away with him?"
"I didn't say that, you did."
"Well, you're wrong. I looked forward to his arrival when I found out that he had been born. I was very happy when daddy came home from the hospital and told me that he and mommy had gotten me a little baby brother to play with. I wasn't like some kids. I didn't feel any sense of rejection."
"That's fine. I'm glad to hear that you accepted your brother with such happiness, but why don't you stop diagnosing yourself and just tell me about him. Did you help your mother take care of the new baby?"
"Oh, yes, doctor. Daddy appointed me as mama's helper and official babysitter. He use to tell everyone how interested I was in the baby and how much of a help I was to mama. He use to say I was just like a little mother."
"I see. You know you still haven't told me what his name was."
"That's funny for actually the very first thing I wanted to know when I found out about him was what his name was, and when I found out, I was overjoyed."
"Well, what was it?"
"His name was Billy and I was so happy to hear that because it was the name I had chosen for my baby. I had a little boy doll that I had named Billy when I had gotten him. And mother and daddy thought it would be nice if they gave the baby the same name as I had chosen for my little doll."
"In other words from the start," I interjected, "you felt that your little brother was like a doll baby. Your attitude was one of playfulness. Protectiveness. Playing little mother to him as you would your doll baby."
"I never quite thought of it that way. But that is possible. I guess I treated him like my plaything for the rest of his life ... that is until he was no longer my little brother. When he grew up he went away."
"Did he marry?"
"No, not yet. But there came a time when I knew he didn't need a big sister anymore."
"Were you upset by this?"
"Yes, I suppose I was. Now that I think about it, every young boy I look at is Billy. I always had to call them by their nickname, such as Joey. All of his friends and family call him Joe. When he came into my class he was registered as Joe. I was the one who started calling him Joey and the others were very similar."
"Well, it's perfectly normal for an older sister to be very protective toward her younger brother and to feel a loss when he becomes an equal ... when their relationship changes to the point where she is no longer protective toward him ... where he will not allow her to be protective. But I don't believe it would account for your intimacy with these young boys. Were you very intimate with your brother?"
"Yes, doctor, I was."
"Okay, let's go right back to the beginning of your first sexual discovery of your brotherwhen you first discovered that he was physically different from you."
"Well, doctor, that was right when he came home from the hospital. like I said, I was mother's helper and I had to learn how to change diapers. Actually, I didn't change them myself, I more or less helped mother while she changed them and I was very surprised when I saw what mother referred to as 'his little peepee'. "
"Did you ask her what it was?"
"Oh yes, but all she said was that's what made him a little boy."
"And she told you nothing further."
"No. I tried to pursue the question, but she would tell me no more. I could not understand why he should be a little boy and I should be a little girl. But mother's only remark was 'that's what makes the world go round.' "
"And you asked nothing after that."
"No, not then. But I became fascinated with his little peepee and when I was alone with my doll Billy I would undress him and be very surprised that he didn't have a little peepee like my brother Billy had. Finally, I asked my mother if Billy's little peepee made him a little boy, then why didn't my doll have one, after all, he was supposed to be a little boy, too.
She just laughed and said that I was awfully curious and that if I left the clothes on my doll, I wouldn't notice any difference."
Needless to say this didn't satisfy me nor answer my question.
After that I said nothing further for I realized that I was not going to get any answer. I did however, sit quietly and watch whenever my little brother was undressed and much to my surprise one time, his little peepee stood up all by itself. I had never seen this.
Mother did not seem to be embarrassed. She just merely laughed and said 'My, my, he's got another little finger.' She began to play patty-cake with him and counted his ten fingers on his hands and said, 'little Billy has an eleventh finger.' Then she'd twist his little peepee.
That night when I was getting ready for bed, I decided to examine myself. I sat down on the edge of the bed, spread my legs and bent over to get a clear view of my crotch as I could. I was very limber as a little girl, and I could almost roll up into a ball, so I had no difficulty in looking directly into my hole.
I parted the lips of my little cunny and stuck my finger into it. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that it felt good-that I actually enjoyed the feel of my finger inside me. And I found that as I moved my finger back and forth it felt even better. I remember being interrupted by mother who came into tuck me in and being young, my mind was easily diverted. I didn't think about it again for several weeks. I think that the next time was when I was playing by myself out behind the garage in my little play house that daddy had built for me. It was in this house that I kept my doll Billy.
Strange now that I think about it I never brought him in the house after my brother arrived. He stayed out in my playhouse and I would play with him out there.
Anyway, one day, I was in my playhouse and I decided to undress my little doll. It was the first time since mother had told me that I should leave his clothes on. Well, for some reason, I wanted him undressed and when I was once again upset that he didn't have a peepee. Right then and there I decided to give him one. I slid my index finger between his legs from behind and allowed it to protrude from the front. I recall saying how now my little Billy has eleven fingers also.
I continued to play with him. I massaged my finger with my left hand, pretending that I was playing with his peepee. I could even see the funny little tip and somehow I got the idea of sticking his finger peepee into my cunny. I discovered once again that it felt good and the idea of the closeness of my Billy doll was very appealing. I pretended that it was my brother Billy's eleventh finger his little peepee which was pushing in and out of my twat. I felt the warmth over my cunny with my finger. And even at that age, which I find most surprising I realized that if my little hole felt that good to my finger, I should imagine that it should also feel very good to Billy's finger or his peepee. So I made up my mind that one day when I could I would stick my little brother's hard little finger inside me and maybe he would like it."
"Can you recall," I asked, "if you thought he would like you better if you made him feel good in this way?"
"Now that you mention it, I guess I really felt a lack when I was no longer the number one child. I enjoyed having my little brother in the house very much, but I was no longer the most important creature in the family. It seemed that all of a sudden my parents were suddenly paying a great deal more of attention to little Billy than to me. And I had to spend more time out in the playhouse with my little doll. They always seemed to be bragging about Billy to their friends and after the initial praise, they gave me regarding my being mother's little helper, they never mentioned me again. That is, not until I got into trouble.
My life went on like this for some time. I sat by and watched my parents dote over my little brother. But I really wasn't jealous of him. I didn't blame him for their attitude. I realized that he had nothing to do with it and besides, I was intrigued by his eleventh finger. I was still waiting for the day when he would be older and could be left alone.
I guess nothing much really happened after that for a very long time except that I continued to play with my little doll and myself. And every time I could get the opportunity I would fondle my little brother's peepee. But those times were few and far between for mother was almost always around. We were not really left alone, as she didn't trust me to watch him, until I was about ten.
By this time, I was a very experienced, how shall I say it, a ... finger-fucker. My finger and I were very well acquainted.
Mother still didn't trust me completely to watch little Billy for a whole evening by myself, and the first time I watched him I recall my folks were only going to be gone around two hours.
But finally they had left the house, and we were alone.
As I recall, Billy was always playing with his crotch. I don't know whether it was because of me-because of my fondling him-or because it was just that he was curious himself. But nevertheless, there we were in front of the television set and Billy's hand was thrust between his legs. I don't think mother realized how much he played with himself but I certainly did.
I suppose I became absorbed in watching his manipulations because without realizing it, I began to play with myself. I heard Billy chuckle and I noticed that he was staring at me ... at my hand in my crotch ... and I felt suddenly embarrassed.
I recall now feeling my warm finger toying at my little slit and imagining that it was Billy's other finger. I wanted desperately to feel him between my legs as I did my little doll. And when I noticed him staring at me I knew he would be interested also.
"Do you know what I have here," I asked, indicating my hand in my crotch.
He looked confused. "You want me to guess," he asked.
"No," I said. "I'll show you if you want me to."
"What do I want to see for. I've got the same thing right here," he said, grabbing his crotch.
"You do not," I said. "I have something you don't."
"What?" he asked sitting up and becoming very inquisitive.
"I have a hole and you don't."
"Let me see," he said, moving closer. "I want to see it." He reached out and tried to run his hand up my skirt but I played coy.
"Not until you show me what you have," I said. Actually, I felt embarrassed that I didn't have the same thing that he had. I felt ashamed that my crotch was empty and that he had something that he could stick into me whereas I didn't have anything that I could stick into him.
"Okay, but you've got to promise to show me yours after I show you mine."
"I promise," I said.
He lowered his pants and I was absolutely thrilled to see his little dingdong. It was so cute. Its little pink head looked so delicious that I could hardly contain myself from leaning forward and gobbling it up in my mouth.
I took his little balls in my hand and began to play with them and as I did so he became aroused. His erection started to climb and I was totally amazed to see how large it grew. I hadn't seen it hard for a very long time and I was shocked to see how developed he was.
He reached under my dress and instantly his fingers found my slit, as I had earlier removed my panties. His eyes grew wide. Immediately he pulled my dress up above my waist.
"Gee whizz," he said, "I didn't know you're like that. I thought you had the same thing as me.
He stuck his finger into my hole and I was thrilled to finally feel him inside me. It was actually my little brother who was there and not my own finger pretending it was him.
I lay back and spread my legs wide, giving him better access to my twat. He began to explore me quite avidly. He stuck the index finger of each hand into my hole, then parted my young lips. He leaned forward and stared in then started to giggle.
"You look funny without a peepee," he said. "You just don't have one anywhere."
"There's one way I can have one," I said.
"How's that?" He sat back and looked at me questioningly.
"If you put your peepee into my hole. Then I would have one."
We both laughed. The idea seemed positively ridiculous. Even though we were both giggling at what seemed to be absurd, we were none the less drawn together like magnets. Billy sat back onto his heels and I found myself hovering over his lap. I slowly lowered my naked crotch onto his and the first touch of his little cock against my young lips sent hot fingers of pleasure into my abdomen and down inside my thighs.
Doctor, I'll never forget that moment. The touch of the skin of his head was of course unlike any I have known. All I could think of was getting his prick into me. I wanted as much of it inside me as I could get but the position we were in did not afford that kind of entry.
We were still giggling as I recall. I pushed against his shoulders playfully and caught him off balance. He toppled over backwards. As he did so, his hips rose up and his little cock sank all the way into my tiny pussy.
I thought I would go out of my mind. I realize now that his cock was not big enough to puncture my maiden head but it was large enough to give me the sensation I wanted.
I began to grind my hips in a circular motion and he responded in kind by forcing his hips upward against me with the same amount of pressure.
I was hovered over him completely wrapped in what we were about as was Billy when we were violently shaken out of our involvement. To this day, I can remember the sudden fear which hit me like a truck.
Mother came home early.
She was standing in the doorway screaming. I don't remember what she was saying ... she was merely screaming.
The next thing I knew I was being dragged across the room by my hair. Mother threw me across her lap and began beating me savagely.
I don't really remember the pain of the beating. All I remember is the fear. I was so terrified beyond belief. I think the thought of mother's wrath was much worse than the actual beating itself.
She kept mumbling something about fucking slut or something like that. She was also saying something about me being just like my mother and of course at the time I did not understand what she was saying. Later on I discovered that I had been adopted when my foster parents thought that they could not have any children of their own. Evidently, the thought of this adopted child conceived by the local whore tampering with her own precious boy drove her into a raving maniac.
Daddy came into the room and stopped her wanting to know what it was all about. I fell to the floor and crawled behind a chair for protection.
Mother told him what it was about.
I remember looking up and seeing him standing there before me. I saw his hand draw back and what seemed like an eternity, began its downswing. Finally, it came in contact with my cheek and knocked me over and sent me rolling across the room. They both started after me and were stopped only by Billy's crying. It was just enough time for me to get away. I went up to my room and hid under the bed.
Things seemed to calm down after that and the incident was never mentioned again except by mother when she was more rational. She made me promise never ever to do that again.
I agreed but I asked her what I had done. She would not tell me. She only said something about nice girls not doing that sort of thing and especially with their brothers.
I kept my promise but the incident was indelibly branded upon my mind. I could not forget what had taken place. Even today, as you can tell, doctor, I have extremely vivid recollections of that afternoon. I never touched Billy again except in my mind but my little doll and I had many good times together ... that is, until I became old enough to start babysitting.
I was a junior in high school and my first jobs were minding infants.
During the course of the evening while I was sitting, it would quite often become necessary for me to change their diapers. And when I was sitting with a little boy, I would fondle him when his diaper was off. But that was as far as it would go.
When I was a senior however, I got this job sitting for an eight year old boy. I could not understand why I was so excited about my new position, but I was all a twitter inside.
I did not at the time associate the older boy with my secret desires. I was consumed by a great anticipation and I found it difficult to breathe. My internal temperature seemed to be at the point of boiling.
By the time I got the house, that first night, it was bedtime for my little charge. His mother said that I could read him one story but then he must go to sleep.
After she left, I quickly ushered him into the bedroom assuring him that I would tell him a story while he was in bed.
When he was situated in bed and before I pulled the covers up, I proceed to tell him my own version of Little Red Robinhood using his little penis as the main character, Robinhood. I, of course, played the wolf. My story ended with the wolf gobbling up Little Red Robinhood.
I leaned forward and took his soft little peter into my mouth. He thought it was funny and began to laugh. I, in turn, added to the levity by tickly his ribs while I continued to suck on his little peter.
Gradually, it became hard and he asked me what I was doing. I told him that the wolf was gobbling up Little Red Robinhood but there was one way that Little Red Robinhood could get back at the mean wolf.
He asked me how and I replied that he could hide in the cave and once in there the wolf would never be able to find him.
He was thrilled. He thought that the idea was terribly exciting and he wanted to know where the cave was where he could hide his Little Red Robinhood.
I showed him. I spread my legs, took his little fingers in my hand and placed them upon my cunt.
"Go ahead," I said, "explore the cave first and make sure it is safe for Little Red Robinhood."
His little fingers found their way into my slot and I thought I would faint. It was the first time since Billy that anyone besides myself had been inside my hole.
"Do you think it's safe," I said.
"Yes," he replied. "It feels nice and warm and safe."
"Good, then let's put Little Red Robinhood in there."
I was sitting on the edge of the bed and little Jackey, that was his name, climbed out of bed and stood in between my spread knees. His pajamas were already around his ankles.
I placed my hand upon his tiny buttocks and pulled him to me. As our bodies came closer together I could feel my temperature rise. My breath quickened and my mouth went dry.
I recalled that day many years ago with my little brother Billy. And now here I was finally nearing the completion of the act that was started so many years before with him. An ache developed in the pit of my stomach and the walls of my aching canal began to ooze with anticipation. In memory of that day long ago, my own buttocks began to tingle as though my skin had been beaten. The indescribable thrill I was experiencing was almost more than I could bear. Every pore in my body awakened and I felt sensations in my vagina that were totally new to me ... such achings and longings I had never experienced as the thought of that little piece of meat burying itself within my flesh, overpowered my entire existence.
I continued to pull him to me until the kiss of his little prick on the lips of my cunny, and at that moment my anxiety grew to the point where I thought I could no longer bear it. I knew that someone was going to walk through the door. I knew that his mother and father were going to discover us and I would not only lose the job but I would be shamed.
I pulled him still closer to me, wrapped my arms around him and buried him in my embrace. He responded with nervousness. He knew that this was no longer the game that we had started out playing but he was taking his cue from me. He was following me. He was not afraid and he let me open my body and take him inside.
I felt that tender virgin prick penetrate me and I began to pump against it. I grabbed the cheeks of his ass and began to work his hips back and forth in contradiction to mine until he got the idea that I wanted him to fuck me.
I was beginning to reach the moment of climax, which of course at that time was unknown to me, when a shadow fell across the room. The light somehow dimmed its brightness and I was consumed by a blind terror.
I glanced to the doorway of the bedroom where the light from the living room was impaired by the figure of a man. The blood drained from my body and every nerve began to scream danger!
Jackey pulled away from me, pulled his pajamas up to his waist and ran across the room shouting, "Daddy, Daddy, we're playing Little Red Robinhood!"
If I could have committed suicide, I would have. I stood up as demurely as I could, my eyes cast downward. I dared not move ... I could not!
The man picked up Jackey, smiled at the boy and began talking to him. The words were spoken softly and in my frightened state I could not make them out above the loud pounding of my heartbeat against the wall of my chest.
The man carried Jackey across the room and placed him once again in his bed, this time tucking him securely under the covers.
Saying goodnight to the boy, he turned, took me by the arm and ushered me out of the room and into the living room. However, we did not stop here but instead continued down a long corridor, coming to rest in what was the family room.
Once inside, the man closed the door, then turned to stare at me with cold, icy eyes. His lips carried a strange grin.
"Do you always play with little boys?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"No," I stammered, "this is the first time I..."
"You certainly have the right job for preying on defenseless little children."
"I'm sorry, sir," I said hesitatingly. "I really didn't know what I was doing."
"You were fucking a little boy," he replied. "That's what you were doing."
He stared at me intensely for a very long time. His eyes bore holes through me. His concentration made me blush and I wanted to run, screaming from that room but I knew I couldn't.
I felt his eyes devouring me and I noticed his hand in his own crotch, rubbing up and down.
'If you want to fuck you should do it with someone who can handle you, not a little boy who doesn't know what he's doing.'
I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat, not wanting to come out. He placed his hand on my shoulder and gradually began to stroke my upper arm. His touch was not brutal but it was not pleasant either. It was like being rubbed with an ice cube. His touch was as cold as his smile.
He began to fondle my breasts, his touch becoming stronger. I was still not accustomed to wearing a bra so the only thing between his hand and my flesh was the thin fabric of my cotton blouse. My nipples became so hard under his manipulations that I thought I would not be able to stand it.
He grasped one of my nippled between each of his thumbs and forefingers and stared at me intently as he began to pinch the delicate flesh. He tightened his grip. I thought that he was testing me and I didn't think I could pass.
He increased his pressure until I thought I would scream from the pain. I looked into his eyes and was about to ask him to please stop when I noticed saliva trickling over his lower lip. I knew suddenly that I had to protect myself. It wasn't that I valued my virginity so highly, in fact, in a way, I was most anxious to lose it; it was just that in this case it was plain fear of the way it would be lost that concerned me.
I tried to pull away but the more I pulled the harder he pinched and I felt like my breasts were going to fall off. It felt like he was jabbing needles into my nipples. The pain became so intolerable that I finally reached out to forcibly push him away from me. However, in doing so, my fingernails accidentally caught in his cheek.
I watched as three thin lines etched themselves into his flesh and a dark redness erupted to the surface. I looked up into his eyes for some sign-something to let me know what he was feeling-what was to come next.
It was there ... he was turned on even more than before.
'Oh, we have a spicy one here. The little bitch-likes to fight, does she.'
He pushed me very hard and I went flying backward onto the couch ... I was right where he wanted me.
In but a moment's time he had unzipped his pants and pulled out the most monstrous dong I had ever seen.
'You must remember doctor, that up to that point I had only seen little Billy's and little Jackey's pricks. And although I knew that older boys' cocks were larger, having read somewhere that a penis grows longer with age, I was in no way prepared for the sight before me. I swear that to me in my innocence it looked like it was a yard long and a yard wide. It was ugly, bulbous with bulging veins and all kinds of black hair around it.'
He was standing before me in an instant, his legs between my knees, forcing them open. His right hand was wrapped around his ugly cock.
'Look sweetheart,' he said. His voice contained some kind of animal note I had never heard before. 'If you want to fuck junior, you'd just better be ready to fuck senior cause he's going to take you right now.'
I was staring right into the mouth of his cock which had a large clear drop of come kind of liquid oozing out of it. It looked like it was leaking.
I tried to fight him off but the harder I fought the more intent his manner became.
He pinned my body down onto the couch with his hands and even though I was kicking wildly somehow he had maneuvered my ass into a position where his cock was just entering my virgin pussy.
I thought I would choke when I felt that large thing push its head into my slit. Jackey's had been so nice and easy. It just gently slipped into my flesh. But his father's was forcing its way in and I felt as though it was going to split me right up the middle.
There was a tremendous ache in my lower abdomen and I knew he was being blocked by my maidenhead. It felt as though he was just ramming that thing right into my belly button. He was going to rip my flesh apart.
'Son of a bitch,' he said. 'You've certainly got yourself one hell of a tight little pussy, but that's okay, I like them when there tight and unused.' His fingers were ripping into my shoulder causing an equal both top and bottom. 'You sure ain't been fucked much have you.'
'I told you Jackey was the first time. I'm still a virgin,' I screamed. 'I've never had anybody.'
'Holy shit,' he shouted, 'I've not had me a cherry in twenty years'. This is really going to be great.'
I was horrified when I realized that he was not going to stop even though he knew I was a virgin. He didn't even pause in his pushing into me. He continued right along only even now he rammed into me harder and harder, not caring about my feeling, not being concerned about hurting me. In fact, it was just the opposite, he acted as though he wanted to deliberately hurt me.
That moment was like an eternity. I don't think I have ever experienced more intense pain in my life. Then suddenly I was overcome by a totally unbearable, blinding screaming pain. It was more than pain. It was agony!
I heard the tearing of flesh and I felt my hole vagina being ripped out. I could stand it not a moment longer ... I fainted!
When I came to, he was just standing up and I once again saw that monstrous cock. This time it was dripping in blood and oozing some kind of white stuff.
'Get yourself cleaned up,' he said, 'and I'll take you home.'
I reached down and touched my aching pussy. It was sticky and warm. I looked at my fingers and they were covered with blood. And then I sat up.
I didn't think I had ever seen so much blood in all my life. I felt that surely I must be bleeding like a stuffed pig.
He took me home and neither one of us spoke the entire way. When I got home I found fifty dollars in my purse. I was going to send it back to him but I decided not to.
I never had anything to do with an older man since then. Of course, for a long time I did nothing at all. But eventually I went back to younger men . . .well actually little boys.
Little boys are just so much more gentle and their cocks can't hurt. I also seem to be able to teach them some thing. I think maybe I can give them the understanding they need to be gentle human beings.
'Oh doctor, have you ever seen the excitement of a little boy of about thirteen when he first sees an older woman's pussy. It's an experience to cherish. Being a woman it makes you feel so important and so alive. To be able to cause this kind of reaction in another person is the most rewarding feeling in the world.
You see at that age they are not old enough to be overcome by ugly lust. They don't run like bulls panting, snorting, slobbering. They're not yet ugly.
I guess that's why I'm teaching today. I really enjoy the experience of watching the young men develop. Some of them of course, are lost causes they're going to grow into bulls regardless of what I do or say. They will be insensitive bores. They couldn't care less about anybody else's feelings. All they're concerned about it that hunk of meat swinging in between their legs and what they can stick it into. They might just as well stick it into a light socket as far as I'm concerned.
All of this sticking in is tedious. I try to let them know there is a lot more to life and to sex then just sticking it in.
I try to nurture their sweeter emotions. I soothe their tender feelings and help them develop strength so that they will not be afraid of those feelings. I try to show them that sex is mental and emotional as well as physical.
"One thing I like to do doctor, which I discover really helps my young men to bloom is to introduce them to music and poetry while entwined in my flesh.
I read sonnets of Shakespeare or play some beautifully melodic music like Mozart or Puccini and they really respond.
I capture them in the point of their life when they still have not lost their sweetness. But the only trouble is that it is very difficult to tell how they are going to turn out as they mature. Their outcome is decidedly unsure.
I thought at one time doctor that my purposes were extremely noble. That I was going to aid them into finding truth in themselves and beauty in the world. But actually I think it was somewhat of an excuse. This incident with Joey really scared me and I really don't think I am doing them all that good. And besides, even if I were, society would not accept my noble intentions, nor even the outcome if it were good. I am deathly afraid of being found out and losing my job along with my self-respect.
Doctor, do you realize what would happen if I as a teacher were fired on that basis. I would never be able to teach again. Society just for some reason seems to frown on my form of sex education-especially the mothers-they hate to lose their sons-the little babies-they think that once they stick their little ding-dongs into somebody else, they're no longer an infant-they're defiled. The fathers on the other hand are not too fond about it either, but for totally different reasons. They want to get in on a good thing themselves. As they would rather tell their sons about the facts of life and do the facts themselves.
No matter how you look at it, I'm in between and I sincerely would like to get this straightened out within my own head for my own salvation.
Summary
Miss G's-case was fairly simple to diagnosis but rather difficult to straighten out. The causes are exceedingly clear, but the effects run very deep. Her major problem is the deep seeded fear which has become a way of life for her.
She was unwittingly the victim of a series of unfortunate circumstances: each of which solidified the negative aspects of each experience. Her first problem of course was the fact that she was adopted. Even though she did not herself know this until later on, there are some who believe that a child instinctively knows its natural mother at and immediately following in imagine. The same school of thought, to which I ascribe, also believes that an infant will not necessarily respond to any adult human being who is placed in the role the natural mother would normally assume. It, we feel, is somehow connected with the umbilical tie between mother and child.
Miss G. evidently felt the lack of her natural mother which created an insecurity at a very early age. Given time of course, she would have overcome this. But it was the natural child of her foster parents. She, I am sure, sensed the tie between what she thought was her mother and her brother.
She developed a natural curiosity which was not answered and when it came time for her to answer the question herself, i.e., that of her little brother's penis, she was arrested at a particularly difficult emotional moment by the mother's frantic screams.
Her emotions were laid open and vulnerable and were stupidly trampled upon by a frantic mother who evidently had her own sexual problems. It is quite evident that the mother was extremely guilt ridden about sex herself otherwise she would not have been so frantic at seeing the two children playing at sex which is something that is perfectly normal.
When she relived the experience many years later, which was absolutely necessary for her development, she was arrested once again at a very difficult and emotional moment by the father of the child who repeated the reactions of her mother. This time however, she was doubly damaged for she was also physically violated in a way she was not yet ready for. While her emotions were raw the man implanted fear and pain which would have a tendency to direct her natural inclination away from its normal course.
This problem of replacing a normal tender feeling with fear is one of the most difficult for us to deal with.
Miss G.'s entire motivation is based on fear, as stated earlier, it is a way of life for her.
She is of course, first of all, afraid of an adult experience. She is secondly afraid of being punished if she is found out and loses her job. She is then afraid of being harmed by her partner as he matures. Then, of course, is the fear of penetration of the cock of an adult male. Bui more important than any of these, she is deathly afraid of herself.
She has a desire for a relationship based not only on sex but one that is accompanied by a deep union of emotion.
I saw Miss G. for some time and our path was clear but difficult. I had to take her back to her childhood and attempt to replace those fears which were instilled at such an impressionable age with positive feelings. We had to go back to the point where her natural development was over-rated by the lack of her real mother, but also to attempt to re-develop what was laid aside.
The outcome, I am happy to say was a success. In time she managed to overcome her fears and develop honest, adult relationships. I spoke to her recently and she is planning to marry.
She is armed with new weapons, and I am sure that she will not suffer reversion.
CASE NUMBER TWO
Patient: Mrs. P. Age: 45
Marital Status: Widow Occupation: Recreation Director
MRS. P: My son called me a slut, doctor.
DR. K: What was his provocation?
MRS. P: A rather minor incident involving a young friend of his. I don't think it was all that necessary for him to get so excited about the whole thing, and I really wouldn't have even bothered mentioning it except that there is the slightest outside possibility that my son may have a point.
DR. K: Would you like to tell me about the incident?
MRS. P: I really don't see what bearing it could possibly have. After all, I am only here to consult with you about my son. As I said earlier, I would like you to see him.
DR. K: By all means, I will see him, but he is not a singular entity in this world. He was evidently greatly influenced by you while he was developing so therefore any preliminary information that you could give to me could do nothing more than shed light on the situation when I actually do see your son.
MRS. P: Very well, I see your point, and it is well taken. I will speak frankly on that basis.
DR. K: Excellent. Now, about this incident which caused your son to speak so harshly toward you. ...
MRS. P: I will not discuss that situation. It has no bearing whatsoever on my being here.
DR. K: I beg to differ with you Mrs. P, but by your own words that situation is the very direct reason for your being here and the one instigating factor in discussing your son. Had he not called you ... that name, I dare say that you would not be here, am I correct?
MRS. P: Yes, you are correct.
DR. K: Then I think it is most imperative that we discuss the incident which provoked your son to be so harsh with you.
MRS. P: I see your point, doctor, but I must say that I am not at liberty to discuss the other people involved, and I really would rather not go into the situation, especially since you will be able to get all the details from my son. There are confidences. ...
DR. K: On the contrary. You are not speaking to a back fence doctor, you are speaking to a psychiatrist whom you are engaging to help your son. Possibly then, since you are so vehement about this one particular incident, let us begin with your son. Now, what is his name?
MRS. P: Kevin.
DR. K: His age?
MRS. P: Twenty-eight.
DR. K: Is he married?
MRS. P: No ... he's single.
DR. K: Why?
MRS. P: Because he's not married. That's rather obvious.
DR. K: Yes ... It's obvious ... but there is a note of irritation in your voice as you were mentioning it. Why?
MRS. P: Because I would very much like to be a grandmother, and I don't think that he will ever get married.
DR. K: What is your reason for this belief?
MRS. P: He's a gad-about. He won't settle down, and every time I approach the subject, he becomes vehement.
DR. K: Is that when he called you a slut?
MRS. P: Don't be coy, doctor. I did not like the name from him, and I like it even less from you.
DR. K: Forgive me. Please go on. How does he, as you call it, gad-about? Does he see a lot of girls, or is it a type of girl that you do not approve of?
MRS. P: I believe ... it's the type that I object to and which makes me feel that he will never settle down to a normal married life.
DR. K: What type is that? MRS. P: They're really not quite feminine enough.
DR. K: I see. Could you be more specific in telling me in what way they lack femininity. What exactly do you see in them that appears less than lavender and lace?
MRS. P: Well, doctor ... they're just not feminine at all. They're . . .I don't know ... they're just . ...
DR. K: Masculine.
MRS. P: Yes, doctor, that's hitting it right on the button. They're masculine.
DR. K: You mean that they're strong women who possess dominant characteristics?
MRS. P: Yes and no.
DR. K: Would you care to clarify that a bit more?
MRS. P: They are masculine as I said before, but they are neither dominant nor strong.
DR. K: I really seem to be at a loss here. If they are masculine women, how are they not dominant and strong?
MRS. P: I did not say that they were masculine women; I said that they were masculine.
DR. K: Oh, I see. But I would like you to explain to me more fully in your own words.
MRS. P: Yes, doctor ... they're not women at all; they're boys.
DR. K: Then your son, I gather, is a practicing homosexual.
MRS. P: Yes, doctor, I believe you could safely say that. He has developed, somehow, an unnatural attraction for members of his own sex.
DR. K: Are you sure, Mrs. P. that this is a sexual attraction and not a fatherly instinct?
MRS. P: Doctor, I'm sure.
DR. K: How can you be certain? Do you have evidence of this accusation?
MRS. P: Yes, doctor, I do. That is why he called me the name he did.
DR. K: I believe that we have come to a stalemate. We seem to have passed full circle in our discussion. There is definitely an issue that you do not wish to discuss, and the more you tell me about your son, the more pertinent I believe this incident to be.
MRS. P: You are right, doctor, but I won't ... I can't. ...
DR. K: Then I see no reason for any further discussion, whatsoever. I believe that the session could come to a close.
MRS. P: But why, doctor? There are many other important areas that I could ... that I am able to discuss with you.
DR. K: Yes, I'm sure that there are and I was willing to forego this one particular incident providing you discuss other areas, but you, of your own volition, keep coming back to this one particular incident, and then you refuse to discuss the episode with me. I can be of no help to you or your son if you cannot be candid with me.
MRS. P:, But doctor, it's really not that important, believe me.
DR. K: Unfortunately, Mrs. P. I do not share your conclusion in this matter. Therefore, I think it would be better for both of us if I close this session.
MRS. P: Oh, doctor, please don't be hasty. The more I listen to you, the more I realize how narrow-minded and difficult I've been. If you, however, will reconsider, I will try to be as frank as possible ... if that is what you want me to be.
DR. K: It's not what I want, it's what we as a team can accomplish together. You cannot expect me to comprehend your situation if you will not at least be more honest with yourself. And by not telling me this deep, dark mystery, you are denying yourself the privilege of solving those questions which seem to be bothering you.
MRS. P: You're right, doctor, I've wasted enough time. Now, where shall I begin ... at the beginning?
DR. K: No, at the end ... the real reason you are here.
MRS. P: You mean, the ... incident?
DR. K: Yes, the incident, and make sure you omit nothing.
MRS. P: Kevin and I had a fight.
DR. K: So you've said, but what about?
MRS. P: It was about ... Chuck.
DR. K: All right, now who is Chuck?
MRS. P: Chuck is the latest friend of
Kevin's. He is his am-, how do you say...? DR. K: Lover.
MRS P: No, I wouldn't exactly say that. Lover connotes more than a physical gratification.
DR. K: Then you probably mean that he is Kevin's trick.
MRS. P: Yes, I believe that that is the term Kevin himself has used.
DR. K: All right, Chuck is Kevin's trick. How old is Chuck?
MRS. P: I believe that he's about fifteen.
DR. K: Fifteen, I see. Then what precipitated Kevin's remark to you? If Chuck is only fifteen, then I fail to see how he could refer to you in such a way, if he is behaving the way he is.
MRS. P: I really did not want to get into this, doctor. Please remember this.
DR. K: I am aware of your reticence, but please continue.
MRS. P: Kevin had caught wind that I was beginning to interfere. I was starting to put my nose where it doesn't belong. I was driving a wedge between him and Chuck.
DR. K: I take it then that you were interfering from Chuck's side and not Kevin's.
MRS. P: Yes, doctor, that is correct. I was sleeping with Chuck.
DR. K: I see. Now I understand Kevin's remark.
MRS. P: It seems as though both Kevin and myself were having sexual relations with
Chuck. We were (she giggles slightly) burning the candle at both ends.
DR. K: Would it be possible for you, Mrs. P., now that you have apprized me of this fact, to go back to the beginning of this situation?
MRS. P: Which situation?
DR. K: Between you and Chuck. When did all of this come about?
MRS. P: I guess actually, I'm the guilty party. I don't know though, maybe not. I introduced Chuck to Kevin. I'm a recreational director at a children's camp and Kevin is a scoutmaster. I met Chuck at camp and discovered besides being a very personable young man, he was also interested in Scouting. So I told him about Kevin and introduced them.
Shortly thereafter, Chuck joined Kevin's troop, and I really don't think anything happened at the beginning or for quite a while thereafter. I guess it was about a year later, this year, when I realized that Kevin had singled out Chuck as his favorite scout.
DR. K: Did you know at this time that Kevin was a homosexual?
MRS. P: Yes, doctor, I had very strong suspicions, but nothing concrete. It seemed that every time they turned around they were off on a camping trip. Well, it was spring, so I didn't become suspicious at first until quite by accident I discovered that the rest of the troop was not going on these outings. It turned out to be just Kevin and Chuck alone. It wasn't until one evening when I had come home unexpectedly early from an engagement that I caught them on the living room floor engaged in sex.
DR. K: What kind of sex were they engaged in?
MRS. P: Sex. Boy. Sex. You know whatever it is that boys do when they're together.
DR. K: Well, what were they doing? MRS. P: Oh really, doctor, is that really necessary.
DR. K: Yes, I would like to ascertain who was dominant and who was passive.
MRS. P: Oh, I see. As I recall, Kevin was in the process of sucking Chuck.
DR. P: You mean that Kevin had Chuck's penis in his mouth?
MRS. P: Well what else would you suck, doctor, his big toe?
DR. K: I see you really are uneducated in the way of boys.
MRS. P: Well, not being one myself, I couldn't care less about all the-how shall I say it-ins and outs of the game.
DR. K: Of course. (We both giggled.) Please continue with the story, Mrs. P.
MRS. P: When I discovered this, I, of course, was quite livid. I blew my stack and ordered Chuck out of the house. He was terrified that I would tell his parents, and of course I threatened to.
Kevin and I proceeded to have a knock-down-drag-out fight, and he reminded me of the last time I blew my stack at him, which is why, he says, he became a homosexual.
DR. K: What was that flare-up about?
MRS. P: When Kevin was in his early teens, I came home from work and discovered him and the young girl next door in the same compromising position, except then, she had Kevin's penis in her mouth.
Kevin said I scared him to the point where he'd never dated again, and that is true. That, it seems, was the deciding factor in his not seeing any more girls. As I recall, he started running around with boys his own age right after that episode, and then the ages of his companions got older.
I was a woman alone in the world. How was I to know what was going on? I was without a husband. I had to raise a son, and my only encounter with men up until that time was with Kevin's father prior to his death.
I was raised in a secluded household. I didn't know about oral sex, or any kind of sex for that matter until I married. And then, sex was merely a duty performed inside the bounds of wedlock. There was no fun attached to it. It was for pleasing my husband and for making babies. Unfortunately, or should I say fortunately, my husband died before we had a chance to have a second child.
Dr. K: "Do you recall your feelings at the time you encountered Kevin and the girl who lived next door?"
Mrs. P: "Well, it was a very long time ago, doctor. I'm not sure I can remember everything."
Dr. K: "I realize that, but I want you to try to think back, try to recall the event in your mind, try to reconstruct it and see if you can't remember exactly what your underlying feelings were at that time."
Mrs. P: "Well, let me see. When I walked into the living room and saw those two young naked bodies lying in the middle of the floor, I was shocked. I was just simply horrified. That sort of thing was beyond my comprehension. I remember thinking that this sort of thing just wasn't done. I didn't even realize that my son was aware of sex. After all, in polite society you don't even mention sex. You don't curse. One is gracious and polite and you don't mention sex not even to a member of your own family. You know it exists, but you just don't mention it."
Dr. K: "Much less oral gratification."
Mrs. P: "Oh my goodness, no!"
Dr. K: "One would never, in polite society, dream of putting his or her mouth on another person's sex organ."
Mrs. P: "Oh, how filthy and crude. That's the dirtiest part of your body."
Dr. K: "So that would account for your reaction when you saw those naked bodies on the living room floor in the position they were in."
Mrs. P: "My goodness, doctor, I saw red! I went blind with rage. I started screaming and hollering. I ran over and I kicked the girl in the ribs. I grabbed an umbrella and started beating her across the buttocks."
Dr. K: "And what were you thinking? What do you recall feeling during the moments you were beating her?"
Mrs. P: (After a pause) "Kevin's hard penis."
Dr. K: "And what was going through your mind in regard to Kevin's penis?"
Mrs. P: "I wondered what it tasted like. I remembered the expression on Joann's face before I shrieked. It was one of contentment. It was almost bliss.
"I remember Kevin's father had briefly mentioned that people do this sort of thing. At the time I was so horrified that he never discussed the matter with me again."
Dr. K: "Did your husband ask you to suck his penis?"
Mrs. P: "No. He didn't ask me outright, but I could tell that he was feeling me out about the idea."
Dr. K: "Let's get back to Kevin and Chuck for a moment, shall we."
Mrs. P: "Well, Kevin insisted that I apologize to Chuck, which I did a few nights later.
"Kevin invited Chuck for dinner and the three of us had a very pleasant evening during which I apologized to Chuck for my behavior.
I did, however, express my disapproval for what was going on between them. I told them that I could never approve of such a relationship, but that I would not talk to Chuck's parents about the situation as I had previously threatened.
"I also told Chuck that I hoped that he would come back to the camp as usual."
Dr. K: "Did he return to camp?"
Mrs. P: "Yes, he did."
Dr. K: "And what was the situation between you and Chuck after his return to camp?"
Mrs. P: "At first it was very cool. Chuck was not sure of me and I could tell that he was afraid that I would misinterpret his actions with the other boys.
"It was quite obvious to me that his reactions were not spontaneous. They were, in fact, exceedingly guarded. He did, however, proceed to tell me one night when we were alone, that what he had done with Kevin, he had never done with anyone else. But that he was still seeing Kevin and that he was not cheating on him.
"You see, doctor, he was concerned that I thought that he was being disloyal to my son while he was away at camp. I assured him that this was not the case; that it was not a question of loyalties, but a question of the relationship itself, and that I couldn't care less whether he was faithful to my son or not.
"I must admit, doctor, that his naivete in the matter endeared him to me and I decided that all things considered he was quite a little charmer.
"It occurred to me that he was not at all as bad as I had originally accused him of being. It was not Chuck who was the villain in this matter, but my own son, Kevin.
"Chuck was being used, of this I was certain. He was being taken advantage of by my son and I could not blame the boy. In fact, I was certain that given the opportunity he would have no desire to continue in a homosexual bent. I was of the opinion that although Chuck was a bright lad, his overt shyness left him open and available to any overture that would make him feel more important and desired. Furthermore, I was also convinced that with Chuck, Kevin was merely a case of hero worship."
Dr. K: Was this because of Kevin's being a leader of the scout troop?
Mrs. P: Partially, doctor, but also you must remember that Kevin is and was an exceptionally handsome and virile looking young man. To Chuck, who was then and is now, rather small of stature, frail and sensitive, Kevin's obvious largeness was most appealing.
I later discovered that Chuck's father was somewhat inept as a father figure. Chuck's mother dominated him and overly protected him. His father was referred to by the boys in the neighborhood as Henry Hen-pecked. He was the neighborhood joke.
So, as you can see, doctor, he needed someone to look up to, someone to give him a reason for being a man, someone to show him how to be a man. Unfortunately, my son's way of showing how to be a man is by manipulating both mind and body in a deviated path.
Dr. K: How old was Kevin when his father died?
Mrs. P: Eighteen months. Dr. K: Who showed Kevin how to be a man?
Mrs. P: No one.
Dr. K: No one? Surely, he must have received his image from some place. Have you any idea where? Perhaps an uncle or a grandfather?
Mrs. P: No. The only person I could possibly pinpoint his idea of manhood to is the parish priest.
Dr. K: You're Catholic?
Mrs. P: Yes, doctor, very. It is a hangover from my parochial school days. Both of my parents were church-goers. In fact, my mother's brother was a bishop.
Dr. K: Do you suppose that the image of the priest's celibacy had an effect on Kevin's idea of manhood and the fact that priests never marry but live communally without the assistance of the woman figure?
Mrs. P: As a matter-of-fact, when Kevin became of age, around thirteen, I thought he should have some sex education. Since I could not bring myself to broach the subject, I thought it best to refer him to the Parish priest.
Dr. K: What made you decide that he had come of age?
Mrs. P: I noticed evidences of nightly emissions in his pajama bottoms.
Dr. K: Had you thought of asking him about it? Was it involuntary?
Mrs. P: I hadn't the nerve. I assumed that it was involuntary. Masturbation was unheard of. Besides, I discovered a magazine in his chest of drawers.
Dr. K: Magazine? Was it a girly magazine or was it a muscle builder magazine?
Mrs. P: Now that you mention it, doctor, it was a nudist publication, predominately male. Before you ask, I looked at it from cover to cover. I was young, naive. I wanted to learn also.
Dr. K: Of course. There's nothing wrong with that. This is what provoked your sending Kevin to seek proper guidance in matters concerning sex.
Mrs. P: Yes, doctor. I sent him to the priest after having discussed it with Father Beck. It turned out to be a disaster. Father Beck was more of a prude than I was and scared Kevin more than he should have.
Instead of handling the situation naturally, he assumed that Kevin's wet dreams were not involuntary and reprimanded him for playing with himself. Kevin did not know what he was talking about. He merely became confused and disillusioned.
He tried to talk to me, but I just did not have the maturity necessary to handle the situation. He needed a father, not a mother. I could not be both, although I did try.
I simply ignored the problem, hoping it would go away. It didn't. It only worsened. The outcome was my discovering Joann and Kevin in the living room and I needn't repeat my reaction to what I found. This is when, as I said before, Kevin stopped all female companionship. Consequently, I thought the problem went away. Little did I know how bad it had gotten. I never could even dream that when my son went to Tommy's to play it meant with, with each other.
Dr. K: About Chuck now, what transpired between the two of you after you realized he was not evil?
Mrs. P: I decided that it was a guidance problem and that Chuck needed to be redirected. I began to have conversation with him when he was free of other camp activities, and I found much to my surprise that he was quite sensitive and mature for his age. I found that it was very easy to talk with him and that he was eager to have someone who would listen to his ideas and thoughts.
Eventually, I broached the subject of Kevin and his relationship, if there was in fact one, in his young eyes. I'm sure there was. I wanted to tell him that I felt sure that Kevin was looking elsewhere for satisfaction while Chuck was at camp remaining faithful.
I realized that I would have to tread lightly or I would lose Chuck's confidence completely. It became clear that Chuck was of an age where he would not cease his sexual activity on the basis of another's word.
I believed that when children are awakened sexually, there is no logic that will stop their activity. They are ruled by their bodies. It became apparent that this was my mistake with Kevin.
I devised a plan of action which I hoped would put Chuck back on the right track sexually. I would show him that women were not to be feared, that sex was not only a plaything between boys.
Dr. K: Did Chuck confide in you the fact that he was a virgin?
Mrs. P: You mean with women?
Dr. K: Yes, with women. In that he had never penetrated the opposite sex.
Mrs. P: Yes, doctor, he had revealed to me that he was a virgin, insofar as girls were concerned. He felt ineffectual with girls his own age. He did not look on them as sex objects.
He admitted that he masturbated which left him frustrated and he didn't know why. He felt quite satisfied after his encounters with Kevin and he really had no desire to stop them. After all, it was the first thing in his life that made him feel worthwhile.
I remember the first night I put my plan into action. I had a cabin away from the others and I arranged with Chuck's counselor permission for him to stay out late. I invited Chuck to watch television with me since this was a luxury not afforded the campers.
As the evening wore on, a chill set in and I asked Chuck to build a fire. He obliged and I made much to do about his abilities. He was pleased and felt useful.
I asked him if he would mind not watching television and instead spend a quiet evening by the fire with me, just chatting and getting to know each other, since the fire he had built was such a lovely one, and too good to waste.
He began to object and I promised to arrange for another night so he could watch television, and he agreed.
I began a general conversation about his day's activities and in the process crossed my legs in such a way that he could see my upper thigh. Eventually, he noticed and I found his concentration opinioned on that part of my anatomy.
I asked him what it was that he and Kevin actually did. He blushed. I assured him that I would not be shocked and that I was truly interested. He said he did not feel right talking about that sort of thing with me, a woman, and Kevin's mother to boot!
I inquired of him whether he thought girls did the same thing. You mean suck, he said.
And I said yes. The idea really horrified me, doctor. He paled and became exceedingly nervous. To put him at ease, I crossed the room and sat down next to him on the rug in front of the fire. I noticed the bulge in his pants immediately. I knew there was hope.
I asked him if that's what he did with Kevin. He became vehement and began to stammer. He said that it was the reverse.
I must say, doctor, I found myself getting excited by his nervousness. He began to smell of sex. I had never experienced the aroma before, the emanations of a young boy in heat. It was delicious.
I had the distinct impression that he was about ready to run, that he would have preferred not to have been where he was, and who he was with. He was becoming increasingly agitated. His buttock muscles were flexing and he was squeezing his thighs together, pinching the bulge in his crotch as he did so.
In order to release his nervousness, I placed my hand on his shoulder and gently massaged his neck muscles while speaking in a low, calm, steady voice. I tried to assure him that there was nothing to fear, that I only wanted to help him, the only way I really knew how.
Our eyes met and the extent of his passion was evident. I pulled him to me and kissed him full on the mouth. His breath was heavy with desire. He offered no resistance and the moment we touched he melted into my arms.
I directed his head toward my breast which was bare beneath my robe. Instantly, his mouth found my nipple and greedily sucked like an infant at his nursing mother. He needed no direction. It was natural.
I had not felt the nearness of another human's flesh against mine since my husband, over twenty-five years. I did not realize until that very moment how much I had missed the contact of another body as it pressed against mine, causing surges of passion to pulse through me.
Chuck, I said, I will show you how to really be a man, by making me feel like a woman.
He responded to my intimation. My words seemed to spark a cord within him that was as yet unstruck. He placed his hands upon my wrists and pulled my hands to his crotch.
He ordered me to unbutton his fly and I eagerly responded. I found that I relished the note of brutality in his voice. The anticipation was almost unbearable. I could hardly wait to see what was hidden inside his pants. I remembered the look on Joann's face and I knew now the reason.
I undid his fly, my hands working rapidly. I thrust my fingers into the opening of his pants. I gasped when I felt the hard, hot flesh hidden there, surrounded by the soft, silky pubic hair. I grew weak and unsure, but Chuck once again took charge.
Quickly, he pulled his pants down and his hard, throbbing penis stood erect before me.
The sight was overwhelming. I was frozen. I could not move. My hand rested lightly at its base, my fingers nestled in the hair. It was like cornsilk, a soft golden yellow. It was beautiful.
Chuck placed his hands at the back of my head and drew me forward toward him, toward it. Automatically, my lips parted and all too soon they touched the smooth skin of its lovely head.
(NOTE: At this point, Mrs. P was lost in Reverie. Her eyes glazed seeing a distant sight long past, but once again alive. Her breasts heaved with measured breath and it was quite apparent that she was once again experiencing completely the pleasures of the act she described. I did not wish to interrupt her, but I felt it necessary to do so.)
Dr. K: What were your reactions to the act you had found at one time to be so repulsive? Did you have a physical reaction of revulsion?
Mrs. P: No, doctor, by no means was I repelled. On the contrary. I was attracted by a force over which I had no power. I could no more have stopped my progress then I could have explained why I let myself get into this situation in the first place. I can only say that in the beginning I thought that it was he who needed me and now at the point of contact it seemed that it was I who needed him. The rolls were switched and I went from leader to follower, from instructor to pupil.
No sooner did his throbbing organ touch my lips when I felt the liquid begin to boil deep inside his young balls. He erupted into my mouth with one great spasm. He gushed forth his salty semen and the taste was like mother's milk to me. I drank deeply, sucking every drop my hew, young lover could give.
I was in heaven! I felt like a virgin on her wedding night, only better for this time there was no hymen to break, no pain to feel. It was all pleasure, all enjoyment.
I felt my Lochinvar collapse. He poured his strength into my mouth and it seeped from the very core of his being. He wilted onto the floor before me and I tucked him into my arms. I could see that he was completely spent, so while he nestled his lovely blonde head into my shoulder, I relieved myself by my own hand.
I cannot begin to explain, doctor, what this evening did for me as a woman. In essence, he did take my virginity, my emotional virginity. He broke the hymen of my frustration and my fears and all those days of darkness. The days filled with fears forced upon me by all of those stupid women in my past. I suddenly felt alive. Instead of making him feel worthwhile, I made myself feel worthwhile.
This was only the beginning. Chuck spent many evenings in my cabin from that night on and we became very close. I watched him begin to grow up, to add to his young personality the measure of maturity. I watched the light of innocence disappear but it was not replaced by jaded decadence. I saw a character begin to form, one which I desperately wished belonged to Kevin, for whom I could do nothing.
The next evening that we were together, I was like a little girl once again. The difference was fantastic, almost beyond belief, but we were so close, so near. Either I was fifteen or he was forty-five. It was the night I took his virginity.
When he came to my cabin I could tell that he was unsure. He did not know how to react to me. He wanted to rush into my arms, but he was afraid. I, on the other hand, was also afraid, afraid that he would think me a silly old woman, afraid that he would make jest. Just simply afraid.
I wanted to ask him how he enjoyed our previous encounter, how it differed from his doing it with Kevin? And then I realized the ridiculousness of the situation. I, the mother of a twenty-eight year old son, was competing with my own offspring for the affections of a fifteen-year-old boy. How stupid! How foolish! And yet, I could not control myself. I wanted to hurt my own son even though I caused him to be the way he was.
I realized that I must be just as queer as my son, but what could I do? My body, my mind, and my heart desperately craved this young boy.
After a time of idle conversation, of leather craft and such, we warmed to each other and once again became assured by our presence.
Our closeness was a reality.
In the glow of the fire reflecting in his sweet eyes, I saw myself. I reached forward with my hand gently touching his cheek. He smiled and we came together gently. We kissed. Tonight neither of us was impaired by that strapping nervousness. We had a moment and it was still living.
You know, doctor, that damned fear of loneliness when you are separate from one with whom you have been intimate. All those insecurities arise again, all those fears of inadequacy.
But oh, the incredible joy when they are all unfounded and you are secure in your previous experience. You are once again a complete person.
This time I wanted a complete union. I knew that Chuck had only had oral experiences. How could he achieve what I intended through an act that is basically unnatural?
Dr. K: Pardon me for interrupting, but what do you mean by unnatural? Are you reverting to your previous way of thinking? Or are you trying merely to justify a guilt feeling toward your previous encounter? Did you equate yourself with Kevin's perversion?
Mrs. P: Regardless of what the liberal minds state, oral sex is not natural. I don't think it had anything to do with guilt feelings. I didn't say that I didn't enjoy it or that I wouldn't repeat it. I merely stated that it was unnatural.
I believe that you will have to admit that the most natural act of sex is the male penetrating the female, the union of sex organs. While the other forms of sex are fun and enjoyable, the basic act is the most complete, especially when you have never experienced it.
This is what I wanted for Chuck. I wanted to look into his face as he entered my waiting body as my flesh surrounded and accepted his. I wanted to see the boyhood disappear from his face. I wanted to watch him as I gave him his manhood.
While our lips were enjoying the taste of mounting passion, I directed his young, eager fingers toward the juncture of my thighs. For one long beautiful moment his fingers hovered in anticipation of the first touch.
He trembled. Haltingly his fingers advanced searchingly, seeking, hunting, kneading the air until they reached their goal.
Without a moment's hesitation, he plunged them into my eager vagina. A shiver of delight ran through my body. It had been so long since my flesh had felt the touch of another human's hand inside me.
I could wait no longer. I drew him to me and quickly disrobed him. I cupped his testicles in my hand and pulled him closer to me, positioning his body between my outstretched thighs.
I guided his hardened penis to the entrance of my hungry body. He leaned forward and we became one as he slid full length into me.
As his hard meat parted the walls of my unused womanhood, I became alive. I became a woman. As he gained his manhood, he gave me life.
We spent a lovely summer together and the time came when the yearling left his nest to discover what lay beyond. He did not suffer. I had given to him what I wanted to give and he gave to me a longing to be fulfilled.
Now, doctor, setting my son's problems aside what do I do now, find another Chuck?
Summary
I realized from the beginning that Mrs. P was not primarily interested in her son's treatment. Consciously, of course, she was, but her guiding force in coming to see me in the first place was to answer her own problem.
As was her pattern throughout most of her life, she needed a justification, a covering reason, something safe with which she could hide from the truth. Thus was her ruse of using her son's problems.
Mrs. P is a woman in all senses of the word. She is strong. She is vital, and she will survive. She is of the earth. She does not, in fact, fool herself. She knows truth and can recognize it when it is necessary, which was evidenced by her own plea for help.
Mrs. P, I believe, is fairly uncomplicated. She needed very little guidance. She needed a little help in clarifying her thinking. By connecting a few simple facts of her past, we created a pattern which immediately reveled its own solution to her.
Mrs. P's first point of fact was her strict upbringing in the Catholic faith. She had the misfortune of being reared by fear-ridden individuals who themselves did not even realize the basic tenets of the Catholic faith. Rather than hope they were used as a prison and she could not break loose.
Had her husband not met an untimely death, perhaps she would have found her way out of the black maze of fear. He seemed to have the makings of a thinking man. Unfortunately, for Mrs. P, he was caught in the influences of accident. It was also unfortunate for Kevin.
This young woman was totally unprepared for life. She could not be held responsible for what she did not know. She hadn't the chance to mature before the responsibilities of life were thrust upon her at a time when women were not prepared to handle them. She reacted in the only way she could survival.
Her son suffered dreadfully, but in a case such as this, there can be no "blame." All individuals involved are merely victims of circumstance, and they all react according to their built-in mechanisms of survival.
Mrs. P came to realize that she did not make her son a homosexual. If the tendencies were not latent he would not have taken that course. Another individual in that circumstance would have turned out completely different.
Once this realization became apparent, Mrs.
P began to make tremendous strides in her therapy. This was a major key to her misguided thinking. She felt guilty about something over which she had no control. She came to understand that she just might as well feel as guilty about her husband's death, which of course was completely accidental.
It must be fully understood that we are guilty only for that over which we have control; or for that which we are responsible.
Chuck was her second chance. Before it was too late, she had to awaken herself. Here again, she used a ploy, i.e., the attempt to redirect Chuck's misguided path when in fact it was her own path that she was trying to redirect.
She also received her second chance vicariously with her son. It was the need to give which was satisfied within her. It was unfortunate that it did not arise sooner so that she could have given it to her son directly.
But with the approach of menopause, the female system has marvelous recuperative last ditch powers. It is quite common for a woman on the verge of the change of life to experience a great surge of sexuality. Some schools of thought believe that it is nature's way of making the last attempt of reproduction, the last effort to carry forth life.
This was the case with Mrs. P. She came to realize that her sexuality was quite natural and that it was all right to enjoy sex in all forms. It was a matter of redirecting the object from the young boy to her peers.
When she understood that she could not give to mankind what she did not give to her son, her problem was well in hand and she no longer feared a man her equal.
She desires marriage and I am sure, given time, her dream will be fulfilled.
CASE NUMBER THREE
Patient: Mrs. Janet L. Age: 38
Marital Status: Married Occupation: Housewife
Mrs. L. was sent to me by her loving husband. Mr. and Mrs. L. have been married for twenty years. Mr. L. is a busy executive, whose business finds it necessary for his presence to be known in other cities quite frequently. They are well to do and childless. Mrs. L. is bored. She has become involved with various charitable organizations but finds this activity little compensation for a husband.
She is not what I would classify as a willing patient, neither is she hostile. Her manner is one of detachment. She is well groomed with an air of studied casualness. Her soft blonde hair rests very naturally about her shoulders framing her face with gentle curls. She wore no jewelry-only a wedding band. Her body was lean, well developed and very alive, quietly resting beneath a soft wool dress, which caressed her skin gently. Her legs, long and firm tapered gracefully from her full thighs swelling to a well turned calf into a slim ankle.
Mr. L. arrived home unexpectedly one day and discovered his attractive wife in the embrace of a young boy-specifically the sixteen year old delivery boy from the local food market.
Mr. L.'s breeding would not allow an emotional outburst consequently Mrs. L. was found in my office.
As she spoke her voice was deep and seductive, underridden by a note of reserve. Her gaze was direct, defiant, asking for a challenge.
MRS. L: "Well doctor, what's your verdict?"
DR. K: "I don't make judgments. A verdict hints of guilt. Have you reason for guilt?"
MRS. L: "Of course not doctor. I am never sorry for anything that I do. My life is my business and precisely my sex life."
DR. K: "What about your husband?"
MRS. L: "His life is his business and what I do is mine."
DR. K: "He seemed to be quite deeply moved by your action-at least that's the impression that I received."
MRS. L: "I really don't think that he could be moved by anything. He doesn't care what I do as long as I don't tarnish the family reputation."
DR. K: "Then why would he bother sending you to me if he didn't care as you seem to think."
MRS. L: "He sent me to you simply because I could become a problem. He is afraid that I will not remain on the Q-T. He is terrified of rumors-especially if there is no way to disprove them.
"Young boys, as I am sure you as a psychiatrist know, have a way of talking and rumors of this nature spread like wild-fire-so my husband thinks. He wants to make sure that it doesn't happen again."
DR. K: "Did it happen before?"
MRS. L: "That's none of your business. As I said my affairs are my own concern, and nobody else's."
DR. K: "What do you expect of me? Are we going to just sit and pass the time of day or should we try gin rummy?"
MRS. L: "I prefer gin without the rummy. Remember doctor my visits here are not my choice. I have been sent to you so it's your time and your move as to how we shall spend it."
DR. K: "What does your husband expect me to accomplish. The odds are not in my favor."
MRS. L: "Had you considered asking him? After all you can probably learn more from him than I could. Don't you know rich people don't talk to each other."
DR. K: "Is that why you resorted to the means you did-the delivery boy? Does it really make any difference to you one way or the other."
MRS. L: "He intrigued me."
DR. K: "How? Was there no other reason then a little bit of adventure? What about the boy?"
MRS. L: "He enjoyed himself. It was far more adventurous for him than me. I said that I was intrigued."
DR. K: "How can you be sure that you did him no harm? How do you know he enjoyed himself? How could you tell if you were playing with fire?"
MRS. L: "Bullshit! A woman knows-especially a woman like myself when a man is being satisfied. I am not easily fooled. And I don't play with children who can not handle what I give them."
DR. K: "What are the signs? How does a young man telegraph his enjoyment? If you are so all knowing. ... "
MRS. L: "Listen doctor, don't smart-ass me. I never stated that I was all knowing I said I could tell. When a male is snorting in my ear and smashing his body against mine, I need no explanations. Simply the sweat alone pouring off of his naked flesh is enough to tell me that his fever is high, and his passion rampant. All I have to do is throw back at him and he gives me the answer I want."
DR. K: "What answer is that? What question are you asking?"
MRS. L: "Do you want me?"
DR. K: "And that's all? Does it really matter?"
MRS. L: "Of course it matters. Why else would I bother with them?"
DR. K: "I don't know you tell me."
MRS. L: "I am a woman, doctor and I need to be fulfilled. I cannot do it myself. It takes two to tango, and I am all woman. I need a partner."
DR. K: "Any kind of partner? Would just anybody do?"
MRS. L: "As long as he can handle me, that's all he needs. I don't ask for anything in particular or anything that isn't possible. I just don't believe in doing things half way and when I'm had, I want to be completely had. Otherwise baby, forget it.
"The namby-pambies who can't back me up to the wall can go take care of themselves behind the barn. They're better off there anyway."
DR. K: "Does your husband back you up to the wall?"
MRS. L: "He makes me climb the wall."
DR. K: "I don't quite follow. He's the man you married. Evidently he had something once. What happened to it? Or what happened to you?"
MRS. L: "Nothing happened to me (she laughed sarcastically.) His old well went dry.
His fire went out. His youth aged. And when that happens its time to fan another fire."
DR. K: "You mean to say that your husband would have to conquer you every night. You mean he would have to prove himself constantly?"
MRS. L: "It's not a matter of proving, doctor. It's a matter of doing. And he just doesn't have what it takes anymore. (She leaned forward and her voice rose increasingly) He's getting old! He's an old man! Old-old-old! That's all-OLD!"
DR. K: "I was under the impression that you were both about the same age."
MRS. L: "Really doctor, don't be absurd. I'm younger than he is."
DR. K: "How much younger?"
MRS. L: "Enough to make a difference."
DR. K: "Long live the difference! What difference? Do you really think I'm an idiot? What is this incredible importance of age?"
MRS. L: "When it means the difference between a boy filled with fire and a man filled with sawdust it's quite important."
DR. K: "Does your husband satisfy you at all in any way? Does he measure up as a husband?"
MRS. L: "Not in any way it counts."
DR. K: "When did his fire go out?"
MRS. L: "Years ago. His went out and mine got hotter."
DR. K: "Then I take it you have been burning for a very long time."
MRS. L: "That is quite correct. A very long time!"
DR. K: "This forest fire I'm sure did not rage unattended all these years? Who tended the furnace?"
MRS. L: "Enough to make it worthwhile. Let's say that when an attendant was needed, one was found.
Well, and aren't you the clever one. You think simply because you get me talking I'm going to answer all of your questions for no other reason then you're asking them. Well, doctor, I'm going to surprise you. I'm going to answer.
"The first one I remember, most of the others I don't. He was a cabin boy aboard ship, the first time I went to the Virgin Islands alone, that was let me see, about five years after we were married."
DR. K: "Why did you go alone? Was it your choice?"
MRS. L: "Certainly not. My dear husband was involved with his new mistress-his new prospering business and I was cast upon the high seas to drift by myself. Well, I'm not one to drift alone. It didn't take long for the young swains to smell a bitch in heat. And when an attractive woman is shown attention she becomes exceedingly aware of herself.
"I managed to ignore most of the amorous offers-all of them as a matter-of-fact. I couldn't have cared less."
DR. K: "What made you change your mind? What brought about your turn about?"
MRS. L: "A ship to shore telephone call to my husband which was met with indifference because he was on his way to a meeting. All I did was turn around and waiting was a pair of dark shiny eyes, accompanied by a very attractive smile.
He was fifteen but he was there and I was important. I was his most pressing matter and not some stupid meeting. I think he knew from the start that I was responding to him and he didn't seem to object. He was so uncomplicated he reminded me very much of my husband Paul when we first met in school.
It took me exactly two days to complete my assignation. I knew that he was on duty in the afternoon and I managed to be in my cabin at that time.
I rang for him and when he arrived I used the excuse that I wanted to send a cablegram and I didn't know who to place it with. I was purposely wearing a negligee of the sheerest chiffon I could find-with nothing underneath. I remember when I put it on, I stood in front of the full length mirror naked with the negligee loosely about my shoulders.
I examined my body in the mirror and explored it with my hands. I thought of Paul and how he used to take me eagerly, without apologies. And I longed for his firm caress, his gentleness, his manhood.
There was a knock at the door and I quickly closed my robe loosely, tying it. I knew that
Raoul would be there, waiting as long as I wished. I paused momentarily with my hand on the door knob and my other hand on my breast. I waited for the second knock, which followed the first instantly.
I opened the door still cupping my breast. He looked particularly appealing in his fresh white coat, contrasting his olive skin and dark hair. We looked at each other for a long time and then I invited him in.
I gave him my reason for asking him to come to my cabin. He informed me that I could place the cable gram directly via the telephone by dialing the number of the communications room.
I apologized for being a nuisance, and explained that I was not accustomed to handling this kind of matter myself, that I was at a loss without a man around.
I sensed his vitality. There is a certain abandonment about a young boy fresh on the brink of manhood. He was not a virgin, I could tell. I surmised that by virtue of his position on the ship he must have been well experienced. But he still possessed that certain grain of uncertainty. He had not yet become crass, or bold. And I knew that he would not make the first move.
I knew at any moment that I could dismiss him. I knew that I had complete control of the situation. He was mine for the taking.
I had to be sure that he was interested. I had to make it quite clear to myself that he did not think that I was just another rich bitch for his plaything. There had to be more than that.
I allowed my robe to become taut across my naked body. I could tell that my nipples were well defined beneath the fabric. I felt the soft chiffon cool and smooth upon my thighs and I felt a stirring deep within myself which caused a longing to be felt throughout my entire lower abdomen.
I needed this boy, this young Paul, this youngster who was my husband's younger image. I was desperate for him and I was desperate for him to need me. I wanted to have him touch me like Paul did when we first met, to excite me as he did, to show me love, to show my body what it meant to be a woman.
I don't really know, doctor, if the resemblance between this boy and Paul as a youth had anything to do with my desiring him. After all, the whole concept of seducing someone more than ten years my junior was the farthest thing from my mind. And yet, there I was doing just that.
Dr. K: Just to jump ahead for a minute, was there a resemblance to your husband with each of the young men you encountered?
Mrs. L: Yes. In some way they all reminded me of Paul at the time we went steady in high school.
Dr. K: I see. I'm sorry I interrupted you. Please continue with the recollection of your first seduction.
Mrs. L: It's difficult to ascertain exactly where the fantasy loses out to the reality, where the illusion is overtaken by the passion, where the drain becomes physical.
I remember him standing there and the storm raging within my body, the war of contradiction, my giving into my wishes. My body demanded, my emotion demanded, but my pride refused.
If I did not have this creature before me, I would probably have broken a vase, kicked, stamped, cried a little, and it would have passed. But with his hot image standing before me, at my request, my blood continued to boil until my physical need won out.
There was no retreat. I had to go forward. I had to have this boy. I had to feel his hot flesh inside me. I craved him and I knew my seed was cast in fertile soil. His response spurred me on.
I asked him if he would bring me some aspirins from the medicine chest in the dressing room, and he obliged. While he was out of the room, I quickly lay down upon the large double bed, my robe falling casually about me.
I remember thinking at that very moment how thankful I was to be sailing first class, since the beds were larger, and not bunk.
Dr. K: Well, Mrs. L, it's nice to see that even during the most stressing of times you still manage to have a sense of humor.
Mrs. L: My thought was not provoked by humor, but by the need to roll and lanquish with this youngster.
The satin bedspread was cool and sensuous against my fevered flesh as both my mind and body waited for the lad's return.
I did not have to wait long. In a moment's time, he reappeared with a glass in hand. Coming over to the bedside, he handed me the two aspirins I had requested and the glass of water.
He never took his eyes off my now exposed body. As I returned the glass to him, our touch lingered long enough for me to urge him toward me.
He put the glass down on the bedside table and then his hand came to rest on my shoulder. Will there be anything else, madam, he inquired in a voice that was just above a whisper.
Yes, I replied, I would like you to rub my neck. I seem to be a bit tense.
I took his hands and guided them to the nape of my neck, one on either side, so that his arms were circling me.
He leaned over and his elbows came to rest on the fullness of my chest. I thought I would scream. His touch was like fire and yet at the same time like ice against my hot flesh. I reached forward and realized after a moment that my nails were digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his jacket. I said nothing. There was nothing to say.
I grasped the cloth and pulled with all my might. The flimsy buttons gave way and exposed his bare hairless chest. The sunlight came streaming through the porthole and glistened on his smooth olive skin. I pulled him to me. He did not resist. And as his body fell upon mine I felt the touch of his chest against my breasts and the hard bulge in his pants, burning against my crotch.
I devoured him with my lips. I remembered tasting every piece of exposed flesh before me. My wet searching mouth traveled across his face, down his neck, and onto his beautiful nipples. My teeth dragged a path between the two sensitive points.
I could stand it no longer. I wanted him naked. I wanted to feel his flesh completely against mine. I wanted to see that bulge exposed before me. I wanted to feel his penis in my hand, his throbbing hardness in my grasp.
Feverishly, my fingers began tearing at his clothing. I quickly undid the front of his pants and my hands darted in, seeking, searching, until they found their desired goal.
I gasped with utter delight when my fingers touched the soft, smooth skin of his bulbous head. My other hand sought eagerly to find those lovely orbs which held the fluid I so desperately wanted.
My fingernails dug into the flesh of his firm, young thigh as his pants were pushed down by his own eager hands.
We did not waste a moment. Our passions rode high and demanded satisfaction. In a swift movement, he raised his body upward and repositioned himself between my now outstretched thighs.
As his hot young cock touched my eager lips, I opened myself, accepting him into me. It was much easier now than the first time Paul had entered me. That was a painful experience, but a welcomed one. This time my walls were easily parted and his rigid rod pushed with urgency.
It did not take long before we were both at the doorway leading to climax. I thrust my hips upward anxiously meeting his forward thrust. Our pubic hairs entwined and I felt the soft skin of his ball sac pressing against my smooth buttocks.
As I reached the moment of climax, eagerly sought after, my emotional flood gate opened, pouring forth all which I had harbored for so long. His name was upon my lips and it was not until it had escaped that I realized that I was calling out for Paul, my long lost young man.
Dr. K: Did you seek him out again? Mrs. L: No.
Dr. K: How long after that was your next encounter?
Mrs. L: Quite awhile. After I had gained control of myself, I was ashamed of what I did. I promised myself that it would not happen again. I vowed that I would make everything right between myself and my husband. In fact, when the boat docked, I flew immediately home.
Dr. K: What was your husband's reaction to your unexpected return?
Mrs. L: He didn't even know I was there, since I could not get to see him until five days after my arrival back in town.
I resigned myself to the fact that I was the wife of a busy executive. I settled into suburban life and remained faithful to my husband, if not frustrated. I sublimated my lack of attention with various kinds of activities and committee work.
It was on one of the committees that I meet and became friendly with a woman who about a month after my return, went into the hospital for some tests. She asked me if I would be kind enough to spend some time with her son. The boy was thirteen and although a teen-ager, he was a problem only because he craved attention. His mother was too busy as was my husband, to give the attention necessary.
We spent a charming two days together and on the third I chanced into his room while he was showering. I was laying out some clothes for him when he bounded in naked.
I was amazed at the stage of his development beyond his years, and I quickly excused myself. I realized at that point, doctor, that my attraction toward him was something akin to that of Raoul. He was embarrassed but I graciously exited the room.
I closed the door behind me and stood shaking in the hallway. I was there for a full twenty minutes. It seemed like two. I wanted to apologize and make certain that he was not too upset. You know boys that age are very sensitive about their manhood. I raised my hand to knock on the door when I was arrested by a peculiar noise coming from inside the room.
Rather than knock, I quietly turned the knob and the door gave way easily before me. The noise I soon discovered was the creaking of his bed as he masturbated. There before me stretched out fully naked across his bed was Jerry, his erected cock in his hand, his hand stroking it rapidly.
He was just as surprised to see me as was I to see him. But there was nowhere to go, no place to hide. I suppose, doctor, that I could have made a hasty exit, but instead I stood there transfixed. I could not go forward, I could not retreat.
It was not until I saw the shame in his eyes that I was brought back to reality. When he surreptitiously covered himself with the girl magazine he had been looking at my heart went out to him. He was so young, so innocent, so misguided.
I advanced, trying to assure him that I did not think that anything was wrong. That it was perfectly natural to seek gratification. But my words fell upon deaf ears. He was so overridden by shame and guilt. I could tell he wanted to be any place else other than where he was.
There was only one way I felt that I could give my words meaning, and that was by action. I sat down on the edge of the bed and removed the magazine, thus exposing his hard, hot, young cock.
I placed his hand back on his own tool and, putting my hand over his, began simultaneously to work in an up and down motion. His eyes met mine and I saw the tension begin to dissipate.
As it did so, he urged his hips upward affording me freer access to his extended sex. I don't know why I did it, doctor, but I leaned forward and placed a kiss on the head of his cock. As I did so, he lunged upward and I opened my mouth, accepting him into me.
This was the first time that I have ever done such a thing. But the taste was intoxicating. I found myself driven by some uncontrollable force and I began to work my head frantically in time with his lunges. I felt the juices collect at the base of his cock, anxiously awaiting their time of release.
Suddenly, in one great eruption, he spit his juice across my tongue and down my throat. Hungrily, I swallowed every last drop of his white, sticky liquid as it poured forth from the gaping hole which pierced the center of its bulbous head.
We saw each other quite regularly after that and our experiences grew. I guided him into the world of sexual pleasures and showed him how to make love openly and honestly as Paul had shown me to do.
Dr. K: Did your world of experience expand to others? Or did you have a tendency to stay with one boy for a long period of time?
Mrs. L: That depended upon the boy. Sometimes I found myself having a fleeting experience, other times a long and meaningful one.
Dr. K: How could it be meaningful when you were committed to your husband?
Mrs. L: Maybe I should say gratifying for me, meaningful for the boys. I gave them a new experience and showed them that sex was more than just a physical encounter.
All right, doctor, now that I have said more than I feel I should have said, what do you have to say to me?
Dr. K: What are you looking for?
Mrs. L: I really don't know. I seem to be on a never-ending treadmill which really leads me nowhere. I know where I want to go, but it doesn't take me.
Dr. K: Where is that?
Mrs. L: To my Paul.
Dr. K: But you have him. Where is it you want to go?
Mrs. L: To where he went away, to where he was young and vital and alive, when I was a part of his life.
Dr. K: Do you really think it's possible to go back? Can you recapture something that is lost?
Mrs. L: Lost? It's not really lost forever. If I ever thought that my Paul was lost, I really don't know what I would do.
Dr. K: But don't you see Mrs. L that you are demanding that your husband remain a child when his natural progression went on to maturity. You must follow him, not drag him back.
Mrs. L: But he went on without me. He did not take me with him. He did not ask me to follow. If only he would. ... "
Summary
Mrs. L was not alone in her problem. This was very much a case of mutual diversion. Rather than developing together, she and her husband traveled separate paths of development.
At a crucial time in both of their lives outside influences exerted undue pressure and neither Mrs. L nor her husband was capable of dealing with them. They were not strong enough in their relationship to withstand the exterior forces which demanded long separations.
It is unfortunate that Mrs. L did not make her frustrations known in the beginning before they became a way of life, before the wedges were driven between her and her husband.
Had Mr. L realized it soon enough, I am sure that he would have made every effort to save his marriage. But his wife was one who made great silent demands and as long as his attention was on her needs, she was satisfied. She could not stand his separateness. As he matured, it was necessary for him to step forward into the role of manhood, to accept responsibility of life, of earning a living, a working out in the world.
Mrs. L on the other hand had no responsibility and was completely enmeshed in the romance she and her husband had in their youth and the constant fight to keep it as it was. She could not adjust to a more mature relationship with Mr. L, nor did she want to.
As was evidenced in her various affairs, she had a tendency to cling to fantasy. And as long as her marriage existed in this realm, all was fine. But as soon as reality entered into the picture, she could not cope. Perhaps had she been given adult responsibility such as a child, she may very well have been able to make the transition her husband made.
As a result of her search for fantasy, she turned her attention to young boys thus remaining young herself, trapped in her own fantasy of youth.
It was evident that she wanted to be caught, that she wanted her husband to notice her in some way, any way so that she would feel the intensity of attention she once had which she now felt she lacked.
It was only a matter of time before she became bored and frustrated with her nefarious relationships and sought an encounter with her husband. Since she felt inadequate and completely incapable of communicating with him on any level other than sex, she chose this one and arranged to be caught with the delivery boy.
Subsequently, I arranged to see both Mr. and Mrs. L in a double session as I felt that once Mrs. L was made aware of herself, family counseling would be more beneficial than letting Mrs. L attempt to transfer her feeling to her husband on her own.
After several sessions, both husband and wife found a mutual plan of action which would eventually repair the tear in their marriage.
CASE NUMBER FOUR
Patient: Miss Julia B. Age: 28
Marital Status: Single Occupation: Librarian
Miss B. is a classic example of a librarian. She is plain. She wears very little makeup and her entire bearing is reticent. She seems to apologize for her very existence. She is acquiescent to all that surrounds her.
I thought when I first saw her that it was quite fitting for her to take her place among the musty books on the shelves of the library. It was a personal interpretation one which I would rarely air. But since the reaction was so strong I feel that I am justified in making this comment.
She came to me because she had received a proposal of marriage and could not accept it even though she wanted to.
I found it quite difficult drawing her out. It was evident that she wanted to speak but was much too inhibited to discuss herself freely with me a complete stranger.
It was not until several sessions transpired before her lengthy pauses shortened. She seemed to open up to me the more we spoke. She seemed to develop a trust and once this was established she began to talk with ease.
Her frame was frail and was not enhanced by the narrow stily dress she wore. Her shoulders were narrow and her breasts small. She wore her hair very plain and she sat very demurely with her knees and feet together as if waiting for someone to hand her a cup of tea.
Her voice was tiny, almost inaudible at times. But as our sessions progressed her volume increased into hints of emotional stress.
DR. K: "Why can you not accept this proposal of marriage. There must be some reason other than you can't."
MISS B: "Actually doctor, (her voice almost disappeared completely) it's sex."
DR. K: "Are you afraid of sex? Is that your reason for remaining single."
MISS B: "Yes doctor or at least in a way it is."
DR. K: "I gather that you are still a virgin. Are there any reasons why you should be afraid of penetration?"
MISS B: "No doctor, not at all. But I feel that I must correct you on one small point ... I am not a virgin."
DR. K: "I see." (I tried to control my reaction but I know I failed. I was taken by surprise.) "Pardon me for being rather blunt but when did you lose your maiden head."
MISS B: "Oh quite some time ago, doctor when I was but a teenager."
DR. K: "Has there been any sexual activity since then."
MISS B: "Oh yes doctor, quite a bit."
DR. K: "What do you mean by quite a bit? Once a month ... once a week ... or once a day?"
MISS B: "Oh sometimes unlimited encounters."
DR. K: "Well then why is sex a problem with marriage? The only other thing I could possibly think of was venereal disease ... is this your problem?"
MISS B: "No doctor. My problem is quite different ... it is one of age. You see doctor, I have experienced a great deal of sex but it has been with boys who cannot climax. They must be young enough so as not to cause emission."
DR. K: "What do you have against emission? This is generally the sought after goal of sex. Have you ever climaxed?"
MISS B: "Oh yes, doctor, I have. In fact I can't remember ever having sex when I didn't have an orgasm."
DR. K: "Let me clarify one point, what is your problem with the male climax?"
MISS B: "Actually doctor, I only recall experiencing a male climax once."
DR. K: "When was that Miss B?"
MISS B: "When I was eight years of age."
DR. K: "Isn't that rather young to be with a male old enough to ejaculate?"
MISS B: "I guess so doctor but you see I grew up in my uncle's home and my cousin was a bit older ... about sixteen.
As I look back on the incident I realize he must have been ... how shall I say ... not well.
I would not like to classify him in the realm of a sex maniac but I do think that he had an unnatural preoccupation with sex.
One afternoon when we were alone we took a walk into the woods which surrounded the house on the property. And while there, in a little glen secluded from all outside eyes, Marty suggested that we rest.
He stretched out on a moss bank and encouraged me to do the same. He began toying with his pants. I was too young to even realize that a great difference existed between boys and girls.
He asked if I would mind having some fun. I of course could think of nothing I would enjoy more. I liked Marty very much and there was nothing I wouldn't do with him.
He proceeded to unzip his pants and he drew something out which caused me to stare wide-eyed in amazement. Before me was the largest stick I had ever seen ... and what was more it was attached to his body.
I asked him what it was and he told me that it was called a hard-on and that it was a toy for little girls to play with. He told me to stroke it which I did haltingly. After having done so a few times I decided I liked the way it felt. The skin was soft yet firm and I was intrigued by how easily it moved.
I slid my hand up and down and found that the skin was quite loose.
Marty urged me to continue. He said that it felt very good. But that I could make it feel better if I really wanted to have some fun.
He told me to put my mouth on it. He said to pretend that he was a balloon and that his hard-on was a valve. He said that I should blow on it and we would see what would happen.
Well doctor, I saw what happened. I was in the midst of having a marvelous time when all of a sudden this stuff came out all over the place ... all over me ... in my mouth. It tasted hideous. I had never felt anything so repulsive in all my life. It was sticky and I was horrified that I attempted to cover my face. But this sticky stuff was all over my hands and I smeared it on my cheeks and in my eyes and I threw up all over Marty.
He struck me very hard several times and began to curse me. He cleaned the stuff off the end of his hard-on and rubbed it all over me.
From that day on doctor, we never really spoke except to pass the time of day. That is my experience with a male climax."
DR.K: "Granted the experience was a startling one, possibly even traumatic, but I really don't think that it would be sufficient to destroy your leading a normal life. I believe that you stated that you experienced other sex but that you only encountered one male climax. I seemed to be confused."
MISS B: "That is easily explained doctor, all of my sexual encounters since that day have been with young boys since they can not possibly give me a baby."
DR. K: "Do you fear pregnancy?"
MISS B: "Yes doctor I think more than anything else I fear becoming pregnant. I could not bear the thought of being an unwed mother."
DR. K: "But you have just been given the opportunity to be wed and yet you cannot accept the proposal."
MISS B: "I know doctor. I suppose if I could answer these questions myself I wouldn't be here."
DR. K: "I suppose not but let's not get involved in areas beyond ourselves at the moment. I would like to go these sexual experiences with boys and perhaps see if we can find the answers to your questions."
MISS B. "All right doctor. I suppose I should tell you about the last boy I was with. I saw him for seven months prior to the day of our last encounter.
He was playing in the alley behind my house one Saturday afternoon. He was running a stick along the picket fence. I called to him asking him to stop, partially because the stick would nick the paint and also because the noise irritated me.
He was defiant and refused to stop. I ordered him into the house. He obliged since he came to the library regularly and I knew who he was and where he lived. He was wearing cut-off jeans and he was bare footed."
DR. K: "How old was he?"
MISS B: "He was twelve and a half when we first met.
Once inside the house I proceeded to lecture him and he merely laughed and called me an old biddy or something like that which angered me. At the moment of peak, I lashed out slapping him across the cheek. Somewhere I mustered up some strength and I stretched him across my lap. I had a basket of reeds in a corner and I grabbed one.
I started to thrash him across his buttocks. The harder I beat him, the more aware I became that the bulge in his pants pressed firmly against my thigh.
With each stroke of the reed I asked him if he knew what happened to young boys who were defiant. I told him that they had their pants taken down and beaten on their bare behind.
He only laughed. This angered me even more. In a moment of fury I yanked his pants down, threw him back across my lap and began to violently thrash him with the stick until red welts rose across his white cheeks.
As my anger disappeared I was overtaken by compassion and as I did so I felt his bare penis on my leg. He was crying. I felt terrible. I stood him up and wrapped my arms around him and buried his head in my breasts. I gently stroked his welted buttocks with my left hand while my right sought his erected penis.
I recall the feel of his young organ and I realized that it was dry. Even after the extended period of being erected and the excitement of being beaten he was not oozing any pre-come. I continued to manipulate his rigid flesh with my hand until he reached a climax. His extension throbbed, and he clutched tighter to me. It was dry ... this is what I wanted to know. I had to make sure that he couldn't shoot off.
After his virginal climax his penis did not go flaccid. It remained rigid and I continued to work it with my hand. I asked him if he ever saw a little girl naked. And he said that he had ... his sister. I asked him what she looked like and he told me that she had a gash in between her legs, which looked like a cut.
I asked if he had ever seen a real woman ... one who was older. And he said that he had not. Not even your mother I inquired. Not even her.
Upon hearing this I instructed him to kneel before me and to pay attention to what I was about to do.
I slowly lifted my skirt and as I did so I noticed that his eyes grew like saucers. I quickly stepped out of my panties and watched his reaction as my cunny came into sight. He was awestruck.
He let out a slow whistle. T never saw one with hair before,' he said. 'Boy it surely looks funny.'
I told him that he could touch it if he behaved himself and promised not to tell anyone.
With great hesitation he stretched his hand until it rested on the hairs of my downy soft triangle. With much trepidation he slowly began to stroke at the new found treasure.
He, upon my command, inserted his finger into the warm spot between my pulsating lips. My clitoris immediately sprang to attention as he innocently started to manipulate that tiny button.
I grasped his penis once again and began to pull it toward my enflamed opening. I needed to feel his sexual heat inside me. I needed to feel his rigid flesh parting my wet walls. I wanted my clitoris massaged by the soft skin of his cock head.
As his penis was about to enter me, I asked him if he had ever done this before. He replied that this was the first time.
I took him into my body and began to grind my hips against his. I could feel his tender penis playing at the lips of my vagina ... taunting them ... teasing them ... sliding full length between them, before it would once again retreat into the warmth of my inner hole.
My canal began to contract spasmodically. Hungrily it sucked on that portion of flesh which I knew would remain dry. I knew it would not give up any kind of juices. I could freely reach my climax and give him satisfaction also.
I continued riding his cock until I felt a shudder run through my body and I knew that in a moment I would feel myself give way to orgasm. Moments barely elapsed before I was drowning his still stiff rod with my cunt juices ... but thankfully they were not mixing with his ... for he still gave off no fluid ... he still was too young ... he still would not be ready to put me in a position of disgrace.
DR. K: "Why are you so afraid of pregnancy? Can't you think of any reason. After all it is a woman's natural function."
MISS B: "Oh but doctor, don't you know that the devil will build a fire in your belly if you are not careful."
DR. K: "Where did you get this piece of information? You have a library full of books and you spout an old wives' tale at me. Where did you hear such a tale?"
MISS B: "My aunt told me."
DR. K: "Do you believe that?"
MISS B: "Of course not, I was merely being facetious. My aunt used to tell me that every time I had a menstrual period. She used to say, 'Praise be to heaven there's no devil fire in your belly this month."
DR. K: "Was she afraid that you would go astray? Or did she have reason to be concerned."
MISS B: "Certainly not doctor, she had no reason to be concerned other than being a dried up old bitty who couldn't make a devil's fire inside her if she wanted to."
DR. K: "Then how did Marty come into being if she wasn't able to become pregnant."
MISS B: "He was her step-son. He was her sister's son and came to live with her just like I did my uncle, when his mother died. I often heard her admonishing my uncle for being too persistent when he knew she wasn't well. I remember on one occasion hearing her rant and rave about his pumping her full of something or other and how she was sure to go to hell. She spent three days on the potty just hiding from him."
DR. K: "Then it appears, Miss B. that you have never been an environment where sex has been a loving part of a good relationship."
MISS B: "That's true doctor. As a matter-of-fact Aunt Martha chased away every young man who came to call on me. She would only allow me companions who were younger than I. I remember admiring the older boys because they looked so mature and manly. But Aunt Martha harped constantly about the fact that they were after one thing and that after they were done, I would be the one to suffer.
She would tell me at least once a day how if I didn't watch my step I would wind up just like my mother with a fire in her belly, and no one to claim it was his."
DR. K: "You have mentioned that your mother died when you were a very little girl. Just how old were you when she passed on?"
MISS B: A few days, doctor. You see mother died giving birth to me.
Dr. K: I see. And what about your father?
MISS B: I don't know anything about him ... in fact (she paused here) I don't even know who he was. Nobody ever mentioned him except for Aunt Martha's making comment about mother having that fire in her belly and no one claiming he had started it. I guess when you think about it I'm what you call a bastard, doctor.
DR. K: Does this fact bother you?
MISS B: Not really ... or I should say not as much as having one would. Between Aunt Martha and Marty I never want to feel one of those things crawling around inside me. I couldn't stand it.
DR. K: Why, what do you think you would feel?
MISS B: Anything but good. And besides it would only lead to causing trouble.
DR. K: Why do you say that?
MISS B: Because in the end my child would be born as I died and she too would have to face the world alone and lonely.
You see doctor, when I'm with a young boy, I am able to satisfy the sexual urges that my body has without paying the consequences.
Will I ever be able to have the same reaction with a mature man ... will it ever be possible for me to overcome my fear of his glands and the destruction they bring?
DR. K: That's a strange analogy to feel that the cells of life bring pain and destruction. On the contrary Miss B., it is exactly the reverse. Life grows from this union and there is nothing evil inherent in the act or the idea of the act. The evilness exists only in the shadows of our minds ... and only when they are implanted there.
MISS B: But how can I explain this to my future husband should I decide to marry ... how do I tell him that through no fault of my own I have these fears and inadequacies ... how do I tell him that he must be patient with me ... how do I tell him I am not sure if I can stand the sight of his juices, even though they will be given to me with love?
DR. K: If he loves you he will be patient but if he is not patient then it is better that you do not enter the union. I suggest, although it may seem highly irregular, that you and the gentleman engage in coitus prior to your marriage. This will tell you surely the extent of your fears. Once you have experienced the adult relationship you may discover that your fears are unfounded. And if they in fact exist only in your fears.
This question of fear is a delicate one, and under close examination, one can see how it feeds upon itself ... how one basic fear can color an entire personality. And yet, with the removal of that one fear, a whole new direction of personality can form. I believe, Miss B., that this is what has happened in your case.
Summary
Although the case of Julia B. seemed complex at first, it was not nearly so once the patient started to open up. Since she is an intelligent woman many of the questions that she had, she found answers to herself.
like a construction of building blocks, Miss B's personality was built with a series of misguided bricks with one placed upon the other.
Now let us take the premise of the building block. If the first block is crooked, then all succeeding blocks placed upon that one will also be crooked. But, if and when, that first off balanced block is straightened out, all of the others will automatically straighten out as well.
But if you attempt to straighten them one at a time from the top down, the structure is bound to collapse.
I hoped that with proper care and guidance, Miss B. would correct that block herself.
The fact that she had not engaged in sexual intercourse with an adult male nor had she even been involved in foreplay with a grown man since the incident with her cousin when she was a child was, strange as it may seem, an encouraging factor.
For I have found in my studies that when an unpleasant incident occurs when one is young, it is much easier to forget and overcome once one has exposed himself or herself again at a more mature time.
Overcoming one's feeling of guilt for having been born out of wedlock is not something easily accomplished and of course the fact that her mother died at the time of her birth will not make it any less difficult.
There are certain basic thoughts which we develop at our inception that become by virtue of their very existence at that time, part of our basic make-up ... very much the same as our hair is a specific color due to our physical genes.
So it is that our emotional genes give us a personality color. At the very core of Miss B. was the knowledge and the idea that she was a bastard and to change this one would have to go to the very bases of her personality through extensive therapy.
But as her adult ideas change toward her own adulthood it is quite possible at the same time that her ideas would lessen in guilt about herself.
Considering all factors in this case, I feel certain that Miss B. will eventually overcome her problems and will be able to lead a normal life which would encompass marriage.
When first my competent nurse hesitantly told me about the caller, I must admit I was most curious. It isn't every day that a woman calls to make an appointment, giving the reason as a hang-up about sleeping with men which is causing her to lose out on a great deal of money. Needless to say, I arranged to fit her into my schedule at the first available moment.
Mrs. S. strutted into my office, headed straight for the couch, lay down on her side and propped her chin up with her right elbow.
She was dressed in a stylish outfit cut low in front, affording all who came in contact with her a clear view of her ponderous breasts. Her hair was bleached a very light shade of blonde and she wore it piled up in an intricate design, almost like a showgirl would wear.
Her features were pretty but hard looking which I thought was the desired effect she wished to achieve since her make-up was obviously applied with a heavy hand.
All in all, one would classify Mrs. S. as being sexy as opposed to sweet and wholesome-a fact which I'm sure appealed to the woman.
Once she began conversation I deducted that she had had little schooling and that she was reared in a lower economic class. (Both of these facts I later learned were correct.)
She was extremely vital and effervescent and spoke her mind directly and to the point. She knew what she wanted and if she was not sure how to get it, she was bound and determined to find someone to guide her. There was nothing she felt she should deny herself if it would bring her pleasure ... for after having a rough time of it, pleasure became her way of Me.
MRS. S: Listen doc, I really want to thank you for squeezing me in like this. I really do appreciate it.
DR. K: I'm only too happy to be able to do so. My nurse said that you seemed pretty upset when you called and that you wanted to see me as soon as possible.
MRS. S: Well, you see doc, I got this hang-up and like I said to the girl who answered the phone, it's startin' to get in my way ... it's really beginning to cramp my life-style, if you know what I mean?
DR. K: I might if I knew what the problem was.
MRS. S: Well you see doc, you don't mind me callin' you doc do you?
DR. K: Not at all. Call me anything you feel like.
MRS. S: Well, I don't know if I'd call you anything but doc seems to fit your personality if you know what I mean. Anyway, this here problem as I said, is really getting to be a pain in the ass, so I figure that if I see a shrink a couple of times, maybe it'll go away.
DR. K: It might but you still haven't told me what seems to be the trouble.
MRS. S: Oh yeah, the trouble. Well, let me see. Where shall I begin?
DR. K: How about the beginning.
MRS. S: You mean from when I was born or from when the trouble started?
DR. K: Tell me something about your early childhood first and then we'll get into the trouble.
MRS. S: Let's see, I was born thirty-three years ago in a tenement in Brooklyn. I really mean in the tenement cause my old lady waited till the last minute to go to the hospital and when she finally was ready to get her ass out the door, it was too late and out I came, landing right in the middle of the kitchen floor. How's that for an entrance.
DR. K: I'd say it was not a typical stork delivery.
MRS. S: Hey doc, that's pretty good. I see you've got a sense of humor. I like that. Anyway, there I was, just mom and dad and me and eight sisters and brothers. A regular happy family jammed packed into a three room apartment. Let me tell you it was heaven with a capital H.
Anyway, both mom and dad worked and during the day we were cared for, if you could call it that, by this floozy who lived next door. She was good for nothing since the sauce was more important to her than anything else. But what could you expect when all the folks could afford to pay was ten dollars a week ... I sometimes wonder how we survived it all. She was really something else.
I remember how when we would take our afternoon naps she would go and rest, as she called it in the double bed my two brothers shared. She set herself down right in between them ... one day facing Jimmy, the next day facing John. Little did I know that her rest consisted of holding on to one or the other's cock while her fingers shoved in and out of her cunt.
I once asked her why she moaned so when she lay down to rest and she told me that my little brothers were the best things that had come into her life and that little boys such as Jimmy and John helped to make a lady happy.
I don't think that I paid much attention to what she said ... at least not then for I was too young at the time to know that she was right!
DR. K: How old were you when she told this to you?
MRS. S: I don't know maybe six or seven but I was pretty backward even thogh I knew that my parents were, you know, doin' it ... how could I not know, we slept in the same room. But I thought that sex was just a daddy sticking it into a mommy and if she wasn't lucky, she had a kid. How's that, doc, for sex education?
DR. K: Did you and your brothers ever play mommy and daddy?
MRS. S: Well, we showed each other our things and once I jerked Jimmy off, but we never fucked if that's what you mean. You know, it's funny about Jimmy, he had one form of sex or another from the time he was about five and in his teens he really was a little hell raiser, even fathered a kid, but somewhere along the way, he decided that sex was something unclean so you know what he went and did?
DR. K: No, what?
MRS. S: The dope goes and becomes a priest. You know the kind that goes to foreign places trying to convert everyone. He goes to the countries and tells the natives to throw away their spears and believe in the work of the lord. Can you believe it! A fucking priest! Well, not really fucking anymore, I guess. I don't know how he was able to give it up. I can't imagine anyone who's had it just stopping one day and takin' to prayer to relieve their soul. What about relievin' their crotch?
DR. K: I somehow think that men of the cloth get their satisfaction from other means than sexual encounters.
MRS. S: Well, as I say each to his own stick, if you know what I mean, doc. Anyway, there we were, all of us cramped into that little space tryin' to survive. I remember that the day before I started school, Mom took an hour off from work and we went to the good-will store to get me some school clothes. Can you imagine a whole wardrobe designed by Castoffs, Ltd.?
It was then and there that I decided that I was going to get out and get me the finer things in life ... like A new dress.
DR. K: When did you finally leave home?
MRS. S: I was sixteen and I left to marry the local bookie who had had the hots for me since I was about twelve ... being big for my age I attracted them early. But he seemed like the best prospect ... especially since he had a new Caddie every year.
DR. K: Were you a virgin when you married.
MRS. S: Sure was, doc. I figured once I gave my cherry away there would be nothin' left of the sundae. And I wasn't looking for a lay I was lookin' for a hubby.
DR. K: Was your marriage a good one?
MRS. S: Well, bein' divorced can give you a clue to where it was at ... but actually on the bed side of the union it was really great. He sure knew how to use that rod of his. And that was his downfall-he couldn't seem to stop using it. I didn't mind, in fact I liked the fact, that he would fuck me one way or another at least once a day, but when he went elsewhere for seconds, I got a little pissed!
DR. K: How long did you stay married?
MRS. S: Five years give or take a few days and not countin' the times we split. It wasn't that he wasn't good to me, on the contrary, he showered me with everything a girl could want. Wigs, minks-anything I wanted I got and some things I didn't want. like two cases of the goddam clap.
DR. K: I assume that you contracted the disease from your husband?
MRS. S: What kind of girl do you think I am doc. When I get married, I stay married. I wasn't like Tony, he stuck his rod into anything that moved but I kept my little ol' pussy hot and ready just for him.
DR. K: Why do you suppose that he cheated so much if you were as willing and able as much as you say you were?
MRS. S: That man just had no control whatsoever. Maybe he's not to be blamed. Some guys really hurt when they get hard and Tony never went soft. He wasn't around with that rod stiff from morning till night. And the ones he fucked weren't necessarily beautiful or anything like that. They just happened to be standing in the same city as he was which made them fair play.
DR. K: How soon after you married did you contract the disease?
MRS. S: I don't know when I got it after all I was only a teenager and not especially knowledgeable as to the signs.
One day though about a year and a half after we were married, I came down with these violent stomach pains. Let me tell you doc, it hurt like a sonofabitch. I thought that I was having a baby or that I must have eaten something that was not eating away the lining of my stomach. Shit! It was really something!
Finally, I couldn't take the pain any more so I got a taxi and went right over to the emergency room at the nearby hospital.
After sittin' in the fucking place for three hours this young snot of a doctor takes me into an examining room and in between playing with my tits he lookes me over and informs me that I've got a dose-and a big one to boot!
Shit! I thought I'd take the paint right off the fucking walls. I told him he must be off his rocker and that I was a happily, respectable married woman and how the fuck could I get a fucking dose!
When he said I had better have your husband come down for a check up, I thought I'd go right through the ceiling.
DR. K: Were you aware that your husband was fooling around with other women at the time?
MES. S: Not till that very minute. It's a good thing he wasn't there else I'd of castrated that sonofabitch and I'd of shoved his cock right up his greasy ass.
DR. K: Did you manage to get your husband to a doctor?
MRS. S: That was easy. He ran all the way ahead of me, cursing as he went about some dumb redhead. The problem though was getting him to keep his dick in his drawers until the shots did their magic and he was once more a clean human-at least for the time being.
DR. K: How did this incident affect your sexual relations with your husband?
MRS. S: After initial shock ... after that first blast I calmed and had no trouble sleepin' with him once more as long as he promised to wear the rubber stockings the doctor ordered and as long as he swore he would not go back to the redhead or any other colored head for that matter.
DR. K: Did he keep his word?
MRS. S: For about two seconds. At the time I thought he was going along with what I said but then later I realized that he no sooner took it out of me than it was put back into someone else ... and without that fucking rubber.
Three months after my dose was gone I had it right back again. And that was the end of
Tony ... after all if you can't trust the guy you fuck, who can you trust.
DR. K: Was he not wearing the contraceptive when you made love?
MRS. S: Actually doc, that man hated that thing, he really did, and it wasn't uncommon for me to find it lying unused in the middle of the bed the next morning.
I warned him and I warned him but he just didn't listen to me and I didn't listen to my head until it was too late.
But when I found out that I had it again I decided that enough was enough and I left him. After all, doc, if you get that stuff often enough it can drive you crazy, and a few minutes of pleasure isn't worth going crazy.
DR. K: Where did you go when you left Tony?
MRS. S: Well, I went and got a small apartment in the city. Since I had some money saved, I took my time getting settled and then started looking for a job. Finally, I got the one I have now ... a hatcheck girl in the Starlight Lounge. You know the place, doc?
DR. K: I've heard of it but I've never been there.
MRS. S: Well, its really, really a nice place, you know. Caters to the swinging single set which brings me to my trouble.
You see doc, since my experience in fucking men has only lead to my becoming diseased I've turned off the whole scene.
DR. K: But I thought that your husband was your first lover.
MRS. S: He was, but not my last. For about a year or so after we split, I made the scene with two other guys. And wouldn't you know it, in both cases I got the clap back again. After that, I decided that fucking with men only led to trouble.
DR. K: You certainly manage to pick them.
MRS. S: You can say that again.
DR. K: What direction did you sexual activity take after this?
MRS. S: It took no direction whatsoever, but went in hiding. All I told myself whenever I got offers at the club was 'don't believe the sonofabitch ... he'll only make trouble.' I turned a deaf ear and I managed to satisfy myself with my own finger. I knew I wouldn't catch anything that way.
DR. K: Did you find this satisfactory?
MRS. S: It was better than nothing. like I said, Tony turned me on and I wasn't easily shut off. For a while, I convinced myself that I was better off but I'm not the sort of woman who can stay alone at any great length. I need someone warm next to me. I even tried to ignore my fears, and on one occasion I told this guy I'd take his offer, but only if he promised to wear a rubber.
He agreed, but of course a guy in that condition-a throbbing hard-on-would agree to anything. But when it came right down to the nitty gritty, he didn't have one. By that time, he had worked me up and I was all hot and bothered. He had kissed me all over and played with my body. When it was time to shove it in, I reached down to his cock and found that the goddam thing was bare ... he wasn't wearing a fucking rubber like he had promised.
Boy, did I get mad. I saw red. I mean after all, doc, why make a promise you can't keep. I began fighting him like a tiger. After all, I wasn't about to let him stick that naked thing inside me. He was a big man, he could have knocked the shit out of me if he wanted. And let me tell you he was pissed off too, but for different reasons. He felt that I was a cock teaser who was just leading him on. Can you imagine, doc, me a cock teaser.
After he slapped me around a bit, I agreed to give him a hand job, and we let it go at that. That was the last time I had anything to do with anyone over fourteen.
DR K: You mean you then became involved with young boys?
MRS. S: I don't know if you want to call it being involved, but I can get my rocks off even though their cocks are not as big as I would like.
DR. K: When did you first begin to have sexual relations with these young men?
MRS. S: I don't know doc, I guess it was about a year and a half ago.
DR. K: How did you come to get the idea to start dealing sexually with these youngsters. How did you come to realize that you could, if in fact, receive pleasure from having relations with them.
MRS. S: Actually doc, it was my brother who gave me the idea. I was talking to him one day, not Jimmy, the priest, but John. He's married now you know and has a few kids himself. Well, anyway, we were talking about the days in the tenement and I asked him about that old broad from next door who used to take care of us. And he told me.
Suddenly it all made sense. You know I never really gave it that much thought but it just didn't jive. Then I remembered what she said to me about young boys making a lady happy. And right then and there I thought that I would give it a try. What the hell, maybe it would prove to be fun.
DR. K: How did you go about finding someone to fulfill your needs?
MRS. S: Oh, that was easy, doc, you see I've got this neighbor down the hall who works afternoons. She once asked me if I was interested in meeting her kid when he came home from school and make sure that he changes into his playthings before going out. You know, doc, kids are rough on their clothes.
Once having decided to have a try at a young one, I just told her I would be available to watch after the kid.
Her boy was about ten and he was a little backward which was just fine with me. Most kids in this city really know what the score is at a young age nowadays, but he didn't know from Adam.
He was one of those late bloomers which meant that he hadn't been foolin' around at all. And that's exactly how I wanted him, my own little virgin.
I really felt ridiculous but if that sex pot who lived next door to us in the tenement could get away with it, then I was sure I could.
The first day I was there when he came home, I insisted that he take a bath before he went out to play.
He protested. He thought it was stupid to take a bath before he went out to get dirty. But by virtue of the fact that I was the bigger of the two of us, I guess that he decided he'd listen to me.
I even drew his bath for him. He was at an awkward age and felt shy about getting undressed in front of a relative stranger. So I put him at ease by helping him to remove his clothes.
When I had him naked I almost had to laugh. He was so different from what I was accustomed to, you know what I mean doc. This kid didn't even have any hair on his body and compared to Tony who was a regular gorilla, this kid looked like a billiard ball.
His skin was as smooth as a new born baby's butt and his little cock looked like a worm, especially when I remember that Tony had a real snake. His was a regular boa constrictor.
But on this kid, I had to look twice to make sure that I was lookin' at his front.
I even considered backing down but I figured that I had come this far so I might as well see the things through, at least this once. I also wanted to find out if this kid could get a hard-on.
I asked him to get into the tub and he obeyed. He climbed over the rim and stood in the middle of the tub, staring directly at me. I took the bull by the horns and began sponging him down. I was pouring the warm water over his pure white flesh so that it trickled down over his stomach and bathed his little cock. I could tell that the warm water was working its magic. His little meat began to swell and I was amazed as it grew in size. He still was no stud by a long shot but he did come up with enough so that there was no mistaking that he was a healthy youngster.
I grabbed the bar of soap and began rubbing it over his belly. At the beginning, he objected. But I assured him that it was perfectly all right for a woman to service a young man. After all, they do it in Japan all the time.
I suggested that we play geisha girl and that he just let me rub him down as if we were in an oriental bath house. The idea was appealing. He liked it. I don't know doc, I guess the kid was kicky for games.
In a moment he began to relax as my hands traveled over his young thighs. I became hypnotized by his bouncing cock. Every time I would pass my hands over his belly and thighs his cock would raise its little head.
I found that I was becoming involved in what I was doing. My femininity was becoming aroused and I could feel the walls of my pussy begin to moisten. I was not wearing any panties, having decided before I left the apartment that they would only get in the way. I took his hand and slid it up my skirt between my thighs until his little fingers came in contact with my wet cunt hairs.
Quite by accident he struck my clit and I thought I would go through the ceiling.
By this time he was quite generously covered with soapsuds and I grabbed his cock, sliding my hand back and forth in a fucking motion along the length of his innocent piece of meat.
I asked him if this was the first time that he had ever done this and he told me that it was. I asked him if he had ever pulled on his peepee himself. He also said he had not but that he liked the fact that I was doing it to him. He liked the way it felt and he liked me.
I continued to work my hand back and forth increasing the speed and rhythm. I urged his hand to move further into the folds of my pussy and to pinch my clit. I told him to roll it around between his little fingers and if he did it nicely I would give him a special treat.
This kid might have been young, doc, but he sure as hell was responsive. He took to sex like a duck to water and really worked like crazy in my box until I thought I would scream.
After all, it was the first release I'd had in a very long time and I hadn't expected this from him. It started out like a game and now I found myself all caught up in it.
I reached my moment very quickly and just pulled him very closely to me. I didn't pay any attention to the fact that he was sopping wet and full of soap. I was just so thankful to be next to a warm body that I could feel safe with. After I rested for a minute or so I told him I would give him his treat. I rinsed him off and his little cock looked so fresh and clean. I just leaned forward and took it in my mouth. It was really strange, doc, but after having Tony's in my mouth so many times and after nearly being gagged by that monstrous thing he had, this was like a little peppermint stick.
It was delicious and so sweetly pure that I felt as delighted as a child with candy. It really gave me such a peace of mind to know that I had nothing to worry about. I could suck to my heart's content and had one hell of a ball.
DR. K: I gather from your previous statements that you continued this activity.
MRS. S: Yes, doc, quite often. It became a regular thing. I found that I had not worried of becoming pregnant nor of catching anything that some gadabout would bring in off the street.
DR. K: Did it become a habit, then? MRS. S: If a habit means exclusive rights, yes. That's really why I was here. You see, doc, it's not that I'm ashamed of little boys and that I want to stop seeing them. I just want to be able to fuck grown men also. All that money I'm missing out on at the club could really help to make life a little easier for me.
You see, doc, after my first session with the kid next door, I used to see him every afternoon and it got to the point where we were getting into bed and getting right down to the real thing of fucking. I taught him everything I knew and it was all fine until I caught him in the stairwell with one of the little girls in the neighborhood. I couldn't bear the sight of the young, pink, rosy behind bobbing up and down in the afternoon sunshine. Who knows where she was before or what she had. Filthy slut. Then I had to look elsewhere for another young man.
DR. K: And you say this continued for about a year and a half with various young men?
MRS. S: Yes, doc. I only had one at a time but I always had someone.
DR. K: And you weren't afraid of being caught? Hadn't it ever entered your mind that one of their parents may have found out?
MRS. S: Of course, it did. But I always made sure that they kept their mouths shut.
DR. K: How in the world did you do that?
MRS. S: With money. You'd be surprised, doc, how much a little bribe means at that age. It means an extra movie or some ice cream that you don't have to beg for.
DR. K: Yes, I suppose you're right. I never really thought of it-that way. At that age, parental rebellion is at its peak. And boys have to compete with their fathers. How better than financially? And sexually.
MRS. S: I knew I liked you for some reason. I had always heard that you shrinks were dull, as dull as batshit.
DR. K: Batshit? What do you mean by batshit?
MRS. S: Oh, I don't know. It's just an expression. Batshit. Can you think of anything interesting about batshit?
DR. K: Your point's well taken.
MRS. S: Okay, doc, I didn't come around here for laughs. I'm paying you good money for this time and I want you to straighten me out. Are you going to be able to do it?
Summary
Although I did not approve of her reasons, I set about on a rigid campaign to help Mrs. S. It was not my position to be judge and jury nor to even decide in any way a measure of guilt. This was not the question.
The basic premises here is making it possible for Mrs. S. to gratify her wishes regardless of what they may be.
It is necessary for an individual to have the choice of decision, whether to choose it or not, as opposed to blindly following a course of action.
Quite often obvious motivations are merely ruses by which our true nature expresses itself. The fact that Mrs. S. wanted to engage in sexual encounters with her peers is not qualified in my estimation by her reason why, i.e., making money.
It is quite possible, and I do believe that it has basis in fact, that she had a sincere desire to share an adult experience and due to her family background and her hardened exterior, she had to have some kind of reason to make it plausible to her.
Having been raised in a large family and under the severe conditions which existed, she had to prove herself and guard her tender nature with a gruff exterior.
This in fact gave her self worth to herself. It gave her the ability to form something concrete within her image of herself.
By this act of importance she could not relinquish her decision ... nor did she have any desire to. Her measure of truth and value is calibrated on an emotional scale as opposed to a moral one.
Underriding her actions with the various adult males with whom her encounters took place was a great sense of distrust. By her very words she considered her sexual apparatus as something special. She kept her maiden head until she was married and literally sold it to the highest bidder. Her mistake was the price.
The person to whom she gave herself did not share the same viewpoint. (We can only take Mrs. S.'s word for it.)
The fear of disease was a very strong driving force in her life, probably solidified by her squalid beginnings.
In the tenements, disease is rampant and especially in a large family of children it becomes a way of life.
It was in this vein that she married Tony.
He was to take her away from all of this. He had enough money to make life worth while. When in fact he didn't. The money was not the issue. He did not have the quality of caring. He had something tender in his hand and he misused it.
Her husband represented to her the Great White Knight and when he proved to be less she could not tolerate his human failings. As a result she turned to the ones who were untainted, i.e., young boys before puberty.
Naturally, these young men did not have the sexual desire nor the inclination, thereby not possessing the disease. She felt safe, secure and satisfied.
She had the cravings of an adult female physically but the fears of a child emotionally. Somewhere in her development her parents failed to give her the necessary sense of security in which her seed of self assurance could be nurtured.
She left the one situation hoping for a change in the other but did not change herself. Her young boys represented that change. It was a complete turn-about. It was starting all over. It was giving to another human being what she had hoped would be given to her. They presented no threat whatsoever.
Quite often young females have great misconceptions about the male and his apparatus and his ejaculation. If at the time of initial sexual introduction she is not prepared for his emission then she can be greatly shocked when he comes.
With the young boys, Mrs. S. had no concern about this. There were no surprises and there were no shocks.
Her problems were not deep-seated and in a relatively short period of concentrated work, we were able to scratch through the flack with which she had covered her true purposes.
When she came to realize that she was looking in the wrong places for her gems she stopped searching in the coal pits and the gutters and began to look elsewhere for her companion.
It did not take long for her to find suitable individuals with whom she could be not only physically but emotionally complete.
CASE NUMBER SIX
Patient: Miss Roberta W. Age: 26
Marital Status: Single Occupation: Music Instructor
Doctor's Note: Miss W. arrived for our first session accompanied by another young woman who sat and waited for her in the reception area.
Miss W. was a small, slender woman who possessed the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Her hair was blonde and worn close to her face, and plain style.
It was obvious that she was in good physical condition, for her muscles were toned and her movements graceful.
She was a college graduate and taught music privately at her home where she had a modern studio. Her lessons included voice, piano, and theory, and she was highly regarded as a fine teacher.
She came from a fine old family and had been given all the advantages that one might expect from such circumstances.
She was sent, as a youngster, to private boarding school and sleep-away camp, mainly due to the fact that her mother and father traveled a great deal.
She was an only child, but could not be described as one who had been spoiled. She felt that in life one must make their own way, consequently her decision to become a music instructor even though financially she was well provided for.
It is also interesting to note that she chose to teach those children from middle to lower economic circumstances, even though she would have and could have had many pupils from family acquaintances.
In addition to this, she made her home not in the family estate, but in a townhouse located just a few blocks from one of the city's worst projects.
Her manner of dress was expensive but without frill. Her suit was gray and moderately tailored. Underneath this was a blouse of the cleanest, brightest white. She wore no jewelry or make-up.
She chose to sit in a chair rather than recline on the couch.
Miss W: Well, Doctor K, it certainly is a pleasure to meet you after hearing all the wonderful reports about your work in restoring people's sanity.
Dr. K: Well, it's nice of you to say so, but don't you think that 'restoring sanity' is a strong term?
Miss W: Perhaps, but to some of us our actions seem to be governed not by ourselves, but by some insane person hiding within our skins, almost like a dybbuk, a devil in disguise.
Dr. K: You seem as though you find yourself leading a life that you cannot rationalize.
Miss W: In part, yes. Mostly I am extremely satisfied with the way my life has taken shape. I enjoy teaching and I feel that I am doing something worthwhile, not just flittering away my days like so many of the girls I went to Miss Dobson's with.
Doctor's Note: I knew already that Miss Dobson's was an elite girls' school with grades starting in kindergarten and going through junior college. Only the creme de la creme were permitted the privilege of submitting an application, and usually it was done at the time of birth of the future school girl.
Dr. K: How many years did you remain at the school?
Miss W: I went from beginning to end, going from there to the university to get my degree. It was quite an experience, believe me. How a person can remain sane in a place like that is beyond my realm of thinking, and I'm not sure that everyone did. Life in those places, in that place, I can only speak for that place, can get to be rather gruesome at times. You just want to go screaming out the front door.
Dr. K: Certainly you did not have this attitude from the time you entered. How long did you...?
Miss W: Oh no, doctor. To begin with, I rather enjoyed it. I suppose that all kids look forward to school, regardless of the kind. After all, they're young and they don't really realize that there is a difference, or what actually is ahead of them.
Dr. K: Well, I don't suppose you came here to discuss Miss Dobson's School for Girls. I'm sure that there must be another purpose in your visit.
Miss W: Oh yes, doctor, there is, a very definite purpose.
Dr. K: Would you like to express yourself further?
Miss W: I thought I did, doctor. It's really quite strange, you know. In order to get yourself all worked up to come here, you make up your mind to be very cooperative and to say whatever is necessary. But that's before you get here. After you arrive and sit staring across this desk at someone you realize that a psychiatrist is a real human being and then you find it difficult to open your mouth.
Dr. K: That is a common problem, but please be assured that I have had many patients and have heard the tales of many human conditions and I really don't think that there would be anything you could say that would shock me.
Miss W: It's not a question of shocking you, doctor. I'm not concerned about that. It's a question of shocking myself, of actually putting into words those things that have been plaguing me, silently in the background for so long. It's like looking in the mirror when you first wake up in the morning. You know, from the time that you get out of bed until the time you walk into the bathroom that you do feel awful and that you must look terrible.
But it's not until that moment when you're looking into the mirror when you have a concrete example of what you really look like that it hits you smack in the face.
Dr. K: I must say that you are doing a fine amount of talking, except that you seem to be skirting the issue. Why don't you just brazenly walk up and look in that glass?
Miss W: I ... um, you have a way of disarming a body, doctor.
Dr. K: No more talking around the bush now, Miss W. Step right up and say it. Just simply open your mouth and let it out. You'd be surprised how once you get it out how easy it is to continue talking.
Miss W: Well, doctor, I....
Dr. K: Yes, go ahead. I promise I won't say a word until you have had your say.
Miss W: Thank you, doctor. I needed that. I really needed to know that you're just sitting there with bated breath waiting to hear me say something. I can't think of anything else that would make me feel better. (Silence) Well, I seem to, um, have a problem that is getting in my way...(Silence) This is really going to knock your hat off, doctor. I bet you'd never really suspect something like this from a girl like me. (Silence) You really do keep your word, don't you? I'm giving you every opportunity to speak and you just won't say a word.
Dr. K: (I shook my head from side to side indicating my intent not to speak)
Miss W: Well, doctor, for some time now, that is, going back a couple of years, I had this problem. It started out very lightly. As a matter-of-fact, it didn't even seem like a problem at all when it first started. I thought that I was just having a good time playing around until the playing started making demands on my time.
There came a moment in my life when I realized that I began to crave this thing, and it wasn't just fooling around any more. It wasn't a kid's game any more. It was serious.
Dr. K: What is it, Miss W? Why don't you just come right out and say it?
Miss W: Well, doctor, that too is one of my problems. Kind of a side line, you might say, not being able to say what is really on my mind, not being able to express myself or what I'm feeling. I seem to be somewhat shy. Only in the presence of people my own age or older.
I don't seem to have any problem with the younger members of our society.
I suppose that's why I'm a teacher. I really like being with young people. I enjoy them immensely. Did you see the girl I came in with?
Dr. K: (I nodded)
Miss W: She's the only girl my own age mat I can really talk to. We really have a thing going, you know, where we can communicate. But she's the only one you see. Other than her, all of my acquaintances are much younger than myself.
Dr. K: Is this the problem you're trying to tell me?
Miss W: Yes and no, doctor. It is and it isn't. You know, part of it is a problem and part of it isn't.
Dr. K: All right, Miss W. Which part is the problem?
Miss W: Actually, it would be easier to tell you which part isn't. I could talk about that for hours.
Dr. K: I suppose you could, but that isn't the part I'm interested in. It would be pointless and a waste of my time to sit and listen to a dissertation on what is not your problem. I suppose, however, that given the time, I could deduce what is in fact your problem, but neither of us really has that kind of time. So, why don't you just tell me.
Miss W: Okay, here goes. I like boys.
Dr. K: (Smiling) That doesn't really sound like too much of a problem, at least not from my viewpoint. Do you think that this is unnatural?
Miss W: Yes, doctor. I do.
Dr. K: Since when has it become a problem for girls to like boys?
Miss W: Well, the problem lies in the chronological area involved. When I say boys, that's exactly what I mean. Boys as opposed to men.
My sexual interest is directed toward young men of approximately twelve to thirteen years of age.
Now doctor, you tell me if that's not a problem.
Dr. K: That's a problem but it's not anything to become so violently concerned as you seemed to be.
Miss W: Well, there are certain reasons why I would like this straightened out.
Dr. K: What kind of reasons?
MISS W: Well, doctor, first of all, I'm a teacher and that sort of aberration would get in the way of my teaching. I can't very well expect to teach young boys the meaning of quarter and whole notes while my hand is inside their pants. Second of all, it's beginning to get in my way socially.
There comes a time in an adult life when one should begin associating with one's peers and if this can't be done it can be rather difficult at times.
Thirdly, I would simply like this all straightened out for my own edification.
DR. K: Your motives are fine and the problem I don't see as being insurmountable. I should imagine with time we will be able to get to the root of this and straighten it out. That is, if you have patience and enough honesty to look at yourself the way you should.
MISS W: Well, I hope I do. I'm not necessarily prone to telling lies to myself. I do get involved with them with other people, but not myself. I always know what I'm saying, whether it is the truth or not and I am quite aware of this.
DR. K: Fine, now where shall we begin with your, as you put it, problem?
MISS W: I really haven't the faintest idea doctor. I stated my problem to you and actually I would prefer running right now, now that the cat is out of the bag and you know what I am. I really have the strongest urge to bolt right out the chair and out the door.
Dr. K: What would that prove?
MISS W: I don't know doctor, but it would get me away from here and I could relax with my mind again.
DR. K: Is that your way of dealing with the problem? Do you really think that anything is solved that way?
MISS W: I didn't say that it would be solved. I said I would be relaxed. I could relax myself.
DR. K: Here we go again around the mulberry bush. You seem to have a great facility for redirecting the subject away from yourself.
MISS W: I'm sorry, doctor. It seems to be a habit with me. I don't do it intentionally.
DR. K: No apologies necessary. Let's just continue on.
MISS W: I'm all yours. I'm at your beck and call. Tell me what you want to know and I'll say it.
DR. K: I don't really think you understand the purpose here. I am not like a medical doctor. I don't have a chemical formula which I administer to you, thus curing your malady. The purpose of the psychiatrist is to direct the patient to helping themselves.
I just want to clarify the issue so that you would not be mistaken in thinking that it is I who am seeking information. You are telling me your motivations and in the process you must tell me in such a way that I understand and in doing so we hope that you also understand.
There are many points within our mind which we automatically skip over. This is why I am here to keep you from skipping over these points which may be quite important to your framework of thinking even though you may think that they are minor.
MISS W: Oh, I see, doctor, I really hadn't realized that. It makes a little bit more sense to me now and it would also make it easier to voice my opinion ... my feelings ... my secret thoughts.
DR. K: That's right Miss W., just remember you are telling yourself you have not come to confession to be punished. You are merely explaining yourself to yourself.
MISS W: Well then, where shall I begin? This is a whole new way of thinking of things.
My mind seems to be occupied with the new idea you've planted there rather than what makes me tick. Maybe you could help me get started?
DR. K: All right, I'll try. Tell me about your boys. What attracts you to them?
MISS W: Oh ... well ... I don't know. I'm just attracted.
DR. K: No one is just attracted without that attraction causing a reaction. We are a system of association. You cannot experience one thing without associating it to something.
MISS W: Gee, I don't know. I see a little boy and I'm drawn to him.
DR. K: Is this just any boy?
MISS W: No, doctor. I wouldn't just say any boy. There are many who cause no reaction whatsoever. They're just boys. But once in a while I meet a youngster who I simply have to have and I don't rest until I do.
DR. K: I take it then you have sexual relations with the boy?
MISS W: Yes, doctor, I do. I thought I made that clear.
DR. K: No, you didn't make it clear, you just intimated it.
MISS W: I'm sorry doctor, I really didn't....
DR. K: Please stop apologizing. No one here is guilty so you have nothing far which to feel sorry about.
MISS W: That's really good to know, doctor.
DR. K: Now what type of boys are these?
MISS W: Boys ... they're just boys. You know just like anyone else.
DR. K: Now that is not true. You said there were times that certain boys came along who attracted you strongly. If they were just boys, then you would have this attraction for any boy.
MISS W: Yes ... I guess so. I really hadn't given it much thought.
DR. K: Is the kind of boy to whom you are attracted a type such as blonde or redhead? Is it a physical characteristic?
MISS W: No, doctor. Hair color is not important to me, nor is physical stature.
DR. K: All right now think back over the boys in whom you developed an interest. Now let's start at the beginning of the list. Were they masculine?
MISS W: No, doctor, I wouldn't say that they were exactly masculine. At twelve or thirteen I don't think that any boy is masculine.
DR. K: And at fourteen?
MISS W: I told you specifically these children never went beyond thirteen.
DR. K: No, once again you did not tell me specifically. Here again you intimated. You seem to have a habit of not saying certain things clearly and yet believing that you did. I think that this is a mental habit which you have developed over the years and would do well attempting to break. You state that you are exceedingly honest with yourself but yet you really don't know precisely what it is that you have said.
I believe that you know what you want to say or what you intended to say but what you actually said is another matter. I think you need to listen to your words more carefully and become less involved in this game of cat and mouse.
MISS W: All right, doctor. I'll take your word for it, but in the future I will listen more closely to myself.
DR. K: Now about fourteen, why do the boys not go beyond this age? For what reason did you set the thirteen limit?
MISS W: I don't think that I actually set a limit because I don't think one way or the other about age. It just seems that all the boys in whom I have been interested were in the age bracket of twelve or thirteen.
If someone of fourteen came along and he attracted me I'm sure that there would be no difficulty.
DR. K: Then I suppose we could apply this statement to ages fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, right on down to one hundred.
MISS W: Boy, you sure drive a hard bargain. That's not fair at all.
DR. K: Why not? If your logic would apply to age fourteen why wouldn't it apply to any other age?
MISS W: Because I'm not interested in anyone that old.
DR. K: Then is the issue age?
MISS W: No, it's not age. I'm really not concerned about age. I know you don't believe that, but age is not the issue.
DR. K: Then why are you interested in only young boys? You will agree that when you state young or youth you are referring to an age category and only an age category.
MISS W: Yes, I would agree with your premise in theory, but somehow, in actuality, it doesn't bear the same impact.
DR. K: Why, it's merely an extension of your own logic which is the basis of how you think.
MISS W: All right, doctor, I will concede that and I will further concede that the issue of my sexual attraction is not age.
DR. K: Fine, we are getting somewhere. That is one major question out of the way.
What attracts you most about these boys?
MISS W: Here we go again. I don't know; I just like them. There are certain boys who seem to strike a chord within me-something to which I respond. Maybe I'm just a little girl at heart and I'm reacting to the boys.
Does that seem logical, doctor?
DR. K: No, it does not seem logical at all.
MISS W: I was afraid that you would say that. But you will have to admit that it's an interesting thought.
It is a possibility.
DR. K: A possibility yes. But at this stage I would be reluctant to seek an answer quite so obvious as one that would pop into your head.
Let's explore the issue a little further from another direction. First, your attraction has nothing to do with age, but seems to be limited by a certain age group. I would like to examine what it is about that age group that appeals to you.
I would like to start with a question that might seem to be unrelated but please trust me that it is not.
Have you ever had sexual relations with anyone older than thirteen?
MISS W: No, doctor, I haven't.
DR. K: Then I assume that you are still a virgin.
MISS W: Yes, doctor, I am ... if you mean that I have never been entered. I have no maidenhead but it was not broken due to intercourse.
I've ridden horses all my life and I just assume that it was broken somewhere along the way while riding a horse, (she began to chuckle.)
DR. K: What do you find funny?
MISS W: I'm still a virgin but my maidenhead was broken by a horse. Catherine and I have a great deal in common.
DR. K: Only if you like to rid horses upside down. (We enjoyed a moment of levity but I quickly brought it to a close.)
Have you ever been propositioned by a male your own age or older?
MISS W: Yes, doctor. I have, but nothing happened.
DR. K: Why not?
MISS W: I couldn't seem to go through with it. It's not that I didn't want to, I just couldn't quite make it.
DR. K: Have you ever seen an adult male nude and if so, with an erection?
MISS W: Not first hand. I've seen pictures but I've never had a naked male standing in front of me or lying next to me if that's what you mean.
The closest I ever came was with a fully dressed male lying on top of me dry humping me.
DR. K: How did you come to be in this compromising situation without completing it. I mean after all, if you had the inclination to get that far what deterred you from completing the act?
MISS W: To tell you the truth, doctor, I was completely repulsed by his advances. Everything about him turned me off. I almost threw up. In fact when the whole thing was over I went off by myself and just tossed my cookies in the weeds. I was that sick in my stomach.
MISS W: Actually I worshipped the ground he walked on. We were in college together and we had a beautiful romance going.
Most of the girls envied me because he was so attractive and he really was, doctor, he was absolutely gorgeous. I use to lie awake at night and dream about what it would be like to be with him and then he spoiled it all by turning animal one evening.
DR. K: Was he crude in his advances? Did he do anything which was out of keeping with his character?
MISS W: Oh no, doctor, he was just somebody else ... somebody I didn't know at all. He suddenly became a stranger and I started screaming. I fought like a banshee and he stopped.
That was the last time we saw each other. Not that he didn't call me. I just couldn't face him. He was not the same person I had known.
DR. K: When did you turn to young boys?
MISS W: Oh, that wasn't till years later. I dreamed often of Hank, my college romance, and I was quite pained by the outcome of events and I was pining away for quite some time until I met Jarrett and Hank went out of my mind and I started to live again.
That's actually one other reason why I'm here.
Dr. K: You mean Jarrett?
MISS W: Yes, doctor, you see, I discovered that we have a great attraction and like I said she's the only person I have been able to communicate with. But I cannot bring myself to let our relationship go any further.
We talk and we touch and I feel tremendously fulfilled but that's not enough for her and I'm really upset because I cannot give her satisfaction.
DR. K: You mean she's a lesbian?
MISS W: I don't know about labels all I know is that we respond to each other and she wants to complete the relationship.
DR. K: You mean you would like to sleep with her?
MISS W: To put it bluntly, doctor, yes. I want to very much. I want to make her happy.
DR. K: All right, let's sort this whole situation out before we go any further.
First of all you are a healthy young woman, attractive and self-possessed even though you are shy and evasive in your dealings with others.
You have sexual urges but you can't give vent to them in the normal way ... maybe I should say in the adult way. Your gratification is exchanged with young boys and you have met, are attractive to and would like to redirect your sexual attractions from boys to Jarrett?
Is that correct?
MISS W: Yes, doctor, it sounds so simple when you say it. It's all in a capsule-a little nut shell.
DR. K: Oh, no, it is not simple at all. Don't mistake my simplicity of term. I do not want you to even harbor the idea that your problem is not a serious one. Any problem that keeps an individual from relating with others is a serious one ... not insurmountable but serious.
MISS W: Well, doctor, now that you see the problem, how do we go about straightening this all out?
DR. K: Is there anything else you have not told me. We might as well get it all out at the beginning before we decide what the plan of action will be.
MISS W: I really don't think that there's anything else. At least at the moment, I'm not consciously aware of something else. As we proceed, I may come upon other things which will have to be taken into consideration. But believe me right now, I know of nothing more than I have already told you.
DR. K: All right. Let's take Jarrett for a start. What seems to be blocking you from completing your desires with her?
MISS W: One just doesn't do that sort of thing ... I mean after all, there is propriety.
DR. K: Isn't that rather backward thinking for someone who supposedly is well educated?
MISS W: I'm not exactly liberated if you haven't noticed. I really am a small town girl. I might have gone to a very chic finishing school, but just because I'm from the upper stratum of society, that doesn't mean that I have no morals whatsoever. There are things that you do and things that you don't do.
DR. K: Well, what about playing with little boys? Is that something that is socially acceptable?
MISS W: That's hitting below the belt doctor. That's taking undue advantage. I didn't say ever that I thought anything was wrong with playing with little boys. I just said that it was getting in my way, as far as teaching was concerned.
DR. K: Why is it not wrong?
MISS W: If you have a sexual need you relieve it with the opposite sex. You don't just do it with your own kind.
DR. K: Have you ever had a man's arms circling you ... submitting ... relaxing ... snuggling into the safe harbor of his masculine arms?
MISS W: (After a pause) No ... I can't say that I have.
DR. K: These boys you have become involved with, do they aggress you ... do they play the masculine role?
MISS W: (After a pause) No, doctor, they don't.
DR. K: Then I take it that you are the aggressor?
MISS W: Yes, doctor, I am. I instigate and I follow through.
DR. K: Let me take this one step further, just as a matter of point.
Have most or all of your encounters been with your students?
MISS W: Yes, doctor, they have.
DR. K: Were you a teacher before you began your sexual activities with young men?
MISS W: Yes, doctor, I had been teaching for some time before the first occurrence.
DR. K: Are most of your students boys?
MISS W: The majority are, doctor. I would say about three quarters.
DR. K: I understand that you teach underprivileged children. Is there some specific reason why when you could be earning a very good living by instructing in your own strata of society?
MISS W: Teaching with me is not just earning a living. I believe in my music and I believe in teaching. I do not want to become-just a baby sitter. If I am going to teach, I want to be able to give something to someone who is receptive ... someone who can use and appreciate what I have to offer.
I have seen too often these little rich kids who have no sense of value and could not care about the piano they're learning or anything else.
But these underprivileged children, doctor, that's another story. They're marvelous. They're so responsive. I really feel more akin to them than I do to the children of the rich.
DR. K: Let me ask one more question which may seem out of place.
What area of society does Jarrett come from?
MISS W: She's from the lower middle class. DR. K: Then she's not from the wealthy nor is she from the poor, is that correct?
MISS W: Yes, doctor, that is correct. She grew up in a house on a street in a neighborhood but is definitely several notches removed from my area of society.
DR. K: All right, I don't wish to dwell on that. I would like to get back to your experiences with young men. Can you remember the first one?
MISS W: Of course, I can, doctor. Quite vividly. Would you like me to tell you about it?
DR. K: Please do. Try to start, though, before your actual physical encounter. Tell me your first impressions.
MISS W: His name was Marty. I remember so explicitly because he came from a terrible neighborhood I worked in, but was so unlike any other boy I had seen there.
Actually, he was I believe younger than the other boys who had been coming around. I started working with the high school and I was beginning to get the boys who were about fifteen.
Marty came from the junior high and the thing that impressed me most when I first saw him was his gentleness.
The other boys had already begun to develop body hair. They were starting to look masculine. They were beginning to show that firm masculine appearance which boys in their late teens develop.
Marty had none of this. He was not a fat sissie by a long shot. He was lean but not bony. His body had some manner of softness, but I think it had to do with his age for he still possessed some of his baby fat.
His hair was sandy and curly and of course he wore it slightly long. His eyes were a very soft blue and his mouth was full. It had the shape many girls attempt to achieve with lipstick. As a matter-of-fact, he had many qualities that many girls I knew would love to have had themselves.
We had an instant rapport and it wasn't until I had known him about two months before anything sexually happened.
He was quite bright and very talented. He had such a sensitive, soft touch on the piano. It was very similar to mine.
I actually got the idea of making him feel masculine when one of my other students referred to him as Mary. During our lesson, I asked Marty what the other boys in school were like. And eventually, we became involved in the discussion. He said that he was not very popular and that he was considered somewhat of a freak because he was so different.
I asked him if he was a homosexual and he said that he wasn't sure. He had never had any kind of experience with anybody but it was quite possible that the other boys knew something about him that he didn't know.
This was my cue. I realized that it was necessary for me to give him something as human beings which needed to come to the fore. I had to give him some worth as a person or otherwise his piano would have no worth at all.
I didn't know exactly how to approach the subject and so for the next several lessons, I did nothing more than allow myself to be touched. Whenever I had the opportunity I would slide closer to him on the piano bench so that our thighs would be almost touching. I did not want to touch him outright. I wanted to arouse some sort of feeling in him but I discovered in the process that I was awakening something within myself. I found that when I got near Marty there was a great warmth which arose from the pit of my stomach. It was accompanied almost with the sensation of butterflies. I became quite nervous when this feeling came about me and I could feel that I was flushing.
I felt like a school girl all over again. It was ... young love. I was actually falling for this boy. I was consumed by a desire to be with him. Everything about him I found appealing ... his body was lovely I wanted to touch it all over. It did not have the hard muscle lines of an older boy nor the hairy skin. He was smooth and the color was fresh. His voice was like music to my ears. It was not yet a baritone. He had not reached puberty so that his sound had not as yet changed. And it was a very throaty soprano. I found that I could hardly contain myself. I reached over and put my arm around his shoulder as I pretended to look at the music. I leaned very close to him and then our eyes met. We looked long at each other and I told him in that glance that I had ideas other than music.
We connected in that moment and I knew I had hit a responsive note within Marty. We were equals at that time. It was no longer student-teacher relationship.
I kissed him gently on the forehead and his hand slid off the keyboard and onto my thigh. I thought his touch would burn right through my dress. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me, burying his face into my shoulder. I was wearing only a thin blouse and his breath was hot upon my skin.
And even though he was becoming excited he retained a certain coolness about him. The one thing I remember about Hank in college was his breathing ... his snorting. But that had been a whole different scene.
Oh yes, certainly different.
And less pleasing.
Less exciting.
Less everything.
Hank had seemed to huff and puff and be all out of breath and self-control all the way through. He seemed not to even see me exactly as a person but just as some kind of sexual object with which he had to contend.
I remember that, at the time, it had seemed lovely, at least passable.
Maybe, in the end result, I was simply projecting.
Maybe, I was seeing what I wanted to see in this situation.
But in my mind it seemed very real, very lovely, very desirable. Certainly worth every effort.
The moment seemed right. The situation was pleasing and mutually exciting and I wanted it ... all of it. Everything that this single instant in time had to offer, everything I could squeeze from this moment in terms of a real though unreal relationship.
Oh, yes ... I remembered those things about Hank. I remembered his clumsiness, his panting, his seeming obtuseness.
How could I forget it.
How could I have not noticed it when it was so obvious, so blatant.
But Marty had none of that. He was gentle. His touch was hot but lovely and he was just the right size that I could engulf him in my arms.
I took his free hand and placed it upon my breast and instructed him to relish it, feel it, play with it. He did so quite readily as though he were experienced and yet I knew he was not. He seemed to know my body and he began to explore it with that kind of carnal knowledge which comes only with time and great familiarity.
I thought probably the reason he behaved this way was that we were so akin ... we were kindred spirits.
There was no strangeness.
No, no strangeness at all.
He moved his sensitive hands along my breast, kneading it as though he were making a loaf of bread and I found that with each stroke my passions began to mount. It was totally different from when I was with Hank. We seemed to travel together on the road of passion. I was not being forced to submit. But yet I was submitting. I was not pinned down beneath a hard rigid body. I was instead next to this beautifully soft and sensitive creature who was quite eager to become one with me.
After a time, I took his hand in mine and placed it at the hem of my skirt. I told him to go ahead and explore as he wished. But that he should remember everything so that he could tell the other boys about it.
He told me that he would never speak of this to anyone else except me. He said that I had his complete secrecy.
It was lovely. He was so concerned ... so considerate ... so kind. But I continued to urge his hand up beneath my dress until he finally touched my eager pussy lips.
I thought, doctor, that I would go insane. Gradually his hand climbed higher until it was traveling in very soft circles across my lower abdomen.
I urged him to stick his finger inside my hole. I directed his hand to my slit and told him to go ahead inside and to continue to work in there.
From all the piano lessons, doctor, Marty's fingers were quite strong. They were not weak at all and he quite deftly shoved his fingers into my pussy.
I swung around on the bench so that Marty would be standing next to me between my legs. I continued to smother him in my arms and I redirected his hand into my hot vagina. He never gave any resistance whatsoever.
He continued to work his hand in and out of my vagina and I covered him with my body. I unbuttoned my blouse so that my breasts would be bare and he very quickly found that these were pleasure spots. He began to suck on one and I nearly went through the ceiling.
He continued working until I reached a climax at which point, I grasped him tighter to me.
While he was doing it I grabbed onto his buttocks and squeezed down.
DR. K: And your future encounters?
MISS W: They became much more involved after that. Marty felt freer to explore to his heart's content. He knew that he would not be reprimanded.
It even got to the point between the two of us where he would kneel before me while I sat on the piano stool with my legs spread. And he would do an oral job on me. He would work over my vagina with his tongue and that really drove me crazy.
It seems as though my satisfaction and reaction were enough for him. He made no bones. Not one single time did he try to enter me, although we did kiss a lot.
DR. K: And the others? Did any of them ever attempt to enter you?
MISS W: No, doctor, they didn't. There was only one time where one of the boys even suggested that and I quickly dispelled it.
The most I would ever do would be to fondle their penis. Of course, they were not old enough to reach a climax so I did not have that concern at all. They received physical satisfaction though and they came to what seemed like a climax.
DR. K: Did it ever occur to you that these boys seemed rather feminine?
MISS W: How do you mean, feminine, doctor? They were boys.
DR. K: Yes, but they were still pre-puberty and they had not yet developed any of the strong masculine characteristics. They were in essence young girls. The only difference being that they did possess a penis.
MISS W: I think that's an absurd idea. It's absolutely ridiculous. I have never heard anything so stupid in my entire life.
DR. K: Just look at your terminology. You keep referring to them as not yet having developed strong masculine characteristics. You talk of their smooth body ... their hairless skin ... the lovely soft mouth. You speak of everything that a young girl possesses.
Why don't you admit it Miss W., these boys are your female lovers.
(She started at me with wide eyed wonderment. She was speechless.)
You cannot accept the fact of girls sleeping with girls. You cannot accept the fact of feminine gratification administered by a female.
You cannot tolerate male insertion. You cannot tolerate all the male characteristics so you take the compromise. You take a little boy who bears all that's feminine in a young girl yet still possesses the masculine apparatus in a state of development that will be no threat.
MISS W: I had never thought of it that way before, doctor, but now that you mention it, it very well may be true. You may have a point.
This is the first time in my life that anything has really made any kind of sense. You certainly do live up to your reputation. I'll look forward with eagerness toward our future sessions.
Summary
Miss W.'s case is quite obvious and although so many psychiatrists attempt to cure homosexuality or lesbianism, I do not subscribe to that school of therapy. I believe that two individuals must relate to each other. That is the most important point of life. I do not think it makes any difference as to the sexes involved just so long as two people can relate.
Miss W. had strong lesbian tendencies all her life. She may have displayed them as a child in such a manner that her mother received the emanations, thus giving her warning about female companionship which would have been in this stage of her life when she developed her prude attitude. Bearing these qualities and being fed a steady diet of negativeness toward female encounter, she would have developed an insecure attitude toward her relationship with other people.
This in fact we discovered was the basis her shyness was built upon. She saw, finally, that this was a cover-up. But in so far as her friend Jarret was concerned, in time, Miss W. learned that feminine companionship was not a bad or evil human action. When this was completely implanted in her mind as to replace the violent aversion she possessed, her desire for young boys diminished and she gradually developed a meaningful relationship with her woman companion.
This was not a particularly difficult case, but it was a significant one in that there are many Miss W.'s in the world today ... many individuals who believe that sex between the same sexes is wrong. One must remember when an attitude is assumed in contradiction to the basic tendency of the individual an aberration is formed and it will seek an outlet. That outlet will be a deviation from the normal path of the individual and this, in my estimation, is perversion. Anything that is done that is unnatural to the basic characteristics of the individual is perversion. I do not agree with my colleagues who subscribe to the school of psychiatry which purports to believe that anything against the norm of society is perversion. I don't agree with this sort of criteria. It cannot be utilized for the individual's peace of mind.
I believe very strongly in the Miss W.'s of the world ... their honesty ... their truthfulness ... their ability to survive. I firmly believe that they are the hope of our civilization.
I do not wish to misconstrue. I am not necessarily referring to lesbianism. I am referring to those individuals who can think in terms beyond social mores ... who can in the end answer their questions to themselves honestly. It is only through this kind of self-appraisal that anyone can hope for contentment with themselves and eventually with life in general. It is an absolute necessity for all individuals to think of themselves over and above what ideas have been foisted upon them by outside influences.
Life is worthwhile and through its survival lies our hope. Without it, there is no society.
CASE NUMBER SEVEN
Patient: Caroline J. Age: 25
Marital Status: Married Occupation: Housewife
Mrs. J. came to see me after admitting that she had been having an extra-marital affair with the fourteen-year-old delivery boy. She was a classic blonde with beautiful high cheek bones and strikingly piercing blue eyes. Her breasts jutted forward and slightly upwards.
"It's just that I'm bored, doctor," she confessed, lighting a cigarette and settling back in her chair.
"Why, Mrs. J.? " I asked, taking out a pen and a pad of legal-sized paper as I proceeded to take notes on patient's disclosures.
"I've been married to Mike for three years now, but as far as I'm concerned it's just about all finished. Not that Mike's bad-looking. On the contrary. He's the answer to any girl's dream ... tall, dark-haired, a terrific physique."
"Then what's the problem?" I asked.
"He doesn't satisfy me in bed. I think he's queer," Mrs. J. said in a low and disspirited voice, turning away to hide her obvious embarrassment.
The following is the transcript of my first session with Mrs. J. I have excluded my own comments with the hope of investing patient's narrative with a degree of verisimilitude.
Everything was fine until about three or four months ago. Then, suddenly all sorts of problems began to creep into our lives. Mike was tired and we began to have sex less and less. I was getting incredibly horny and I needed someone to satisfy my feminine desires.
That's when I first met the delivery boy, Pete.
Even though he's fourteen, he looks much older. One afternoon he came to the house to deliver groceries. I purposely tempted him and wore a very transparent negligee, hoping that he would make advances.
"Have you ever ... ever been with a woman before?" I asked him, smiling coyly.
Pete looked at me and licked his lips. "None as beautiful as you," he said daringly, standing with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing tight faded blue jeans and I gaped with wonder-hardly concealing my delight-at the prominent bulge behind the fly of his dungarees.
And then everything started happening, much too quickly, without a word, without warning. All of a sudden, he was near me, his hands sliding down my back to cup my ass. As his fingers began to massage my full mounds and his mouth moved on mine as he sucked my tongue, I rubbed my hips across his, thrilling as I felt his hard cock.
"Ahhhhhh," I sighed as his mouth abandoned my lips and traveled down my throat. My tits felt full and heavy in the wispy confines of my negligee, aching as if they desired freedom.
"Let's go to bed," I gasped, as he nuzzled the skin at the base of my throat.
Pete scooped me up in his arms and carried me through the kitchen and upstairs into the darkened bedroom. Gently, he deposited me in the midst of the double bed, pulled my slippers off, kicking his own shoes away and stretching out beside me.
Again we kissed. This time, however, it was my tits that filled his hands and were massaged, until I knew he could feel my swollen nipples even with my nightgown in the way.
I wanted to rip it off, but I didn't. Something told me to let Pete set the pace, to let him control the tempo of the act.
Still, I wanted to let him know how he was getting to me and I did so by pressing his hands more firmly over my tits. Pete took the hint and, after a moment, shifted his hands to untie my negligee.
When he sat up, I did the same thing. His hands were gentle as he eased the nightgown down my arms, then reached behind me to undo it all. As he eased it off, his fingertips brushed the edges of my tits, making me shiver with anticipation.
He leaned forward and kissed me again, but I refused to let him press me back to the bed until I stripped him of his shirt. Then, with his chest bare against my naked tits, I clung to him as his tongue wedged its way into my mouth.
I was already wet. I got turned on easily since I was so horny, and Pete really turned me on. His very youth excited me, for I'd never been so hot so soon. My hands slid to his shoulders and pushed slightly.
Again he took the hint. His lips were hot and wet on my skin as he kissed his way over my shoulder and up the slope of one tit, until he had my nipple in his mouth. "Ohhhh, Pete," I sighed, as his tongue slashed across the hard flesh.
Now, as he sucked one tit and fondled the other, his free hand began to stroke my thighs, running his fingertips along the satiny flesh, teasing me with the lightness of his touch.
"Oooooh, pet, you don't know what you're doing to me," I sighed as he slipped his hand under my ass and began to caress the resilient flesh. But, as I was well aware, he knew exactly what he was doing.
As his fingers worked against my ass, Pete's wrist created pressure and friction against the length of my cunt, making me squirm. But, despite my obviously growing impatience, all Pete did was shift his mouth from one tit to the other and back.
Then I wormed a hand under him and began to play with the outline of his cock, using my fingernails over his trousers, or moving my hand up and down along the length of the firm rounded bulge, until he shifted his hand and began caressing my cunt.
I sighed loudly as his fingers busied themselves at my clitoris. My hips were moving up and down in imitation of the way they would move when his cock was in me and I was on the verge of a climax. Indeed, I was so near to coming that the mere insertion of a finger into my vagina brought me off.
Pete quickly stuck another finger into me and began to move them back and forth, thrusting them deep into me and snapping them out. It didn't take him long to make me come again.
For the first time, I took the initiative. I pushed at him until he rolled onto his back, then followed him, kissing his chest and belly as I worked to open his trousers. Pete lifted his hips and I shoved his trousers and shorts down, then caught his huge rampant cock in my mouth as I freed his legs and feet.
With the head of his cock being churned by my rotating jaws, and his hands going under me to squeeze my tits, I turned my attention to the task at hand, thrilled and amazed at the size of Pete's mammoth cunt-whacker. He was certainly more a man than a boy, at least where it counted.
"Turn around," he suggested, his voice hoarse with desire.
I ignored the suggestion. I was too into blowing him to want to be distracted by the feel of his mouth on my cunt. My tongue circled the head of his cock and stabbed at the tiny opening as my fingers caressed his balls and explored his ass-hole.
"Ooohhh, baby," Pete groaned, as I lifted my head and began to lick at the length of his cock, going down with my tongue over his balls and further, until my tongue tried to get into his ass-hole.
I was drooling and making smacking noises as I worked my mouth around his groin. It seemed that all that mattered was pleasure, my own and Pete's.
So I lifted my head again and returned his cock to the hot wetness of my mouth. With my lips pressed tightly around his cock, I began to bob my head up and down, circling the hard shaft of his cock with my tongue as I worked over him.
He was going to come soon, I sensed, but I wanted him to come, wanted to taste his hot sperm as it shot out of his cock and filled my mouth. I wanted this boy to come in my mouth and my cunt and my ass, between my tits, in my armpits, wanted to feel his come splashing on my heated flesh.
Faster and faster my head moved until, with a groan, Pete grabbed my head and held it as he shot his gism into my mouth. I swallowed and sucked, gulping thirstily, trying to drain him of as much come as I could get.
Finally he could shoot off no more and I lifted my head and smiled at him. Pete caught me and pulled me up to rest on his sweaty body as he thrust his tongue deep into my mouth and played with my tongue. His hands went down to knead the flesh of my ass as I wiggled against him.
But, when I tried to lift my hips, intending to guide his cock to my vaginal entrance and ride him, Pete prevented me from doing so. Then he rolled with me, turning me on my back and getting above me.
He broke the kiss, sat up and turned, then caught the backs of my thighs and pulled my knees back towards my tits. With a muffled groan of passion he plunged his face between my thighs, his tongue making contact with my clitoris even before his face pressed down against my cunt.
I couldn't remember when someone had eaten me so wantonly. Pete's lips, tongue and teeth moved constantly over my cunt, licking, kissing and sucking, until I came. Even then he didn't lift his head.
By shifting a little, his mouth reached my ass-hole. His tongue squirmed and fought and, gradually, breached my anal sphincter, making me cry out with delight at the beauty of the new sensation. Even Mike hadn't affected me this way whenever he'd eaten my ass and rimmed me.
But, as nice as being eaten was, it wasn't enough for long. "Pete, Pete," I was soon sobbing, "I need you. Fuck me! Fuck me!"
He shifted then, keeping his mouth on my cunt as he did so, until he was crouched below my doubled-over body. Then, still holding my thighs back against my belly, he straightened himself until his cock nudged my slippery cuntal flesh. "Yessssss," I hissed, my tongue darting out like the flickering tongue of a serpent.
Pete didn't enter me at that moment, however. He slid a hand down and used it to guide his cock up and down the length of my cuntal furrow several times, pushing it against my clitoris, pausing when it was at my vaginal entrance or my anus. After a minute of that, I was clawing at his shoulders and sobbing for him to get into me.
With a sudden lunge, he pierced me to the quick, slamming into me until his balls slapped against my pink, puckered ass-hole as he buried his cock completely in my swampy cunt.
I groaned with ecstasy as he filled me. My mouth savagely met his and I thrust my tongue deep into his throat as he cupped my ass in his hands, brought his legs up to rest against my taut buttocks and started.
He fucked me like a man possessed not at all like a fourteen year-old boy, and I responded with equal enthusiasm. Then I started working my vaginal muscles around him, milking his cock as he fucked me.
I came and came and came, until almost every thrust of his cock into me was bringing me off. "Oh, you hot little cunt," Pete groaned as he thrust a finger up my ass and made me come again, "you're going to fuck me to death."
"I'm going to try," I answered, locking my calves across his rib cage and driving a finger into his ass. "But we're both going to love it."
Then Pete was coming, flooding my vagina with hot cream that ran out and seeped down the crack of my ass to join the pool of cuntal fluid that had soaked the sheets my ass was resting on.
"Fuck my ass," I pleaded. Pete withdrew from my cunt, shifted his cock slightly and rammed it home. Despite the fact that the only lubricant was the juices that covered his cock, he was able to bury his cock up to the hilt in my ass without trouble and his hips moved as frantically as they had when he'd been in my cunt.
I sighed, with ecstatic delight, as he straightened his body and put his legs under my back, while I planted my feet solidly on the bed. His hands covered my tits and squeezed them as he continued to fuck my ass.
Even with no contact between him and my cunt, I came again. And the tightening of my anal sphincter as I reached my climax was enough to bring Pete off once more. I moaned loudly as I felt my bowels being sprayed with load after load of his creamy hot spend.
That was the end of Pete's fucking for a while. His limp cock fell from my ass and he moved away from me to collapse on the bed. I worked an arm under him and maneuvered him until his cheek was resting on my chest, his face pressing against my breasts. "I love it," I whispered.
"And I love you," he answered, stroking the tit he wasn't lying on.
"Because I'm older?" I teased. "Because I'm an older married woman?"
"Because you're the best fuck I've ever had," he answered.
"Then let's sleep for a while and fuck again," I suggested.
"That's exactly what I had in mind," he told me.
I shifted my position slightly and smiled. I decided that Pete and I would spend the afternoon in bed, fucking each other in every conceivable way. He called up his boss and explained that he had gotten violently ill and I had taken him over to the doctor. He said he wouldn't be able to come in for the rest of the day.
"Did he believe you?" I asked, when the boy got off the phone.
"I'm his best worker," Pete laughed. "Of course he believed. He's too hard up to fire me, anyway."
That was the first time Pete and I did it together.
I began to see him quite regularly. He used to come to my house right after he left school. The very sight of him, of his lean boyish body and tight round bottom, turned me on and sent my blood boiling.
But what I hadn't counted on was Mike's growing desires. After being so sexually apathetic for so long, he came home one evening and told me that we were going to go away for the weekend. He said that a friend of his at the office had loaned him the use of a summer house and he thought it would be a good opportunity for us to "get back to each other."
I had no choice but to accept his invitation.
Well, that Saturday morning we drove up to the house. It seemed as though the trip was taking forever and I tried to mask my annoyance and impatience as best I could. Finally, we turned into a thickly hedged driveway and Mike slid the car in front of a neat little cottage.
We looked the place over and I stood frozen in the upstairs hallway as I felt Mike's arm surrounding me and I felt his fingers tracing a line down the front of my sweater to my firm swelling breasts.
I decided to try to make it work for us, because I wanted to love him, wanted to keep our marriage going. So I snuggled up against Mike, rubbing my rear end against him.
My tongue moved snake-like out of my mouth, wetting my lips as I felt a tremor of desire run through my body. I felt the electricity in Mike's hand as he let his huge palm come to rest on my breasts.
He grabbed hold of my tits and squeezed them in his hands. This time, I moved into the embrace, feeling my skin tingling beneath my clothing.
In one swift movement, Mike came around to face me and at the same time pushed me backward until I was leaning against the nearest wall.
His tongue moved out of his mouth, spreading my lips as our mouths ground together and held in a long, intimate embrace.
Mike's hands rubbed down my spine until he reached the soft fleshiness of my buttocks. His fingers pulled at the flesh bringing my body even closer toward him.
As our bodies met and made contact, I knew that the action was about to start. We rubbed back and forth against each other and I could feel the insistent, hard throbbing of his prick.
It seemed like we stayed there for an eternity when at last Mike stepped back and led me down the darkened hallway towards one of the bedrooms I had seen.
I felt very strange, almost unwilling. But if my head still held me back, the needs of my body were much too strong to be ignored.
My head was swirling and before I knew what was happening, I was lying naked on the bed, watching Mike's body as he took off his clothes.
At last I saw the object of my desire as Mike swiftly pulled both his pants and underwear down over his thick muscular thighs and his hard erect cock was visible to my piercing stare.
I felt as if I had never seen him before. I had touched Mike, felt Mike, but never had I looked at him with such intensity.
My passion overtook me and I found myself moving breathlessly on the bed, waiting as Mike pulled the clothing down over his feet and left it in a heap on the floor.
"Hurry, Mike. Hurry!" I begged.
He joined me on the bed and immediately his hands moved up to my full, hot breasts. As he squeezed and toyed with my nipples, whirling them between his thumb and forefinger, they became stiff and firm, erect as well.
His tongue made lazy circles between them and then his head moved down over my flat stomach and into the brush of my cunt hair. Without any warning, his tongue moved swiftly through the forest and into the cavern below.
My entire body stiffened. I went rigid as I felt Mike's expert tongue licking at the outer lips of my cunt.
Slowly, I inched upward along the mattress. I felt the thick hair of Mike's legs brushing against me as he positioned himself above me, poised and ready for the attack.
Our bellies slapped loudly together until Mike groaned out with ecstasy as he shot his seed deep into my waiting cunt. As his cock became even harder, as it expanded and swelled inside, scraping against the walls of my pussy, my body snapped. Every nerve ending became alive as I spiraled up and up into my now seemingly endless climax.
Unfortunately, that was the exception to the rule.
Despite the degree of closeness we managed to achieve that weekend, things returned to their own boring patterns once we got home. Again, Mike suffered from the same lethargy and sexual apathy and I was forced to seek out new ways of satisfying my physical desires.
So it was quite natural that I pick up with Pete. Not that we had ever stopped, but now, it became a kind of mania, an obsession. My days were spent waiting for him to come to see me. I convinced him to quit his job so his afternoons would be free. Secretly, I gave him enough money so he wouldn't miss out on the cash he would have earned had he kept up his after-school job as a delivery boy.
In the weeks that followed, we did everything together. My flesh was weak and it felt as if his very youth was giving me back my own girlish innocence and vitality. I began to feel younger, to think younger, even to look more youthful. I had a boy as a lover and I needed him much more than he needed me.
And now, I just don't know what to do.
You see, in my own crazy neurotic way I love both of them, Pete as well as Mike, at the same time. I've been having these lurid vivid dreams about the three of us in bed together. Maybe that's why I told you I thought my husband was secretly queer, a latent homosexual or something like that. Maybe I'm just projecting, trying to see him and Pete and me all in bed together, exploring the triangular paths of troilistic love.
I just don't know. I want to love my husband. I want to make our marriage work, but suddenly it seems as if he's gotten old. I want young blood, young flesh. I need young boys like Pete. I even consented to doing it with a friend of his, a kid the same age. I can't control my unnatural desires anymore and I'm afraid I'm going off the deep end.
Help me. You must. You have to save me from my sickness.
Summary
It was apparent from her story that Mrs. J. was suffering from rather severe pedophilic urges. Her passion for young boys, and Pete in particular, was a symptom of her own state of inner turmoil and emotional unrest.
The fact that her unsatisfactory sexual relationship with her husband Mike was the original motive which prompted her to indulge in all sorts of sexual acts with the young boy is not as important as my analysis of the true motivations behind Mrs. J.'s neurotic and perverse behavior patterns.
After undergoing rather intensive analysis for a period of about six months, I was able to determine that Mrs. J. feared the loss of her own youth and womanly charms. Thus, she felt "forced" to turn to sexual partners younger than herself in the unconscious hope of retaining her youthful state.
Mrs. J. had felt that she had gone to bed with Pete only because her husband was not responsive to her physical needs. This was not the case. She had had an affair with the fourteen-year-old purely because her basic pedophilic tastes demanded expression. When I made this clear to patient, she began to see a pattern emerging, now that she was fully able to comprehend the true reasons behind her acts.
