This volume contains five case histories of women who were sexually active at a very early age. In some cases, they were sexually abused, and in others, they themselves initiated the encounters.
But in all cases, their sexual adventures affected their lives profoundly. And in some cases, the aftermath of early sexual trauma was tragic.
There cases were collected from tape recorded interviews held in my office, and are presented here to illustrate the connection between early sexual activity and the subsequent sexual development of the individual.
Each one of these narratives to told in the words of the person who lived it. I have not censored the graphic details these women describe, nor have I deleted the sometime raw language they use to tell about what happened to them.
For the adventurous and the open minded, the candor of these case histories will shed invaluable light on the emergence and development of female sexuality. There is little doubt that some of the stories told herein will give even the most sophisticated and jaded something new and different to ponder. When the subject is human sexuality, there is always something more an individual can learn; no one can ever know it all.
Thos readers who are offended by coarse language and the depiction of sexual acts that many would find bizarre are urged to read no farther. This book was not intended for such individuals, and such readers venture onward at their own peril.
CASE HISTORY ONE
SUBJECT: Susan M. AGE: Sixteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Susan M. was a pretty girl, but her appearance was marred the first time I saw her by puffiness around her eyes. It was obvious that she'd been crying.
She was wearing a pleated skirt that first day, and she had on a white blouse and a tan cardigan sweater. She was slender, and her breasts formed small, nubile mounds in the soft fabric of the sweater.
When she sat down in front of my desk, I could see that she was anxious about something. She wrung her hands continuously and had difficulty sitting still. It was clear that something was bothering her.
I noted from the data my receptionist had gathered about her that Susan M. was from Scarsdale, an affluent bedroom community about twenty miles north of Manhattan. With her fresh good looks and the relatively high status of her family, Susan M. should have been living an almost ideal adolescence.
Something was amiss among the manicured lawns and expensive homes of Scarsdale. This is how Susan M. described it to me during her first session.
Doctor, I'm just so upset that I don't know what to do.
My life is ruined, I just know it is!
I haven't been able to go to school for the past three days, and I don't care if I never go back there. I don't ever want to see any of those people again. I know that everyone knows about it by now, and I'm probably the talk of the entire school.
It's TOO humiliating!
I can't stand it!
About all I've done since it happened was stay in my room and cry. There's no way that I could talk to Mother or Father about it. I couldn't even bring myself to say anything to
Kathy about it when she called to find out why I wasn't at school.
Kathy's my best friend and I've always told her everything. I guess she'll hear rumors about it at school or something. It's just too horrible to tell over the telephone.
I'm not sure I can go on living, Doctor. Really, I'm not.
Doctor, this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.
How can I face anyone?
Especially those boys!
And who's ever going to ask me out on a date again? If they ever do, the only reason will be because they think that I'm an easy lay. I swear, Doctor, I'm never going to do anything like that again. I don't care what anybody says, I'm just never going to do it.
About the only thing I can think of to do is to go away when I go to college. I'll go to some place where there won t be a soul who went to Scarsdale High School. That way I can start all over again. No one will know what happened to me. It'll be a fresh start.
And Greg!
How could he do such a thing?
I thought he cared about me!
Well, one thing's for sure. I'll never speak to him again as long as I live. I don't care what he says or does, I'm never going to go out with him again. He's the lowest person I've ever met, and I'm not going to have anything to do with him ever again.
He's beneath contempt as far as I'm concerned. He's a piece of slime, something that lives in the gutter and eats dead things. He's not even good enough for a dog to pee on.
I guess I should tell you what happened, shouldn't I, Doctor? It's so awful that I even hate to tell you about it. I mean, it's not like I'm afraid that you'll tell anyone or anything like that. It's just that it's almost going to be like it happening all over again to tell about it. And it was absolutely the worst experience of my entire life.
If there were some way to forget that it ever happened, I do whatever aas necessary.
It wouldn't matter what it was. I'd have shock treatments if that would make it go away or take pills or get hypnotized or whatever. It would be worth anything to have the memory of that awful night completely gone from my head. I only wish it were possible.
But I know it isn't.
I guess that's why I agreed to come here, Doctor. I know Mother meant well when she said I could tell her anything, but this is something that I could never tell her. I think I'd just die if she knew what had happened to me. I know she'd be scandalized and shocked by it, and I imagine that it would upset her as much as it's upset me.
She'd have difficulty believing I could have done such a thing in the first place.
And I suppose that I should have never started doing it with Greg in the first place. But I thought that we were in love, and after the first time when he more or less forced me to do it, I figured that I might as well. I mean, once you're no longer a virgin, it doesn't make much sense not to do it.
At least that's what I thought at the time.
But all that's changed now.
I guess that Greg was just going out with me so that he could have sex. Otherwise he'd never have done such a terrible thing to me. It's obvious that he doesn't care for me at all.
I don't know which was worse ... I mean, sometimes I think that finding out that he thought of me only as a place to put his cock or what happened that night. I still can't decide.
I couldn't believe it, Doctor.
I'll tell you what he did and then let you decide. To me, it was vile and disgusting and I'll never feel any other way about it. I just hope that I can find a way to live with it.
Well, it was Saturday night, and Greg and I had a date. He's a year older than me, so he r can drive. That makes things a lot easier. I always hate it when someone's parents have to take you to a movie theater or something like that. There's almost no chance to be alone when that happens. But I guess things will be different now.
Maybe I'll only date boys who can't drive, if I date anyone. That way, I can make sure that this kind of thing doesn't happen again. I couldn't bear it a second time.
Anyway, Greg and I went to the drive-in movie like we do on most Saturday nights. We started to neck as soon as it got dark, and it wasn't long before we were in the back seat of the car. The windows of the car had fogged over from our heavy breathing.
Well, since no one could see , it didn't bother me that he took off rry clothes.
And, actually, I find being undressed by a man kind of exciting. It's certainly a whole lot nicer than taking off your own clothes. There's something about the touch of a man's fingers against your skin that's really nice, especially if he has big hands.
And Greg has really big hands. And he's strong as well which is nice.
So we were in the back seat of the car, and he was kneading my breasts. He brought his mouth to one of my nipples and sucked on it. It was already erect and the sensations that his tongue produced as he flicked it back and forth over the end were wonderful.
The more he did it, the hotter and wetter I got. There was one strong twinge after another in my clit, and I felt all of me getting engorged.
Greg moved to my other nipple and gave it the same treatment. But this time, he brought his fingers to the one that his mouth had left. He squeezed the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pulled the nipple away from my chest. The harder he pulled it, the better the sensations were. A solid wave of pleasure cascaded through my chest as he worked on me.
Then Greg went to my skirt and unzipped it. I let him pull the thing off me, and that left me sitting there in nothing but my panties. I could already feel them starting to get wet.
Greg put his hand under the waistband of my panties and brought his forefinger to the top of my slit. He nudged it in and swirled it around. Every time it grazed over my hard clit, a new wave of sensations passed through me. More and more fluids seeped into my cunt.
I was starting to gasp and groan with the pleasure I was feeling. Then he located my clit with the tip of his finger and pressed against it. That sent a surge of sensations through me.
All the time, more and more fluids were accumulating in my pussy. It felt like someone had dumped a can of motor oil into me or something. When he started to move his finger on my clit, the tiling sent more shock waves through me. The movement of his finger was slow at first, then it gradually picked up speed. I was moaning and my hips began to gyrate against his hand.
It was like I had lost all control of my body. My mind was as mushy as my pussy by that point. There was nothing I could do now but accept everything that he had to give me. In fact, I wanted it.
I guess that I should have suspected something, but, like I said, Doctor, my mind wasn't really all that functional by that time. Usually Greg's got his clothes off by that time as well, but this time, he wasn't making any attempt to get naked. He was still fully dressed.
In an instant, he took his finger out of my slit, raised my hips off the car seat and pulled my panties over my hips and down to my ankles and finally, all the way off me.
I reached my hand to his crotch and felt the hardness of his cock. It was snaking down his leg underneath the levis he was wearing. Even through the fabric of his jeans, I could feel the thing throb and pulse. That's something that I always like to feel.
"I really want you to fuck me," I whispered in his ear.
"That's exactly what I'm getting ready to do," he said.
"I want you to really ram it up there hard."
"I will, you don't have to worry about that."
I remember thinking that it was going to be difficult if he didn't take off his jeans, but I didn't think anything more about it than that. And I certainly didn't think he'd do anything as nefarious as what was about to happen. I wouldn't have thought him capable of it.
When we're in the car, we usually use the position of him sitting on the seat and me straddling his hips with my back to him. I put my feet on the seat and bounce up and down on his cock. I kind of like it because he can play with my nipples really easily that way.
But instead of getting naked, this time he merely opened his jeans and pushed them to his ankles. He lay back against the seat and I got on top of him. I had to bend my head so it wouldn't bump into the roof of the car when I went up on his cock.
One thing I can say about Greg, Doctor, is that he's got a really big cock. I mean, it's the only one I've ever had inside me, but I've felt enough others to know. And it's not that the thing is so long, it's thick too. That's what I really like about it. When it comes down to the size of a cock, I think that thickness is much more important than length. The thicker they are, the more they stretch you, and that's what really feels good.
Anyway, after I got into position, I reached down and grabbed his hard cock at the base and brought the head of it to the center of my slit. I lowered myself a bit and the tip of the thing parted my outer lips. Then I lowered some more and it started to go into my hole.
A wave of pleasure swept over me as I felt that thing stretch the membranes of my pussy. I took my hand away from the base of his cock when the head of it was all the way inside me.
Then I let myself down slowly on the thing. I waited here and there for my fluids to lubricate the cock fully before I took even more of it. It certainly wouldn't be much fun to have something the size of that thing inside me if it wasn't well coated with my juices.
When it was all the way in, I wiggled my hips on it. At the same time, he brought his fingers to my nipples and squeezed them. The sensations his fingers produced merged with the ones that his cock made as I moved myself on it, and each set of feelings made the other stronger.
I began to raise and lower my hips on his stiff cock. My cunt was sending out more intense sensations now, and every time his cock moved, my clit moved against the folds of skin that surrounded the tiny bud of nerve endings. My body came alive at the pleasure I was feeling.
As the pleasure mounted, I went faster and faster. There was one heavy jolt after another as I rammed my hips into his cock. Every movement that I made sent me higher.
I felt the head of his cock against the back wall of my pussy every time that I took the thing all the way inside me. I was going higher and higher with every stroke that I made.
I went to an incredibly high plateau of pleasure and the sensations were exquisite. All I wanted was more of them. They totally consumed my mind and my body.
All of a sudden, it was upon me.
I let out a loud cry as the orgasm hit my, and there was a spasm in my pussy. A white flash seared my brain, and I was lost in time and space. Nothing had any meaning except for the pleasure that I was experiencing. It reached to the core of my existence.
Somehow I managed to keep going on that cock of his. I think that it must have been inertia or something. You know what they say about a body in motion tending to remain in motion, and all that? Well, I think that was the case with me that night.
As more spasms gripped my pussy, there were shudders that ran through me. I felt my entire body quaking, and I had absolutely no control over what was happening to me.
Almost as soon as the sensations subsided, there was another fierce orgasm. Then they came one right after the other. I was swept away by the intensity of it.
Then I heard Greg make an incomprehensible shout. A blistering orgasm was racing through me, and the sound of his voice came from a far distance. Finally, he pulled me into him and held me on his cock as his hips contracted against me and he shot burst after burst of hot come into my pulsating pussy.
Now this is the worst part, Doctor. It's so awful that I hate to even talk about it. I should have known that something was going to happen, but I didn't. It took me totally by surprise.
All at the same time, every door of the car flew open and there were lights in my eyes!
Doctor, I didn't have the vaguest idea what was happening!
I thought maybe it was the police or something. I don't know why I should have thought such a thing, but I did. I was so afraid that I thought I was going to pee.
After a split second, there was a flash and then another one.
I realized that someone was taking pictures. I was so embarrassed that I didn't know what to do. I wanted to just curl up and vanish into nothingness. In horror, I realized that his cock was still inside me. The first thing I did was to pull myself off the thing.
As the spots cleared from my vision, I could see who they were. At least it wasn't the police. It was four of his friends! Can you believe that, Doctor? I was totally aghast.
"Shit, I guess he wasn't shitting us about balling the bitch," one of them said.
The light in the car was on, and I realized then that people in other cars were looking out their windows at us. I was so humiliated that I thought I was going to die right there on the spot. And there have been times since then that I wish I had.
"What's the meaning of this?" I demanded as another flashbulb went off.
"We just thought it would be nice to get a shot of you in action, baby," Greg said.
"Yeah, that's some gash you got there," one of the others said.
I wanted to cover my nakedness, but I couldn't seem to make my hands move. I managed to move off him and cower against the seat. I curled up into a ball with my arms around myself.
"The party's over, guys," Greg said. "We may as well let her get dressed ... I'll see you later at Charlie's."
Charlie's is this bar where they don't ask a lot of questions. Greg and his friends spend a lot of time there, and I've even been there a couple of times.
As soon as the car doors were closed, I regained some of my composure and found my clothes. I got into them as fast as I possibly could. All I wanted to do was get away.
I don't know when Greg pulled his pants up, but I noticed that he had them up while I was putting on my skirt. He was climbing over the front seat while I put my bra back on.
"I guess you'll be wanting to go home now," Greg said as he started the car.
"Don't ever speak to me again, you beast," I told him.
"Have it your way."
I stayed in the back seat as he drove me home. I wanted to get as far away from him as I could. As far as I'm concerned, I don't even want to be on the same planet with him.
Doctor, have you ever heard of anything so gross?
I mean, I don't know what he plans to do with those pictures, but just knowing that they exist makes me miserable. I wonder if he plans to show them around school or what. I think that I'd die if he did something like that. It's too humiliating for words.
I managed to keep my composure on the ride home. I didn't want him to know how much I was hurt or how what he'd done was affecting me. I didn't want to give Greg that much satisfaction.
As soon as the car stopped in front of my house, I got out without a word. I made sure that I looked all right before I went in, and my mother gave me a funny look since it was so early. Fortunately, she didn't ask any questions. I'm not sure that I could have said anything.
I went straight to my room, and as soon as the door was closed behind me, tears started running down my face. I've been crying off and on ever since. My mother and father think that we just had a quarrel or something, and I suppose that's just as well. I certainly don't want them to know the truth. That would be too grotesque. I couldn't stand it.
Well, Doctor, I see that our time is about up.
I really hope that there's something you can do to help me. I feel a bit better now that I've finally been able to talk to someone about it. But I still feel degraded about what happened. And I don't know how I can face anyone at school. I'm sure everyone knows about it by now.
You're simply got to help me, Doctor. I think I might be losing my mind.
INTERVIEW TWO
The first thing that I told Susan M. was that she didn't have to feel guilty about what she'd done. None of it was her fault. She was the victim of a cruel, adolescent trick.
The first thing she had to do was to get back to the normal routine of her life as fast as she could. The sooner she stopped dwelling on what had happened, the better off she'd be. And the sooner she resumed her regular activities, the sooner she'd stop brooding about what had happened to her. There would be other things to occupy her mind.
I tried to relieve her anxiety about going back to school by telling Susan M. that it was unlikely that her former boyfriend had shown the pictures to her classmates. I reasoned that he was just as exposed as she was, and that might prevent him from wanting the pictures widely circulated.
When Susan M. came to my office for her next session, however, she looked even more distressed than she had the first time. I was anxious to find out how things had developed. This is what she told me that afternoon.
Oh, Doctor, this have gotten worse since the last time I was here. I didn't think it was possible, but it was, and it happened. I don't know what I'm going to do.
Everything went fine at first, Doctor.
I went back to school like you told me to, and, to my surprise, no one knew a thing about what had happened. That made me feel good right from the start. And you were right about getting my mind on other things. That helped me too.
I avoided Greg and his friends as much as I possibly could. Every time that I ran into one of them by accident, he looked at me with a knowing smile on his face. I blushed whenever that happened. I don't think I need to tell you how much I hated bumping into one of them.
But as the week went on and nothing happened, I began to get the idea that nothing would happen. I think I was even starting to put the incident behind me to some extent.
Then on Friday, I got the envelope in the mail.
Doctor, I was so shocked when I opened it that I didn't know what to do. Thank God that Mother isn't really the snoopy type. She's always been pretty good about respecting my privacy.
But that was sort of an unusual envelope, so I'm sure that she was a little curious about what was inside the thing. I mean, it was one of those big manila envelopes, not the sort of thing that one usually gets a letter in. And there was no return address on it, so that meant that it couldn't be from a business or something like that. They'd never do such a thing.
As soon as she handed it to me, I had a sense of foreboding about it. I took the thing up to my room to open it. I'm really glad I had the sense to do that. If I'd have pulled those pictures out right there in front on her, she would have known there was something wrong even if she didn't see them.
"Damn that fucking ass-hole!" I said out loud when I saw them.
I was clearly recognizable in the pictures, but his face was hidden behind my back. All you could see of him was his thighs and knees and that big cock sticking up me.
I went into a rage of sobbing and crying. I just couldn't seem to control myself.
When I was finally coherent once again, I saw the note that was attached to the two pictures. It said, "Meet me Saturday at
Charlie's. Eight P. M. And don't be late." Greg had signed the thing with just a "G."
I wondered what he wanted to see me about, but I knew that it had something to do with the pictures. I knew he was going to use them against me somehow. I started to think about a pretext under which to ask my father for money, but there was no way I could get a lot.
I was nervous all day on Saturday because I had to tell Mother a lie about what I was doing that evening. Kathy agreed to back me up if my mother called over there for me. She was going to say that I'd just left and I was going to call her just before I left the bar for home to make sure there hadn't been a call. That sort of thing rarely happens, but I wanted to be prepared just in case. Kathy asked me a few questions, but I dodged them.
In addition, I was nervous about what Greg might ask for. I thought it might be that he'd gotten on drugs or something like that and needed money to pay for them.
I thought that I would have suspected something in the past if that were the case, and he always seemed to have plenty of money. His family was rather wealthy, but I never asked specifically what his allowance was. I didn't think a question like that was polite.
But then my views on politeness have changed, especially in regard to Greg.
There wasn't anything good about the situation that I found myself in, but I had no choice but to comply with Greg's wishes. There was no telling what he might do if I didn't.
You can imagine how nervous I was that night as I approached the bar, Doctor.
Well, I walked in the place and Greg was sitting alone at a table. I looked around and saw that his friends were all sitting at the bar. My first thought was that they just wanted to humiliate me. I was afraid at first that they might have one of those pictures posted on the wall or something.
I went over to the table Greg was at and sat down.
"Feel like a drink?" he asked me.
"I only drink with my friends," I said.
"I was hoping that we could at least be friends."
"You must be kidding."
"Then I guess that we'll just be two people who fuck with each other but don't like each other."
"I haven't the vaguest intention of doing anything like that with you," I told him.
Just the prospect of having sex with him made me nauseous. He was the last person in the world that I wanted to have touch me. At the time, I thought I'd rather die.
"You'd better think that one over," Greg said. "I don't think you want your father to get a print of the pictures we made."
"You wouldn't do that!"
"Try me."
I thought about it for a moment. I don't know why I had to because there really wasn't very much I could do about the situation. Greg was clearly in control.
"I guess I don't have any choice," I said.
"I thought you'd see it that way."
He stood up from the table and I did the same. As far as I was concerned, the best thing to do was to get it over with as soon as possible. What I wanted to do most was to go home and try to figure some way out of the entire situation. I wasn't sure there was one, but I wanted to think about it. I hoped I could come up with something.
I followed Greg out of the bar. As I was standing by the passenger door of the car, his friends came out and joined us. They were the same five who'd been there at the drive-in.
"What the hell is this?" I asked Greg as he unlocked the driver's door.
"Well, I thought we'd have a little party ... The more the merrier and all that," he said. "I mean, there really isn't any reason not to share the wealth, is there?"
When Greg got into the car, he opened the other doors and they started piling into the back seat. Four of them got in it and the fifth came around to my side of the car.
"We're getting tired of just looking at pictures of that gash and jerking off," he said.
I didn't say anything.
I didn't want to, but I got into the car and slid across the seat so that I was next to Greg. He put his hand on my thigh and the feel of it repulsed me. What was happening was unthinkable.
"You can't do something like this," I said to Geg.
"I can and I will."
I just sat there and felt my entire body go numb with fear and loathing. A feeling of helplessness came over me. There wasn't a thing I could do to stop them from doing whatever they wanted to with me. I wanted to curl up and die right there on the spot.
I'm not a violent person, Doctor, but if I'd had a gun or a knife, I think I might have used it on them. There would have been great satisfaction in getting at least one of them.
Greg drove to this park in White Plains and parked the car in a very secluded area.
I could tell from the look of the place that there wasn't much chance of anyone else driving through. And I'm not sure that that would have bothered them even if it had happened.
We all piled out of the car, and I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The only thing I could think about was finding a way to make it not hurt too much.
About the only thing I could think of was to find a way to get turned on so that there would be some fluids in me, but there was no way that I could do that.
I wished that I had known what he was planning for me. If I had, I would have put some Vaseline or something in me so that there wouldn't be so much friction. I was actually afraid that they might damage me somehow. I really hoped that that wouldn't happen.
"Get your clothes off, bitch," Greg snarled after walked down a small knoll so that we weren't visible from the road.
I took off my clothes as fast as I could. I was shaking like a leaf.
"Who wants to be first?" Greg asked the rest of them.
"Hell, this was your idea, Greg ... You might as well take her before she gets too sloppy," one of them said.
"Shit, man, that's why I came up with the idea in the first place ... I like 'em messy."
"I'll volunteer," one of them said.
It was so dark that I could hardly see his face as he approached me.
"Now'i the time for you to lay down and spread 'em," Greg said to me.
I did as he said and the boy got roughly on top of me. His pants were down to his knees, and his hard cock pressed against my mound. It wasn't quite in the right place, so nothing happened.
He got to his knees and pulled me into him. He adjusted the aim of his cock so that the thing was poised at the entrance to my hole. I was terrified now.
He gave a shove, and a bit of it went inside me.
"Shit, she's dry as a bone," he said.
"Spit it your hand and rub it on your cock," Greg told him.
There was the sound of spitting and he pulled his cock away from me. I was glad that there was at least going to be a little lubrication, but I wished there could be more.
He spit into his hand two more times and rubbed it over his cock. Then he put the thing back to my slit. This time, the penetration was easier, and with two thrusts, he had the thing half way inside me. He leaned over me again and pushed the rest of his cock into me.
There was a little pain as he began to plunge back and forth in me, but then I started to get a few sensations from the way that my clit was moving against the membranes that surrounded it.
I guess I started to emit some juices, because his cock was moving easier and easier inside me.
He pounded into my pussy faster and harder all the time. By the time that he let out a loud groan and started to come, I was even enjoying it a little bit. And after he shot all that slippery come in me, I knew that I didn't have to worry about it hurting any more.
Then another one got on top of me. His cock slipped in easily, and I felt myself become engorged as he pulled me. My nipples were firm against his shirt.
Well, Doctor, that's the way it went. They took me one after the other, and by the time that Greg had me, I was having one thunderous orgasm after the other. He was the last one, and by the time that he stuck his cock in me, I had the feeling that I was as filled with come as I possibly could be. The stuff was dribbling down through the crack of my ass.
I guess that's one of the worst things about it, Doctor.
I mean the fact that I actually enjoyed what they did to me.
I feel so guilty about it that I don't know how to live with myself. It just isn't conceivable to me that I could be gang raped, violated and abused, tormented and humiliated, totally degraded, forced to the depths of depravity, utterly used and dominated and actually have an intense orgasmic experience as a result. It's preposterous.
I don't know how I can live with myself, Doctor.
You've got to do something to help me. And I have to make another confession, Doctor. I actually got all warm and moist just telling you about it. I'm going to have to change my panties as soon as I get home. Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard?
I mean, I just don't understand what's happening to me.
CONCLUSION
I assured Susan M. that what she'd told me wasn't the worst tiling that I'd ever heard. In my years as a therapist, I've heard tales that make what she experienced look like child's play. Susan M. wasn't nearly as depraved as she thought she was.
I told her that she wasn't responsible for what had happened to her since she did it under duress. And the fact that she'd enjoyed it was probably a good sign. If she hadn't, the brutal gang rape could have caused serious physical trauma to her reproductive tract.
Fortunately, this hadn't happened and all I had to deal with was the mental consequences. It was obvious to me that Susan M. would need a prolonged course of therapy. She was lucky that her parents were affluent and could afford the high cost of such treatment.
I told Susan M. that she no longer had to deal with what her former boyfriend demanded of her. Extortionists rarely carry out their threats. Once the victim no longer accedes to their demands, there's little for the blackmailer to gain by doing what he claimed he'd do. Most of the time, they refrained in the hope that the victim would do what they desired at some point in the future. Once the threat was carried out, there would be no hope of gaining what they wanted.
And in Susan M.'s case, there could be an easy explanation for her parents if they should receive the pictures. All she had to do was explain that some of the boys imposed her head on that of a pornographic photo. It was something that any amateur photographer could do. She could even set them up for it in advance by telling her parents that some of the boys were showing such a picture around school and that she was upset by it.
I don't often encourage trickery and deceit, but there are situations that call for it, and I thought this was one of them. It was an easy solution for her problem if she wished to use it.
I strongly suspected, however, that Susan M. would rather continue submitting to whatever was demanded of her. What she really sought from me was the removal of her guilt that arose from wanting things that the rest of society considered immoral.
CASE HISTORY TWO
SUBJECT: Gloria S. AGE: Forty-two
INTERVIEW ONE
I recognized Gloria S. the moment she walked into my office.
It pleased me that it was the woman I'd suspected and not someone else with the same name and occupation. This has happened before with other well known patients, and although I'm not agog at meeting celebrities, it can disappoint me when it isn't who I expect.
Gloria S. is a handsome looking woman who wears her age well. She has a statuesque quality to her that is as sexy as it is attractive. The lighter highlights in her long tresses shimmered in the light as she seated herself in front of my desk.
Gloria S. is well known to many people for her work in the feminist movement. In addition to her work as the executive editor and publisher of a leading feminist magazine, she's written several books on the subject. I understand that the books sold rather well, but I had never read any of them.
I didn't know what kind of problem this wealthy and influential woman could have, but the knitted brow on her face told me that something was troubling her. This is the way that she explained it to me.
Doctor, you've got to help me or I don't know what I'll do.
Sometimes I feel like I'm becoming completely unglued, and I don't want things to get worse.
And to tell you the truth, I don't know whether what's troubling me is a physical problem or a mental one. But I have an appointment with my gynecologist next week, and I'll have him check out the physical aspects of it. Right now I want to discuss the mental ones.
I guess that's obvious, isn't it, Doctor? Otherwise, why would I be sitting in the office of a psychiatrist? Especially one that's as well known as you are.
I've got to tell you, Doctor, that I really enjoy reading your books. They're great for turning me on whenever I feel like a good clit diddling session. And I've learned a lot from them. But I have to say that some of those women are a little on the kinky side as far as I'm concerned.
Well, I guess everyone is a little on the kinky side once in a while.
Even me.
I guess that's what I came here to talk to you about, Doctor. There's a problem with my sex life.
I mean, I'm not perverted or anything like some of those women in your books. I'm not a dominant lesbian or anything like that. And I don't get off on tying someone up and making them drink my piss and all that sort of thing. My problem is completely different, and I think that you might even find it interesting. You might even want to use my case history in one of your books.
Of course, I trust that you won't use my real name.
Anyway, I guess I should give you some background, shouldn't I? Besides, this more or less relates back to something that happened when I was seventeen, so I guess you'll need to know about that.
Well, to begin, Doctor, I got started with sex at a pretty early age. I never much believed anything that people said about it. I mean, all that bit about how you couldn't do it until you got married and all that. As soon as I heard that one, I went right out and did it just to prove that you could. It didn't seem logical to me that it was impossible until you got married.
I know that I misunderstood what they were telling me, Doctor, but I was only twelve then, and I had a tendency to take things literally. And I was beginning my adolescent rebellion. Actually, I didn't believe much of what anyone told me in those days.
And to some extent, that's still true. There's a lot of misinformation around in this world, Doctor. And there's always someone around who wants to make you believe his or her favorite piece of it. Take Jerry Fallwell and his Moral Majority, for example. Very weird people, those.
I guess I'm going off on a tangent, aren't I? It's a tendency that I have.
To get back to my sex life, I should tell you that I liked it right from the start.
That first time I didn't have an orgasm, but it still felt good. But it wasn't long before I started having them. Just a few months, as I recall. Then I had to have it all the time.
And it got so that I didn't care with whom I had it. Boys, girls, my finger, a dog or two, anything that could give me that incredible pleasure one more time. It was all I lived for.
I was beginning to think that I was abnormal or something. I knew that none of my friends were doing that kind of thing. They all acted like I was making it up when I said anything about it.
And I guess even then, I knew something about "reputations" and all that. I was always careful to go out with older boys so that nothing was said about me by my peers.
It was one thing for me to talk about it with one of my girlfriends who wouldn't believe me in the first place, but it was quite another to have the boys gossiping about me.
I didn't want that sort of thing, although I didn't really know why at the time. It was just the sort of thing that I knew instinctively I didn't want to happen.
So I managed to keep what I was doing pretty much a secret. Of course, a lot of older boys knew about me, but that didn't make much difference to me. And I suppose that I was taken advantage of a little, but that never bothered me too much. I know that I was "passed around" to some extent, but that kind of turned me on.
By the time that I was seventeen and in my senior year at high school, I really knew what I was doing. There wasn't a whole lot that I hadn't tried, and there wasn't a whole lot that I hadn't liked. Some things I thought were a little strange, but that didn't stop me from doing them.
Well, I met this boy who was in college and started going out with him. Usually, I'd let a boy screw me on the first date, and there were times when I'd almost have to rape them, but John was different. I really liked him, and he was about the best looking man I'd ever seen, so I wanted him to think that I was a "nice" girl.
I didn't tell him that I was a virgin or anything like that, but I sort of let him assume that I was. It was the kind of question that one just didn't ask in those days.
Everyone was kind of uptight about sex in those days, and I grew up in a small city in the Midwest, so that made things even worse. They're still uptight to this day out there.
Well, after a few dates, I couldn't resist anymore, so when he went beyond the point where I'd usually stopped him before, I just let it go to the end. I can't tell you how wonderful it was, Doctor.
He had about the biggest thing that I'd ever encountered, and he sure as hell knew what to do with it.
In a way, I was sorry that I'd waited so long to do it, but I figured it was worth it. He was certainly anxious to see me again, and that's what I wanted. There had been times when I did it on the first date that they weren't too anxious to see me again. I guess they had the idea that if I was that easy, I must have been around a lot. Well, that was true, but I don't see why it bothered them so much. Men have rather odd ideas at times.
Anyway, we kept seeing each other, and we started going to motel rooms whenever we could afford it. I like doing it in places like that much better than doing it in cars.
Anyway, one Saturday night, we were ensconced in a pleasant little room, and after we did it the first time, we watched television for a while to get our strength back. After the series of mind blowing orgasms that I'd had, I needed a little time to rest.
After a while, John reached over to the floor and picked up the panties that he'd taken off me earlier. He held them between his hands for a long moment, then he brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply. I thought it was odd, but it kind of turned me on to watch him.
John took another deep breath with my panties held against his nose, then he brought them to his crotch and rubbed them against his cock. He moved them up and down the underside of his cock, then he pressed them tightly into his balls. His cock started to get hard as he did it.
As his cock rose steadily, John rolled back on the bed and spread his legs apart so that the cheeks of his ass were pulled apart. He moved the panties to his ass-hole and pushed them against it. He was pressing against the tight hole with such force that I thought he might be trying to get them inside.
Then he took the panties away and let his hips fall back to the bed. By that time, his cock was fully erect, and he held my panties over it and let them caress the surface of his hard cock. The thing was laying almost against his abdomen, and he moved my sheer panties up and down the underside of his cock. When he was at the base of his cock, he'd move the fabric over his balls. They shrank up to his body as he did it.
And whenever he'd run the filmy fabric over the sensitive place just where the rim of the head disappears into the hole at the end of his cock, the thing would make a little jump.
I don't know why I found it so exciting to watch him doing that, but there was one twinge after another in my clit as I looked at his fat cock. I felt my cunt begin to get all warm and moist.
John moved the hand that was holding my panties directly against his cock and pressed the garment into the thing. His head was raised from the bed, and he divided his gaze between his cock and my face. I could tell that he was excited by the fact that I was watching and getting aroused.
"I wish you'd do this with your hand," John said in a hoarse voice.
"I think I'd like that," I told him.
I moved my hand to his cock and he took his away. I felt his cock strain against my hand as I wrapped as much of my fingers around the thing as I could. At the same time, more fluids seeped into my pussy. I was getting hotter and hotter, and my nipples became hard.
It was an odd feeling to have my hand against the delicate cloth and to feel his throbbing cock beneath it. It was sort of a contradiction in a way. But it was one that I liked.
I held my hand there around the middle of the shaft for a few minutes, then I loosened my grip and ran my hand to the base of his cock, over his balls and then back to the head of his cock.
John's thick prick made a jerk just before I reached the glans and wrapped my fingers around it. I held onto the head of his cock with all the force that I had, and I was a little afraid that I might hurt him, but the tighter I squeezed, the better he seemed to like it.
"I hope that's not too strong a grip," I finally said.
"It's impossible to hold it too strongly when it's hard," John said.
I relaxed my hold on his cock and started moving my hand back and forth on the thing again. John let out a long sigh and rolled his head back on the bed.
It always turned me on when I knew I was really giving him pleasure, and that time was no exception. It felt like my cunt was bathed in liquids and the tingling in my clit was intense.
"I want to stick it in like this," John said. "What do you mean?"
"I want to stick it in you with your panties wrapped around it."
I wasn't really sure if that would work. The idea was interesting, and there was a strong twinge in my clit as I thought about it. The whole thing seemed bizarre, but I liked it.
"Well, I'm willing to give it a try," I said.
I figured that if it didn't work out, we could always do it the regular way. And if it did work, it would be something new and different. I was always eager to try something I hadn't done.
John got to his knees on the, bed after I took my hand away from his cock. I spread my legs and arched my hips, and he got between them with his hand on his cock to keep my panties on it.
John moved in as close as he could and adjusted my. panties so that they were around his cock. He put the crotch part over the head of his cock so that the panties couldn't slip off as he put his cock in me.
At first, all he did was to push the head of his cock up and down against my outer lips.
That sent a rush of sensations through me. More and more oily fluids dripped into my cunt.
Then he brought his cock to the center of my slit and nudged the tip of it past my outer folds. He stopped when his cock was poised at the entrance to my hole and looked at me.
I sent my hand to his cock and wrapped my fingers around the base of it while he leaned over me. John put his hands to the bed at my shoulders. He lowered himself a bit, and part of the head of his cock entered my pussy. He held it there and let my juices soak the panties.
Then John lowered himself again. The whole head of his cock slid into me, and I took my hand away from his cock. He held his cock there for a long moment, then he gave a slight push and more of it sank in.
John took his time entering me so that the panties were thoroughly saturated with my fluids by the time that he was all the way inside. Then he held his cock deep inside me for a long time.
The feel of the sheer fabric against the walls of my pussy was different than that of a cock. I still didn't know if this was going to work. I thought the friction might be too much for me.
I wiggled my hips against his cock and the feel of it sliding around inside me was nice.
Finally, he pulled about halfway out of me and thrust back in.
Now I knew it was going to work!
It felt totally different than a cock, and there was more friction, but it was a nice feeling that I can't quite express. But as soon as I felt it, I knew that I liked it.
John pulled out again. This time it was all the way with only the head of his cock remaining inside me. With a forceful plunge, he rammed his cock into me to the hilt.
A surge of pleasure raced through my body, and I felt every part of me come alive.
I let out a long sigh as he pulled out of me and got ready to drive in again. This time, he shoved his cock into me with even more force, and it felt even better.
John set up a series of rhythmic plunges in and out of me. Every time he banged his hips against mine, my clit moved against the soft folds that surrounded it, and more sensations flooded me. The diffused pleasure of his cock with the panties wrapped around in my cunt was beginning to merge with the more intense pleasure that was developing in my clit.
And as the pleasure became greater, there were more fluids secreted in my pussy.
That allowed John to go faster into me, and he started pounding harder as well.
I was going higher with every stroke he made.
As his cock drove faster and harder, I had the sensation that it was going deeper as well. I could feel the head of the thing stretching the back membranes of my hole.
The pummeling that he was giving my pulsating pussy pushed me to a precipitous plateau of pleasure. Every plunge pushed me closer to my peak.
On and on it went, his cock sliding back and forth in me, in and out.
Then there was a searing flash of white hot light in my brain. There was a spasm in my pussy, and a shudder coursed up my torso. I let out an animalistic shout as the orgasm thundered through me. It was better than anything else I'd ever had.
But he kept on driving into as the climax held me in it's throes. I was locked in the iron jaws of a vice of passion. There was no way for me to escape. And I didn't want to.
Almost before the sensations from the first orgasm subsided, another one was upon me. This one rocked me to the core of my being. I was totally carried away by the force of it.
Then they started to come one after the other in rapid-fire succession. Each one made the one that followed it more intense. It was all I could do to gasp in enough air.
Then they all merged into one shattering orgasm that plunged me into a vast abyss. There was no reality for me beyond what my body was experiencing. My pleasure was the only thing that had a concrete existence, and it was the only thing that I cared about.
I hear John let out a shout, then he lunged into me as I hit a final, shattering peak and held his cock deep inside me as his hips contracted against mine. There was a warm feeling that spread through me as he sent burst after burst of come into my cunt.
Well, Doctor, that was an experience that I never forgot.
The odd thing, though, was the aftermath of it.
After John took me home that night, I never saw him again. I waited two weeks for him to call, and then I contacted the college that he was attending. They told me that he'd left school the week before. I sent a letter to his forwarding address in Minnesota, but I never got a response. I was hurt and disappointed for a while, but I got over it.
But I never really got over that experience.
Well, I see that our time is about up, Doctor, and I haven't even really gotten to the heart of the matter yet. I guess I'll have to do that next time, won't I?
INTERVIEW TWO
Since Gloria S. hadn't told me yet what it was that was troubling her enough so that she'd seek out my services, I didn't have a lot to say to her after that first session. I could only hope that talking about herself in such an open manner would be of some value.
This is what she told me when we met for the second time.
Well, the first thing that I have to tell you, Doctor, is that my gynecologist wants you to call him as soon as you possibly can. I don't really know why, because he didn't say a whole lot to me. After my visit, he muttered something about more tests and told me to ask you to call. His name is Lieberman, and his office is on the corner of Park and Seventy-third.
Now, to get back to what I was telling you before. I told you about the time I got fucked with the panties around the guy's cock, didn't I?
What I didn't get to was the upshot of the whole thing.
As you might guess, ever since that time, I've had a very keen interest in panties. I always shop carefully for them, and now that I can afford it, I buy nothing but the best. Sometimes, I even have them specially made for me. I can't get enough of them.
Unfortunately, I haven't found a man since then that wanted to do something like that to me. I've suggested to--to a few men, but they always act like the whole idea is crazy or something.
I've given up even saying anything about it to them.
But you can bet that I have ways of satisfying my little bit of kinkiness. I tried to resist the urge the first time it hit me ... I think I was in my junior year of college ... But after a while, I gave in to it. And I'm kind of glad that I did.
It was so easy and it felt so good that I wondered why I hadn't thought of it earlier.
All I had to do was to stuff a pair of panties up my twat while I diddled my clit.
It wasn't exactly the same, but it was a whole lot more exciting than the way I'd been doing it before. The sensations that I created with my finger were better and the orgasm was more intense.
Well, Doctor, it wasn't long before I started keeping a pair of panties up me all the time. I mean, if it felt good while I twiddled my clit, it ought to feel good all the time, right? That was my feeling about it. It seemed like the most logical thing in the world.
And it did feel good.
I mean, it wasn't like I was walking around having orgasms all the time or anything like that. Hell, half the time I couldn't even feel the thing, especially after it got really soaked with my fluids. It always excited me when I first put them up me, and I'd get pretty wet as result. Most of the time, I'd resist the urge to get myself off right then and there.
But it was nice to know that they were there. I'd walk around campus and think about it. It was sort of like the panties were my little secret. No one else knew they were up there.
And sometimes in class, I'd press my thighs together so that I could really feel them.
That would make me excited, and a lot of times, it would make the panties that I was wearing damp.
But in a way, Doctor, I considered myself to be "wearing" the panties that were up my cunt. After a while, it was just second nature to me to stuff one pair up there in the morning, walk around with it in me all day, and stuff another pair up there at night before I diddled my clit. Of course, in those days, I always took the first pair out before I added the other.
I tell you, Doctor, I got to the point that I didn't see why every woman didn't do the same thing. It felt so nice to get a little turned on and get all warm and moist down there. It made the outer folds of my slit feel so good as they rubbed together when I walked. And going up stairs or something like that was a joy. I even tried to schedule as many classes as I could on the top floors of buildings. The more stairs, the better.
Needless to say, I positively loathe elevators.
Elevators euchhh!
But in places like New York, I do use them. I mean, our offices at the magazine are on the forty third floor of a building, and that's too many stairs even for me. Besides, I'd probably collapse from an orgasm so strong that I couldn't stand it before I got to the office.
Now how would that look?
Anyway, Doctor, things went on like that until relatively recently. I guess until about a year ago. That's when I started to get more into it. Up until that time, I'd been content just to have the one pair of panties inside me.
I guess it was about that time that I started leaving them inside me when I had sex.
I don't know why that never occurred to me before, but it hadn't. I guess I was sort of a little shy about it or something. I didn't want to take the chance that someone would find out my little secret. I thought it would embarrass me or something.
What I did most of the time was to go into the John before I really got into it and take the things out. But sometimes when I had a date that I knew was going to culminate in sex, I wouldn't put them in me in the first place. There were times that I was afraid that I'd get so turned on that I'd forget to remove them.
But then one time I decided to leave them in. There was no real reason for it, I simply thought I'd like to try something different. Variety is the spice of life and all that.
And guess what, Doctor.
That first time, the man didn't even notice. I was amazed.
I guess they were so wet that they felt like skin or something. Or maybe he was so turned on that he couldn't tell the difference. As I remember it, he came rather quickly, but for once, that didn't bother me. The sensation of those panties being pushed against the back of my cunt by his hard cock was so exciting that I was having one orgasm after another by the time he'd made two or three strokes into me. It was wonderful.
But it wasn't like that all the time, sad to say.
About half the time, it went something like this:
"Something feels funny," the man would say after he penetrated me.
"Oh?" I'd say in mock surprise, hoping that would end the exchange of words.
"God, I'd swear there's something inside you."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know ... It almost feels like some kind of fabric at the back."
"Does it bother you?" I'd ask.
"You mean there is something in there?! "
'Well, I occasionally put a pair of panties up there."
"THAT'S WHAT I'M FEELING."
"Yes."
"Christ, this is too weird for me," he'd say as he pulled out of me.
Now, Doctor, is it really such a big deal?
I mean, it shouldn't make that much difference to them. At least there was still warm flesh surrounding most of the guy's cock. You'd think that it would be enough.
Half the time, they'd still be hard when they left my apartment. Now you'd think that once a man got it up, he'd want to get off. And with some of them, they wouldn't even want me to suck them off. Isn't that odd?
But then the other half of the time, it didn't seem to make any difference to them, and a few guys even got turned on by the idea. It was always neat when that happened.
But once the progression started, there wasn't anything I could do to stop it. It was like my little fetish had taken control of me. I couldn't get enough.
First, it was two pairs of panties up me.
That held me for a while, about a month as I recall. But things picked up speed after that.
Next, I added the top of a very skimpy nightie. Then I added the bottom. By that time, I was off and running. Each new thing that I added would only hold me for a week or a few days.
Then I had the wonderful idea of putting men's clothes up there. I didn't think I'd care for the idea of cotton briefs in me, so I started with socks. And they had to be socks that had been worn by a man, and the man had to have screwed with me.
Of course, by this time, I was taking most of the stuff out of me when I fucked. I mean, it had gotten to the point that there just wouldn't have been enough room. But I always left a pair of panties up there. I had to have them in me or I couldn't have an orgasm.
So to get men's socks, what I would do would be to hide one of them when he went to the John or something. Sometimes I'd ask the man to go get us another drink before we did it, and I'd hide the sock then. When he got dressed the next morning or later that night, we'd hunt frantically for his sock, but we'd never be able to find the thing.
I tell you, Doctor, a lot of men left my building wearing only one sock. I felt sorry for the ones that spent the night and were going directly to the office from my apartment. But then I guess they could always stop someplace and buy a new pair, couldn't they?
Or they could just phone in and say they'd be late. I don't know what they did because these days, I rarely see the same man twice. There's something about "repeats" that bores me.
Well, as time went on, I started stuffing more and more things inside me. It was becoming a challenge to see just how much I could get up there. I know that sounds odd, but that's the way it was.
I knew I was getting a little too involved with that sort of thing when I saw one of those ads for Calvin Klein jeans and thought about putting a pair of them up me. But I couldn't get the idea out of my head.
On my lunch break the next day, I jumped in a cab, went to Bloomie's and bought a pair. I didn't think it was going to work, but I simply had to give it a try.
When I got home that night, I made myself a drink and sat down in front of the television for a moment and thought about it. With every passing minute, I got more excited.
Then the idea came to me.
I could make a dildo out of the jeans!
I got them and rolled them up as tightly as I could. It looked a little large, but I thought there was a chance that it might work. And I was so excited that I had to try it right away.
I went into the bedroom and took off all my clothes as fast as I could. Then I pulled all those other things out of my cunt that had been up there all day long. There was a feeling of emptiness when they were out of me, and I hoped that the Calvin Klein's would rectify that.
With one hand, I parted the outer folds as much as I could, and with the other, I held the jeans poised as the entrance to my hole. I prayed I'd be able to get them in.
I pushed them and managed to get a little bit in. But the fabric was too rough. There was simply too much friction for me to push them in any farther. I had to take them out.
I tell you, Doctor, my spirits really sagged when that happened.
Then I had another idea.
I went to the bathroom and got a jar of Vaseline. As soon as I was back in the bedroom, I smeared the stuff all over the jeans. Then I put the greasy thing back to my hole.
To my delight, I was able to get it in me, and it felt good! The thrill of it sent me soaring. By the time I felt the jeans stretching the back of my cunt, I was on the brink of a shattering orgasm. I just held them there for a moment and let it take me.
As soon as the sensations subsided, I started to move the jeans in and out of me.
There was one incredible orgasm after the next. I was in heaven, Doctor. It was like a rocket taking off for the moon every time I came. I couldn't get enough of it.
I don't knew how long I did it or how many violent orgasms I had, but I know it was a long time and there were too many orgasms to count. Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it, Doctor?
Anyway, it wasn't long before I was adding the panties to my cunt whenever I used the jeans. And I was starting to use the jean-dildo more and more often. It was about the best sex that I've ever had, and the more things I added to my cunt, the better it got.
You won't believe the fantasy I have, Doctor.
I like to fantasize that I can get a whole load of laundry up my cunt. And when the thing is full with all those dirty clothes, I go down to the basement of the building where the laundry room is, squat on top of one of the machines and diddle my clit.
Then I have a tremendous orgasm, and my cunt goes into such violent spasm that the laundry is expelled into the machine.
Some fantasy, huh?
I know it's odd, but it really turns me on. Whenever I'm working on myself, I can close my eyes and see it all happening just like that. And whenever I get to the point that all those clothes are flying out of my cunt and into the machine, I always have a thundering orgasm.
I guess it's unreasonable for me to expect that to come true, but I wish it were possible.
I can really get a lot of stuff up there now, but I'm not even close to that point.
Well, Doctor, that finally brings me to the reason that I'm here. I guess it's about time, isn't it. God, I hope I haven't bored you by being too detailed about all of this.
The truth is, just talking about makes me excited. I'm all wet and warm down there right now, and pressing my thighs against the panties, socks and nighties inside me makes me even hotter ... I hope you have a ladies room I can use before I leave....
Anyway, Doctor, the problem is that I don't enjoy sex with men anymore. I really don't have much interest in it because it doesn't give me the thrill that it used to.
Half the time when I try it, I can hardly even feel the thing inside me.
It doesn't make any sense to be doing it under those conditions, Doctor.
I think the problem may be that I've become too attached to the blue jean dildo and the clothes that I've been putting up me. I may be going a little too far with it.
But I don't seem to be able to stop it. Every time I get the urge and try to resist it, I end up by giving in. Most of the time, I don't even bother to try anymore.
So what I want you to help me with, Doctor, is my problem with having sex with men.
I want to find a way to balance what I'm doing so I can have a normal sex life. I don't really want to give up my little fetish, I just want to put it in its proper place.
Do you think that's possible, Doctor?
I mean, it certainly seems like that ought to be possible. I want to be able to enjoy both kinds of sex, but I don't want to be limited to any one specific thing.
I think that's reasonable, don't you?
CONCLUSION
Even though I knew that we were going way over the allotted time, I couldn't bring myself to interrupt Gloria S. What she had to say was fascinating, and I wanted to hear her out. I knew there was another patient waiting, but there are times when continuing a session is more important than keeping to one's schedule. This was one of those times.
It was obvious that Gloria S. was in serious trouble. She was clearly obsessed with she called her "Little fetish."
She'd allowed herself to become so involved with it that it dominated her entire life. It certainly dominated her sex life, and I was sure that further analysis would find that it had begun to dominate her social and professional life as well. It was imperative that she receive immediate, intensive therapy.
I informed her of this after our second session and told her to check with my receptionist on her way out. She was to be scheduled for three sessions per week.
I didn't want to say much more to her at that time since I wanted to check with her gynecologist before I made any positive determinations about the nature of her problem with men. I strongly suspected that it might have some physical basis as.
My telephone call confirmed my worst fears.
Doctor Lieberman informed me that her vagina was stretched to such a degree that it would be virtually impossible for her to have any sensation of penetration even from the largest of penises. And it would be unlikely that a penis could do much more than flop around inside her. Dr. Lieberman said that he didn't know how such a condition could have developed. It was something that was exceptionally rare in this day and age.
Doctor Lieberman told me that the condition was common in previous eras when women had children without the benefit of an episiotomy and the "husband's tuck" that was made after delivery. But since Gloria S. had never had children, he was baffled.
His puzzlement turned to incredulousness when I explained the nature of the situation.
Reconstructive surgery was possible, he told me, but he thought it would be useless until she stopped abusing herself to such an extreme degree. I agreed.
I explained the course of therapy that I had prescribed, and we agreed that the corrective operation would not be attempted until Gloria S. was freed from the obsession that gripped her. Once that was accomplished, he would rectify her physical problem.
Once these two things are done, I have no doubt that Gloria S. will be able to lead a healthy and normal sex life.
CASE HISTORY THREE
SUBJECT: Donna M. AGE: Twenty-eight
INTERVIEW ONE
Donna M. was an attractive woman with shining auburn hair that fell loosely over her ample breasts. She had a sensuous mouth and a svelte figure.
She was married and had one child. Her record said that her husband was a stock broker and that they lived in the Long Island suburban community of Great Neck. It was obvious that Donna M.'s husband was doing rather well if they could afford a home in such a community. Great Neck was noted for its fine homes and estates.
There was a troubled look on Donna M.'s face as she seated herself in front of me. This is what she told me during that first visit.
Well, Doctor, I have to admit that it wasn't my idea to come see you. But now that I'm here, I'm kind of glad that I let my husband talk me into it. Jeff said that I had to do something. And I suppose this is the best thing to do.
I'm afraid if things keep going the way they are, our marriage will be in trouble.
Jeff says that he just can't deal with it anymore.
I can't say that I really blame him, and I hope there's some way you can help me.
And I guess that it really is my fault.
I'm the one who wants the strange things.
It all started innocently enough. And I really didn't think that it would go this far. But now that it has, I don't know how I can stop. I'm always wanting more.
I guess I'm just the greedy type or something.
Well, the first time was about a year after Bobby, our son, was born. I don't remember exactly what I'd done ... It was something minor, I think, but Jeff made a crack about it.
"I really ought to spank you for that," he said.
I remember that we were watching something on television after I'd put Bobby to sleep.
"I sometimes wish you would," I told him in a playful manner.
"You must be kidding."
"No, I think it would be kind of sexy," I told him. "I think we ought to give it a try."
"I never thought you were into that kind of thing."
"I'm not sure that I am ... The idea just sort of appealed to me, that's all."
"Well, I'm willing to take a crack at it," he said.
As soon as he said it, Doctor, I started to get all warm and moist down there. I guess I can use words like "cunt" and "cock" with you, can't I? I imagine that you've heard them enough, and I think it would make it easier for me. The last person I want to be uptight around is my psychiatrist. With what you charge, that wouldn't make any sense.
Not that I'm accusing you of over charging, Doctor. It's just that it is a lot of money. I know that you're worth it and have to pay a steep rent and all that, so please don't misunderstand.
Anyway, I got on his lap with my ass right in the middle and raised to him.
The first thing he did was to pull up my skirt and pull down my panties. As soon as he did that, I flashed back to the way my father did it when I was a little girl.
Then I felt the sting of his palm as he brought his hand into me.
That made my mental image of my father even stronger. It was like I was regressing or something. I was a little girl again being punished for something naughty by my father.
But this time I didn't cry as his hand made one strong slap after the other. Oh, it hurt, all right, but along with the pain, there was a warmth that spread throughout my loins. And as my flesh turned red and became more tender, that warmth became more intense. It made the juices start to flow in my pussy and my clit start to tingle.
As the sound of his hand making contact with my buttocks echoed through the room, I felt my nipples get hard. I didn't know what I'd do if we didn't have sex after the spanking.
But Jeff is no dummy, and I assumed he knew that that's what I wanted.
"Had enough?" he finally asked me.
"No."
"Your ass is getting all red ... I was afraid it might be really starting to hurt."
"You can hit me even harder if you want to," I told him.
He laid into me with renewed force. Every blow rocked my body. But as the pain subsided, I felt even warmer. By that time, the glow of it had spread throughout my entire pelvic region.
Every time he hit me, I felt more fluids seep into my cunt. The thing was getting hotter and hotter.
As he went at it, I felt my juices make the front of my panties damp.
"Had enough now?" he asked me after a few minutes.
"Yes."
"I'm glad ... My hand is starting to hurt."
"I'd like to go upstairs now," I told him. "All right."
I got off his lap and ran through the dining room and up the stairs. I stripped out of my clothes as fast as I could and got on the bed. I spread my legs for him. This time, I didn't want any foreplay or anything. I wanted that thick cock of his up me, and I wanted it now.
Jeff came into the room a few seconds after I was on the bed. He just stood there for a moment and looked at me. I could tell that he knew how hot I was ... He always knows things like that.
"That really turned you on, didn't it?" he asked in a puzzled tone.
"Yes, it did ... I really want you now ... I need it."
"This is strange."
"I know, but it turned me on so much I can't stand it," I said.
Jeff kicked off his shoes, then he unbuttoned his shirt, took it off, and threw it beside the bed. It was warm, so he wasn't wearing a T-shirt under it. I let my eyes roam over his muscular, hairy chest. Jeff keeps himself in very good shape, Doctor, and I like that.
Then my eyes traveled to his crotch as he unfastened his slacks and pulled the zipper down. I was a little disappointed not to see a bulge there. It seemed like what he did to me should have made him hard. It made perfect sense to me, but I guess it didn't to him.
After his shorts and socks were off, he came over to the side of the bed. His cock was absolutely and totally flaccid. I guess what he'd done to me was a real turn off for him.
"I'm not sure this thing will be of much use," he said.
"I'll see what I can do about that."
I moved across the bed and raised my head to his cock. Then I put my mouth over the head of it.
I held it in my mouth and swirled my tongue around it. Then I put my hand to the shaft and gave the thing a couple of quick pumps. Finally there a sign of life in it.
I felt the head of start to grow in my mouth. I breathed a sigh of relief. Once the thing starts to grow, there's no stopping it, and one the thing gets hard, there's no stopping Jeff. He uses the thing until we both get off on it, and he really knows what to do with it.
As it reached a semi-erect state, I moved my hand to the base of it and began to bob my mouth back and forth on the engorging head. In a way, I was glad that spanking me hadn't made him hard. I always love it when he gets hard in my mouth. It's a nice feeling knowing I can do that to him.
It gives me the impression that I have some power over the thing. I certainly know that it has a lot of power over me. That thing can make me feel so good that I want to die.
At last, Jeff's cock assumed its full proportions in my mouth. I moved my mouth to the under Slowly, I went down the underside of the thing, pressing my tongue against the distended tube as I went. When I got to his balls, I ran my tongue over them until the wispy hairs that grew on his scrotum were matted with my saliva.
Then I put my mouth to his wrinkled sack and opened wide. I sucked in his balls and moved them around in my mouth with my tongue. After a long moment of doing that, I pulled my head back so that the skin that attached his balls to the base of the his cock was stretched tight. I let my teeth sink into the taut skin gently.
Jeff let out a low moan, and I let his balls pop out of his mouth.
"God, you're getting better and better at that," he said.
"Thank you ... I want to be of service to you," I told him.
"What the hell does 'be of service' mean?"
"It simply means that I want to please you, that's all."
"You're sounding awfully odd these days."
"Well, I don't think this is the time to talk about it."
With that, I went back to lying on the bed with my legs spread. I put my fingers to my outer lips and spread them wide so that Jeff could see the glistening pink flesh that was beneath them.
He looked at it for a moment, then he got on his knees between my legs.
He scrunched in tightly to me and I raised my knees. Then he pushed his cock against my mound and held it there. A surge of sensations raced through me and more fluids flowed into my pussy.
I was still holding my outer folds apart, and the head of his cock was against my clit. He moved the thing in little circles and waves of pleasure cascaded through me.
Then he pulled back a little and put the head of his cock against my inner labia.
Jeff gave a shove and the bulbous glans slipped into me. I took my hands away from my slit when I felt it stretching the entrance to me. He leaned over me and pushed slowly, but relentlessly up my warm, wet hole. As he sank into me, I went higher.
Jeff held his thick cock into me for a long moment, then he rotated his hips against mine. His cock exerted pressure against my membranes, and the sensations got better and better.
"I really want you to fuck that thing," I told him.
"That's what the thing is there for."
"I know, but I really want you to fuck me hard ... Really ram it up there."
I tell you, Doctor, that spanking that he gave me really made me hot to trot. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't been able to get hard or something. I knew that I needed more than just a session of clit diddling, and God only knows what I might have shoved up there.
Finally, he pulled about halfway out of me, paused, and shoved his cock back in me. I felt the head of the thing stretch the rear membranes of my pussy and let out a moan.
Jell pulled out again, but this time, only the glans was still inside me. Then he rammed back into me with so much force that my back was pressed into the mattress.
That was exactly what I wanted.
"Oh, yes," I moaned, "really fuck that thing ... FUCK IT AS HARD AS YOU CAN!"
He pulled out again and gave another hard thrust. Then he set up a series of rhythmic plunges in and out of me. Each one of them increased my excitement and made the sensations better.
It wasn't long until the pleasure that I was feeling was exquisite.
"HARDER!" I pleaded.
"That hole really-likes this cock, doesn't it?" Jeff gasped.
"God, yes!" I moaned. "JUST KEEP ON FUCKING THAT THING!"
As he pounded into me, my passageway got slicker and slicker, so he was able to go faster and faster. By that time, he would ramming into me with such force that the slapping sound our hips made when they came together echoed through the room. His cock was making a sloshing sound as he pulled it back and forth. It was sort of an undercurrent of sound to the slapping and to the gasps that we were making.
Each new wave of sensations that filled me was more exquisite than the last. I went to a high plateau of pleasure and each new thrust that he made sent me just a little bit closer to the edge.
A vast abyss yawned before me and threatened to devour my being.
There was nothing that I could do to prevent myself from getting closer and closer to that void. I was conflicted between wanting to remain where I was forever and being forced over the top.
Then all the sensations welled up inside me and gathered force.
Suddenly, my body went rigid, but I had the sensation that I was floating.
Then a blinding flash seized my brain and I sailed over the top. I was pushed headlong into the abyss. The pleasure was so sublime that I thought I might not ever emerge.
There was a spasm in my pussy and shudders coursed through me.
I let out and animalistic cry and let myself be completely consumed by the fires that rages out of control in my loins. It was sheer and unadulterated ecstasy.
As soon as the sensations subsided a bit, another orgasm was upon me, then there was another and another, each of them better than the one it preceded. I was lost to time and space and any other sort of reality. The only thing I cared about was what I was feeling.
Finally, as I hit a shattering peak, Jeff let out an incomprehensible noise and buried his cock deep inside me as his hips began to convulse. I felt my cunt being filled with his warm come. There seemed to be no end to the number of spurts that he made inside me.
He held his cock inside me while we each gathered our composure. I tell you, Doctor, I was exhausted by what my body had been through, but I was so totally sated that I didn't care.
God, I've really gone on about this, haven't
I?
I hope that I didn't get too detailed for you, Doctor. I'm sure that you're heard a lot worse things considering what you do for a living. But once I started, I just couldn't seem to stop myself. It all just came pouring out of me.
And it was that way with everything else, Doctor. The more I did, the more I wanted.
That's what got me into this mess in the first place.
Well, Doctor, I see that our time is up. I guess the rest of what's happened will have to wait until next time. I wish I could talk to you for the entire afternoon, but that would be prohibitively expensive. So, goodbye until next time.
INTERVIEW TWO
From what Donna M. told me during her first visit, I gathered that she was asking things from her husband that he didn't want to give her. I was curious to find out what the man thought was so outlandish that it theatened their marriage.
I had the impression that perhaps it was her husband who might be more in need of therapy than Donna M. While I don't believe that an individual has an obligation to do everything that a spouse might request, unless the act is physically dangerous, I think that he or she ought to at least make an effort. If not willing to perform an act at all, the individual should try to find some compromise with his mate.
This is how Donna M. describes the situation during her second visit.
Well, Doctor, I feel better about things now that I've talked through some of it.
And I've been a bit better able to control my desires now. I'm not nearly as extreme as I used to be. And most of the time, I've been able to get off on the things that ordinary people do.
But there are times when I still want more than I get.
And another thing, Doctor, is that I've come to remember more about the times that my father spanked me. I still don't remember if I found those times erotic, but I suppose I did in a child's sort of way. I mean, I think what I wanted was attention from him, and it didn't matter whether the attention was loving or punishing, as long as I got it.
But one thing that I do remember is that there was always sort of a funny expression on his face when he was finished with it. He always looked like there was something he was a little ashamed of.
And I think I know what it was.
I remember always feeling a hard lump in his lap when he quit spanking me. I could always feel it pressing against me as I lay there waiting to see if it was just a pause or whether it was finally over. I didn't know what it was at the time, but I knew that boys were different from girls "down there," so I just figured that was the difference.
Girls were all sort of soft and squishy down there and boys had a hard knob of some sort.
I always figured it was something like a doorknob.
I know that sounds a little ridiculous, Doctor, but that's the way that I thought about it.
I remember the time that my mother explained how babies were made. She told me that the thing was called a "penis" and that it was inserted into my thing which was called a "vagina." Then the thing left a seed which combined with my egg to make a baby.
You may think this is weird, Doctor, but do you know what my visual impression was at the time?
I saw a doorknob being stuck into me, a little round seed like a poppy seed or something rolling out of the thing and it going into a chicken egg that was somewhere in my tummy.
The idea always made me a little nervous because I thought the egg might get broken somehow and the baby would die. Then I'd have to spend my entire life with a dead baby inside me.
That was about all my mother ever said to me about sex.
Well, she did explain to me about periods and all that, but I didn't pay a lot of attention to that. I simply hoped that it would never happen to me. I didn't want the thing to bleed.
I quickly learned not to ask questions of her as well.
I heard something about sex from one of the other girls and asked my mother about it, but she just hemmed and hawed and said that talking about such things was dirty and nasty.
She told me that "nice" girls didn't think about such things.
Well, I was about eleven or twelve then, and I thought about things like that a lot, so right away, I figured that I wasn't one of those "nice" girls that she was talking about.
And when I finally did have that first period, I was so disgusted by it that I didn't even tell anyone about it. I thought it was the most nauseating thing I'd ever seen.
And I certainly didn't see how any boy could ever be interested in something that did something as disgusting as that. By that time, I knew what I real cock looked like from pictures that I'd seen, and I didn't think any boy would ever want to put it in a thing that bled once a month.
But I soon found out otherwise.
That's all they ever wanted to do.
They actually liked my thing.
I was amazed, but I was a little glad too. I really didn't understand it, but it made me happy that they wanted to. I felt desirable because they wanted to put it in me.
And I sure as hell let them do it to me.
In no time, I had a reputation that wouldn't quit.
My parents were glad that I was so popular, and they were glad that I didn't really have any steady boyfriends because they didn't want me getting too "serious." They thought I might be tempted into doing something that was "indecent."
Well, if they'd have ever guessed the truth, they would have been horrified.
Almost every one of the boys that took me out fucked me.
The only ones who didn't were the ones who came in my hand before I got a chance to stick it in me. And then that was only because it was too late to wait until they could do it again.
And there were a few who came in their pants while we were necking and a few who came when their cocks came into contact with my slit. I kind of liked the way their cocks shot all that gooey stuff in my pubic hair and all. Sometimes I'd rub it into my hair and push it into the top of my slit and spread it around. Then I'd finger myself.
Maybe you think all this is a little perverse, Doctor, but it's the way I was.
I quickly learned, however, that I was never going to have a steady boyfriend or anything like that if I kept up what I was doing. They'd take me out and fuck me, but they didn't want to be seen with me. They'd always take me to places none of the other kids went to. That made me feel bad.
Fortunately, we were wealthy enough that I could go away to college. I was determined to make a better impression there than I had at home. Now I wanted to be a "nice" girl and find a man.
And I did.
I mean, I had a few affairs and that sort of thing, but they were AFFAIRS, not one-night stands, and that made all the difference in the world to me. I began to feel like I was a real person.
Before, I'd always had the feeling that I wasn't much more than a warm place for some guy to put his cock until he pumped off in me. I guess my self-image was pretty low.
But I finally met Jeff, and we fell in love and got married.
The problem now is that I like for him to treat me in a rougher manner than he does.
I was content with the spankings for a while, and he didn't mind doing it that much.
But pretty soon, I wanted him to do more to me.
He was reluctant at every step, but I managed to cajole him into things. First there was the dildo that I wanted up my ass-hole while he fucked me, then it was the vibrator that I wanted up there. That's about the only thing that he liked as well. I guess the rippling that it set up in my cunt felt nice to him too. We always use the thing now.
But the other things really bother Jeff a lot.
He resisted the riding crop for the longest time, but I finally got him to use the thing on me. Needless to say, I loved it, but he wasn't too thrilled. I tell you, Doctor, when he brought that thing into my buttocks time after time, I got so hot and wet that I thought I was going to die.
But you know, Doctor, the fact that it kind of turned him off was nice for me.
I had to really suck on that big cock of his to get him hard, then he fucked me for what seemed an eternity. I guess it was only half an hour or something like that, but in the state that I was in, it seemed like it went on forever. I couldn't begin to tell you how many orgasms I had.
It was the first time in my life, Doctor, that I've ever had so many orgasms that I thought I wouldn't be able to go on. Really, I was tempted to tell him to stop. The pleasure was almost too intense.
And Jeff really doesn't like the idea of my having tit clamps on. When I'm wearing them, he-likes to use a position that doesn't involve his chest rubbing against mine. He says they hurt.
Well, I can't believe they hurt him. I think that it's just a case of his being constantly aware of their presence, and that bothers him. I think that's the reality of the situation.
But it was what happened two weeks ago that really blew his mind.
I got him to whip me for a while, then I got him to tie me up in the kitchen. After that, I pleaded and begged him to piss on me. I wanted the stuff to drench me.
In the past, we'd gotten to the point where he'd allow me to watch him while he peed, and once in a while, I'd put my hand in the warm flow, but that was as far as he'd go.
Finally, I was able to get him to do it.
God, Doctor, I can't tell you how it felt to me!
All that warm liquid cascading over my breasts, running across my face and into my mouth, tricking down my slit. Doctor, I simply loved it, but it upset him too much.
I saw that there was a look of revulsion on his face when he saw me swallowing the stuff. But at the time, that made the pleasure of all the more intense.
I don't really understand that, Doctor, but that's the way that it was.
After it was all over, he untied me, put his clothes back on and went to the living room. I knew then that we were going to have a scene about what had happened. I guess I'd known for a long time that I was going to provoke such a confrontation at one point or another.
But now that it was here, I found myself dreading it. I guess I always hoped that somehow or other, Jeff would come to like the same things that I did.
But it was not to be.
I cleaned up the kitchen floor and sponged myself off in the John next to the kitchen. I didn't want there to be a trace of odor or anything on me when I talked to him. I hoped that it might help make him forget if I smelled like my normal self. At least, there wouldn't be a piss smell to make him remember.
Needless to say, Doctor, he was not amused at all.
I guess I was more passive about it than I should have been, and it could be that I felt a little guilty both about the way I'd enjoyed it and about the fact that I'd finally brought on this confrontation. It was something that I found to be rather unpleasant.
There really wasn't a whole lot to it, actually.
"I hope you don't ever ask me to do something like that again," Jeff said when I walked into the room.
"I don't think it's all that bad," I said to him.
"It's perverted."
"Well, I suppose you look at it that way, but I don't."
"I think that you need professional help," he said.
"Now, it can't be as bad as all that."
"It is ... Either you get help, or you'll end up without a husband."
"I really think that's going a little too far."
"That's just the way it is."
That was all there was to it, Doctor. He went up to bed then.
I guess I don't have to tell you that I had to diddle myself then. I'd gone into the living room naked hoping that the sight of me might turn him on, but there was no doing that that night.
I had a pretty decent orgasm anyway. I just kept the image of his pissing on me in my head, and I had several intense orgasms. Of course, they weren't nearly as good as the ones that he gave me, but then nothing is if he works me over a little bit before we do it.
We really haven't talked much about it since then.
About the only thing he wants to know is whether or not I've kept my appointments with you. Other than that, he refuses to say anything or even discuss the matter with me.
I'm really not sure what he expects you to do, Doctor.
I'm afraid that he wants to give me some sort of magic pill that will make all these aberrant desires go away. Or maybe he wants you to hypnotize me out of it or something. All I really know is that he thinks you can change me so that I don't want things like that. Well, Doctor, I'm not really sure that I want to change all that much, you know that?
I mean, I guess I'm going to have to modify my needs somewhat, but I don't think I'd like it if all of them vanished overnight. I know that this isn't something that every woman in America likes to do, but I certainly know that I like to do it. And I don't want to stop.
Do you think there's a solution for me, Doctor?
CONCLUSION
I told Donna M. that there certainly was a solution for her. And what that solution entailed was compromise. She had to learn that she couldn't have everything she wanted every time she wanted it.
But the key to a compromise between her and her husband was communication.
And if he wouldn't discuss the matter with her, there was no way that they could come to some kind of a satisfactory agreement on the matter. I told her that she had to find a way to make him talk about the issue in some detail. That would be a start, and things could progress from there.
But what worried me even more at the time, was that Donna M. still seemed to have a poor self-image. I suspected that one of the reasons she wanted to be punished and degraded was so that this image could be reinforced. She thought that sex was bad and that she was bad because she liked doing it. The solution: be punished while you have sex.
If she was able to overcome the early messages she'd received about sex, I was sure that she'd have a much more satisfying sex life. If at that time, she still enjoyed doing such things, there would be no reason for her not to. I can't condemn anything that gives another human being pleasure.
And I thought that if she could open a meaningful dialogue with her husband about their desires, needs and wishes, she might be able to help him get over his own doubts and fears.
Inside each of us, there lurk secret desires and fears. These frequently come to light in the arena of sexual behavior. Once these fears and desires become obsessions, the individual is in serious trouble. It's extremely easy for the individual to develop a fixation on one particular type of activity to the exclusion of all others. Without this one fetish, it's impossible for them to experience sexual pleasure.
This is where trouble begins.
It is my belief that an individual should be able to experience sexual pleasure and gratification from a wide range of activities. As far as sex is concerned, variety is, indeed, the spice of life.
To be fixed on one particular act or on one particular part of the anatomy, or even on one particular gentler, is self-limiting. The more different sorts of sexual stimuli one can respond to, the healthier that person's sexual life is going to be. And the more sexual satisfaction one experiences, the richer his or her life is in general.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
SUBJECT: Judy F. AGE: Twenty-three
INTERVIEW ONE
Judy F. looked much older than her twenty three years when she walked into my office for her first visit. One could see that she had an attractive face, but at the time of our first meeting, it was lean and gaunt. The rest of her body was overly thin as well.
Her record indicated that she'd been referred to me by the Psychiatric Resident at Bellevue Hospital. She'd just spent six weeks there, and although she was well enough to be released, she still needed follow up counseling and therapy. It would be a long time before this young lady would be well since she'd been admitted to Bellevue in an acute psychotic state. She'd been diagnosed as suffering from paranoid schizophrenia.
The current policy in the State of New York is to keep psychiatric patients for as brief a period as possible. This prevents the development of "hospital syndrome" which frequently results from long periods in mental facilities. What happens is that the patient relates to the institution as the real world and chooses to ignore everything else. In other words, the individual doesn't want to get well; he doesn't want to leave the hospital.
I support this policy when it is correctly administered. When follow-up care is available, it can have dramatic results. But when this care is either difficult or impossible to obtain, the results can be devastating. The increasing numbers of "shopping bag ladies" and homeless derelicts on the streets of Manhattan attests to the state's failure to properly administer this program.
It is one thing to "de-institutionalize" an individual. It's quite another to "dump" him into an alien and hostile world.
Judy F. was lucky.
She had the intelligence and the willingness to get the therapy that she so desperately needed. This is what she said to me during that first interview.
I don't know how much you know about me, Doctor, but I suppose you know that I was in Bellevue. Six weeks is a long time in a place like that, but half the time I didn't know where I was.
And a lot of the time before I went there is vague and hazy.
Well, I guess I can't say that I went to Bellevue, Doctor. I was sent there, pure and simple. I don't even remember a thing about what happened before I was committed.
They tell me that they found me naked in the street outside my apartment building and that I was trying to get the top of a fire hydrant into my ... my vagina. I guess I'll have to take their word for it. I know that they had to do quite an extensive surgical repair to fix the damage I did.
Well, that's all water under the bridge now, I hope.
What I want to do now is to get well so that I can return to work.
I was a nurse at St. Vincent's Hospital in the Village before all this happened.
I can't believe how good they've been to me, Doctor. They've put me on a medical leave of absence, and as soon as I'm well enough, I can go back there. If anything like this had happened back home in New Orleans, I know that they'd never take the person back. They'd have a hard time getting a job anywhere.
But attitudes are a whole lot more liberal here, and I like that.
Anyway, I guess I should give you a rundown on how all this happened. It's a long story, so you'll just have to tell when our time is up. I know this will take more than one session to get it all out.
Well, as far as childhood and growing up are concerned, mine wasn't much different from that of any girl born to middle class parents in New Orleans. I really don't think there were any traumatic events that triggered this whole thing, but there may be something I don't remember.
I'm sure that I'm no different than anyone else, Doctor. There are probably a lot of things that I've repressed, and I hope we get to them in time. But for the time being, I think it's better if I stick mostly to the events as they took place. It'll take less time as well.
Anyway, I'd always wanted to be a nurse, ever since I can remember.
I had an aunt who was a nurse, and I really looked up to her. I guess I wanted to emulate her. But nothing that happened in high school dissuaded me of that ambition. It was what I wanted to do with my life.
I kind of wanted to go away to school, but my parents were dead set against it.
"Why go away, honey, when Tulane has one of the finest programs in the country?" my mother would ask whenever I brought it up.
And my father was concerned about the money it would cost. He wanted me to live at home so that I could avoid the expense of room and board. I don't really know how much he saved since Tulane is all the way across the city from where we live, and that meant that he had to buy me a car and pay for the gas.
I did well in the program, and I graduated nurse's training in the top ten per cent of my class. I thought that I might look for a job in Atlanta or Houston or someplace like that. I knew that I didn't want to stay in New Orleans. I'd spent all my life there, and the place bored me.
Well, one day toward the close of the last semester, I saw an ad placed by St. Vincent's in the "American Journal of Nursing." They said they were seeking applicants, and they said that recent graduates would be considered. So I sent them an application.
Now, at that time, Doctor, I had no more idea of actually going to New York than I had of flying to the moon. In the first place, I didn't think that I'd even get accepted. Those big city hospitals pay very good salaries, and I figured they'd have more applicants than they could shake a stick at.
Besides that, I never thought I'd have the gumption to go to a place like New York. I mean, it just isn't the kind of place that Southerners leave home for. People from the South tend to stay in the South. I'd heard of a few who've ended up in New York, but they always go to Atlanta or Houston first. That seems to be the usual route of what northward migration there is.
Well, Doctor, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I got that letter from St. Vincent's telling me that I'd been accepted, and saying that they's assist in finding housing for me. And the starting salary that they quoted me made my l'il ole eyes bug out.
At first, I didn't think I could do it at all.
I mean, the more I thought about it, the more afraid I was.
New York.
The Big Apple.
Broadway and all that.
It just didn't seem possible that a girl like me who'd hardly ever been out of New Orleans could make a move like that. The change was too dramatic for me. It was something that I didn't think I'd be able to do. Especially, it was something I didn't think I could do alone.
But the more scared I became, the more exciting the whole thing became. After all, it had to be about the most glamorous place in the world to be. And the more I thought about it, the more curious I was about the place. I wanted to find out if everything people say about it is true.
Then it dawned on me that if I didn't like it, I could always come home. It would be as easy as that. If the people up there didn't like me, or if I couldn't stand the people that I had to work with, I could just up and quit and come home. There was always that option.
But I didn't say a word to my parents until after I'd accepted the offer.
Both of them had a conniption!
I tell you, Doctor, I really thought that my daddy was going to have a stroke. And Momma was convinced that I'd be raped and murdered the first day I arrived.
Well, I knew that New York had a high crime rate, but then so did New Orleans. And if it were as bad as they thought it was, no one would live there. I told them that to help calm them down, but they never did like the idea. All summer long, I heard one argument after the other about why I should either stay in New Orleans or go someplace else.
But I wasn't having any of it. My mind was made up. I was going.
So the week before Labor Day, they drove me to Union Station, and I got on the "Southern Crescent" to New York. I don't much like airplanes, and I wanted to see some of the country.
Momma was crying as the train pulled out of the station, and I felt sad about leaving her, but the excitement I felt about setting off on this great adventure overcame the sadness.
After dinner that night, I was lounging in the bar car reading a book when I caught the man across from me looking at me. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help smiling at him.
Well, he smiled back, and then he came over and offered to buy a drink for me.
"Mother always told me not to accept things from strangers," I told him coyly.
"I'm Jim Preston," he said. "And once you tell me your name, we won't be strangers anymore."
So I told him my name, and he sat down and ordered the drinks. He was from New York, and he even lived in Greenwich Village not too far from St. Vincent's. Naturally, I wanted to hear all about. I don't know how many questions I asked him about it, but it was a lot. I mean, I'd done a lot of reading about the city and all that, but this was first hand information, and I was fascinated.
There wasn't any detail too small that I didn't want to know.
Well, Doctor, he seemed like he was a perfectly nice man, and he seemed to like me, and that made me feel a lot better. All the people there certainly weren't the ogres my mother said they were.
The more he talked, the more I liked him, and the more I liked him, the more I thought I was going to like living in Manhattan. I became more and more confident that I'd done the right thing.
Well, before I knew it, it was almost eleven o'clock. I don't know if you know it or not, Doctor, but eleven o'clock is late on a train. I don't know why it works that way, but it does.
Anyway, the club car was beginning to empty out, so he asked me back to his room for a drink. It turned out that he had an entire bedroom to himself. I only had one of those tiny roomettes.
I didn't see any harm in it, so I accepted the invitation. Now don't think I was all that naive, Doctor. I knew that he was going to make a pass at me, and the idea of letting him complete it occurred to me as we walked through the cars to his room. It seemed like it might be fun to have sex on a train.
We talked some more once we got to his room, but by that time, I was feeling a little bit high, and I wanted him to get on with his pass. I still hadn't decided what to do about it, but I wanted him to make his move. I think both of us knew that we'd end up doing it.
Now don't get me wrong, Doctor.
At that point, I'd been around a little bit, but I'd never before in my life let a man pick me up and then have sex with him just like that. But I was headed for New York, and I knew things were different there. I'd read that such a thing wasn't at all that uncommon.
When in Rome....
Finally it came. He was getting a refill for his drink and his lips grazed against my cheek. I turned my head so that I could see his eyes and held my mouth in an inviting position.
He kissed me full on the lips and sat down beside me.
I think it was at that moment that I knew I was lost to him. His mouth opened to mine and we held our lips tightly together. It was one of the nicest kisses that I've ever had. It was firm, but there was an underlying gentleness to it. It was as if our lips were speaking to each other.
Tentatively at first, he pushed his tongue into my mouth.
Just the touch of it made me get all warm and moist in the groin. I felt my panties start to get damp.
At that point, I answered his tongue with my own. I swirled it around his mouth, and he held me tighter. Every second the embrace continued, I got hotter and wetter.
I knew that I was lost, and I was glad.
I wanted this man to have me, to take me. It was like I was getting an introduction to the city even before I arrived. And if it was all going to be like this, I knew that I was going to like it very much indeed. In fact, if that were the case, I didn't think I'd ever want to leave.
As he held our lips together, I felt his hands running up and down my sides. Finally, they stopped at the sides of my breasts, and Jim bent his back so that he could slip his hands over my breasts. A flood of pleasure cascaded through my chest as I pressed into his large hands.
Well, Doctor, I'm sure that I don't really have to go into all the details for you. We did just about all two people could do together. I guess I should say about all that I knew two people could do. My life in New York would soon be broadening my perspectives beyond my wildest dreams.
Besides the usual fucking and sucking, we did do one thing that I think you might find interesting, Doctor. At one point, both of us stayed motionless on the small bed and just let the rocking of the train move us ever so gently against each other. And in addition to the rocking, there was that constant flow of vibrations as the steel wheels moved over the rails.
It brought new meanings to the sound of "clickety-clack."
Anyway, both of us had intense orgasms, and I had several. I think it was just about the best sex that I've ever had. Compared to most of the boys that I've been out with, Jim was something very special. I wanted to make sure that we did it again.
As it turned out, Jim and I met each other for breakfast before the train pulled into New York's Pennsylvania Station, and he invited me to spend the night at his apartment. It was Sunday, and I had planned to spend the night in a hotel and go to St. Vincent's in the morning.
I didn't actually have to start work until after Labor Day, but I thought it would be nice to have a week to look around and get my bearings. I knew it would take a long time to really get to know the place.
Well, Doctor, I spent the entire week with Jim.
It turned out that the "arrangements" St. Vincent's had made were for me to share a place with three other young nurses. I appreciated their effort, but as soon as he gave me an alternative, I took it. I'm not too crazy about living with three other women.
And I lucked out and found a nice little apartment on Eleventh Street on Friday. Now I see why the salaries they pay are so high. The rent is an arm and a leg. But then I guess that figures. Probably half the world wants to live in Manhattan, so it's bound to be expensive.
But when I heard that they wanted me to pay the broker's fee and the security deposit, I felt like they were asking for a Third World country. It practically wiped me out.
But Jim came to my rescue and lent me some money until I got my first paycheck. And as it turned out, I would have starved to death if he hadn't. I'd expected New York to cost more than New Orleans, but I hadn't expected the disparity that I found once I got here.
Everyplace you turn, there's a hand that wants ten dollars from you.
Well, all in all, I guess it's worth it. I mean, I'd do anything before I'd go back to New Orleans. Now that I know what's available here, nothing else will do. I have to live here.
Of course, I realize that I went a little overboard with things the first time around, and I don't intend to let that happen again. I guess the newness of everything made me try to bite off more than I could chew.
It was like what happened when Jim first introduced me to the Chateau Twenty One.
He told me to wear the sleaziest clothes that I had.
I didn't understand what the hell he was talking about.
I mean, it just didn't make any sense when he first said it to intentionally make myself look raunchy for a place. And about the worst I had in those days was a really old pair of blue jeans. There was even a rip in the crotch that I thought was a little bit indecent.
When Jim saw them, he said they were fine, but that I shouldn't wear and panties under them.
That really surprised me, but I did what he wanted me to do. It was embarrassing to be running around like that, but if he said it was appropriate, I was willing to go along. You could even see a few of my pubic hairs poking out of one of the torn places.
I just couldn't believe that place when I first saw it, Doctor.
It was too good to be true!
It was located on West Twenty-first Street, and the whole area was deserted when our cab arrived. I thought there was some mistake, but Jim told me that it was all right.
We went to the top floor of a building that looked like a warehouse of some sort, and as soon as the doors of the elevator opened, I heard noise that sounded like a party. But it turned out to be a very unusual party, a party at which I was to become a frequent reveller.
I was stunned when we got to the bar.
There were people walking around naked. There were people in all sorts of leather outfits and there were women dressed in black long line bras with net stockings and spike heels. .
It was almost too much for me to take in at once!
I mean, I could probably have conceived of a place where there's more or less anonymous sex, but this kind of thing was something that I had very little knowledge of in the first place. I'd heard of it, of course, and I supposed that there were three or four people in a sewer someplace who did things like that, but to see it in public and on this scale boggled my mind.
Jim showed me around the place, and at one point I saw a woman nailed through her breast to the wall. I stopped when I saw her because I thought she must be in pain and agony.
"If she is," Jim whispered, "it's because she wants to be."
No one else seemed to be paying any attention to her, so I decided that everything must be all right. I worried for a moment about sterile conditions and all that, but then I realized that these people just take their chances. I guess that was my medical training coming to the fore again.
I didn't think that I'd like to be nailed to the wall like that, but I did see some things that were awfully exciting. There was this woman in a downstairs room who was whipping a manacled man, and that made my clit give a twinge, although I didnt know why at the time.
And I saw another woman piss into a man's mouth in another room. Again, I thought about the germs that the man must beingesting, but I guess it wouldn't be very sexual to boil the stuff before she gave it to him. I knew that I was going to have to change my way of thinking.
Jim and I bumped into another attractive couple after a while, and we went upstairs to this large room with mats around the sides of the walls and did sort of a group sex thing. I don't really know what you call it when you have two couples. It wasn't wife swapping because none of us were married. Maybe you could say it was a group grope or something.
That was the first time, Doctor, that another woman's hands ever touched me like that. I was taken aback by how much I liked what she did to me. It was something completely new to me.
She was so soft and so sensuous, so like me that it thrilled me.
And whereas it usually takes a man a while before he learns just which places to touch for the maximum sensation, she seemed to be able to find those inner recesses almost immediately.
And that woman gave me an orgasm that positively blew my mind!
I gave her one too, but I don't think it was as good as the one that she gave me. I think that I was a little shy with her, but I was better the next time that I did it.
The four of us spent an hour and a half together, and we assumed every combination that I could imagine. At times, the other man was in me, and Jim was in the other woman. There were times when Jim was in me and she was with him, times when she was with me and Jim was with him. That last one bothered me a bit at first, but I figured that if I could do it with another woman, he could do it with another man. And it was kind of interesting to watch.
Well, Doctor, I became a regular at that place, both when I was with Jim and when I wasn't.
I guess I should have known what was happening, but I really thought that I could handle it.
I really did.
During those days, I had the idea that I was indestructible, that nothing bad could ever happen to me, that I could do anything and not pay the consequences. I wish I'd known how terribly I was wrong. But I suppose that's the sort of thing that people never see until it's far too late to do anything about it. It's sort of sad, I think.
INTERVIEW TWO
I thought that was as good a place as any to stop Judy F.'s first interview. I could already see the trap that she was sliding into. Hers was a case of too much too soon.
Hers is not an unusual case in that respect.
This city has a way of producing just the results that Judy F.'s life now represented. It's the classic case of the kid in the candy store. People come from areas where practically nothing is allowed to a city that allows everything, and they think that they have to have it all.
What they end up with is nothing.
In some cases, they end up like Judy F. In others, they end up a statistic at the morgue, and in still others, they end up permanently consigned to the sort of institution from which Judy F. had been released. I was glad for Judy's sake that she'd managed to survive thus far. And I was hopeful that she'd show continued improvement in the future.
Life is a matter of balances.
As soon as one aspect of it is no longer synchronous with the others, the entire mechanism is in jeopardy; it's only a matter of time before flywheels spin out of control and the machine itself races frantically faster and faster until it disintegrates.
Judy F. had reached that point, but she'd managed to come through it with scars, but at least she'd managed to get through. Unfortunately, many others are not so lucky.
This is what Judy F. said when she continued her narrative the next time we met.
Well, Doctor, I feel better every week these days. I know that it's going to take me a while before I'm going to be well enough to go back to work, but I can at least see light at the end of the tunnel.
That's a lot more than I dared hope for a few weeks ago.
But I guess I should go back to what I was telling you, shouldn't I?
Well, let's see. Oh yes. I was just about beginning my career as a nurse at the same time. I was expected to be learning a lot on the job, so having an active night life didn't help me a whole lot.
I never got reprimanded or anything like that, but I knew that I wasn't as alert as I should have been. And there were times when I'd forget a minor detail that had been explained to me the day before.
And the education I was getting at the hospital! I'll tell you one thing, Doc, what you learn in a big city hospital is nothing like the things they teach you in nurse's training. Things go on here that I wouldn't have believed in a million years even if someone had sworn on a stack of Bibles that it was true.
When I first started, they rotated me from one area of the hospital to another on a weekly basis. After you finish with that, you get to make three preferences as to where you want to be permanently assigned. I mean, it's not like you're going to spend the rest of your life in that department, but the changes will be much less frequent from then on.
So for those first few months, life at the hospital was a real eye opener for me.
The people on psychiatrics where I was first were something else again. Now I'd dealt with mental cases in training, but most of what we got in New Orleans were attempted suicides and depressed housewives. At St. Vincent's, they get everything known to man. And there are a few that no one can figure out. And to tell you the truth, I wouldn't want to get close enough to some of those minds to be able to figure them out. Some of it might rub off or be assimilated in some manner, and I wouldn't ant that.
Well, I guess that's sort of a little joke on me, isn't it?
There was a time not so long ago when I'm sure people thought the same way about me.
I'll give you an example, Doctor. There was this one woman we had who did nothing but stuff clothes in her cunt. I guess it's all right to use words like that, isn't it?
Anyway, this woman used to be a big time feminist and magazine editor, and now she's on the locked ward. They won't even put sheets on her bed or give her a hospital gown. She does nothing but sit naked in her room all day long mumbling things about doing the laundry. It's really pathetic, Doctor. If she even manages to come across an old rag, she stuffs it right up there.
It was so bad that they wouldn't even let her go to the bathroom alone. Every time she did, she'd try to stuff paper towels into her hole. And she wouldn't stop when it was full. She'd keep going at it until she tore something. That's why they had to be so careful.
God, she's even in worse shape than I was. At least I only did what I did once.
And, Doctor, the week that I was in the emergency room, I saw one thing after another that just made my eyes pop. I'd never heard of anything like fist fucking until some guy came in with a tear in his rectum from some other guy's fist inside him. I couldn't even bear to think about it.
And then there was the one with the metal ring around his cock and balls that was cutting off the circulation so badly that his cock was starting to turn purplish-black. But it was all right once they got the thing off with a set of bolt cutters. Believe me, Doctor, those doctors were careful!
And the things that we dug out of people's ass-holes. A light bulb one day, a shot glass the next, several hard boiled eggs one time, although one would have thought that those could have been passed naturally, but the guy was upset, so they did it, and God knows what else that I didn't see. At that time I didn't know much about the population of the Village.
Let me tell you, Doctor, those guys are into strange things.
But then I suppose you've dealt with enough of them. To do things like that, they must be crazy, so I suppose you end up with a fair number of them in your office.
But here I digress again.
Back to the point of the matter. Well, it got to the point that I was having so much sex outside the hospital that I was horny most of the day since I couldn't have any while I worked.
I guess my mind was already starting to go, because I considered that a major deprivation. I had the idea that I had a right to sex while I was working. I mean, I was around men all day, so I figured that I ought to get fucked once in a while. It seemed as logical to me as having a coffee break. But instead of coffee, one should fuck. Just to keep the old motor running.
I didn't know what the story with the doctors and interns was, so the first time that I did it at work was with a patient. And I'm still not sorry about that one, Doctor.
I know that the rules forbid anything like that, but I think when I tell you about it, you'll see that there was at least some justification for what I did. At least, I hope that you will.
This man-hell, I can't even call him a man ... he was only nineteen years old-he was on the surgery ward. His name was Michael and I liked him when I first met him. He had a broad, infectious smile and twinkling blue eyes that really won me over. Then I looked at his chart.
He had a malignant tumor of the penis. They'd tried chemotherapy and radiation, and there had been a brief remission, but it hadn't lasted. There was no other choice.
They were going to perform a penectomy.
Now, Doctor, can you imagine how any nineteen year old boy can remain cheerful with that staring him in the face. But Michael managed it. He'd accepted his fate and learned how to live with it.
"Well, I missed the knife when I was born, so now they want the whole thing, not just the foreskin," he told me with a chuckle when he saw my face go gray as I read his chart.
"I don't think this is any laughing manner," I told him.
"It's my cock that's getting lopped off ... If I want to joke about it, I will."
I realized right away that I had been wrong to chide him. Laughter was probably one of the ways that he used to cope with the situation. I had no right to say anything about it.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I was just a little upset when I saw the chart."
"I'm not really pleased about it either ... But they've tried everything else, and it beats the hell out of dying ... Death is real boring ... I don't think I'd like it a bit."
"You do have a point there," I told him.
"And they say that I will have some sensation ... And one doctor even told me that some guys can have orgasms ever after the thing is cut off ... I hope I'm one of them," he said.
"I don't really understand that," I said.
"You're supposed to be a nurse."
"I know, but that doesn't mean I know about every thing ... They don't teach us much about sex."
"I don't think a beautiful woman needs to be taught at a school ... There must be plenty of men who'd be more than anxious to teach you a thing or two."
I tried to blush because I thought I should, but it just wasn't in me. "That's not what I mean and you know it," I said. "I just thought you had to have one to...."
"Well, that's what I thought too ... But the doctor said that some guys can get off just touching their thighs, and there are others who use their ass-holes ... I've been doing some practicing, and once you get past the pain, it can be pretty nice."
"I really had no idea," I said. Even as I said it, the idea was occurring to me.
There was probably no one else who would do such a thing for him, and at this point in his life it might be a real service. Then the idea occurred to me that it might be a disservice. He might not really know what he's going to be missing. If he didn't, it might be better that way.
"And then the doc told me that some guys like to have their balls taken with the cock so that they won't feel any desire, but I told him I was keeping mine ... I want to have everything I can."
"I don't blame you for that, I suppose," I said.
"And I've been saying goodbye to the thing on a regular basis," Michael said with a wink. "I've really been putting the thing through its paces ... It'll go, but it'll go happy."
It took a minute for what he was saying to dawn on me. He was saying that he'd been masturbating a lot lately. I didn't think that I should, but the words were out before I knew it.
"Have you had much experience with girls?" I asked him.
I was sorry I'd asked at first. If he hadn't, the question might embarrass and depress him, and I didn't want to do that. It was about the last thing that he needed at that point in time.
But his eyes lit up and he smiled even more broadly and said, "I've had more than a few, and I gotta admit that I'm going to miss it ... I hope I can find a girl someday who ll be satisfied with what my mouth and tongue can do ... That would be real nice."
"I hope you do too," I said. As the idea registered on me, there was a twinge in my clit.
The more I thought about it, the nice it seemed to have a man like that around the house. He'd always be ready and willing, and I'd already found out what a really skilled mouth can do. And I thought that he'd become very skilled indeed. He just seemed like that type.
And on those occasions when one just had to have something up there, there were always dildos and things like that. He might not make such a bad lover even without the cock.
"Well, it's been nice talking with you, Nurse ... Ah...."
He was bending his head to try to read my name tag. "You can call me 'Judy' as long as you're here," I told him. I thought I should be as friendly as I possibly could be.
"All right ... 'Judy' it is," he said. "I don't want to be unfriendly, but I feel another 'goodbye session' is coming on, and I think that I should take advantage of it ... I wouldn't want to miss an opportunity ... There aren't that many left."
I'd been holding the medicine tray all that time, so I set it down on the small table beside his bed. "There are better ways to take care of that," I said to him.
Michael looked at me as if he couldn't believe what I was saying. "Not much opportunity for that in a place like this," he said. There was an edge in his voice. I had the feeling that he was trying not even to hope that it might happen. He didn't want to be disappointed if he was misinterpreting my words.
"Well, I think I can do something about that," I said as I went to the door and locked it.
"God, I can't believe this is happening," he sa "I think that in your case, we should be able to bend the rules a little."
As I said it, he spread his legs and his cock came up and made the sheet that was covering him raise up. He must have been holding the thing between his legs or something. And it looked like he must have a pretty good sized one from the way it made a tent in the sheets.
I pulled the sheet down and found that he was naked beneath it. My eyes went immediately to his crotch. His cock jutted up proudly between his legs, and I felt a pang of remorse for Michael as I looked at it
The thing was magnificent!
It was long and thick, and even though the distended veins were visibly pulsing, the foreskin still covered more than half of the flared glans. I had thought that the thing might have an odd appearance or something as a result of the tumor, but the only outward sign of any abnormality was a small hump on the dorsal side of it. And that might have always been there.
For a moment, I felt squeamish about doing things with a cancerous cock, but that passed quickly. There's no way you can spread something like that ... It was as safe as any other cock in that respect.
And I could tell from the length and thickness of the thing that it wasn't safe in any other respect.
An organ like that was capable of tearing my soul apart. There was no end to the things it would be able to do for me, and I couldn't wait to get started on it.
I moved to the center of the bed and put my hand around the middle of the shaft, right where the gentle bulge was visible. It didn't feel any different than any other cock that I'd felt, except for the superior size and the incredible hardness of it. One would have thought that it took half the blood in his body to make that thing hard. It was a miracle that he didn't pass out.
I pulled the skin off the head and just stood there for a moment looking at the thing.
"Do you like it?" Michael asked me apprehensively.
"God, it's about the biggest one I've ever seen in my life."
"I know, but sometimes women are afraid of it ... They think that it might hurt them or something ... There're been times when I was almost embarrassed about it."
"You've got nothing to be embarrassed about ... And I'm certainly not afraid of it," I said.
"There have been times since this all started to happen that I've though that maybe you're only allowed to live a certain number of years with something like that, and that maybe this all came about because God didn't want to kill me off entirely, but he had to take that away from me ... I know that it all sounds a little bit fanciful and all that, but there might be some sense in it."
"Most men would be thrilled just to spend a week having a cock like that," I said.
"Yeah, I sort of wish that I could just pass it along to someone else and get an average one in return ... That would be nice, I think, but I know that it's impossible."
"It's too bad it's not" I began to slowly move the skin back and forth over the head of his cock as I said it.
After a few strokes, I couldn't resist closer contact, so I bent my head to it.
My lips came into contact with the smooth skin of the glans, and I held them there for a long moment
Then I opened my mouth and slowly let the head of his cock slip in. I ran my tongue around and around the thing, and I had the impression that it was getting harder as I did it. I could feel that immense organ straining against my hand as I held it in position for my mouth.
Then I began to bob slowly on it. I heard Michael let out a long sigh and I brought my other hand to his balls and cupped them. I squeezed them gently and they shrank up to the base of his shaft.
He arched his hips into my face and I went faster on his cock. As I moved my mouth back and forth on the thing, I took more and more of the shaft into my mouth. I was hardly taking in a third of it when I felt the head bump against the back of my mouth. I've always wanted to be able to take a cock all the way into my throat, but I haven't yet been able to get past the gagging reflex.
I went back to the glans, increased the suction on it and bobbed on the thing. Again, I had the sensation that the thing was getting even harder. I was even a little worried about that. By that time, the head was so taut that I though a blood vessel might break or something if it got harder.
But I know it's extremely rare for something like that to happen.
"God, that feels damn good that I don't know how much I can take," Michael said huskily.
I considered the idea of letting him come in my mouth.
I thought it would be kind of nice if it happened. I had the notion that he could come that way once, then I could come back later and do something else with him. But my cunt was all warm and moist by that time, so I knew that shortly I'd be wanting more from him.
He arched his hips farther toward my face and there was another increase in the hardness of his cock. I could hear his breath coming in deep, labored groans as I went still faster on the head of his cock. Then I felt the thing start to quiver against my lips.
"God, I think that thing's going to come,"
Michael gasped.
I took one more quick stroke on it, then I pulled my mouth off him. I moved my hand from the base of his shaft to the head and sent the had that was around his balls to the shaft to hold it.
Then I put my index finger to the topside of his glans and my thumb to the sensitive area just below the hole at the end and pinched. I held it for a brief moment, then I released my fingers.
I pinched him again, but harder this time. There was a small spasm in his hips as I held my fingers together. At that point, I hoped that I hadn't waited too long to do it.
I released my fingers once again and pinched a third time. This time I used all the force I could muster.
"Ouch!, " Michael groaned. "That hurts too much ... I think it's all right now."
I released my fingers and looked at him. He let out a long sigh.
"Whew!" he said. "That was a close call ... That's a neat little trick you've got there."
"Just a little something I've picked up along the way," I said.
"They don't teach you things like that in nursing school, do they?"
"No, but there are other sources of information."
"I'll bet there are."
I took my hand away from his cock and kicked off my shoes. Then I hitched up my dress and pulled down my pantyhose. I slipped them off my feel and lay them beside the bed.
I was glad that I hadn't decided to wear a pants suit type of uniform like most of the other nurses did. It might be a bit more comfortable, but a dress was much more convenient in a situation like this.
"Do you want me to move over in the bed?" Michael asked.
"No, you just stay where you are ... I'll take care of everything.
I got onto the bed, pushed his legs together and straddled his thighs with mine. I was standing up on my knees, and I had to bend his cock down a bit so that it could reach my slit.
My juices had been flowing steadily as I sucked on his cock, and I was ready to have the thing inside me. I couldn't wait to feel the way it was going to really stretch me.
There was a strong twinge in my clit as I parted my outer lips with the end of it.
Then I raised up even more so his cock wouldn't be bent so much. He was poised at the entrance to my hole.
Still holding his cock, I lowered myself on it. The head stretched the entrance to my cunt and sank in.
I lowered myself steadily until I had all of it up me. I could feel the glans distending the membranes at the very back of my pussy. The arousal I was feeling intensified, and still more oily liquids seeped into my cunt. I wiggled my hips on the huge thing, and it stretched me still more. It gave me a unique sensation of fullness to have a cock that size in me.
I raised myself halfway on the thing, then lowered myself slowly and held his cock deep inside me for a moment. I moved a little ways farther up on his so that the movement of his cock would have more effect on my clit. The thing made another twinge with the increased pressure of his cock.
I went up on his fat prick again, but this time I went farther, so that only the head of it was still inside me. Then I lowered myself on it as fast as I could. I let out a long rush of air as the sensations hit me.
"God, that feels so fucking good," Michael said hoarsely as I began another stroke.
"I like it too."
I started making rhythmic strokes on the thing. Each one of them moved my clit against the slick membranes that surrounded it, and I went higher and higher. Each move I made felt better than the one before it. It wasn't long before I reached a high plateau of pleasure.
The move I went up and down on his cock, the slicker my passageway became. I was able to go faster and faster on the thing. I had the feeling that it was going even deeper into me.
Over and over again, I raised and lowered my hips on his cock. Each time I did it, I inched closer to the edge. I was feeling so much pleasure that I started to shake.
Then the sensations gathered force in me. Everything that I'd felt merged, and I had the feeling that I was floating. At the same time, my muscles got tenser and the shaking got more violent.
Then the orgasm hit me. I managed to keep up my movements on his cock as it thundered through my body. There was a searing flash in my brain, and there were spasms in my pussy. Shudders coursed up my body, and I had to pant in order to get enough air into my lungs.
As the fierce orgasm released me, I felt another one building. I was going as fast as I could on his cock and the sensations that I felt were exquisite. I didn't think I could ever have enough.
His hips arched into me and I saw that Michael's face was contorted with the pleasure he was feeling. Then I was swept away by a ferocious orgasm that made my body shake violently.
As soon as it faded, another one was there to replace it. It roared through my body like a freight train out of control. And it was barely through me before there was another.
The orgasms came faster and faster, and then they seemed to merge and coalesce. I was transported beyond time and space, beyond any other reality than the passions that raged within me.
"Goddam!" I heard from a far distance through the pounding of my blood in my ears. "That thing is about to shoot up there ... IT'S GOING TO COME IN THAT CUNT!"
I drove my hips against his as hard as I could as one orgasm after another seized my body. The pleasure got more intense as it went on; it was sublime.
"There it is ... There it is ... THERE IT IS!" Michael gasped.
All the orgasms I'd had merged and gathered force within me. I let out a cry like an animal in heat and drove myself against his thick cock like there was no tomorrow.
Then Michael let out an incomprehensible cry and I felt his hips start to contract against mine. The hotness of his jism filled my cunt and sent me into a final, shattering orgasm.
As the fury of it subsided, I felt his hands at my hips trying to make me stop moving on his cock. I was hardly aware of what I was doing, but I got the message to stop.
I opened my eyes and looked at him. His head was rolled back against the bed and his body was covered with a thin film of perspiration. I felt the rigidity draining from his cock.
I stayed like that for a long moment, then I raised myself up and off his cock.
I was still breathing heavily as I sat on the side of the bed and put my pantyhose back on. Now that I thought about all the noise we'd been making, I hoped that it hadn't carried through the door and out to the hall. But no one had tried to come in, so I figured we were safe.
Well, Doctor, that wasn't the last time that we did it.
And every time was just as good or better. I was sorry when they finally wheeled him down to surgery two days later, but there was really no other alternative for him if he wanted to go on living.
Well, I guess I've gotten a little involved in telling you that incident, haven't I, Doctor?
But I think you'll agree that it was almost justifiable.
But there were others that weren't.
Well, as I said, I was going to the Chateau on a regular basis, and since that place doesn't get going until late, I was losing a lot of sleep.
I didn't like feeling tired all day at work.
One night I was at the bar and a man asked me how I was that night and I told him that I was a little tired. He asked me if I wanted something for it, and I asked what he was talking about.
"Just thought you might want to try a little crystal," he said.
"What's that?"
"Crystal ... Speed."
Then I knew what he was talking about He meant Methamphetamine.
I was a little leery about it, but I decided to give it a try. Up until that time, I'd never had a drug that didn't come from a pharmacy and that hadn't been prescribed for me.
I thought that street drugs might be dangerous since you didn't know quite what you were getting or where it came from. And God knows who made the stuff and what impurities it might have.
But I did want to feel a bit more perky that night.
I went into the back room with him and he opened a little jar and got some on the little thing that was attached to the cover. He put it to my nose and I sniffed it in. Then he got some more on it, brought it to my other nostril and I sniffed again.
The stuff burned my nose, so when he offered me more, I declined.
We went back to the bar and chatted for a while, and I found that in fifteen minutes, I felt like a was a new woman. All of my alertness came back, and I felt that I could go on for hours.
And that's precisely what I did that night, Doctor.
Well, the next morning, after only about four hours sleep, I felt wonderful.
So the next time that I saw that man, I asked where I could get some of the stuff. He took my address and telephone number and told me he'd call the next evening.
He did, and he said he had some and that it was ninety-five dollars a gram.
Well, I thought that was a lot of money, but I wanted the stuff, so he brought it over.
Now, Doctor, I'm a nurse, and I should have known better than to use something like that. But I did it anyway. And the more I used, the more I needed to take. My body was building up a tolerance for the stuff. That's another thing that I should have recognized, but I didn't.
It got to the point that it was just too expensive.
But then I worked in a hospital, so I decided to get what I needed in other ways. They really watch their drugs at that place, so it wasn't a matter of simply stealing it. Since that was out of the question, I seduced a doctor and blackmailed him into giving me the pharmaceutical grade stuff that you inject. One bottle of that could keep me going for a week.
Naturally, I found that putting all that speed into my body made it impossible to sleep when I wanted to, so I started taking Qualuudes for that. And in the morning, I'd be groggy, so I'd either snort a little speed or give myself a little shot. That would get me going.
Then I discovered acid.
I'll tell you, Doctor, I was thrilled the first time that I tried it, I was a little apprehensive about since I'd heard all kinds of horror stories about the stuff, but I didn't find any of what I'd read to be true. I just got a very pleasant glow that made everything more vibrant and distinct. And it was the best thing for sex that I'd ever had in my life.
I could drop a hit of acid, give myself a shot of speed, go to the Chateau and fuck myself silly all night long. And the orgasms that I'd have on the stuff were literally out of this world. They were something that I'd never experienced in my life.
Even though I was a nurse and all that, I guess I had the same feeling that most people who really get into drugs have. I think that I just didn't want to see the truth.
I thought I could handle it.
That's exactly what I thought, Doctor. I knew that there were people that had gone off the deep end on the kind of substances that I was using, but I didn't think it could happen to me.
I was sure that I knew what I was doing. After all, I was well educated, I was intelligent and I was part of the medical profession. Nothing like that could ever happen to a person like me.
But still, deep in my mind, I knew that I was doing something that I shouldn't be doing.
For example, whenever I saw Jim, I'd hide the fact that I was doing so much speed. We'd occasionally drop acid together, and then I'd have to make a lot of trips to the ladies room to do my speed. It was something that I didn't want him to know about.
I think the reason for that was that he'd say something if he knew what I was doing. And if he said something, I'd have to face the fact that maybe I was overdoing it a little.
That's one thing that I didn't even want to think about.
After all, if it were true, I might have to cut back on the drugs or go without them altogether.
And that's one thing that I knew I couldn't face.
I thought life would be absolutely impossible without them.
Now, that very idea by itself should have told me that something was very wrong. But I didn't want to see any of the red flags, so I didn't. I told myself that I was a rational drug user, that I was only doing it for recreation and that it wasn't that harmful.
By the end of the year, just looking in the mirror should have told me that I was in bad shape.
My face was gaunt and hollow looking, and my color was bad. There were deep circles under my eyes. I did my best to hide all that with cosmetics, but people were asking me if I felt all right. I usually said that I was fine, but that I was trying to lose a little weight. They'd usually tell me that the last thing I needed was to lose weight and I'd quote the late Babe Paley on that: "You can never be too rich or too thin."
And my work was beginning to slip. Twice I gave the wrong medications to people, but I was lucky and nothing serious happened. And I was very fortunate in that I didn't get caught.
Then there started to be days when I'd lose whole stretches of time.
It would be one o'clock in the afternoon, and before I knew it, it was three in the afternoon. I wouldn't have the vaguest idea what I'd done or what had happened in the meantime. I was paranoid half the time from the speed anyway, and things like that just made it worse.
Then on the third of January, I went to the Chateau, and they told me that I couldn't go in. They said that I was barred from the place forever.
I was indignant and demanded to see the manager immediately.
The manager was extremely unfriendly to me. I thought it was a bit rude considering the money that I'd spent in that place. I thought he should at least show a little courtesy on that account.
Well, he explained to me that what I did on New Year's Eve was the reason I wasn't being allowed in. At the time, I thought it was the most preposterous thing that I'd ever heard.
He told me that after some guy was finished fucking me up the ass, I'd taken a shit and wallowed in the stuff. He said I rubbed it all over me and rolled around on a mat pleading for someone to take another dump on me. Apparently, I really stank up the place and people were turned off.
Then he told me that they threw me in the shower, then into a cab.
Well, I didn't remember a whole lot about that night, and I still don't, but at the time, I didn't think it was possible that I could do something as gross as that. I got real snooty with him and told him that I didn't need his fucking slime hole and walked out.
I tried a couple of the other swing clubs in town, and none of them were too friendly to me. The one place that let me in wasn't too nice, and I didn't care for the people very much.
I guess word gets around those kinds of places even in a city like New York.
But I decided that I didn't need them in the first place. As far as I was concerned, they could just keep their lousy old clubs. I thought I could do just as well on my own.
So I started going to bars and picking up men. And I'm not talking about the chic singles places on First Avenue, Doctor. I went to neighborhood places in and around the Village. Some of them were a little seedy, but that didn't bother me in the least.
I even picked up a black guy in some dive in Chelsea and went to his sordid little hotel room. The sex was very good, but when I woke up at home the next morning, I found that both my money and my drugs were missing. I don't even remember leaving the place, so I have no idea how it happened. I probably passed out for a while or something like that.
By that time, Doctor, I was no longer in good enough condition to think about what I was doing. I don't know how I managed to keep going at work, but I did. But I heard more and more complaints from both patients and my superiors about my work. I thought they were all out to get me.
By that time, the last thing in the world that anyone could have convinced me of was that something was wrong with me. That was the last thing that I was prepared to believe.
Those last days are all kind of a haze, Doctor. There are bits and pieces that I can remember, but not very much. I must have been functioning on automatic pilot.
I remember something about screwing with someone in a men's room in the hospital, but I don't know if it was a patient or a doctor. All I really remember is that he was wearing white, but that could have been a doctor's jacket or a hospital gown. It was just something in white pounding into me.
And there really wasn't anyone in my life to tell me that I was nuts, not that I would have believed them in the first place. But if I'd had any friends, maybe one of them would have taken me to Bellevue before it got to the point that it did. I wish that had happened.
I hardly ever saw Jim by that point. The drugs had so rattled my brain, that all I could think about was having something in my cunt. That was all that was important to me by that time.
And I don't know why I even cared about it by that point, Doctor. I mean, I was still having orgasms and things like that, but once it was over, it was like it had never happened.
I was hardly able to feel anything. I'd sort of know that I'd had an orgasm by the way that my body reacted. The sensations that I had didn't really register on my brain. I don't know how to explain it, Doctor. It doesn't seem possible to have an orgasm and hardly feel it, but that's what was happening to me. I guess the impulses registered on my nerves, but not my brain.
Anyway, suddenly I started to come out of my fog and I was in the hospital and there was a dull ache between my legs. That was about two weeks after I went in, they tell me.
I have absolutely no memory of those two weeks.
It's like someone just took them out of my life.
Well, to tell you the truth, Doctor, I'm kind of glad that I can't remember those two weeks. It's almost nice not to have experienced the withdrawal that I must have gone through. IVe seen a couple of patients withdrawing from drugs, and it's not a very pretty sight.
And knowing the amounts, at least vaguely, that I was taking towards the end, my body must have gone through hell getting used to not having them any longer. That's something that I'm never going to risk experiencing again, Doctor. No more drugs for me.
And the way that I feel about sex has completely changed as well. I don't even feel any desire to do it with strangers and that kind of thing. I think that I'd like to do it at some point in the future, but I want it to be something more than just an anonymous cock going in and out of my cunt. I want it to be an aspect of a relationship with another human being. I think it makes a lot more sense that way, and I think it would even feel better.
I have seen Jim a couple of times since I've been out of the hospital, but I don't even want to have sex with him at this point. He's tried to help me as much as he can, but if there's going to be something between us, it has to involve more than just fucking.
But I think the important thing that I've realized, Doctor, is that I have to do most of the work myself. I can come back to normal if I want to, and I do, but I have to help myself do it.
There's no magic around that can make me be just fine overnight. It's going to be a long, painful process, but I think that I can handle it. I want to go back to work again, and I want to have a real life again. That's the most important thing for me.
That's what I want more than anything else in the world.
CONCLUSION
I think that Judy F.'s case illustrates what can happen with the misuse of drugs. I would be the first to disagree with the notion that all drug use is wrong, but for too many people, they become a crutch to lean on. They take the place of something that's missing in their lives.
Even with such relatively innocuous drugs such as marijuana and alcohol, this same sort of dependency can arise. In the case of marijuana, it's primarily psychological, while in the case of alcohol, it can be physical as well. Both can be dangerous to certain types of personalities.
In general, these substances pose the greatest threat to persons who have dependent, addictive personalities. They frequently lack the ability to face the world on its own terms, so they attempt to alter the reality they're faced with through the use of drugs.
This was the case with Judy F. She was thrust into a situation that she thought she liked, but it's my guess that what she was doing caused her a great deal of guilt. The drugs she took masked these feelings so that she wouldn't have to deal with them. Her initial excuse was the fact that they made her stay awake, but this goal soon fell by the wayside.
Such an approach to problems is typical of the addictive personality.
There is no doubt that the psychotic episode she experienced was drug induced. But the fact remains that there was a basis for it deep within her psyche as well. It is this core of guilt and frustration that I will attempt to reach in the course of her therapy.
Once Judy F. understands what it is and can learn to compensate for it in healthy ways, she'll be on the road to a complete recovery. It will take take time.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
SUBJECT: Linda B. AGE: Sixteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Linda B. was referred to me by the Juvenile Division of the New York City Department of Social Services. From her records, I saw that she'd been placed in numerous foster homes since the age of six when she became a ward of the court. Her mother had died of a drug overdose, and her father was in prison for shooting a police officer.
From the time she was twelve years old, she'd been repeatedly arrested for prostitution, and there had been several arrests for the possession of controlled substances. She'd been declared a "Juvenile in Need of Supervision," and had been placed in what would have been called a "reform school" years ago. Now the place is known as a "Juvenile Rehabilitation Center," but that doesn't alter the nature of such a place.
Linda B. was a continual disciplinary problem, and from the reports that I had on her, she was dangerous both to herself as well as to others. I knew in advance that she was going to be a difficult case.
When she walked into my office, there was no indication that she was different than any other girl her age. She had a pretty face with the glow of youth still on it, although that glow was tempered somewhat by the incipient lines that were forming at the sides of her mouth.
She had blonde hair and blue eyes, and she had a pleasing figure for a young woman of her age. Linda B. wasn't fully developed, but her breasts were in perfect proportion to her slender body, and they had the appearance that they would mature and ripen into a more than ample degree.
This is what she told me at our first meeting.
So you're the shrink, huh?
You don't look like such a big deal to me. I mean, if you think you can change me overnight or something, you've got another thing or two to learn.
Hell, if those fucks could get away with it, they'd give me a frontal lobotomy.
Just to keep me in line.
Those ass-holes will do whatever they can to make life easier on themselves. They don't give a shit who has to suffer so long as everything is orderly and quiet. That's all the shitheads want. If anyone so much as asks a question, they get all bent out of shape.
Well, fuck them and the horse they rode in on!
They've tried everything else with me that's legal and a few things that aren't and they didn't get anywhere. Now they think you can hypnotize me and make me tow the line.
Shit, last month they said that is I'd "behave according to the standard norms" I might be able to go to another foster home. I mean, they really thought that was some kind of an inducement.
Well, I told that bitch what I thought about foster homes.
Christ, the fucking cunt's ears turned red when she heard what I had to say.
She doesn't know squat about foster homes, and I do.
Hell, I've been in enough of them to know what I'm talking about.
Even the name is a joke. "Foster home!" Shit, it makes me want to puke.
I'll tell you what those places are like, Doc. You won't fucking believe it, but I don't give a rat's ass about that either. You can believe just about anything that you want to for all I care. But I'll tell you how that system works. It'll make your balls turn blue.
In the first place, most of the families or couples they place you with have problems of their own.
Shit, if you need the few bucks that the state gives you for taking care of a kid, you must have some kind of a problem. You couldn't pay me enough money to take in someone else's ankle biter. I mean, it just ain't worth the effort as far as I'm concerned.
Anyway, so you get sent to this lower middle class home, and half the time either the man or the woman is drunk when you get there. You always know that when there's only one of them there when you arrive, and that one tells the social worker the other one is "out shopping."
As soon as the fucking social worker leaves, the other one comes reeling out of the bedroom. Then the two of them have a knock-down-drag-out just so you'll know what you're in for.
It's real fucking pleasant, Doc.
If you're smart, you say as little as possible and stay in whatever room they tell you, you're going to be sleeping in. Sometimes you don't get even half a room; I mean, a room to share with one of their own kids. Half the time you have to sleep on the sofa or something like that.
You wanna know what my first memory of a foster home is, Doc?
This was just after my old lady finally O. D.'d herself, and I was only six at the time.
Can you imagine that, Doc? Only six years old!
But that didn't make any difference to that creep. I don't even remember what he looked like now, but I sure as hell remember the way his breath reeked of Scotch and the way that his hand felt when he sneaked in the living room after everyone was asleep and put it on my crotch.
I mean, I didn't know what the fuck was going on. I barely had any idea that I had anything down there that anyone would have any interest in. And as soon as I felt his other hand cover my mouth, I knew that it was something dirty and nasty that he was doing.
I didn't even try to scream or cry or anything. I was scared as shit, but I just lay there and took it.
That creep didn't do a whole lot, but I hated it every time the shithead touched me between my legs.
About all he did was press against my bare crotch and run his finger along my slit, and I guess I was lucky that that was enough to get him off. I didn't understand what he was doing at the time, but as he did it to me, he'd be turned away and his other hand would be moving.
Then there'd be a sigh, his body would shake a little bit, and he'd leave the room.
I guess that was mild as far as those things go, and I was lucky that I didn't get placed in some of the other scum holes until I was older. Some of those creeps were really perverted.
Anyway, after about six months, that first ass-hole got tired of me and I was moved to another home. I don't remember a lot about that one, so I guess nothing much happened to me there.
But I'll never forget that third home, not if I live to be a hundred.
But in that place, it was the woman who was crazy.
And I'll tell you, Doc, that bitch was crazy as a loon. Every day when I came home from school, the bitch had to give me an enema. I'd tell her that I'd already gone to the bathroom at school whether I had or not. But she'd just say that I still needed to be "cleaned out."
But the filthy cunt didn't stop with that, Doc.
Not on your life.
I mean, I still had to have the damn enemas every day, but then she started "inspecting" me. She said that she wanted to find out if I was being a "good little girl." Shit, Doc, I didn't know what sex even was then. And I wouldn't have cared to do it even if I had.
Anyway, after she had my ass-hole all filled up with water, she'd tell me that I had to keep the stuff in me so that it could do it's job and clean me out real good. Then she'd make me sit on the John and spread my legs. The bitch would get on her knees and move in real close to me and start probing around with her fingers. It was really stupid.
She'd run the tips of her fingers up and down my slit, then she'd pull the little thing open and get her eyes as close to it as she could. And after that, she'd stick her finger just a little ways inside my hole to see if I was still "intact." Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous, Doc? I mean, I guess she had to give herself some kind of excuse to justify what she was doing and that was the one that she used. She was a real sicko.
And even assuming that I was "intact," I sure as hell wasn't by the time that wacko got through with me. As you can probably guess, Doc, she kept putting more and more of her finger up me. And when she finally got to the point that she had the whole thing rammed up there, she started moving it around and stretching me. When she first started doing it, it hurt like hell.
But then the weirdo changed the tune she was singing.
Now she kept telling me, "Men are going to want to stick things inside you, and they won't be as nice as as I am ... They'll want to stick bigger things inside you, things that hurt."
Now that's some kinda sex education, isn't it, Doc?
I mean, I knew by that age I must have been seven going on eight by that time that little boys were different from little girls, but I didn't really know how. I knew it had something to do with what they had between their legs, but I didn't know what they had or what it looked like or what it was used for. And to tell you the truth, I didn't much care.
And interspersed with that that bitch would tell me about the things men were going to put up me, she'd keep telling me, "Now you hold that water, young lady."
I never have figured out what kind of connection she made between the enema and sticking her finger up my cunt. I guess there must be one, but it sure as hell escapes me what it is.
Anyway, I guess she got tired of me or something, so I was moved after eight or nine months. But by that time, I was so intrigued by what it was that men wanted to stick up you, that I kept asking every girl I talked to at school what the hell it was.
Nobody knew.
And I guess my fascination with it was mixed with a little fear. That woman had just kept saying "things" and I didn't relate that to any part of the body. I mean, she could have been talking about pieces of wood, rocks, baseball bats, model trains or anything.
That's why I wanted to find out what the story was.
Now you can guess what happens when an eight year old runs around asking questions like that to everyone she meets. I don't know who the shitty ass-hole was, but someone ratted on me.
That produced a telephone call to the foster parents and a meeting between them and the teacher.
I don't need to tell you, Doc, that the aftermath wasn't pleasant.
That man whipped me within an inch of my life for having such a "filthy mouth." He used a heavy leather strap across my bare bottom, and I didn't think I'd be able to sit down for a week. And I couldn't even understand what the hell I'd done to bring it all about. As far as I was concerned, I was just curious; that was all there was to it.
But I was quickly finding out that adults look at things from their perspective and not from the way an ignorant kid sees things. It didn't matter to them that I didn't know what the hell I was talking about; all that they cared about was that I had embarrassed and inconvenienced them.
Things certainly haven't changed much in that respect.
And considering what that ass-hole did later, he certainly didn't have any right to whip me for what I did. Hell, that shithead brought new meanings to the word "filthy."
It started about two months after that incident that I just told you about. His wife, whatever the hell her name was, was out shopping one Saturday afternoon, and I was taking a bath. I liked to get the bath over with early so that they wouldn't hassle me at night about it. If I took it then, I'd miss something on television, and I always hated it when that happened.
Anyway, I was almost finished when there was this loud knock on the door.
I was terrified immediately because I knew that he was the only one around. I hadn't forgotten that whipping.
"Lemme in there, I gotta piss," he bellowed through the door.
"I'll be out in a minute," I told him with a shaky voice.
I stood up in the water and began drying myself as fast as I could.
"I gotta get in there right this minute," he yelled.
"I'm getting out as fast as I possibly can."
"You let me in there or I'll break the fucking door down."
I threw the towel on the floor and reached for the door. I knew that if he broke it down because I wouldn't let him in, he probably beat the shit out of me again. As soon as it was unlocked, I got back into the soapy water and hid myself as best I could. I didn't want him to see anything.
"That's better, young lady," he said as he charged in.
Fortunately, he didn't even look at me. He went straight to the John, and I trembled in the water as I listened to the sound of him peeing. I closed my eyes and tried to blot the entire scene out of my brain.
But there was nothing that could make that terrible sound go away.
When it finally stopped, I opened my eyes again. Nothing happened. I wondered if he'd left already when I didn't hear any sound. But I didn't think he could have gotten from the toilet to the door in that brief span of time. It seemed like I waited for an eternity.
Finally I turned around.
There he was with a shit eating grin on his face and his cock in his hand. As my eyes went to it, he pulled the foreskin off the head. I turned my head back as fast as I could. I didn't understand what was happening, but I knew that I didn't like it at all. out what men wanted to put up you ... Now if you look back, you'll get a chance to do just that."
"I ... I don't want to see any more," I stammered to him.
And that was true. I didn't know what it was that he was holding between his legs, but I knew it was part of him and I didn't want any part of the fuckin' thing. It was ugly and the way he pulled the skin back to show what was under it nauseated me. I just wanted him to leave.
"You better turn around, young lady," he said. "If you don't, that last whipping I gave you will seem like a pleasure compared to what you get."
Now the stupid thing, Doc, is that I believed him.
Now I know that he'd never have the guts to do that. I would have told his wife and he'd have been in deep trouble. But I didn't figure that one out until much later.
So I did what he wanted me to and turned around. By that time, the thing was even bigger, and he was pulling the foreskin rhythmically back and forth over the head of the thing.
"Do you know what this thing is called?" he asked me. "n ... o.'
"It's called a cock or a prick or a penis if you want to get technical about it."
"Oh."
"And do you want to know where the thing goes?"
"I ... I ... I think so."
"This thing goes right between your legs, right up that cunt of yours."
I didn't know what the word "cunt" was, but I knew what part of me the creep was talking about. It was that same part that the crazy lady put her finger up.
And as I watched, the thing got bigger and bigger. Finally, it jutted straight out from his body, and it got kind of darker in color, and I could see some of the thick veins pulsing.
I didn't like looking at it, and I knew that I'd never want anything like that inside me. I mean, if he made me do that, he'd tear me apart. I didn't want to think about the pain of it.
"And do you what it's called when a cock like this goes up you?" he asked me. "N ... No."
"It's called fucking, that's what it's called. Sexual intercourse."
"Oh."
"That's what you do to make babies ... Did you know that."
"No."
God, when he told me that, I wondered how a baby ever got made. I mean, I just couldn't imagine anyone wanting something like that inside them. I knew right away that I didn't want to have any damn kids.
"Lot's of people like to do it, did you know that?"
"No, but I don't think I'd like to do it," I told him.
"That's what you say now, but one of these days, you'll change your tune."
"No, I won't ... I'm not ever going to let something like that inside me."
He came over to the tub and sat down on the side of it. He enormous cock of his in his hand and pulling the skin back and forth over the head. I was so afraid that he might want to put the thing inside me that I moved as far away from him as I could.
"Don't you want to get a better look at this thing of mine?" he asked.
"No."
"I think you ought to ... Remember what I said about the whipping?"
like an ass-hole, I believed him, so I moved back to where I was. And now that I was so close to it, the thing he was holding seemed gargantuan in its proportions. It made me ill.
As I stared at it a glistening bead of moisture appeared at the hole at the end of it. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't want to ask him about it. I didn't want to know any more than I already did.
"Are you sure that you've really washed yourself well?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, I'm real clean all over," I told him, my voice quaking.
"Did you wash between your legs?" There was a very definite edge to his voice now.
"Yes, I washed real good there."
"I think that I ought to check it to make sure that it's clean."
I saw his other hand drop into the water, and I knew that there was nothing that I could do.
I got more and more frightened as his hand traveled up my thigh to my crotch. When it got there, he ran his finger up and down my slit. He probed with it here and there, but he didn't really make any attempt to put it in me. I was grateful for that. As his finger went up and down me, I noticed that his hand was moving faster and faster on his cock. I didn't know what the point of that was then, but I didn't care. All I wanted was for him to go away and leave me alone. That was my most fervent wish in the entire world.
All of a sudden, he let out a loud gasp and then he stopped moving his hand on his cock. His body made some jerky movements, then he took his hand away from my crotch and went back to the John. I heard him tear some toilet paper off, then after a minutes, he flushed the toilet and left the room after washing his hands. I was very confused by it all.
Do you think you've heard enough, Doc?
I think that gives you an idea of what those places are like, but there's a hell of a lot more than that. Actually, that was only the beginning. Things got progressively worse the older I got.
Now that same guy that I was just telling you about. Shit, Doc, I don't remember the names of any of those ass-holes in the beginning. Maybe I've repressed it or something like that, I don't know.
Well, things didn't. That would be asking for too much, Those creeps always want more and more, and I was in a position that I couldn't do much about it. At least at the time, I didn't think I could do much about it.
I realize now, of course, that I should have talked it over with the social worker or something, but I was positive that they'd blame it all on me. And I guess I even thought that I was partly responsible for it. After all, it was my thing that they were all after.
I wished the thing would just go away so that no one would be interested in me anymore. There were nights that I'd lay in my bed and wish that the thing would grow together.
Anyway, the Saturday afternoon bath got to be a ritual around that place.
Once in a while, his wife wouldn't go anywhere, and that would give me a reprieve.
But if she weren't planning anything, he'd usually find someplace she'd have to go. And it was always a place that would either take her a long time to get to, or it was a place where she'd have to spend a lot of time to get accomplished whatever it was that he wanted her to do.
Several times I asked her if I could go along, but she always turned me down. You know, Doc, I really think she knew what was going on. That fucking cunt knew what that bastard was doing, and she wouldn't do anything to stop it. I mean, there was no way she could have REALLY known, but she had to know that something was a little unusual. You'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind to miss that.
Well, he went from one stage to another. I guess it was all pretty predictable.
First, he started to press his finger into me, just a little at first, but then more and more. Finally, he got to the point that he was putting the whole thing into me. I acted like I didn't like it and that it hurt me, but after what that crazy lady had done to me, I didn't find it that bad.
I mean, at least I didn't have to put up with that enema routine. That was some relief.
Then he started wanting me to touch his cock. I resisted for a couple of weeks, but then one Saturday afternoon, he just took my hand and put it on the thing. I held it there for a few moments, but the hardness of the thing and the way that it throbbed frightened me.
But I knew that that wasn't going to be the end of it, and it certainly wasn't.
The next week he put my hand on his cock again, but this time, he kept his own hand over mine.
He moved my hand so that it pulled the skin back and forth over the head of his cock.
The whole thing made me a little squeamish at first. I mean, here was that hard thing and there was all that skin that moved so easily on it. It was about the oddest thing that I'd ever touched.
After a while, he let me take my hand away from and he just kept his finger in me and did whatever he was doing before with his hand on his cock. Then his body jerked again, and he went over to the toilet.
I never really understood what all that was about because I didn't want to watch any part of it that I didn't have to.
Finally, he got me to the point that I was willing to keep my hand moving on his cock without his own hand over it. When I had my hand up like that, I had to watch the thing.
I knew that that was what he wanted, and I knew that there was nothing that I could do to keep it from happening. If I didn't do it of my own accord, he'd threaten to whip me and then I'd do it.
I couldn't even get my fingers halfway around his cock, but I guess that was enough for him. He rolled his head back on his shoulders and let out a low moan as I pulled the skin back and forth over the head of his cock. Each time that I did it, I could feel the ridge of the glans through the skin.
I had the feeling that the fucking thing was getting even harder in my hand, and I didn't think that was possible. As I moved the skin on it, I thought that it was inhuman to have a part of your body that got that hard. To my mind, flesh just wasn't supposed to do things like that.
But there was no denying that it got that way.
Anyway, after a while, his breathing became heavier and heavier. Then he let out a groan and his hips jerked. All of a sudden, a spurt of white stuff flew out of the end of his cock and landed on my face. It felt hot as it hit me, almost like I'd been burned.
Then there was another one, but it didn't go as far as the first one did. It landed on my chin. The next one hit me on the chest and dripped down in a long, sticky rope. There were more bursts of the stuff, but these barely cleared the hole at the end of his cock. They made a gooey mess on the the head of his cock and they dripped over my fingers.
I tell you, Doc, I was fucking terrified when that happened!
Really!
I mean, I thought that I'd done something terrible to the thing and that it had spit at me. That's exactly what I thought. I didn't know what that stuff was, but I was sure that it meant something bad. I couldn't imagine what he was going to do to me.
I thought for a moment that it might be pee, but that stuff was like no kind of pee that I'd ever seen. And I'd heard him pissing enough times so that I knew it was different when he did that.
And the feel of it on my hand was nothing like what piss feels like. It was warm like piss was, but it was slippery and slimy and sticky all at the same time. Hell, I was so ignorant that I didn't even stop moving my hand when it happened. I kept moving it because I thought he liked that, and if I'd done something that had made the thing mad, I thought that might make up for it.
He finally had to reach down and stop my hand. I took my hand away from his cock and put it in the water to wash the stuff off. It was something to do while I waited for my punishment.
"Are you mad at me?" I finally managed to ask in a weak, little voice.
"What gave you that idea?"
"Well, your thing ... It ... It spit at me ... I thought I did something wrong."
He laughed at me and gave me a look that was almost affectionate. But I doubt that he was really capable of having any real affection for someone. I don't think it was in him.
"My cock wasn't spitting at you," he told me.
"Then what was that ... That wasn't pee was it?" I asked.
"No, it wasn't piss either ... That's what happens when it comes."
I must have looked confused because he laughed again. I mean, when he said "comes" I couldn't think of anything other than, "The dog comes home. See funny, funny Spot."
"That's the stuff that makes the babies," he told me.
"I still don't understand."
"Well, in that stuff there are millions of tiny sperm, and when one of them meets up with the woman's egg inside her body, it makes a baby ... That's the point of making the thing feel good ... So that it'll shoot out all that stuff and make a baby."
"Am I going to have a baby?" I asked with some trepidation.
He laughed again. "You aren't old enough yet in the first place. In the second, the stuff has to go up your cunt in order for you to have a baby ... That's what fucking is all about."
That cinched me on not having a fucking baby for sure.
If I had to have one of those things inside me spurting that sticky stuff in me in order to do it, I didn't want to hear about it. There was no way that I'd ever do anything like that.
And it seemed to me that it had taken an awfully long time before the stuff came out of him. I mean, I thought it would be a lot more efficient if the stuff would just shoot out whenever you'd want it to. A man could just get hard, then it would come out.
I didn't see why it took all that coaxing that I'd given the damn thing with my hand to get it out of there.
I guess I was getting some of the mechanical things about sex down, but that's about all I was getting. It was beyond me at the time to go any further with it than that. I guess a kid's brain just can't deal with anything more than that at that age. But then I guess I knew more than the other kids.
But it was strange in a way. I mean, about the way I was with other kids.
I somehow knew without being told that it was something that you just don't talk about.
Once, I tried to hint about it to another girl, and she just said, "That's disgusting," and walked away.
And to some extent, Doc, I thought that maybe this was the way it was everywhere. Maybe daddies everywhere did this with their little girls. I even thought that that might be the reason that these people wanted foster kids. They didn't have a little girl of their own to do that with, so they got one from the state and they even got paid for keeping her.
It was all very confused in my brain, Doc, and there really wasn't anyone that I could talk to about it.
Well, anyway, things went on from there with that one.
As you might guess, it wasn't long before I was putting his cock in my mouth and sucking the goddamn thing off. I was really afraid that it might give me a baby that way in spite of what he'd said the first time that I saw it come, but he assured me it wouldn't. But I still didn't trust him.
I used to check my tummy every morning and evening to make sure that it wasn't growing.
In a way, I didn't mind having his cock in my mouth as much as when I just used my hand. I know that sounds weird, Doc, but that's the way it was. It took me a while to get used to it, and I really had to open my mouth wide to take all of it into me, but to my mind, that was better than having to look at the thing. I just thought it was ugly beyond belief.
And I got so that I kind of liked the taste of the come in my mouth.
I can't explain that one either. Maybe part of it was that when I just jerked him off, I always got the stuff all over me, then I had to take another bath to get it off. And when I was finished with that, I had to drain the water in the tub and refill it halfway again to rinse myself. I didn't want any of them that were in the water to stay on me.
I don't think that makes any sense, but that's the way that I felt about it then.
I also had the idea that they were a kind of food when I swallowed them. It seemed like they were something that would make me stronger. All those little sperms squirming around in my stomach might make me healthier or something.
I know that it doesn't make a hell of a lot of sense, but you have to remember how old I was then. I wasn't able to think about such things rationally then. Of course, there are times now when I still don't think about such things in a very logical manner.
So you see the kind of education I got, Doc. It wasn't nothin' like what these wimps get in sex education class these days with their slide strips of organs and what they do and all that kind of shit. What I got was the real thing, and I got it right from the horses mouth.
And I learned quick that it paid off to be cooperative. You don't get no mileage out of trying to stop it, so I learned to roll with the punches.
INTERVIEW TWO
I thought that was as good a place as any to stop Linda B. It was obvious from what she'd said to me that I had a very complex case on my hands. Although she maintained a tough exterior, it was evident that there was a very different person beneath it.
Another thing that surprised me about Linda B. was that in spite of the fact that she was doing very poorly in school, such as it was, she was a rather intelligent girl who knew a lot more than she liked to admit. I thought that facet of her personality would be of assistance to her.
It was easy to understand why she was such a discipline problem. She distrusted all adults and authority figures in particular. Given her background, this was not unexpected.
And considering what she'd been through, I was actually surprised that her condition wasn't worse. It's not at all uncommon for persons who were brought up the way she was to emerge as full blown sociopaths. They're frequently so traumatized by their upbringing that it's impossible for them to relate to another human being with anything but hostility.
This obviously wasn't the case with Linda
B., so I thought that there might be at least a glimmer of hope that she could be rehabilitated. If I could get through to her the destructiveness of the path she was presently on, I thought that I might succeed in getting her to overcome her hardships and live a reasonably normal life.
She continued her story the second time we met, and this is what she had to say.
Well, here we are again, Doc.
I hate to admit this, Doc, but I really didn't mind talking to you as much as I thought I would. Now don't get me wrong; I didn't LIKE it, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.
At least you listened to me and didn't just yell at me like shitheads at the jail. I know that they call it a "Juvenile Rehabilitation Facility," but the fuckin' place is a jail and everybody knows it. About all they changed when they changed the name from "Reformatory" to "Rehabilitation Center" was the color of the walls. Now they're all pastels whereas those places used to be done in prison gray or institutional green.
Anyway, I guess I should get back to what I was telling you.
I told you about the guy who taught me to suck him off, didn't I?
Well, there really isn't much more to say about him. He taught me some refinements in that respect, like how to flick my tongue back and forth across the sensitive area of his cock just below the hole at the end of it, and he showed me how to suck on his balls and pull them away from his body while they were in my mouth. And he liked to have me pull the skin all the way over the glans and run my tongue around the head while the skin was covering it.
But he never wanted to go beyond that. I lived in fear that he was going to want to put that thing of his inside me, but he never even suggested it. I guess I got so good at sucking him off that it was enough for him just to do that. I'm glad it worked out that way.
I remember that they moved me to another foster home, and I really don't remember anything in particular that happened there. I was getting to the point that I didn't relate much to the foster parents I had. I knew that I was just passing through, so it didn't make a lot of sense.
But then when I was ten, I got placed with a couple of real freaks. I don't know how the welfare people could ever have approved them as foster parents, but they did. They must be hard up.
I knew from the first moment I walked into that place that I was in for trouble.
The man of the house, if you can call him that, was sitting in front of the television set watching a baseball game with a beer can in his hand, and the whole place was a mess.
You'd think that they'd at least try to make the place presentable when the welfare lady came with me, but they didn't. I guess they knew that she wouldn't do anything about it.
And I remember this joker's name. It was Eddie, Eddie Donally, I think.
Anyway, after the welfare lady left and his wife showed me to my room, I just stayed there.
She was no winner, either, Doc. Scraggly blonde hair and a mousy face.
I tried to think of what I should do, but I couldn't really come up with anything. I was stuck there with those ass-holes and there was nothing I could do to get out of it.
You should have seen the dinner she made that night, Doc.
What a fucking joke!
It was nothing but frozen food and she even managed to fuck that up. But I was careful not to say anything about it. I mean, the last thing in the world that I needed was for them to think that I was a smartass or something like that. There was no telling what they'd do.
And with those creeps, it started the very first night I was there.
I was lying in my bed trying to go to sleep when that ass-hole came into my room.
I mean, I could still hear the television going and I hadn't heard the creep's wife come up the stairs or anything. I guess the bitch was downstairs, and I suppose that she just exactly what the hell was going on. She was probably diddling herself thinking about it.
Anyway, Eddie came into the room and turned on the light.
I pretended that I was asleep. I didn't think that it would work, but I thought it was worth a try.
But when he sat down on the edge of my bed, I knew that it wouldn't.
"You might as well turn around, bitch," he said. "I know you're not asleep."
So I did it.
My heart started to pound when I brought my eyes to his.
"I hope you're going to like it here, little girl," Eddie said with an edge to his voice.
"I ... I hope I will too."
"I think you and me's gonna get along real nice, don't you?"
"I ... I certainly hope so," I told him as evenly as I could.
"There's lots of things that you and me can do together."
I didn't say anything. I knew that he wasn't talking about taking me to Coney Island or anything like that.
"Yes, I think we's gonna get along real nice together," he said again.
Then his hand slipped under the covers.
I was so nervous then that I started to shake. It wasn't that nothing like that hadn't happened before; it was that he was new to me, and I didn't know what he wanted me to do.
There was a clammy feeling in me as I felt his hand run across my chest. I was just starting to grow tits, but they were no more than buds then. It wasn't much more than just my nipples sort of puffed outward. There wasn't much flesh behind them at that point.
"Starting to grow titties, aren't we, little girl?" he said as he felt them through my nightgown.
"Y-y-yes," I stammered.
He took one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
"Does it feel nice when I do this to them?" he asked.
"Sort of," I told him. It didn't, but I figured it was best to humor him. I'd tried the other way, and that hadn't worked worth a shit, so I thought that a new approach might be better.
I mean, I had nothing to lose, did I, Doc?
"I bet you're old enough to start getting real hot," he said.
"I don't know what you mean," I said. It was true, I didn't.
"I mean that I bet you get a nice feeling down here when I touch you like that."
With that, he moved his hand down me until it pressed against my mound.
"Ah ... I don't think I'm old enough for that yet, but I know how to do something else," I said.
"And what might that be."
"I know how to suck on a boy's thing so that that white stuff comes out of it."
"Really now...."
"The man at one of the foster homes I had showed me how to do it real good."
"Is that a fact ... Do you like doing that kind of thing?"
"I like it fine ... You want me to do it to you?"
"I'll sure as hell give you a crack at it."
Well, Doc, that creep stood up and turned around to face the bed. Then he unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper and parted them in front. Then he pushed them over his hips and they fell to his ankles. From the bulge in his briefs, I could see that he was already hard.
He pushed the briefs down to his ankles, and his stiff prick jutted out in front of him.
Well, Doc, his cock was a lot smaller than the one that I'd seen before, and the thing didn't have any skin over the head. I thought that the thing looked a little naked without it.
And it sort of amazed me.
I mean, I didnt know that there was any difference in them. I'd seen other girls naked before and what we had between our legs looked the same, so I figured that was the case with boys too. I thought that there was one basic model and they all had one.
I guess that that was what started me to actually take an interest in cocks. I mean, I didn't get interested in them right then and there, but I did start thinking about them after that. I guess it was the realization that they're all different. I started to wonder what kind a man had when I saw him.
Anyway, Eddie stepped closer to the bed and I went to the edge and sat there.
For a moment, I just looked at his cock, then I put my hand on the thing. I gave it a tug, and my hand pulled the skin on the shaft forward, but just sort of to the rim of the head.
It felt a lot different from the other one I'd had.
Then I brought my mouth to the thing and kissed it. At the same time, I brought my hand to the base of the shaft to steady the thing. I could feel it straining against my hand.
Then I opened my mouth and slowly took in the glans.
I held it in my mouth for a long moment, then I started running my tongue around and around the smooth, taut skin. Eddie let out a long rush of air as I did it.
"Yeah, it feels like you, you know what you're doing," he said huskily.
I started to bob back and forth on just the head of his cock. Every time my lips crossed over the rim of the flared head, I drew my mouth back so that the very tip of it was just between my lips.
Then I started taking more of the shaft in on each stroke. On his cock, I could take about three quarters of it into my mouth before the head bumped against the back of my mouth. Eddie arched his hips into me as I took one long stroke after the other.
Then I brought my other hand to his balls and wrapped my fingers around them. I applied some gently pressure to the things and they shrank up to the base of his cock.
As I made one quick stroke after another on the shaft of his cock, I brought the hand that was at the base of it farther up and followed my mouth with it. It moved easily on the saliva slick surface, and several times, when I got to the head, I took my mouth all the way off the thing and rotated my closed hand around the glans. He moaned whenever I did it.
"Yeah, that guy really taught you good ... I'm about ready to shoot," he groaned after a while.
I went faster on him when he said that. I figured it was best to get it over with as soon as possible.
The arched his hips farther into me and I went back and forth on his cock as fast as I could.
Finally, I felt his cock start to quiver and he let out a loud, animalistic shout. I'm positive that his wife heard it even over the noise of the television set downstairs.
I kept up the movement of my mouth as one burst of the stuff after the other jetted out of the hole at the end of his cock. When the last dribbles had emerged, I stopped moving my mouth and held it still just over the glans. Then I took the index finger of the hand that had been around his balls and pressed it against the tube on the underside of his cock. I brought the finger slowly up the tube to force the stuff that hadn't come out into my mouth.
I held his cock in my mouth until the thing lost its rigidity, then I let it slip out. It glistened in the light from the mixture of my saliva and his come. I didn't think he'd be back that night.
At least I was right about that.
But things went progressively downhill from that point on. I guess I should have pretended to be real naive or something, or just started him out on hand jobs. It wasn't long before he wanted to put the thing inside me. And he got what he wanted.
And since his cock wasn't quite so big as the other one I'd seen, it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. But it still took me a long time to get used to it.
And then his wife joined in.
He'd do things like screw me while he was eating her out and screw her while she went down on me. There were other combinations as well, and I guess he thought he was some kind of super-stud since he had two females in bed with him. But to me, he was just an ass-hole.
I finally ran away from that place, and when a cop brought me in, they sent me to another home.
At that place, they didn't want any sex from me, but they'd beat the hell out of me for the least infraction of the rules. And they had so damn many rules that you couldn't go for a whole day without breaking at least one of them. I think that's what they got off on.
I lasted about six months at that place before I couldn't take it anymore.
By that time, there was one home after the other. I attended so many schools that I'd get disoriented sometimes and forget where the hell I was. Sometimes I think that I was in a daze half the time. And there are whole weeks and months, maybe even years, that I don't remember very well.
Well, it was just after I was twelve that I started hooking.
It was no big deal as far as I was concerned. None of the people I lived with ever gave me diddly squat in terms of an allowance or anything, so the money was nice to have. For the first time in my life, I was able to buy myself a decent dress, one that hadn't been worn by somebody else.
Then I got busted.
What a fucking hassle that was. The foster parents I had at the time were upset as all hell, and the welfare people were talking about doing something else with me. Living in a foster home is bad enough, Doc, but living in a reform school is even worse, I'll tell you that, Doc.
Fortunately, they didn't do anything to me, and I promised that I'd never do it again. Those jokers in family court always fall for the contrite routine. I think the judge actually believed me.
But it wasn't a month until I got busted again.
God, was I ever pissed!
I mean, why do they bother to fuck with us hookers? We're just out there earning a few bucks and giving some frustrated suburban husbands what their closed-cunt wives won't.
We sure as hell don't hurt anyone, so I just don't see why all that fuss. I mean, there are surely a lot worse people on those streets than us, and they don't hassle them.
I think there are times when they just need to make their quota of arrests for that week, and they haven't caught enough real criminals like muggers and robbers, so they just go out and round up a bunch of hookers to make their statistics look good.
They're really a bunch of ass-holes, Doc, and half the time, I don't think they're any better than we are. The other half of the time, I think they're a lot worse than we are.
Fucking pigs, all of them.
Well, to get on with it , Doc, they never did much to me for hooking. I mean, Family Court never does THAT much to you, not even if you murder someone, so they always let me go.
At least they always did until I got nailed on that drug rap six months ago.
I was guilty all right, but it still wasn't fair.
I mean, I was just holding the stuff for another girl who worked the next block. It was an ounce of coke, and she gave me a C-note to pick it up for her. I guess I should say that she was going to give me a bill for picking it up. I never saw her again.
And since it was a whole ounce, they nailed for "intent to distribute." I mean, that wasn't fair, Doc. All I was going to do was to hand it to her. God knows what she was going to do with it.
And get this, Doc.
I ain't never touched any of that shit. I tried grass once, but I didn't like it.
I've seen what happens when you develop a coke habit. And God forbid you get hooked on horse. If that happens, you might as well chalk it up because you ain't goin' nowhere.
But even with coke, it can be pretty bad, Doc.
I've seen what happens. You keep taking more and more of the stuff to stay high all day long, and before you know it, you gotta spend more and more hours out there on the street picking up Johns so that you can pay for all that coke. And you hardly ever have a dime left over.
Some of those girls have five hundred dollar a day coke habits, Doc. I'm not shittin' you, Doc. I mean, that's a lot of tricks you gotta turn before you get that kinda money.
As far as I'm concerned, I don't want to have anything to do with that kind of thing. I'm willing to take my money and run. It's downright stupid to be blowing it all up your nose.
So I'm the one that ends up in fucking reform school for "intent to distribute."
Well, I guess the world isn't fair, and there ain't a whole lot I can do about it.
But like I said before, Doc, I roll with the punches. They can't keep me in that place for more than eighteen months, so I guess I can handle that if I have to.
I know that they'd let me out sooner if I behaved better, but I just don't want to give in to their rotten system. They're doing the same thing that everybody else does: they hold a carrot on a stick so that you won't make any waves and rock the boat.
Well, I say, "Fuck 'em all!"
I don't give a shit if it does mean that I have to spend more time in that shithole place. I'm not going to lay back and take it. Hell, it's more fun not to and it makes them do their jobs.
And to call that place a "Rehabilitation Facility" is the biggest joke of all.
Oh, that place can change you, all right. But not for the better.
I tell you, Doc, that place isn't much more than a finishing school for future lady crooks. I've learned so much that I'll be able to do just about anything by the time I get out.
I'll be able to break into apartments and houses, knock off liquor stores and not get caught and be able to lay my hands on a gun whenever I want to.
Not that I want to do any of those things when I leave.
I don't.
But if push comes to shove, I will. I can't believe these middle class ass-holes who would rather starve than steal. It doesn't make any sense. They can talk about their "pride" all they want to, but that sure as hell won't fill your stomach.
I imagine that I'll go back to hooking when I get out. What I think I'll do is try to save my money so that one of these days, I can open up a high class call girl service.
There's great money in that kind of thing, and I think that I can pull it off eventually. What I DON'T intend to do is blow it all on drugs and stuff like that. I mean, even if I can't open up a call girl service, I could always go into some other kind of business.
But if you want to know the truth, Doc, I kind of like the sex business.
I can't say that it's a constant turn-on or anything like that, but it's sort of fun. Maybe if I don't open a call girl service, I could open up a dirty book store or something along those lines. I don't know, but there's something about the whole field that intrigues me.
So far, most of the people that I've met who do that kind of work have been nice.
Of course, I'm mainly speaking of hookers, but most of them are pretty nice. I know they give a tough impression when you see them on the street, but that's just something that you have to do. I mean, if the John thinks you're a pushover, you're in deep trouble.
And the truth of the matter is that that's the kind of woman that most of the guys want. They want a whore to look like a whore. They aren't looking for the girl next door.
Hell, they probably married her and now she won't put out worth a damn, and she probably nags the shit out him to boot. That's why he's out on the street looking for something else.
Oh, once in a while, you find one that's just as mean and nasty as she looks, but that's the exception rather than the rule. Most of us are just out there trying to earn a living because we either can't or don't want to make it in the straight world.
And the money certainly isn't that bad. I mean, I make a lot more in one day than some secretary makes in two weeks. And I don't even have to be able to type, and I don't have to be getting coffee and running errands for some crappy boss either. I'd hate having to do that.
Sure, I get a few ass Johns once in a while, but that's the breaks of the game.
And there are always ways to deal with those bastards. I mean if some guy tries to start beating on me or something, all I have to do is go for his balls and pull as hard as I can. That usually puts an end to that kind of shit. But unlike some rotten boss, the ass is out of my life in just a few minutes. And I never give the fuckers their money back, either.
And you gotta watch out for the con men and the ripoff artists, but I can pretty much tell who those people are. I can't really explain it, Doc, but whenever one of those types approaches me, or if I approach him, a little red flag goes up in my mind.
Whenever something just doesn't seem right, I tell the guy to hit the road. And half the times that I've done it, I've gotten a whole string of verbal abuse afterwards. That's always a telltale sign that the guy was up to no good. And there have been other times when I've gotten the high sign from another girl and told the jerk to take a walk.
We try to look out for each other out there on the street, Doc.
I mean, there sure as hell ain't no one else that's going to look out for us, if you know what I mean, so we have to look out for each other. There's sort of a grapevine among us so that we usually know when the cops are on a rampage or there's a freaky John running around.
I know that to people like you, it's all sort of a nether world, but for us, it really isn't half bad. It ain't the sort of place where you're going to fall in love and get married, but then I'm certainly not interested in that at this point.
And I'm really not sure that I ever will be into that sort of thing.
CONCLUSION
I was encouraged by the fact that Linda B. had plans for the future and that she enjoyed her sessions here. Too many women in her situation live only for the present and set no goals for themselves. That makes treatment even more difficult than it normally is.
