Women have the unfortunate distinction of being forced to grow up in our society denying their natural sexual feelings.
When they finally reach the age where they can freely live their lives as an expression of their sexual inclinations, many of them have been so warped emotionally by childhood experiences, or by social taboos that have been forced on them that they cannot come to terms with their sexuality at all.
In the field of advertising in particular, we find examples of this problem. Many young women enter this career at an early age, and find the adult world of sex laid out before them, and many cannot cope with the demands of being a child in the adult world, expected to project the image of an adult in terms of sexual awareness, but before most of them really are able to become aware of what adult sexuality really means.
These case histories show in graphic detail just how sad this situation can be. Many of these women have left the career that once thrilled them, and they find now that they are unable to live full lives because of childhood disturbances that were left unchecked.
We think you will be touched by these sad creatures, forced to parade their bodies before our untiring eyes, while they themselves often languish in ignorance of their own personalities and their own sexuality.
CASE HISTORY ONE
SUBJECT: LISA L. AGE: Nineteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Lisa is a tall slim young woman with a figure that nears perfection. In addition, her face could easily be called flawless, with high cheekbones, a thick mane of long curly brown hair that flows like a waterfall down to about four inches below her shoulders, a taut slim waist, hips that gently curve out away from her body until they turn into a pair of long slender legs.
She has been aware of her good looks ever since she began to mature, which started at a rather young age.
She has no father, nor has she brothers or sisters. Her mother was possessed of a fierce determination that her daughter would profit by her good looks and early on pushed the girl in the direction of a modeling career, with obvious thoughts to an eventual break into films.
It all came true, almost as if Lisa's life had been written as a screenplay.
But the cost was severe.
Learning so young that what mattered was to become skilled at portraying others, or striking a pose that gave off a desired attitude tended to prevent her from developing as an individual.
Also, her early initiation into the adult world of sex has precluded any normal exposure to the fundamental experience of love.
Thus, when Lisa came to visit me, now a young woman of twenty-three, she was quite emotionally disturbed. On the outside, she appeared to be unlike any other vision of beauty turned out by the media complex.
Tastefully dressed, in a way that would inspire one to imagine the figure beneath the clothes. Her breasts swung gently beneath a full blouse that, rather than molding itself to her form, instead hinted at it, suggested shapes, lines, curves.
A most tantalizing image.
She was nervous, simply knocked, entered with a small smile and took her seat. After a few introductory questions concerning her past life and pertinent data, we turned to the subject of sex. Her monologue takes up as this subject was being discussed.
The first time I fucked a guy, he was ... let's see ... I guess he was forty years older than me.
His name was John Lindstrom and he was the vice president of the modeling agency I started working for right after I came to New York with my mother.
You have to understand something. About my mother, that is.
She pushed me. Every step of the way, she was right behind me with her hands planted firmly on my ass and making sure I went in the direction she planned for me to go in.
It was something that I couldn't question, and for a long time it never even entered my mind to question her. She was my mother. Period. It didn't seem like a complicated issue for me back then.
One of the reasons, I guess is that I was so taken by all the sudden changes in my life. All of a sudden I had gone from being a small-town girl from the south to being known nationally and even becoming famous.
I remember the first time I saw my picture in TIME magazine ... let me tell you I thought I was just about the greatest thing that had ever happened. I really loved it at the time.
That's why I never questioned my mother, because as far as I could tell, everything she'd ever done for me had been to my benefit.
We were living in a really neat apartment in the Village, which I was paying for but didn't really think about in those terms....
And we went to all kinds of neat parties, and met all kinds of famous people. I got to meet movie stars that I'd had crushes on all through grammar school and found out that some of them had already developed crushes on me!
Except that I was only fifteen!
And some of them were over thirty!
And then there was John Lindstrom.
He was fifty-five. Still pretty young if you're in good shape, which he was.
But just thinking about that body now gives me the shivers. I mean, good shape is one thing, but fifty-five year old skin is another.
But my mother encouraged me.
"You treat Mr. Lindstrom nice," she'd tell me. "And if you want to go to that party he invited you to, you should feel free to go."
"But Mom," I protested, "why won't you be going too?"
"I told you dear, I have a date that night with that actor I told you about, but listen don't you worry, you'll have a great time."
It was a new kind of perfume. He called it 'Opium' and it went for a hundred dollars an ounce!
Can you believe that shit?
Well, there was going to be this huge yacht that had been rented and it was made up like a giant Chinese junk, complete with what was rumored to be a torture room with real naked Chinese masters to administer the needles ... you get the idea. It was, as they say, decadent in the extreme.
And Mr. Lindstrom had mentioned this to me a couple of times and then had mentioned it to my mother.
Now, I'd only been working for them for a short time, maybe a month, two months at the very most.
And they were already just about the number one agency in the city. I d gotten famous overnight and they rode along on my coattails.
So you can see that they had some interest in my future.
But I began to suspect that good old John Lindstrom had a little more personal interest in me, it you catch my drift.
He really pushed going to this party, and then I realized that he just wanted to be seen with me. It didn't really matter if he was really involved with me, he just wanted everyone to think he "might' be involved with me. A fifteen year old girl.
Well, of course, no one was involved with me. Yet.
And there had been a good deal of publicity in promoting my image as the young innocent seductress, devastating yet pure.
And I was good at it, too. You used to always read speculation in the gossip columns about what I was up to. No one would ever come out and actually say that I might be messing around, but they sure painted scenes that left open the possibility in the readers' minds.
John Lindstrom wanted to plug into that media outlet too, and he knew that I'd get him there instantly. Face it, even a successful agency isnt front page news and there are always a lot more interesting celebrity types than a fifty-five year old vice-president.
But then I found out he had much more in mind.
It was about a week before the party, and he told me that he wanted to discuss some upcoming plans with my mother and me, and that we could come over to his place for dinner.
Well, at the last minute, my mother had to do something else.
That left me all alone with him.
I wasn't really apprehensive on the cab ride over to his East Side townhouse, but I was certainly aware that he was fascinated by me, and by my body.
"Come in, Lisa," he told me as he opened the door to the most fabulous apartment I'd ever been in. It was huge, with a large window overlooking Central Park.
He had a really fine art collection too. Standard New York moderately rich. Not rich enough to buy a whole country, but enough to do just about anything he wanted in New York City, which for some is more than enough.
The dinner was fabulous, but I kept wondering when he'd stop staring at my tits and start talking about my immediate future. As it turned out, he never did.
"Why don't we go into the living room, Lisa?" he suggested after the meal was over. I had been getting a little uncomfortable because all through the meal he just sat there and watched my boobs.
Now, I realize that they are one of my best assets, but I was alone with this man and had gone everywhere with my mother until now. When we got into the living room, I found out what he had in mind.
"If you don't mind, Lisa, I'd like to take a few pictures of you. Try out a few ideas I've been kicking around."
I was game. After-all, it was my job to pose for pictures.
Then he suggested that I unbutton my blouse all the way to my waist. I did it but made sure that I kept my breasts covered.
He had his equipment set up and started to walk around me, taking random shots of me from all angles.
Then he walked up to me and opened my blouse, exposing my breasts. He did it in such a matter-of-fact manner that I wasn't even shocked until after he had done it. I had never posed even partially nude before.
He took a few more pictures and then he suggested that I take my shirt off and unzip my pants.
"Are you sure you want me to do that, Mr. Lindstrom?" I asked.
"Oh yes. Yes. I think we need to round out your folder of resume shots."
So I did and he started to breath a lot heavier. He was just staring at me and I asked him why he wasn't taking anymore pictures of me.
"Oh I am, I am Lisa. I'm photographing you with my mind."
That sounded weird and I told him so.
"Weird?" He looked surprised. "Why do you say that? You're a beautiful woman and I want to remember you just like this."
"Well, Mr. Lindstrom, this doesn't seem very professional to me. I mean, don't you have staff photographers for this sort of thing?"
He had a peculiar look in his eye as he told me that I deserved special attention, attention that only he could give me.
Then he jumped me.
He grabbed my tits and started rubbing his hands all over them and rubbing his cock against my leg. I jumped away but he caught hold of my arm and pulled me back to him. His hand was down my pants and I could feel his fingers rushing through my pubic hair and slipping down inside my cunt, spreading my lips apart and pushing inside.
"Oh, gosh, Mr. Lindstrom, you shouldn't do that," I told him, suddenly feeling afraid. But it was also kind of exciting in a way, because I'd expected him to do this sometime, and now that he was, it was almost a kind of relief.
He pulled my pants down and started to squeeze my tits with one hand while he pushed into my pussy with his other.
It was real tight, even for just one finger, and I started to cry a little, but it just seemed to excite him more.
Then he had his cock against my bare leg. It was sticking out between the flaps of his robe and it was amazingly hard. I don't know why, exactly, because I'd never seen an erect cock before, but I felt like I knew what to do with it and just reached down and wrapped my fingers around it.
He started to groan.
"Yes! Do that some more!
I was still scared, but like I said, everything was still so new to me that it was more a case of just being confused about a strange situation than really being scared.
But then he threw me down on the carpet. It was a thick shag, and so I wasn't hurt or anything, but he was so forceful it scared me. He just about fell on me and stuck his heavy log right up against my pussy lips.
I don't know if it was me dripping my cunt juice between the lips of my pussy or if it was his own cock drooling all over the place, but it felt real wet.
Then he started to press into me.
That's when I started to cry, then cry harder, then absolutely scream.
I couldn't believe how much it hurt. For a moment, I hated him and hated my mother and wanted to die. I felt like I was being turned inside out.
I guess that's pretty much the story with every virgin when they get their cherry popped, but at the time I felt like no one had ever felt pain like I was feeling it then.
But he didn't stop or anything, he just kept on pushing it into me. I realize now that the term for it is just 'poor technique' but at the time I simply assumed that sex was something that men liked and that hurt women.
Then his cock was inside me. It started to move around, deeper and deeper until I felt like I was being torn apart.
But something prompted me to start scratching my clitoris, maybe just remembering some of the porn books I'd seen, and reading how the women always scratched their clits when they were being fucked and that really set me off.
The combination of pain, fear and then the stimulation of my clit took me up all at once to a really heavy orgasm. I had masturbated before and knew what was going on, but I'd never felt an orgasm rip through all my muscles like that before. It was amazing.
Then, it was over and his jism was oozing out of my pussy.
"That sure wasn't what I expected when I came over here, Mr. Lindstrom. Boy, you sure surprised me."
INTERVIEW TWO
The party he took me to was my official 'coming out' sort of.
I was written up in every paper in New York and Los Angeles, in addition to London, Paris, Berlin and Monaco.
The link with John Lindstrom was firmly planted. Just as he'd suspected, it enhanced my image immensely.
I did a series of commercials on TV for jeans. Two of them were banned because I kept talking about not wearing underwear and about how bunches of different things had been down inside them with me ... stuff like that. Remember, I was still just fifteen here and so it was pretty controversial.
But it locked my name into the top ranks of media fame.
That's when I got the movie part.
My mother had been working her ass off to get me introduced to some directors and finally one of them took the bait.
Which, in case you hadn't guessed, was me.
She was real excited when I told her that I'd been raped by John Lindstrom.
"Don't think of it like that," she told me, "think of it like it was just something you did to prepare for your job. Some people go to college. You go to bed. With men who can help you."
Pretty nifty mom, huh?
But you have to give her credit, she got results.
For instance, this director that she fixed me up with finally was one who she chose herself. Of course, there were all kinds of people lining up to have a shot at me, but none of them could get past her protective shield.
Then she met Gerrard Jarret, a kind of exotic fringe-type who had done some impressive films that went nowhere and was hungry for a break. So was my mother.
She handed me over to him like an advance payment.
He was a very serious film maker, but just a little kinky. So while I'd prepare for my first film role during the day, I'd suck his cock at night, with my hands tied to a silk scarf wrapped around a shining gold hook that protruded from his living room wall.
That usually where he kept me, strung up on this hook in his living room.
Occasionally he'd get into whipping me, but usually he just wanted me to suck his cock.
I soon realized that the reason was that he was half impotent. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to fuck my cunt properly, and like everyone, he was taken by my mythical image and felt that he couldn't live up to my expectations.
What a joke. I'd gone to bed with one old man who couldn't have worked up a kink if he'd wanted to, and still didn't know anything about real healthy sex.
But he sure needed some help.
"Why don't you take me off this silly thing?" I suggested one evening. He'd just finished the screenplay that day and the financing for the movie had already been completed. I was spending all my time with him now, though we were still keeping it a pretty good secret.
But each night, I'd take a cab to his apartment and sneak in through the basement entrance. This way, we kept it a secret for a long time.
He usually would kiss me, slowly undress me, pausing at my breasts to suck and lick them, then dipping down to play with my pussy.
But he always would hang me on his silly hook and then he would make me suck his cock. Sometimes he would stand on a chair, so that I could reach him, sometimes he would tie me to other things, but always, I would be tied and I would suck his cock and though he didn't always get real hard, he always came in my mouth.
But I got tired of it one night and so I told him so.
"But how will I get hard?" he asked.
"I'll get you hard," I promised, and finally he untied me.
"Come with me," I said, trying to sound as sexy as the character I was supposed to play in his movie.
I took him by the hand and led him into his bedroom. Then, I started to act like a little girl.
I started talking in my Shirley Temple accent.
"Gosh, Gerrard," I said in a mock earnest voice, "you sure do have a problem. I wish I could help."
Then I scrunched up my forehead, looking like I was trying to think of a solution to his problem.
He couldn't help but laugh at me (after all, I am a good actress) and when he started to relax, I grabbed hold of his soft cock.
"Golly gee," I said, think of Little Miss Marker and The Good Ship Lolly-pop, "I'll bet this is just like a fencepost when it gets hard," and I gave it a squeeze.
He looked at me in amusement.
"Awww ... you're tired, aren't you? Well, that's ok, because I'm going to do all the work for you."
He laughed again and I felt his cock start to get a little hard.
"See," I said, my cheeks beaming, "all you need is a little helping hand, huh?"
"Bravo, bravo," he applauded when I'd finished my performance.
"Gee wil-likers, I guess I'm getting a standing ovation, huh?"
Of course, there was only one spectator, beside Gerrard and myself, but there was no question that he was standing. And at attention too.
Then Gerrard kissed me.
"You're magic," he said softly.
"You're hard," I responded, rubbing my pussy against his stiff rod.
"I'm also horny," he told me and at once stuck the head of his newly swollen cock inside my pussy. It was so slippery that I couldn't feel him at first and he was afraid he was going to go soft again, but then as he started to fuck me harder, the friction increased.
It was good sex, but finally I got disappointed with him, because he never did get over his fear of fucking me, even though there were moments like that one. And he really did only want me to help his career.
It did.
The movie established him as a serious and successful director.
And it made me an international sensation.
Now, whenever the papers talked about me and other men, they didn't even bother to mention my mother, as if to indicate that I was already on my own. I wasn't, but I was getting handed around a lot, and stories started to leak out.
I was, as they say, tainted by scandal.
I was also getting parts offered to me every time I picked up the phone.
Things got out of hand and my mother could no longer manage me, so she turned me over to a professional agent who immediately squeezed her out. She kept a tight hold on the money, of course, but she no longer had any say about my career.
And what a career it would have been too.
If it hadn't been for that stupid kid who got pissed at his girl friend.
See, this guy was a caterer at a party I went to, and ... well, one of the directors I was sleeping with started talking to one of the producers I had been sleeping with, and they were joined by an actor who wanted to sleep with me ... well, things got strange.
By four o'clock in the morning, I was down in the basement of this house and about fifteen strange men were all fucking me and whipping me. I still remember the look on the guy's face who was fucking me right when the police burst in.
But, you know all about that already, don't you doctor. You probably read about it in the papers. A picture of me standing there naked with welts across my back made it to the cover of NEWSWEEK.
It was the biggest scandal to rock the industry in years.
It also brought my career to a halt.
Which is why I'm making porn films today. That's my problem, doctor, that I'm not doing something that I can get any satisfaction out of. I want to be back in the limelight, back on top.
Instead, I spread my pussy for unlimited cocks all day long. It's disgusting. But the money's not bad. By the way Doc, how'd you like to fuck?
CONCLUSION
Lisa was obviously a girl who had deep seated difficulties adjusting to adult life due to the fact that she never was allowed to pass normally through childhood. And the so-called reward, her fame was also taken from her. She will need years of intensive counseling and therapy.
CASE HISTORY TWO
SUBJECT: Stephanie S. AGE: Nineteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Stephanie is a bright, pretty young girl who simply cannot resist going to bed with the men who photograph her. This creates problems because, as she puts it, a certain professional distance is always good in a job like hers and she feels that she loses her objectivity with her lovers.
Stephanie was dressed in a tight fitting halter when she came for our first interview. The tiny flaps of material scarcely contained her two enormous breasts. I couldn't help but think she'd purposely selected an outfit such as this to appear as provocative as possible.
Let me give you an example of what happens during one of my photo sessions, doctor. Just last week, I was supposed to pose for one of the most famous photographers in the business. It was really a big opportunity for me, because he has a reputation of only posing girls who are 'special', if you know what I mean and I was really tickled that he'd asked me to pose for him.
So I met him at his studio, and we sat around for a few minutes talking and getting acquainted. You really develope a personal relationship with a photographer if you get involved with a series of sessions, and sometimes it takes several sessions before you really start getting good results. It's all part of the energy flowing back and forth between the two of you. So usually, photographers will take time to just sort of put things on a friendly basis.
But even while we were chatting about the weather and the city and silly things like that, I couldn't help myself. I started to fantasize him ripping my clothes off and throwing me to the floor of his studio and raping me right there.
I wanted to feel his cock inside me, and I wanted to feel it in me right away. Needless to say, feelings like that in the first moments of a relationship that's supposed to be somewhat professional can be a problem.
But I tried to contain myself.
"Shall we get started," he suggested.
He first took me into a room that was decorated like an ordinary living room. Well, ordinary for someone who makes a six-figure salary, but then who'd want to look at pictures of someone posing in a dingy kitchen with lots of dirty dishes around and clothes scattered around the floors? I wouldn't. The idea is to be elegant. That's the word you always hear in this kind of work. People ask, "Yes, but is it elegant?"
This room sure was. There was a fireplace and a thick shag carpet and lots of strange abstract pieces of art tastefully placed. It didn't really look like a real living room, but the furniture was placed so that the camera angles would make it look natural.
I sat on the sofa and went through my paces, trying to look by turns, complex, pensive, thoughtful, wistful, mournful ... you get the idea.
He had me dress in a variety of different gowns, robes and simple outfits, all with the oh-so-necessary look of 'elegance'.
I really enjoy that part of my work. I like to pose as someone else, someone with a lifestyle different from my own and try to look like I belong there. It's not an easy trick and I'm good at it.
But the whole time I was shifting my positions here and there, curling up in front of the fire, stretching back on the couch, slouched in a chair with my legs flung over the arm rest, leaning against the wall with my dark mysterious eyes fixed right on the camera ... no matter what I did, I could only think about having him fuck me.
I wanted to suck his cock.
Usually a session like this will last maybe a couple of hours, but sometimes if the vibes are really great, you'll just keep on going. When the moment is right, you don't want to waste it.
So we'd been going at it for quite awhile, when we started to move into more erotic poses.
He gave me a sheer blouse and told me to take off my bra before putting it on. Then he gave me a pair of cut-off jeans, which were very, very short, and topped it off with gold dangling earrings and high heels. It was a sexy outfit, no doubt about it.
I was sitting in front of the fire, sipping a glass of champagne. He studied me for a moment and then moved closer.
"Do you mind?" he asked in an expressionless voice and then he adjusted my breasts and the angle of my arm so that my nipples would be half hidden and half exposed by the way my arm cut between my breasts and the camera.
The second he touched me, I let out a tiny yelp.
"Sorry," he said, looking kind of embarrassed.
"Oh, that's all right. I don't mind, really I don't." Then, before I could even think about what I was saying, I purred at him, "You can do anything you want to."
He gave me a sharp look, said nothing and continued to snap the shutter, but I could see a growing bulge in his crotch.
That did it! I knew now that there was no way that I could let that beautiful stiff prick stay hidden from my hungry eyes much longer. I was showing my body off, so should he.
Pretty soon, I was really feeling wet between my legs.
"Would you like to take some pictures of me in the nude?" I asked.
He gave me another sharp look, with a faint grin at the corners of his mouth.
"Am I mistaken, or are you trying to seduce me?"
"Why, whatever gave you that idea?" I asked sweetly, pulling my cut-offs down my legs and stepping out of them.
For one thing, the fact that you seem to be having a little difficulty keeping your mind on the business at hand," he answered in a mildly disapproving voice.
Well, I felt like I'd been properly chastised, arid was feeling a little low when he surprised me.
"But now that you mention it, yes, I would very much like to take some pictures of you in the nude."
I unbuttoned the blouse he'd given me to wear, although my boobs had already been swinging freely in front of his eyes for a long time.
Then, when I was naked, I thought, now he'll jump me.
But he didn't, just kept on being professional about the whole situation, telling me patiently how he wanted me to arrange my legs, my arms, my breasts, what kind of look he wanted me to put on my face ... stuff like that.
I could see that drastic measures were going to be called for, and so one time when he came close to me, I let my hand brush across his crotch. That rattled his cage for just a moment, and I knew then that he was getting hot for me, especially because he started making me do things that were more and more pornographic.
First he had me spread my legs for the camera, but hide my pussy with a well placed hand. Then he had me expose a little of the shimmering lips opening between my legs.
Then he suggested that I masturbate myself to orgasm.
"Really?" I asked, wishing that he would do it for me.
"Yes, really. Just forget that I'm here. I want to get a genuine record of a complete act of masturbation.
I instantly started to play with my pussy. First, I started to lightly stroke my pubic hair. It's thick, but almost blonde and very soft and smooth. Not kinky like darker haired women.
So as I stroked my pussy, he brought his camera in real close to catch each fold of skin, each wet membrane, then he would move away to get my entire body and face.
I started to tickle my clitoris and felt the old magic in my fingertip. At least, that's how it felt as I played with the tiny bud of nerve endings. I felt it get harder and harder as I worked it back and forth between the folds of skin. Then I opened my outer cunt lips and started to stroke the petal-like flaps of skin underneath. I felt my juices start to flow fast and furious.
All the while, that steady click click click filled the room. He gave no directions, simply allowed me to bring myself to orgasm in whatever way I preferred.
That way was to stroke my clitoris for about fifteen minutes, bringing myself to a fast series of mini-orgasms, and then to start digging my fingers in and out of my cunt hole, faster and faster, stretching all the loose skin until it felt tight, alternating with my clitoris until I burst out in a blazing come.
It works every time, but this particular evening, it wasn't enough. I tried and tried, but the fantasy of him was too great. I wanted him to be stroking my pussy, wanted him to be fondling my breasts, wanted him to be plunging his stiff cock in and out of my cunt instead of me sticking my fingers in and out.
But I was hot anyway. My juice was flowing thick as a river. I saw him bring the lens of his camera down real close to my cunt to capture the reflection of the candle as it bounced off each golden drop of pussy nectar that collected on my pubic hair.
I was almost at an orgasm, but couldn't propel myself over the edge. I needed help.
I looked him squarely in the eye.
"I could sure use some help on this," I told him.
"So," he answered. "I was right. You are trying to seduce me."
"Yeah," I answered, feeling a little sheepish. "I guess maybe I am."
"Well, I'm not sure what I think about that."
"I don't give a damn what you think about it. What I want to know is, what are you going to do about it?"
"Well," he said, "it's hard to ignore such a genuine call for help."
And then he was down on his knees and licking my pussy with his expert tongue.
I felt the tip slither along my crack, tickling right at the topmost surface, sending little darts of sensation rippling all along the inner walls and membranes of my pussy and rushing up to fill my breasts.
He began to flick his tongue right on top of my clitoris.
Back and forth, fast as hummingbird wings, like a satin buzz-saw.
That's what it felt like, a satin buzz-saw!
And I must have been closer to coming than I'd thought, because no sooner had he started than I felt my muscles start to go into wild spasms of ecstasy, contracting of their own accord, with no prompting from me.
My body flipped over to auto-pilot and I was just along for the ride, a ride fueled by the steady motion of his tongue against my clit.
Never have I had such a tongue lashing!
I shook with agonized pleasure, feeling like he was wringing every last writhing gasp from my lungs, every contraction my muscles were capable of.
He didn't let up, or slow down or anything, just kept it going, and kept me right at the peak of orgasm for what seemed like forever.
Then, he replaced his tongue with a wildly wiggling finger and it had exactly the same result.
My orgasm kept rolling over me like a violent ocean, and I kept coming like I was some kind of orgasm machine.
Then he finally put his camera down and seemed like he had decided to get serious. He unbuttoned his shirt and let it slip to the floor. Then he unbuckled his belt and opened his pants.
I could see his throbbing cock . curled up between his legs and as soon as his pants were down it popped out like a switch blade.
And he was ready for it to cut right through me too! He looked down at me and grinned.
"Since you've already got me totally distracted...."
"I sure hope so," I replied, spreading my legs and waiting for his thick cock.
"I love cocks," I told him, "and just now, I really love yours. Why don't you fuck me with it."
"Well, that's just what I had in mind," he said, and proceeded to prove it.
The first thrust was strong enough to send him crashing right through me, all the way to the bottom of my cunt. I felt the head of his cock stretching against the back wall of my cunt and groaned.
Then he pulled out. All the way out.
"What's the matter," I asked, thinking he had only been teasing me and wasn't going to fuck me after all.
But he only wanted to repeat his crashing thrust through my cunt flesh.
He held his cock poised like a spear at the opening to my cunt lips and then rammed back into me again.
SLAP!! went his hips against my crotch.
Then he pulled out for a third time.
By now, I was starting to lose control. wanted more of what I'd already felt and I wanted it in hot, steady and very steady doses. I wanted that hot cock plowing in and out of me without let up. I wanted to be fucked till I lost consciousness.
He stuck it to me again.
It felt like a log was piling up my canal.
Then he took one of my breasts and bit down on it with his teeth.
The pain blew through me like the blast of a rocket. I felt my eyes glaze over and my breath grow weak.
It hurt sooo bad, I couldn't believe it.
But then he got ready to do it again and I felt a tingle race through my nerve endings. Shivers crept up and down my spine and goose bumps broke out on my skin.
He bit the tit.
Pain blasted my brain.
And I came.
And came in a flood. My cunt juice was everywhere.
It coated his balls, ran freely down my legs, and had my soft bush squishing like a filled sponge.
He fucked like a demon, like a man possessed. He was too, possessed of a stiff piece of meat that had me impaled and senseless.
In and out, in and out.
Out and in, out and in.
Deeper and deeper.
Harder and harder.
I couldn't believe how hard he fucked me.
I was in ecstasy.
I was in another world.
But one world I wasn't in at that moment was the one I was supposed to be in which was the world of a first rate model. I wasn't posing for anything just then except his wild cock digging a trench between my legs.
He kept on fucking me, even after he came in my pussy. I could tell he had come because I felt his hot wad filling my empty hole.
Thick white gobs of the goo squirted out of my cunt as his cock sloshed through the swampy mess, sticky white hot gobs of fuck cream and every bit of it felt wonderful.
I wanted to be fucked all night by his cock, but finally he could maintain his erection no longer.
"Well," he told me when he had pulled his soft snake out of my burning pussy at last, "I guess we didn't get as much accomplished as we should have."
"On the contrary," I said sweetly into his ear, "we got a lot more than I'd hoped for."
INTERVIEW TWO
Her second interview was similar to the first. She was trying to acquaint me with the nature of her problem, so it seemed logical to have her give me another description of one of her sessions that were undermined by her uncontrollable lust.
I was on my way to an island in the Caribbean. We were going to spend an entire week on the beach and among the hills taking pictures of me in the great outdoors.
The photographer was a friend of mine which made it easier. Or so I thought. I figured that I already knew this person and simply had a platonic relationship with him, so I probably wouldn't suddenly become aroused in the middle of a photo session.
How wrong that proved to be.
The first day, we went out to the beach at dawn. I was wearing a string bikini. There were two postage stamp sized patches of cloth covering my nipples and a slightly larger patch covering my crotch.
When I first tried it on, too much of my pubic hair was showing at the edges, so I had to shave some of it off, leaving only a thin strip of hair right over my slit.
The bathing suit bottom was so small that I probably couldn't have worn it in this country, at least not at a public beach. It kept sliding up into the crack of my pussy and I had to constantly rearrange it, so I wouldn't appear too obscene in the pictures. Once again, though, that was just what my photographer had in mind.
He actually wanted to get into some hard-core pornography, but I wasn't ready for that yet.
But he didn't tell me that until later in the week. This first day, we were just going to shoot some fun-in-the-sun-and-surf type pictures.
"Why don't you just walk out into the waves, and play around. Look as natural as you can."
I took a step into the water. It felt cold and icy. The sun. was just coming up out on the horizon and the air was still chilly.
As I walked further out, I felt the cold line of the water creeping up my legs until it was lapping at my pussy.
I felt like I'd have rather had a tongue lapping there, but so far didn't really feel any urge to fuck my friend. He stood on the shore with his camera constantly clicking away.
All of a sudden a big wave caught me by surprise.
The water rolled around my body, flowed in between my halter and my breasts and easily lifted the skimpy top right off my tits.
They flopped around in the surf like two big playful dolphins. I noticed that my friend was bring his zoom lens into tight focus.
Suddenly, it was as if I could feel the camera actually touching me. It wasn't that John was staring at my bare breasts, it was the fact that there was a camera focused on them, capturing them on film, freezing them in motion. That intrigued me. It also turned me on.
I made no move to readjust my bathing suit and just kept on playing in the waves like I wasn't even aware that my tits were flopping freely in the waves.
Then I floated back towards the shore, and John suggested that I take the rest of my suit off too.
."You don't waste any time getting down to business, do you?" I asked with a sly grin on my face.
He had me sitting the the sand with my legs opened on the sea, letting the waves roll up one by one and fill my pussy, tickle my clit with the flowing current roll back and be replaced by another.
I felt the constant ebb and flow of the tide with my cunt. In and out, up and down the sand, back and forth over my pussy, like a giant hand stroking me to an orgasm. But I didn't come. I only developed a very strong desire to.
John seemed absorbed in his work, but then I thought, his work involved my naked body and I had a lot of faith in my body's ability to work men up into a frenzy.
"Tell me, John," I asked coyly, "what are you think about right now?"
"I'm thinking about a soft bed with clean sheets and a lovely woman stretched out naked next to me."
"Really?" I was starting to really want him to fuck me.
"Did you have anyone in mind?" I asked.
He put down his camera for a second and looked at me surprised. We had never before been anything but good friends. He'd never even held my hand. It slowly dawned on me that he might not have had any thoughts about fucking me at all. He may have thought this trip was just a business trip and nothing more.
"Are you serious?"
"About what?" I asked.
"About whether or not I had anyone in particular in mind."
"Yeah, I was serious."
"Isn't it obvious?"
I looked at his crotch and saw what he meant. His bathing suit was starting to stick straight out.
"Well, now that you mention it...."
I leaned back in the sand and let my legs spread apart as wide as they could.
"Why don't you focus on this for awhile."
"I have been."
"That's not what I meant."
"Oh," he said, walked up to the beach and carefully put his camera back into its case, slipped out of his suit and carried that huge erection back down to where I still lay in the water with my legs spread apart. I wanted that cock in me.
He wanted to stick it in me. Sounds like a perfect combination, right?
Well, maybe half-right.
We had never gotten at all physical with each other before, and at first it felt kind of strange.
But then he started to finger my pussy and kiss my breasts and soon I was building to an orgasm.
He had sensitive fingers, a very delicate touch and knew how to find the most fragile spots on a woman's body.
"John, you surprise me. If I'd known, I'd have dragged you into bed long ago."
"Face it Stephanie," he said. "You can't fuck a man unless he's taking your picture."
"Well, we have a whole week of picture taking, don't we."
"That's right."
That's when I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his hips.
His hard cock was resting right against my pussy, and each time he breathed, the slight motion of his body pressed the head into my clitoris.
That, combined with the tide flowing in and out and around my cunt and clitoris kept getting me hotter and hotter, even if the water still was cold.
The sun was out now, and felt warm. But I wanted to be warmed up from his cock.
"Fuck me, John. Fuck me now. I want to feel your cock inside me. I want to feel you lick my asshole, lick my cunt, lick my tits...."
He still acted like he couldn't believe he was actually going to fuck me.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" he asked.
"Well, I'll tell you. I just got the idea today and it already feels like I've been waiting longer. Fuck me, damn you, fuck me now!"
Well, he didn't need any further prompting. He pushed me back in the sand and rode in on the next wave. Straight in. My cunt was filled with cock and sea water. The feeling was strange, because the sea water tended to wash away my own cunt juice. That made his cock feel a lot more intense as it slid back and forth in and out of my cunt. The friction was greater.
"That feels great. I've never fucked in the ocean before," I told him.
He, on the other hand didn't seem to be much aware of anything, except that he was fucking a cunt that he hadn't expected to fuck before and finding that it was great.
His eyes were closed, he was breathing hard and his big dick was sliding in and out like a piston.
In and out, in and out.
Just like the tide. An ocean of fucking.
He started to pound harder and I felt the head of his prick pull at the lips of my cunt as it rammed in and out of me.
His balls were slapping madly against my cunt, and each time the waves rolled over us, I could feel my clitoris throb.
It was really amazing, because I'd never wanted to fuck John before.
Now I never wanted to stop fucking him.
On and on we fucked.
In and out, in and out.
He kept pounding at my pussy and I could feel myself moving ever closer to orgasm. My body started to go tense, my brain started to black out and the only thing I could feel was my cunt with that big prick plunging in and ripping back out.
When I did come, I went crazy, digging my fingernails through his skin. He groaned and his hips bucked against my own.
We came together in a mad orgy of fucking.
The sun felt good on my skin. The sea water felt cleansing.
But as soon as we got back to the hotel, I lost all my desire for him.
He seemed kind of hurt, but I could only want him when I was posing for him.
That's always the way it is. I guess I'll just have to find another line of work if it continues.
CONCLUSION
Stephanie's problem is due to the nature of her career, which requires her to put on a false front all the time. In fact, when she is most successful at what she does, it's when she is also the most false.
It is this way with her sex. The only time she can feel like a sexual being is when she is in a situation where she has to project an air of sexuality.
When she can get into the act of it, when she can create the image of sexuality, she becomes her image. But when she is left with only her own self, she cannot simply be what she truly is.
Many years of therapy and treatment are called for. Heavy drugs will have to be prescribed.
CASE HISTORY THREE
SUBJECT: Wanda M. AGE: Nineteen
INTERVIEW ONE
Wanda was a child star. Of porno movies. She found herself an orphan at an early age and learned to survive on the streets. It was inevitable that she would wind up in the clutches of one of the many low-life types who exploit such innocence and simple beauty.
Wanda no longer makes that type of film and she hopes one day for a career in legitimate theatre, but the past has etched an indelible scar across her psyche.
Her appearance was a surprise. For one who had experienced such a raw side of life at such an early age, she was now quite conservatively dressed. But her beautiful figure couldn't be hidden totally'. Nor should she want to. I decided early on that she needed to become comfortable with the idea of herself as a total human being and stop feeling guilt for a past she couldn't help anyway. Thus, the best place to start was with the type of experiences that were now causing the mental block.
My first movies were just quick home video affairs. The guy I was living with would just set up two cameras focused at us from different points of view and then we'd just fuck while he left the tape recorder running.
Later, he would edit them and add more shots as he thought they were needed, particularly close-up shots of his cock plowing in and out of my pussy. I used to really get off on watching the finished cut when he'd play it back. It was a turn on to see your own pussy right there on the television screen, in living color and stereo sound.
And I looked pretty good, too. My breasts started developing when I was still a little girl and they just kept getting bigger all through my teen years, and I don't even know if they've stopped growing yet. I don't really think they have because my sweaters keep getting tighter on me and my waist is staying the same size.
But I knew I looked pretty sexy. I didn't know that selling those things was against the law, because I was so young, but at first I really enjoyed making them.
In the beginning, it was just Frank and me. Frank was the guy I lived with who had the home video set-up. It had always been just sort of a hobby for him. He had a whole library of tapes of him fucking different women. Sometimes he would film them without their knowledge, but most often, they were turned on by the idea of fucking on television.
I know I was. And it was so easy to make finished tapes too!
Things started to pick up when a friend of Frank's mentioned that he knew someone who would buy his tapes and turn them into cassettes, if Frank would promise to turn them out with predictable consistency.
Frank said that would be easy and so we made it a point to fuck two or three times a day, always with the tape machine running.
We produced a whole bunch of tapes with just us fucking each other ... you know, cock in cunt straight porn types of things. But after awhile, the guy paying us to film ourselves fucking got tired of the same old stuff.
"Use your imagination," he told Frank.
"What do you mean?" asked Frank.
"Kid, if you have to ask, you wouldn't understand it if I explained it to you."
Well, that got Frank kind of mad.
"Who does he think he is, telling me I have no imagination!
So that night, I found myself tied to a chair.
Frank leaned me over it from the back, so that my body bent at the stomach across the back rest with my head almost touching the seat.
Then he pulled my legs forward as far as they would go and tied my ankles to the front legs of the chair.
My arms he pulled back as far as they would go and tied them to the back legs of the chair.
My ass was sticking straight up at his face.
My pussy was exposed.
He filmed the whole process of tieing me up, then changed the cameras around so that they would get a closer view of the upcoming action.
"We're going to have to repeat this scene a lot of times," he told me, "because I want to get a lot of different angles on this stuff."
I wasn't sure what he was talking about, but I had an idea.
I was right. The CRACK-K of his belt across my bare back proved that beyond a doubt.
"Ouch! That hurt!"
"Shhh, we're on camera."
"Oh fuck the camera."
"Hey, that's not a bad idea. They might pay pretty good for that."
He cracked his belt across my back again, a little lower this time.
He was trying to hurt me. I could tell because he was succeeding.
"You don't need to hit me that hard," I told him.
"Yes I do," he assured me. "We want this to look real, don't we?"
"Yeah, but does it need to be THAT real?"
I guess it did, because he sure kept hitting me like it needed to be that real.
I don't know what they thought of that film, but it must have been pretty boring. I was just kept sort of motionless, and Frank raised and lowered the belt on my back with metronome-like precision.
When he had finished editing it and we watched the playback, I could see that we were going to have to get a lot more weird if we were going to still get the same money we'd been getting.
"He told us to use our imaginations, Frank," I told him. "This movie looks like we've both had frontal lobotomies."
"What do you suggest," he asked.
"Well, for one thing, I could whip you."
"Hmmm ... why does that not appeal to me?"
"Because you're a bastard and you may say you're doing this because the money's good but it's really because you're a bastard who gets his kicks out of beating women. Right?" He looked defensive, but didn't deny it. "So what did you have in mind?"
"I don't know, maybe we should get more people into the act."
"Did you have another male or another female in mind?"
"What do you think," I asked him. "I say get another chick. That way, when you get tired of me beating you, I can beat her, and the other way around."
"And when we both get tired, we can whip you. How's that sound?"
"Not good."
But he knew I was right. If we were going to appeal to the fringe people, which was obviously the audience we were aiming for, we were going to have to get into a little of what appealed to them, and most of them got bored watching simple in and out fucking endlessly through the whole film.
They wanted to see something stronger.
They wanted to see a woman really getting it.
They wanted to see a woman really giving it.
They wanted to see women giving it to each other.
They wanted to see welts and blood on milky white skin.
They wanted to see a few heavy kinks ironed out.
"Come on Frank," I told him. "Let's start ironing."
"Huh?" he said, not having access to my private metaphors.
"Never mind," I said. "Come on. Let's get you tied up."
"Wait a minute," he protested.
"Now what's the problem."
"I thought we were going to look for another chick so you could both be whipped."
"Well, where do we look. I mean, that's not the kind of thing you go to a perfect stranger and ask them. "
"Hmmm...." he thought for a long time.
"Frank, we have to get to work. Rent's due soon and they're going to turn the power off."
"Well, you won't hurt me, will you?"
"Well, it's supposed to look real, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but I can act pretty good."
"Sorry. I can't. I'm just a porn queen and everyone knows that we can only act with our cunts."
"Very funny."
So I tied him up, and whipped him for awhile, but that got real boring pretty soon too. And I really couldn't bring myself to genuinely hurt him, although that's what would have been required if I was going to draw blood or something.
We were in a fix. They didn't want to buy anymore of our films unless we got more realistic.
"Wanda honey," said Frank. "We're going to have to expand. There's no two ways about it. This is getting bigger than the two of us can handle."
"What do you mean," I asked.
"Well, you don't know how to whip very well, and neither do I. We need to bring someone in who knows the ropes, so to speak."
"You mean a real slave master?"
"Or a slave mistress. Maybe a pair, slave and mistress/master in one package. Then we could just sit back and make films and not have to take part in such painful activities."
"Yeah, but then we'd have to pay them, and that would mean they'd still cut the power off. All right, look, if you're too chicken to get really good and whipped, I'll let you do it to me, but you have to do it right."
"Are you sure you can take it?"
"No."
"Sounds good enough to me. Let's go."
Pretty soon, I found myself on the floor in a tight little ball. I couldn't move at all. My left foot felt like it was somewhere in the vicinity of my right ear, while my nose seemed to be getting in the way of my right foot. My ass had been relocated and now felt like it was where my tits used to be, and as for my tits, well, the circulation had been cut off long ago and I couldn't feel them at all.
Oh yeah. And I was naked. Completely naked.
Frank fumbled around the mass of flesh arms and legs that he'd turned me into and located my cunt.
"Here," he said. "Stick this up you."
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's a clit massager. It'll make sure you come when I whip you. We want those agonized looks of ecstasy to be genuine, don't we?" He put the thing into my cunt where it start to hum and buzz like a hive of bees. I felt little electric shocks shoot all through my clitoris and my pussy and all through my body.
Then the whip fell.
Right across my back.
It was like someone had sliced me with a razor blade. That's how hot the pain was. My arms jerked backwards, but were bent around my thighs, which in turn were crushing against my breasts.
My breasts, on the other hand, didn't feel like breasts at all. More like pancakes. Or titcakes.
He started to bring the whip down faster, and my backside began to remind me of ground beef.
I began to have second thoughts.
Actually, I had a strong desire to get the fuck out of there.
No luck.
"Frank! You're hurting me!" I screamed, to no avail.
"Please stop! Please ... pleeeaasssee ...!!"
But he didn't. I think he was getting off on it.
Little grunts and groans would slip out as he kept swinging his arm, and I managed to get a good look at him one time and the evil grin I saw really sent a cold chill up my spine.
I'm in the hands of a monster, I thought. Switching on a video camera while you fuck is one thing, but having some clown beating the fuck out of you and not being able to do anything about it is quite another.
"Frank, I thought we just wanted to make it look good."
"Hey, trust me baby."
He swung the whip down on my ass.
"Believe me, this'll look just great."
He snapped it right on the side of my left boob.
"You just gotta take my word for it, this is the way it's gotta be done."
"OUCH!! Fuck you, it was my idea in the first place. Now let me out of here!"
"That's good baby, keep squirming like that. Yeah, that's good. Hey, that look of passionate anger is perfect. Keep it up."
"You asshole! I'll kill for this!"
But he just kept on whipping me. I couldn't believe how the pain kept on increasing in intensity. Each time I though to myself that it couldn't get any worse, it just went and got worse.
And the reels of tape just kept spinning, and the camera kept watching with its silent eye.
"Now, we need to shift the angles and do it again."
I just groaned. "Frank," I said, putting my foot down, "we are not repeating this scene. Now untie me. It's your turn."
"My turn!" he yelled, sounding shocked. "I told you, I don't want to do that shit."
"Well then we're just going to have to find another line of work because neither do I."
So what he did was to run a series of shots of him in various positions swinging his whip, along with close-ups of his face contorted in anger and close-ups of his arm falling, of the whip cracking.
Then he did the same thing with me, bringing the camera up close to my face and having me twist my features in agony in the same rhythm he'd filmed himself whipping me.
The only thing he had to do was to intercut the various scenes and it would look like a very complex staging of a single scene with maybe five cameras which someone alternated from one to the other.
"There's just one thing missing and then we'll have a perfect tape."
"What's that?" I asked, dubiously.
"I need to get close-ups of the whip hitting your body."
"NO! Absolutely not! I'm not letting you get near me with that thing again. You go crazy!"
"Aw. I was just having a little fun."
"Fun? Here, run your finger along this groove here on my back. Come on, feel it."
"Gosh. Did I do that?"
"Well I sure didn't!"
"OK, I promise I won't hit you as hard."
"NO! Not at all!"
"Wanda ... you're being difficult."
"Tough!"
"Don't talk back to me, Wanda."
"What are you talking about ... Frank, stop talking that way."
Suddenly he seemed to be a changed person. He started to walk closer to me, his eyes shining with a sort of half crazed stare.
I felt like I'd created a monster and now he was chasing me down the dark halls of my own fatasy.
"Frank, you stay away from me!"
"Don't tell me that Wanda," he said, grabbing my wrist.
"Frank, let me go. LET ME GO!!"
He slapped me across the face.
"You shut your fucking mouth. Do you hear?"
On the word 'hear', he slapped me again. More of a punch this time.
"Stop it Frank! What are you doing?"
"I teaching you to shut your fucking mouth when the time is right. You just keep on babbling and you really should shut up once in awhile."
He slapped me again, this time on my breasts. The sting was excruciating.
"Now you listen to me, you cunt."
I didn't even recognize his voice. He had become a totally changed person. So much more violent than the Frank I'd known only a short time before.
"You're going to help me with this shit, and if that involves something that you think you might be too good for, well that's just tough shit. Do you have that filed away in your tiny little brain, because if you don't, I can make damn sure it gets there pretty quick."
If he hadn't had my hair clenched so tightly in his fist and hadn't had that demented look in his eyes, his lines would have been certain to crack me up.
But as it was, I didn't dare. I felt like I'd just fallen off the edge of the world and landed in some time warp zone. All the rules seemed all at once to have been changed.
I didn't like it.
"All right, Frank, I'll do whatever you say."
I was scared and I knew he could see it.
"Well, first of all, I think we're just going to have to punish you for being so disobedient."
"Frank, don't hit me again, please!"
But he paid me no heed, simply slapped me on my cheek as hard as he could.
I fell onto the floor and started to cry like a little kid.
Frank didn't say anything, the bastard, just watched me fall apart with an amused grin on his face.
Then, when I was good and broken up, he took my arms and held them up over my head. Then he started to drag me back to the chair that he'd tied me to.
But instead of tieing me back down, he sat down in it himself and flipped me across his lap.
His palm smacked on top of my bare ass. SMACK-K!!
"Ouch." The sting was like the sting of a paddle. His hand felt that rigid.
"Frank, you don't have to hit me that hard."
"Oh, talking back, are you? You really don't learn very fast, do you?"
"He smacked me again and I had to admit that his crashing palm made for a pretty good teacher.
Smack-K!
I could feel my ass cheeks getting red and hot and although I tried to rub my clitoris against his lap to work off some of the pent-up energy, he just kept swinging at me and spanking my ass.
"Now for your tits," he said.
"No, please don't Frank, please...."
He threw me onto the floor, placed his foot right at the center of my stomach and kept me from wiggling away from him.
Then he leaned over and swung at my boobs.
Once more the pain just kept on getting worse, never even leveling off. I couldn't stand it.
"Stop, stop, please stop Frank, I'll do anything you ask," I screamed after he'd hit them for about five or six times. But he was just getting started.
I looked into his eyes.
"You like this, don't you?"
He laughed and swung harder.
He got his way. I did the scene, and any others that he had in mind. I never wanted to feel a whip like that one again for the rest of my life.
I grew to hate Frank, but didn't know how to leave. He had done a complete turn around. First, he would act like he had someone he was seeing on the side. And then he would go crazy if I told him I was leaving him. It got so bad that I considered killing myself. Somehow, I resisted, but he spent that entire winter whipping me, letting his friends whip me, letting total strangers whip me.
My skin was covered with welts.
I had welts on my welts.
It was a really terrible way to live.
INTERVIEW TWO
When I next saw Wanda, she was a little more agitated than the first time she'd been in my office.
I assumed this was because she was reopening sores from the past that probably had never healed. I knew she was still very sensitive about her past and didn't want to push her too far, but convinced her that she need to continue to talk about things she now saw as being unpleasant. Believe it or not, I stayed with Frank for almost a year after things started to go sour. I'll tell you what finally made me leave him.
One night, he took me to a party, which was strange because we didn't do much except make pictures.
But business was good because he was selling everything we did, and every once in a while he would get tired of doing nothing and want to go out and spend some money raising hell.
This particular night, he decided to take me along.
I was a little pleased, because like I said, he seldom even took notice of me, except to have me do some warped thing for one of his films.
So we went to this really weird club.
There were strippers on the stage, doing all kinds of strange dances to the accompaniment of a tinny sounding jazz band, with blaring trumpet and squawking Sax ... the whole works ... loud drummer ... not a classy sound.
When we walked in, someone with the largest tits I'd ever seen in my life was naked up on the stage. She was dancing real close to a man sitting at one of the front row table, right on top of the stage almost. She danced right up to him and squatted down in front of him, letting him look right up into her pussy. Then she reached down to him and took off his glasses.
She waved them around a little bit in time with the music, then she slowly stuck them up her cunt.
The man was surprised, but seemed to enjoy the show.
Then she took his glasses out of her cunt and placed them right back on his face. The lenses were all clouded up, and they were dripping cunt juice all down his cheek. Then she took three colored balls, about the size of ping-pong balls.
One was green, one was red and one was a bright blue. She stuck them up her pussy one by one, first the green one, then the red one then the blue one last.
She stood back up and started to do a real slinky sensual dance, gyrating her hips with the music, shaking her mammoth breasts like they were huge sacs of jelly.
Suddenly, she got down on her back with her pussy aiming right for the audience.
She kept on rolling her hips around and you could see the lips of her pussy opening and closing and actually moving around like a real mouth. Almost as if it was trying to speak and form words.
Then she kicked her hips backwards, sticking her ass straight up in the air.
One by one, the three balls came flying back out, in reverse order. First the green one, then the red one, and finally the blue one. Everyone was real impressed by that and started to clap, but then she really surprised us by shooting out three more balls that she'd already had inside her.
That really set the audience off. They started stomping and cheering and getting rowdy as hell. A couple of heavy-weight types tried to rush the dancer on the stage and the bouncers had to come down and work them over.
It was while all this was going on, that I discovered Frank's real reason for bringing me with him that night.
"Frank Old Buddy," I heard a gruff voice say and turned around just in time to see a solid cliff of chest and biceps grab Frank by the arm and shake him like a flag in the wind.
"Well, hey Jimmy, how's it been going for you?"
Frank sounded casual. But the fact that Jimmy seemed to have him firmly in hand and had a mean look in his eye didn't quite fit.
"You know what I been hearing, Frank old buddy?"
"No, what's that, Jimmy?"
"I been hearing you maybe ripped off Joey and his brother."
"What!? Aw, Jimmy, you know me. Would I do something like that?"
"In a word, yes."
He tightened his grip on Frank's arm.
"Now why don't you start talking and make sure you keep talking and talk real fast and cover a lot of ground in a real short time because I'm real real close to pulling you into two or three different pieces."
Frank seemed to turn a bit pale.
"Oh, Jimmy, by the way, did I introduce you to my lady?" He pointed towards me.
"Meet Wanda. Wanda, this is Jimmy. We go back a long ways. Such a card!" He slapped Jimmy on the back. "Right, Jimmy?"
"Frank."
The laughter faded from Frank's face.
"Don't do that again."
"Right. Sure Jimmy. Anything you say."
Jimmy looked over at me. He was a biker type who took his image very seriously.
His denims looked as if they'd gone through about fifty major fights without a single washing. He had fairly long, greasy hair that had gone uncombed for weeks and his beard was scraggly and uneven.
"Well Frank, you never told me about this sweet little piece."
He tweaked me on one of my boobs.
"Hey, cut it out you piece of shit," I yelled.
Jimmy looked back at Frank.
"You didn't teach her any manners, Frank. What's the matter with you?"
"Yeah, well look she didn't mean it. Did you sweetheart. You didn't meant it at all. She's really friendly Jimmy, honestly. Aren't you, sweetheart, aren't you friendly?"
I looked from one to the other. Things were getting out of hand. I wanted to get out of that club, but I didn't like the looks of what was shaping up. I was afraid that this hulk wanted me to leave the club too, but under far different circumstances than I had in mind.
"How friendly is she, Frank Old Buddy."
That's when I realized that Frank was nothing but a slimy weasel and that I had no choice but to get the fuck away from him before he destroyed me.
"Jimmy, she's friendly enough to answer all your dreams."
Jimmy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully at this.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Frank was actually offering me as a prize or a gift to keep this bastard from taking him apart, which he probably deserved anyway.
"Frank, I'll kill you for this,"! promised softly.
"I like 'em feisty," he told Frank.
"Listen Wanda honey, I'm going to run along. You and Jimmy have fun, you hear."
I couldn't believe it. I started to stand up and follow him but I felt a big paw on the back of my neck.
"You ain't going nowhere chick. So sit!" He forced me to do just that.
"I'll scream, so help me God, I'll scream if you do one thing to me."
"Baby," he told me, "you scream and I'll snap your fucking neck. You understand? I have absolutely nothing to fear from you. I'll snap your neck like it was a toothpick, and then I'll walk out. You think anybody can hear you in here? Or even cares to listen? He scared me. I didn't think he'd really snap my neck but I had no doubts that he could if he wanted to, aand that he might just be crazy enough to do it and big enough to simply walk out and get away with it.
That what angered her the most, that he could probably get away with it.
"Now, you walk out of here, and I'll be right behind you, and I promise, any funny stuff, you'll have a knife in your spinal cord. Take my word on that."
I had no idea of telling him he was not believed. Instead, I got up and walked towards the exit, feeling his hand at my back, thinking how easy it would be for him to snap my whole spinal column. I was helpless as a kitten in a pack of Dobermans.
We got outside the club and he led me to his bike. It was a gargantuan thing, looking like a small dinosaur or something.
"Get on the back and hold on tight and don't try any funny stuff or you'll be lying underneath the wheel of a taxi cab."
I didn't doubt it for a second.
We rode across town, to a greasy looking run-down garage. My heart skipped a couple of beats when we drove inside.
There were about fifteen other guys, all as huge and scummy looking as Jimmy was.
"Well, well," said one of them, "look at this here. Watcha got there Jimmy, a new twat?"
"Yep," he said, dismounting the bike and immediately yanking me off after him.
"She's gonna pull a train, ain't you honey," he asked, slapping me on the ass.
"Please let me go," I begged.
"Look sweetheart, good old Frank's up to his ass in hock to me. You just begin to balance out the situation. Got it?"
I got it.
In the ass, in the mouth and in the cunt. Over and over again. It never let up. And they were rough as they could be too.
One of them thought it would be funny to fuck me with a wrench handle and so he stuck the greasy thing right up my cunt.
Four of them picked me up by my arms and legs and used me like a battering ram, only it was my cunt they were battering against a fifth biker's cock.
Several time, two of them would be fucking me in the ass and in the cunt at the same time.
I felt like I was going to be ripped apart.
Each cock was huge and thick and long and ripped through my pussy like a plow.
I had so much cum dripping out of me, I felt like a leaky faucet.
Cum was all over my face, it was matted in my hair, it was in my nose, my eyes, my ears.
I sucked so many cocks that night I lost count.
And they kept on getting their erections back each time one of them would come. It seemed that there were a hundred of them, they came back so many times for more. I think each one of them was trying to shoot their wads into my ass, my cunt and my mouth. All three for each, and then there were about half of them who came back for even more than that.
I had so many cocks in me, I thought I was a pin cushion.
Then they all made me lick out their assholes.
Each one lined up, bent over in front of me and forced me to lick my tongue all through their crack, down around the tight ring of muscle, and right inside the hole itself. It was really gross.
Then they held me down, and each Of them took turns fucking my tits.
Two of them got on either side of me and each had one of my tits in his hand. Then a third would lay across me and stick his hard cock between my tits.
The other two would push my tits together real hard and the third would fuck them till he shot off right into my face.
This went on till all of them had shot their loads again, then they just tied me up and left me handing from a bar in the center of the garage and they went back to repairing their bikes.
They kept getting greasier and dirtier and they were drinking and eating all kinds of pills. Their words were becoming slurred and they were getting real violent.
And every once in a while, one of them would wander over, lay a greasy hand on one of my tits and drop his pants and stick his cock up my pussy and fuck me, as I was hanging there.
It was probably the worst experience in my life.
The next afternoon, they were still fucking me. I hadn't had any sleep, and my cunt hurt like someone had stuck an eggbeater up me and turned it on.
My arms were almost pulled out of their sockets. I was losing consciousness from all the pain they were inflicting on my body.
Then, they finally seemed to get tired of raping me, and some of them wandered off and went to sleep or just started their bikes and rode away.
I started to get scared that they might just all leave without taking me down. The thought of being a prisoner in their garage scared the shit out of me.
Finally, Jimmy came over and stuck his cock in my pussy again, but by this time he didn't seem to have much enthusiasm.
"Fuck it woman, you're too damn sloppy."
"What do you mean," I asked.
"You feel like a fucking can of grease, that's what you feel like."
"Well, I didn't ask to have my cunt fucked so long and so much."
"Yeah, but you liked it, didn't you?"
He started to fuck me a little faster, looked down at my boobs and just sort of reached out with that big hairy paw of his and scooped himself up a handful. Of course, it hurt. But I was becoming numb to the pain. By this time, just having a cock sliding in and out of my cunt was fairly tame compared to what I'd been doing for Frank and his stupid films.
But I was never able to forgive him for handing me over to that pack of animals. They kept me for two solid weeks, and Frank never even tried to find out if I was all right.
By the time they finally let me go, I had almost lost all my sensation in my pussy.
My clitoris had been scraped raw as a fresh steak.
My cunt lips looked like hamburger.
My face was puffed and bruised, as were my thighs and my back.
And I could hardly walk, so fucked-out was my cunt. It hurt all the time.
I thought it would probably be a long time till I enjoyed sex again, but in the meantime, I had to survive, so I found someone else who was in the business and who had seen one of my efforts with Frank. He told me I had potential. In porn films, that is.
I didn't want to do any more of those, but I had to admit it was a perfect way to make money, and the kind of films he made weren't nearly as kinky as the stuff Frank had me do.
Just simply fuck scenes, you know, cock in cunt, close-up of cunt, girl eats cunt, guy eats cunt, guy fucks cunt, girl licks asshole....
So now I can't love men, or even think about having sex with them, and I can't get any work doing real roles because of my past.
CONCLUSION
Wanda's problem is obvious. She has a mental block due to the savage sexual experiences she encountered with Frank and the types of things she had to do with him.
I feel that this young woman can some day learn to enjoy sex again, but for now, she needs a long period of close care and counseling. I truly hope she can one day learn to appreciate her beautiful body and use it for what it was meant to be used for.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
SUBJECT: Jenny L. AGE: Twenty-five
INTERVIEW ONE
Jenny is a young woman who recently was divorced from her husband after a disastrous marriage. She was never able to enjoy sex with her husband and it finally drove him away from her.
The irony of it is, she is a famous model who's image is one of teasing lust, due to the uncanny sensuality she can project with her face. Yet, once away from the camera, she says she feels utterly numb and totally disinterested in sex.
As she talked to me about her past, some important clues began to suggest themselves.
I learned to pose for the camera when I was a little girl. My daddy was a staff photographer for a famous skin magazine, and he was always bringing models home to fuck them. My mom died when I was young and it was just my father and me the whole time I was growing up.
When I was real little, he used to take pictures of me whenever we'd go to the beach or out in the country and I just grew up feeling comfortable posing before a camera.
As I grew older, he started taking more erotic shots of me. He was fascinated by my developing breasts and my patch of pubic hair that seemed to get thicker and thicker each day.
He would surprise me when I was taking a bath, or in early morning when I'd first get up and it got to the point that I felt like I was always 'on', so to speak, because I never knew when he'd pop out at me with his camera flashing.
It was fun living with him though, and growing up under the care of someone who was so free about the idea of being naked. It wasn't really that he so much got off on seeing me naked. He just believed that it was a real healthy thing to do.
Some weekends, he'd have someone over that he was fucking, and none of us would get dressed for the whole weekend.
And he always liked to include me whenever his date was up for it.
That was something that used to freak a lot of his women out, when I'd climb into bed with them, but a lot of them got off on my firm body without a trace of fat, my small but growing breasts, my virgin pussy.
Those were the ones that daddy used to bring back for seconds and thirds. He was always trying to get his dates to make it with me after he'd finished fucking them, and it was really surprising how many of them were hot for the idea.
Then, with the two of us going to it, he'd stand off to the side and take pictures of the whole affair . He had a private library of erotica that he'd compiled on his own, and over half of it was of me.
Does that seem strange to you Doctor, that my father kept erotic pictures of his daughter? Pictures he himself had taken?
Well, maybe it was strange, but at the time, I thought nothing of it. I enjoyed it, as a matter-of-fact. I used to love taking my clothes off for my father. I would look forward to weekends that we could spend alone. I used to spend all day in school thinking about spreading my legs for his camera, moving my body through all its paces while he recorded every pose faithfully on film.
It was like I was being preserved.
It didn't start getting bad until later. Much later. But back when I was still just a growing teen ager, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world. I had a father who seemed to really understand me, in a way that none of the other kids' parents came close to duplicating.
Everyone was jealous of me, because daddy was real good looking too. He was maybe in his fifties, but he really looked closer to thirty-five, and everyone knew what he did for a living and that gave him a real mystique.
Of course, no one knew about our secret photo sessions. That would have been a little difficult to explain.
I remember one time he brought home the girl who was the centerfold in the magazine that month, and he wanted to 'get to know her' before he had to shoot her photo layout.
She was all too willing to get to know him too.
"Jenny," my father said to me when I got home from school that day, "meet Sondra, one of the lovely ladies in our magazine."
Sondra was a vision. That's the only way to describe her. She was from Sweden and had a beautiful accent. Her English was perfect, but the accent made her seem exotic somehow.
Her hair was blonde and flowed down her back in thick waves of cascading curls. But it was her breasts that took your breath away.
They were huge. But not floppy and sloppy like a lot of huge tits are. For instance, they didn't sag an inch. They looked almost like invisible wires had been attached to her nipples and that they were being supported that way, because just to look at her, you couldn't believe that breasts so large could stand out from her body so perfectly straight like that.
When she walked, they didn't sway gently. They rippled. Like jello.
The flesh was tight, and packed solid.
She had the most perfect breasts I had ever seen, and I'd met a lot of my father's women and I'd seen all of them in the magazine.
But she was really special. She would stand out in a huge crowd.
A real looker.
Her legs were nice and slim and really long. When she stood in high heels, she towered over any men around her, except for Daddy who was about six/six.
When Daddy introduced us, she smiled at me, and held out her hand in a friendly gesture.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Jenny. Your father's told me a lot about you."
I guess I was really taken by the sight of her body because I think I was just staring at her with an envious look on my face.
"You're really beautiful," I blurted out.
My father really guffawed at that.
"What did I tell you," he said to Sondra. "She's got an eye for quality, just like her old man," and then he patted me on the ass. "Don't you doll."
I felt a little embarrassed, but Sondra was giving me a good natured grin so I didn't feel too bad.
"Sometimes, I let Jenny take part in the partying when things start getting a little loose," Daddy told Sondra.
She seemed interested in this.
"Is that so?" she asked me. "You must be very mature for your age."
"I don't know," I said hesitantly, looking at my father. "I'm still a virgin."
They both laughed at that.
"Well," said Sondra, "good for you. There are very few left these days."
"Why's that," I asked, not really getting her meaning.
"Because of lecherous old men like me," Daddy chimed in.
"Correct," agreed Sondra. "He's already corrupting me and we just met today."
"Why are you corrupting her Daddy," I asked.
"You'll learn all about it soon enough Jenny, I can assure you of that."
It wasn't too long before the talk turned to their work and the kind of picture layout Daddy had in mind for Sondra.
"We want it to be erotic, explicit, without being crude, you understand."
"No, Daddy saves all those pictures for his private collection."
When I said that, Sondra started to laugh heartily and Daddy actually seemed to be a little embarrassed.
"You little tattle-tale," he said. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Hmmmm...." mused Sondra. "I think I can come up with a few ideas."
As soon as she'd said that, I felt my cunt start to tingle. All at once I wanted that beautiful mouth to kiss my lips, kiss my breasts, suck on my nipples and lick my pussy. I wanted to feel her nibble at my clit and slurp up my juice. I didn't feel like it was anything weird. I just wanted to do it. In my house, that was a kind of normal sort of thing to think about.
"Well, why don't you two go ahead and get to know each other and I'll be back in a flash."
When Daddy had left the room, Sondra began to look me up and down, and she seemed to approve of what she saw.
"Why don't you come over here to me," she suggested and when I was next to her, she took my hand, riulled me into her body and gave me a very light kiss on my lips.
"I really meant what I said earlier," I told her. "I think you're beautiful."
"Well Jenny my dear, I think you are a gorgeous young lady yourself. I find you most arousing."
"Really?"
I couldn't understand why. Even though my tits were really starting to blossom, they were nothing compared to her perfectly formed globes and I knew I didn't come close to her in the looks department.
"Really," she said, smiling and kissing me again.
I felt her fingers at my breasts. They were soft, delicate, searching.
She steadily increased the pressure as she started to squeeze my nipples beneath my shirt. The feel of her fingers touching and squeezing my breasts and nipples sent shivers all through my bod. She began to press against my tits with the flat of her palm, pressing into my body, rolling the spongy flesh around like she was kneading two mounds of fresh dough.
"Oh, that feels so good when you do that. I love having my boobs played with."
"Have you had much opportunity," she asked, unbuttoning a button on my blouse.
"Some ... when my father brings women home ... oops! I guess I shouldn't have said anything about that, huh?"
"Why not," she asked with a merry laugh. "You don't expect me to get. jealous over women I've never met who have gone to bed with a man I only met yesterday, do you?"
That seemed like a healthy attitude.
"Now why don't you take those clothes off and we can play," she suggested.
I started to unfasten the rest of the buttons on my shirt, and as the material fell away exposing my breasts, she got a dreamy look in her eyes, reached out and lovingly began to caress each one at the same time.
She spread her fingertips apart and surrounded the base of each tit with them, pressing into the nipples with her palm.
Then she lightly pulled her hand away, allowing her fingertips to follow the curve of my flesh as it spread outward and then narrowed to the nipples. These, she touched last, pressing in with all her fingers on the brown points of hard skin.
She kept this up for a long time. I couldn't believe how good it felt to have my breasts stroked by someone who knew what they were doing. Sondra really knew her body well, and she knew mine well also. Better than I knew it.
For instance, whenever I'd masturbated, I always used to pound my clit real hard, rubbing over it with as much friction as I could produce. It always worked too. I'd come quick, usually in about thirty seconds.
But Sondra's technique was different.
First, she started at my breasts, kissing each one all over the surface of my skin, except that she kept avoiding bringing her lips or her tongue into contact with my nipples.
She circled them, hovered over them, blew lightly on them but wouldn't bring her lips down on them.
How I wanted her to!
I longed to feel her tongue lick over my nipples, to feel her teeth chew them.
But she just kept making tiny circles over the surface of my breasts with her kisses, circles that ever so gradually closed around the large brown circles in the center.
Closer, closer, closer still. She was just beginning to touch the outer edge of one nipple, licking at it with her tongue.
It felt electric, it felt like a small flame had been ignited inside me and was only waiting to be fueled to burst into a raging furnace.
Sondra was going to provide that fuel, but not yet. She was going to take her own sweet time getting there.
In the meantime, I was starting to go crazy.
My pussy had never felt so alive with feeling.
Every edge, each smooth surface was begging to be stimulated. I wanted to feel her fingers, her tongue all of her massaging my cunt and working me to a fury.
Then she suddenly bit one of my nipples. The shock caused my body to jerk upright.
"Oh!" I said.
She just smiled and gently pushed me back on the couch again.
Then she took the nipple between her teeth and rolled it back and forth, sucking it between her teeth and pushing it back with her tongue, sucking it back between her teeth and pushing it back again with her tongue.
Suck.
Lick.
Suck.
Lick.
She kept it up till I thought my boobs would explode. They were getting so aroused that I couldn't stand it.
Then, I felt her fingers stroking up and down along my thighs, dancing lightly over the smooth insides.
"Oh God, Sondra, you turn me on so much I can't believe it."
I flung my arms around her neck and pulled her into me.
"Take your clothes off too. I want to see you naked. I want to hold your beautiful breasts in my hands."
"Well, I'd be glad to," she smiled and proceeded to disrobe.
She made a slow production of it.
She opened one button at a time, and spent a few minutes stroking herself along the skin that had just been exposed before revealing more.
I didn't realize it, but my father had come back into the room by this time and was standing off to the side, calmly watching us.
Soon, I was looking right at Sondra's exposed breasts.
I was stunned. I'd seen a couple pictures of her, but nothing had prepared me for their beauty in the flesh.
Huge and heavy, yet seeming to float on her body. I couldn't believe they were so firm, so perfectly structured.
"Wouldn't you like to touch them," she said to me, noticing how taken I was by them.
I reached out my hand, let my fingers stroke them, and then I grabbed, hard, squeezing them. They felt wonderful.
"Oh, be careful. Lightly, lightly. You must be gentle. Remember, with a woman's body, less is always much, much more."
Then, to demonstrate, she spread my legs and started to kiss her way down my thighs. She didn't move straight down one, but instead shifted back and forth, inching her way slowly towards my waiting pussy.
And how it was waiting!
I could feel the muscles quiver and quake each time her lips touched my skin. I was wet and getting wetter. I wanted her to make me come. In fact, that was becoming my sole concern. I wanted to feel the gut wrenching spasms of orgasm, wanted to feel my brain sizzle from the sensation.
Steadily, minute fractions of an inch at a time, she approached my wet slit.
The final moment was lost in the rising passion I felt inside my body. I only knew that all of a sudden, she was at my pussy.
First, she simply nibbled at my cunt lips, gently pulling the outer lips aside to give herself a clear view of my pink meat underneath. The opening to my vagina was covered by petal-like flaps of skin, and these she took between her teeth and very slowly chewed them to a frenzy.
But as with my nipples, she avoided the center of feeling, my clitoris.
Up my slit she licked with her tongue.
Up into my pussy she probed with a careful finger.
Down and around my asshole she rubbed and licked.
But my clitoris she left alone, letting it get harder and harder and letting my pussy scream louder and louder for release.
That's how it felt, like my pussy was screaming. I almost heard it. I certainly could feel it.
Then at last, I really felt it, her tongue, flicking over my clitoris. It was like the touch of a feather, soft as a breeze at dawn, gentle as the blue of the sky. I suddenly had a million images flooding my brain, none of them connected, all of them erotic and sensual, and all of them being channeled into my rising current of passion flowing out from between my legs and filling my entire body until it felt like if I didn't get to come soon, I was really going to lose it all over the couch.
But she held me back, intentionally, forcing me to let the tension build.
"A good lover," she told me later, "Will take years to build you to your peak, and centuries to bring you back down."
It was certainly true of her. We must have been on the couch with my father standing across the room watching us, for nearly an hour before she really got down to the serious business of eating my pussy.
I love having my pussy eaten. I think I like it better than fucking. That's because I did so much of it before I ever felt a cock inside me.
Sondra was and remains the best cunt-licker I've ever met.
So good! I still break out in goose bumps and a cold sweat just thinking about it.
She began at my clitoris finally. Her tongue was moving from side to side so fast it was just a blur.
She came closer, closer, almost touching, touching just barely, then down hard. But only for a second. She would tease me, tantalize me but always she left me begging for more.
Then she came down on it a second time, let the flicking motions keep up for longer than before, but she once again pulled away.
Then I felt a finger probing inside my pussy, and this time, she start to flick across my clitoris, and she didn't stop.
She did slow down though. Drastically. The constant steady rhythm she kept up prevented me from falling back in my rising passion, but she only brushed her tongue over the compact bud of nerve endings every five or ten seconds, not nearly enough to make me come!
But it was enough to make me hot. And get me hotter.
I was steadily building flames of lust in my body, was slowly being turned into one giant enflamed nerve ending.
And it was all flowing from the tip of Sondra's tongue as it slowly built up both the speed and intensity of its contact with my clitoris.
Then I felt her fingers at my asshole.
"Oh yes, I like that. Play with it. Lick it. Stick your tongue in it," I babbled. "Stick your tongue in my asshole."
She did exactly as I asked. I felt it slither snake-like right dead center into the puckered eye of muscle. Oh it was fine!
When I get aroused, my muscles automatically start to contract all on their own, especially my asshole.
That's why it felt so strange to feel her tongue in me, because as she licked in and out, the muscle began to relax and open.
Open wide.
And as that muscle relaxed, my whole abdomen seemed to cave in on itself. I felt like I was floating.
Then she was back at my cunt, only this time she was working on it with a stronger intensity.
Her fingers were moving in and out and they were becoming coated with my thick juice.
I loved the feeling of her fingers inside my cunt. I wanted it to go on all day and all night.
So, it seemed, did Sondra.
My father was standing close to us now, the camera out and the shutter clicking. I looked at him and saw that he was naked. I had seen my father naked before, but never when I was as aroused as I was just then. His cock was sticking straight out at a perpendicular angle to his body. Thick blue veins ran along the entire length of the shaft. The head had turned a deep purple color.
I knew it was filled with blood, that his balls were filling with cum. My pussy was filled with Sondra's tongue and suddenly, I wondered what my father's cock would feel like inside my pussy. I got a real heavy thrill from that one, so much so that it simply wouldn't go away. I didn't worry about it though. The weekend was just beginning.
Sondra moved back up my body, started to kiss and fondle my boobs again and I felt the hairs of her pussy as she dragged it over my leg and brought it up against my cunt. Our pubic hair mingled, our juices became a sexual punch. It seemed a shame to waste such a golden blend of nectar but Daddy didn't seem ready to stop taking pictures and just join in the fun yet, so we just kept on getting each other aroused.
Sondra's cunt was grinding into my own, and I pushed back reflexively. I felt the opening of her cunt lips, and I felt the bud of her clit as it met mine and the two of them scraped against each other.
The electricity was overwhelming.
Sondra felt it too, I could tell. Her eyes were bbecoming glazed and distant, and she would pause from time to time as she kissed my breasts to simply savor the feeling of our two cunts grinding against each other.
My pussy was dripping all over the place, running down my leg, filling the cavern within my body. I could feel her fingers squishing around inside me, and knew the sound was caused by my abundant juice and felt good because of it. I liked the thought of becoming aroused to the point where my pussy flowed like a fountain.
I wanted to come.
Suddenly, I couldn't take it any more. I was tired of waiting.
"Oh God, please, please make me come. I'm so hot, so hot. I want to come, won't you please make me come."
And still she held back. I couldn't stand it!
"Sondra, play with my pussy, play with my clitoris."
She obliged me, but only for a few minutes.
She wanted to bring me up to my peak and then leave me there without letting me spill over the edge.
"Oh my cunt, my cunt," I cried, and felt Sondra reach down and play with my clitoris some more.
And then she gave it to me.
Starting with my clitoris, she fingered it until I reached the same point I had been brought to so-many times already that afternoon, but this time she let me crash on through.
And crash is definitely the right word. All of a sudden there was an explosion in all my muscles. I saw stars.
I felt like I was melting.
The finger at my clit felt like an earthquake.
I screamed.
My body jerked like a pennant in the wind.
And my cunt turned to hot wax.
"Oh, yes, yes, yes, harder, harder, oh yes, do it harder," I gasped.
Sondra gladly obliged me, digging several fingers right through the membranes of my pussy.
I was flooding her fingers and going crazy doing it.
I wanted to come forever and Sondra seemed to know how to make me do it.
Then, I detected a pause in her manipulation of my cunt, a sudden tensing of her fingers, a quick intake of breath.
I looked up and saw my father slowly working his cock into Sondra's asshole.
It made her seem to dissolve. Her expression looked like she was in another world, as she simply allowed the sensation of Daddy's cock to flood her body as she was flooding mine.
"Oh, that feels wonderful," she gasped and then started to work my pussy again with renewed fervor.
Each time Daddy thrust into Sondra, her tongue lashed my clitoris. It was like I was being indirectly fucked by my father and that made me even hotter.
He fucked her real hard.
"Harder, harder," she finally yelled, losing her composure for the first time. I had been amazed at how in control of herself she seemed to be, but now she was becoming as splattered as I was, and that made me feel good, like it was normal to lose yourself when you came.
She sure did lose herself, and it made her tongue do a spastic dance over my clitoris that brought tears to my eyes and made my stomach muscles hurt they were contracting so viciously.
"Sondra, you're delicious," my father said, and I had to agree with him.
"But it is your daughter who is truly delicious," she replied.
"Lick my pussy," I told her.
She did.
"Fuck me," she told Daddy. Of course, he already was. And so, we finished the afternoon like that, fucking, sucking and coming. I really enjoyed it. Is that weird, Doctor?
INTERVIEW TWO
The next time Jenny came to see me, she was almost flippant in her attitude. It indicated to me that she was getting closer to dealing with whatever it was that had her confused and was giving her the problems that had brought her to see me in the first place. Her manner was one of feigned carefree abandon; convincing on the surface but hiding something darker, more sinister beneath the facade.
What I talked about last time, Doctor, was pretty much the way things were around our house when I was younger.
But as I grew up and became more and more of a fully developed woman, Daddy just got weirder and weirder.
He was always loose about me bringing guys home to fuck. When I started fucking, he gave me a good fatherly lecture about birth control and that sort of thing, but he didn't try to tell me anything about morals or ethics or any of that shit, and I was real glad too.
But then, I noticed he seemed to be taking more and more of an interest in my body.
When I posed for him, it was almost always in very graphic pornographic poses.
"Here Jenny girl, why don't you stick this up your pretty little cunt," and then he snap the shutter a dozen times from all angles. It wouldn't matter what it was, there was always something he wanted to see me stick up there.
He's got pictures of me with hair brush handles buried in me, with bananas, cucumbers, broom handles. In fact, just about anything you can think of that's at all long and even remotely round, he probably had me masturbate with it while he took pictures.
He finally lost his job because his pictures were getting too graphic.
And the models he brought home stopped being elegant like Sondra. They were a lot uglier and grosser.
But he didn't seem to realize the change that was coming over him.
Then one day, I heard him calling me from his study. I walked down the hall and went into his study and found him sitting in his chair with all his clothes off, stroking an erection that looked like a rocket about to blast off.
"Here, Jenny old girl," he said in his usual light-hearted tone, "why don't you stick this up your pretty little pussy."
I didn't know what to think.
Daddy?!
"Are you sure you want me to do that, Daddy?" I asked, hesitantly.
"I've never been so sure of anything in my life, Jenny old girl ... now come over here and lets go to work on Daddy's prick, shall we?"
I slowly walked over to him. I was no longer a virgin, and I'd dealt with enough cocks to know what I was doing, but still ... it was my father!
I touched it.
His legs jerked as soon as my fingers came in contact with it.
"Ahhh, yes ... stroke it dear, stroke my prick."
"Like this, Daddy?" I asked, running the tips of my fingers up and down the shaft.
"Exactly, that's perfect."
"Does this feel good, Daddy?" I asked as my tongue poked into the tiny mouth in the center of his prick.
"It feels grand, daughter," he said. "Just keep up the good work."
Then, not knowing what else to do, I took the whole thing into my mouth and started to suck on it.
He let out a deep groan, as if he'd been waiting all his life to feel just that sensation.
I felt a little weird giving my father head, but he sure loved it, and after a few minutes, it started to feel like just any other cock. It was stiff and hard.
It had thick blue veins running down each side in a crisscross pattern.
The head was circumcised and a deep purplish color.
And a large sac of two balls was attached at the base.
But it belonged to my father!
I had to stop think about that. I needed to just think of it as a normal cock.
But I couldn't. It felt too strange. When I'd been younger, it felt normal to get into bed with him and feel his fingers as they softly stroked my body, but now, I had been trying to move away from that sort of relationship with him.
He hadn't liked that one bit. I realize now that my father probably was real messed up in the way that he treated me.
It's strange, because I loved him and still think of him fondly.
But when I remember lowering my head to his cock that first time, licking it with my tongue, feeling him start to moan and groan ... what really gives me chills is when I realize that I enjoyed it.
It was fun making it with my Daddy, and I really looked forward to it.
That first time, he let me suck him till he was almost ready to come.
Then he made me stop.
"Don't push me too far little girl," he told me.
"Was I doing something wrong, Daddy," I asked, afraid that I'd made him mad.
"Heavens no. Nothing of the sort. I just have other plans for you."
And with that, he took me by the hand to his bedroom and told me to lay on his bed.
"Are you going to fuck my cunt now, Daddy," I asked.
"Yes, I certainly am. I'm going to stick my stiff prick right up your fuck hole."
He fell on me. I was tense and a little frightened, but feeling excited.
"Are you ready Jenny old girl?" he asked placing the head of his cock up against my pussy lips. I was wet and could feel my juice oozing over his prick.
"Yes, Daddy, I think I am," I said.
"Spread your legs a little wider, if you could. I want to make sure I have enough room to move in and out the way it's supposed to be done."
I spread them as wide as I could, but he still wasn't satisfied.
"Here, I'll show you what I had in mind."
He wrapped his hands around my knees and gently pushed my legs back towards my head, raising my ass and pussy up in the air so that when his cock went into me, instead of moving sideways, it was almost falling straight down into me, like a rocket falling back down to earth. That's how it felt, like a rocket was fucking me.
"Ah, that's much better," he said as he stuck the head of his prick in me.
"You feel real hard, Daddy," I told him, and he did, too.
"That's because I love you daughter, that's because you make me feel so good."
"I hope so, Daddy, because I sure want to make you feel good."
But even as I said this, I wasn't sure if I wanted to make him feel that good. I was aware enough to realize that having your father fuck you was strange.
He started to push all the way into me. His cock was not only real long, but real thick as well and my cunt was still real inexperienced..
I could feel my cunt lips stretching into a wide circle as he slid into me.
"OH," I gasped. "You're so big, so hard, so thick, I don't know if I can take all of you into me. You might tear me open."
"Not a chance daughter. That pussy of yours comes from your mother, and she could have taken on a horse if she'd wanted to. Don't you worry about a thing."
He was right. I was able to take him but it felt like my pussy had been stuffed completely full and that there was no space at all left in me.
Then he began to wiggle it around inside me, pulling it out about halfway and then letting it slowly glide back in on the cushion of my pussy juice.
"Ah, you feel grand, daughter. You remind me of your dear mother, you do. I remember the way she used to always feel so tight, just as tight as you do."
"Did you two fuck a lot when she was living?" I asked him.
"As much as we could," he answered, thrusting his hips at me again.
"Was it always good?" I asked, because he seldom talked about mother and if fucking would loosen him up, I wanted to hear about her.
"I remember, she used to love it when I did this to her." He pulled his prick almost out of my pussy and then just pushed the head of it in and out of my hole, not really entering the inner chamber of my cunt. It tickled and felt good and I wanted him to continue.
"Did she come whenever you fucked her?" I asked as he kept fucking at my hole with the head of his dick, just pushing it lightly in and out.
"Ah, she'd come in an instant and keep coming forever. She was grand."
"Am I as good as she was?"
"Well, I really can't say, seeing as how this is the first time IVe tasted your sweet little box, but I'll say this. I sure can tell whose daughter you are."
For some reason, that made me feel real happy and also turned me on more.
He started to push his cock all the way into my cunt again.
Deeper and deeper, then pulling back out only to plunge it back in again.
"I feel like I'm getting wetter. Am I or is it just my imagination?"
"No, it's not your imagination, "you're wet as the ocean."
Then he started to increase the speed with which he moved his prick in and out of me.
In and out, in and out. I was starting to feel my body respond, and my hips seemed to move against him almost like it was a reflex.
"Oh Daddy, you fuck so good, so good, I want to come right now."
"Do it girl! Come! Come all over my hard cock, come and drip your juice all down my balls. Come on me, come with me in you."
He was really pumping now. I could hear his breath getting more and more labored and I felt a layer of sweat forming between his chest and my breasts.
I let my tits rub against him and felt him rub back.
He was really turned on by my body and though it might seem strange to you Doctor, at the time, I was going crazy with lust for him.
We had always been close and I had always felt comfortable letting him take pictures of me and every thing ... I guess it was just a small step to be fucking him.
Now, though, I wonder how it's affected me, because after we started to fuck each other, we didn't have very many relationships with different people anymore.
He stopped bringing home models to fuck and I was afraid to bring boys home, or to stay out all night with anyone because I was afraid he'd be jealous.
I remember once, I went to a movie with a boy who was in my math class in college. I guess I was a freshman that year. I remember feeling like a lost child at college and not knowing my way around, so I must have still been in my first year.
This boy had been watching me in class ever since the first day.
Then he asked me out, and I told him I would go out with him, but I wanted to make it on a day when Daddy would be out of town.
So I kept putting him off with one excuse or another, but finally there was a day when I could do it and not worry about Daddy finding out, so we went to see a movie.
Then, after the show, he took me back to his apartment.
"You seem nervous," he told me when I was unable to relax. He had just kissed me, and even though I kissed him back as warmly as I could, he must have been able to sense that I had something else on my mind.
"Are you seeing someone else?" he asked, and I was surprised to note how perceptive he was. I almost told him the whole story about my Daddy, but by this time, I was beginning to think that I might be a little strange for doing the things I had done, and I didn't know how anyone else would react.
But I admitted that I was involved with another person, although I didn't tell him who it was. I think if I'd said that I'd been fucking my father, he would have gotten my coat and taken me right back home immediately.
I didn't want that, but he could see that I wasn't really enjoying myself and that must have made it difficult for him to get into it, because I could tell that his cock wasn't getting as hard as he would have liked.
"Do you feel guilty for being with me?" he asked after a few minutes.
"I don't know if guilty is the word," I started, almost giving in to the temptation to open up to him and tell him the story of my life.
Haven't you ever wanted to do that, Doctor, just find someone who's willing to listen to you?
Well, I sure felt like I needed someone like that just then, but I finally decided against it. He probably wouldn't have understood.
So what I did was to pretend that I was not as uptight as I really was.
I started to moan and groan as he pressed his body against mine, and when he grabbed for my tits, I jerked, simply from shock but he took it to me I was getting aroused and turned on. I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth.
He was good too. That's what made it so strange, because he was just the kind of person I should have been getting turned on by.
He had a well formed body with no fat and muscles that were well developed without being gross like those guys who shoot steroids into their bodies and pump iron all day.
He was good with his tongue and I don't mean just in how he could talk.
Before I really knew what was going on, his hands were playing with my breasts through my clothes.
"That feels good," I murmured, for it really did feel good.
But I knew that no matter what he did to me, I would still be thinking of my father and his own big cock.
Keep in mind that until I met boys in a large quantity, which began soon after this night, I had only had one cock in my pussy. I'd had it there almost every night, true, but my overall experience with cocks was pretty limited.
So this boy's cock was strange, but I kept comparing it to the cock that it wasn't, which was my father's cock.
Of course, his own cock couldn't compare to Daddy's, although he did know how to use it pretty good.
He kept me at his apartment until he'd managed to get all my clothes off and his cock out of his pants. I saw that it was getting harder now as it contemplated sliding in and out of my juicy pussy. . But I wasn't feeling anything. Not even a tingle. I was too attached to Daddy.
That whole phase of my life haunts me now. I think of it a lot.
I was always a little split inside myself.
On the one hand, I was frightened and a little intimidated by him.
But on the other, I liked it. I guess that's what's giving me my problems with sex now, the fact that I enjoyed it. Maybe I think that I'm perverted.
But after Daddy died in my final year at college, I went into hibernation as far as sex was concerned. I just didn't know how to enjoy it any more.
And that's the way way it still is.
Do you ever think I'll be normal, Doctor?
CONCLUSION
Jenny's problem is a very deep seated one. She is obviously able to enjoy sex, as is evidenced by her earliest experiences, which she still remembers with fondness. But her inability to reconcile those early memories with what she's learned to think about such behavior in the meantime has left her very confused about herself as a sexual being. I envision a long period of treatment, but predict that her problem will eventually straighten itself out, as soon as she learns that whatever has happened is in the past and that she needs only to learn to look to the future.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
SUBJECT: Susan P. E: Twenty
INTERVIEW ONE
Susan is a beautiful young woman with firm breasts that she enjoys showing off as much as she can. Her sweaters are always stretched tight and she seldom wears a bra. That isn't unusual for one built as she is, with tight firm breasts with not the slightest bit of sag.
She came to me because she was confused about her own sexual identity. Her own words explain it fully.
I don't know if I'm a lesbian or not, doctor.
I guess that sounds a little strange, doesn't it? Usually people know if they swing one way or the other, but IVe always been confused.
My earliest experience with sex was with a woman, and I was seduced by a lot of woman photographers when I first started modeling.
I remember when I had an opportunity to pose for Angela Cason. She was known simply as Ange, and was pretty famous.
She had started out as a model herself and had already become famous for her pictures when she decided to move to the other side of the camera. I always thought that her early experience as a model made her much more sensitive to the nuances of creating a perfect image on film.
When I got to her studio, she was wearing a very skimpy outfit that I immediately found very stimulating.
She had big tits. Real big tits and she like showing them off. I guess she sort of influenced me in that respect, don't you think, Doctor. Don't you like to look at my tits? Most men do. I found out real early that if you know how to package your tits, a lot of doors open for you.
She was dressed in a silky blouse that was opened all the way to her waist, and it was tucked into a real short skirt. I found out real soon that she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
That's when I discovered that I was already getting real wet between my legs, and the reason was partly because we were going to shoot some erotic pictures, but it was also because I found the sight of her naked pussy hanging out of her skirt each time she bent over a very exciting sight.
"You like to look at my body?" Ange asked me.
"Yes," I answered honestly. "I think it's beautiful."
Smiling at me, she took off her shirt.
"Here," she said, "let me get a little more comfortable.
Then she took off her skirt too, and for a minute, her naked body was on full display. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She was perfect.
Her pussy fascinated me, because she had shaved her hair in the shape of a heart. I had never seen anyone who had shaved their pussy before and at first the idea turned me off.
I thought of how sharp the razor had to have been, and the idea of something that sharp and dangerous scraping around those delicate, sensitive lips and skin gave me shivers.
But obviously, she shaved herself often, because there was only the perfect form of a heart enclosing her pussy lips, with no stubble at all.
"Do you want to look at it?" she asked me, noticing how interested I was in her pussy.
"Yes," I said, and she walked over and stood in front of me.
"Touch me there," she instructed, and I ran my fingers over the shaved part of her cunt and was amazed at how smooth she felt. It was like running my fingers over the velvet lining of a jewelry box.
"Doesn't it hurt," I asked, "I mean to shave it like that?"
She just laughed.
"Maybe it hurts a little bit, but when you see how it drives men wild, you realize it's worth it. You have to keep in mind, men never come to terms with a woman's pussy. It's always something dark and mysterious to them, and when they see it changed or altered in any way, it strikes them as a bit of magic."
I remembered that. It's always come in handy.
"Why do you think they enjoy porn flicks that show women stuffing weird objects up their cunts?" she asked me. "Because they think anything about cunts is slightly fantastic and incredible." Then, she slipped into a pair of panties.
"I don't want to be totally obscene about this, you understand," she said with a smile.
"Now, why don't you get comfortable?"
She offered me a robe to wear, and so I went ahead and took all my clothes off, aware of her close scrutiny as I did so. She looked me up and down with frank approval.
"You're beautiful," she told me.
I felt myself beginning to blush. I had been seduced by a friend of my older sister when I was younger ... that was the first experience that I mentioned ... but Ange was the first woman that really turned me on who seemed to be turned on by me too. It was a very pleasant sensation.
"Well," she said after a minute, "shall we get started?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"Well, what you're wearing would be a good place to begin I think. Why don't you just sit over there in that chair, and let your robe fall open a little." you just sit over in that chair by the fireplace and open your robe. Not all the way, just enough to show the curve of your breasts."
I did as she told me.
"No, that's not quite right," she said and walked over to where I was sitting.
She placed her hands on one of my breasts and arranged the material so that the inside curve of my nipple was exposed, but the point was still hidden by the robe.
"It's always good to leave a little to the imagination."
I was shocked at the thrill that went through my body when she touched me on my breast.
I wanted her to touch me some more, but thought that I was being silly. She was a professional, after all. She'd done this a thousand times. It must have been commonplace by now, I thought.
But I was wrong.
I could tell that she was getting turned on by my body as the session continued.
Once when she bent over to adjust a cord to one of the lights, I could look right at her crotch and I saw that it was dark and wet from her cunt juices that were flowing out of her.
"You seem to be getting a little hot and bothered by all this," I said shyly.
She turned around and gave me a sly look that told me that when the session was over, she might not be through with me.
We did a bunch of different types of things that afternoon. None of it was really pornographic, but it was definitely erotic.
I spent most of the time wearing nothing at all, or maybe just panties or maybe jeans with the zipper all the way down so that my pubic hair showed underneath or with real sheer see through night gowns ... things like that.
Ange really knew how to get the most out of a woman's body and face.
Her suggestions really impressed me. She would describe an entire scene and have me place myself in the center of the action, and then let the fantasy carry me away into the image she wanted from me.
"Think of yourself lying on a table, and imagine that there are strange men surrounding you, all of them feeling your body and probing your pussy. You want to fuck them. You want to fuck all of them and before the night is over, you will. But right now, you are just thinking about it, and you're a little scared because you don't know what they have in mind for you."
And I could see the situation perfectly. I could imagine dozens of strange fingers wandering all over my body, touching me, feeling me, squeezing me.
I wanted to feel fingers in my pussy.
I wanted to feel Ange's fingers in my body. I wanted to feel her tongue on my cunt. Oh, how I wanted it.
And she knew it too, because as the session continued, it became harder and harder to keep my eyes off her body. Her breasts were glistening from sweat from all the lights, and her pussy was plainly visible beneath her panties. I kept watching that heart-shaped patch of hair and felt myself growing hotter and hotter for her.
Then, she really shocked me.
"How'd you like to shave your pussy?"
"What?" I asked, hearing the surprise in my voice.
"Sure. It might be fun. I like taking pictures of shaved pussies, and I promise you, they really turn men on. That's what this is all about, isn't it?"
"Yes, but...."
I didn't know what to say. I hadn't thought of shaving my own cunt, even after seeing Ange's. I was still turned off by the thought of a razor scratching around that most sensitive of spots on my body.
"I think I'm afraid to have it shaved," I told her.
"Nonsense," she laughed. "I'm an old hand at it."
She pointed to her crotch to prove it, and I had to agree that she seemed to suffer no ill effects.
"OK," I said at last. "Let's do it."
She went into her bedroom and brought out a towel and a can of shaving cream and a thin, shiny gold razor. I sucked in my breath for a second when I saw it, but she seemed so carefree about it that I quickly relaxed.
"OK, doll. Let's spread 'em."
I did, and she squirted a large blob of foamy cream onto her hand.
Then, with her fingers she slowly spread it all through my pubic hair. My pussy really came alive.
Then, when she had the shaving cream spread all over me, she took the razor and made a single stroke at the top of my bush.
"Ouch!" I cried. It hurt. The blade pulled at the hair and my skin had never had anything like that scraping over it and was really sensitive.
"Shh," she soothed. "It'll be all right."
She kept stroking my bush with her razor, each time shrinking its size until there was just a thin strip of hair right over my lips.
"Do you have to shave it all off?" I asked.
"Um hmm," she said and knelt down to get a closer look.
"I want to make sure I don't do any permanent damage." she said teasing me, but for a minute, I thought she was serious and almost backed out right there.
"Don't worry, I've done this lots of times."
"Really?" I asked, although it somehow didn't reassure me.
"Sure. Now just relax."
I felt the blade scrape right across the lips of my pussy. Each hair seemed to scream as it was shaved from my body. My skin was feeling real raw, although I guess a night of hard fucking would make it just as raw.
But having a dick in you is one thing, and having a razor blade at your pussy is quite another.
But, as you can guess, she shaved me bald.
Then I wiped the excess cream off with the towel and Ange gave me a mirror to inspect her handiwork.
I was amazed at the change.
Where before I had had a real thick patch of hair with a pink slit peeking out from underneath, I now had two pouting lips with thick flaps of skin floating out between them.
The skin around the opening to my cunt was darker and wrinkled, although I guess when a dick is stretching your cunt, the wrinkles disappear.
I examined myself closely and found that I liked what I saw.
"What do you think," Ange asked me.
"Well, it's different. I kind of like it."
"So do I."
"Well, do you want to take pictures of it," I asked, not realizing that she had shaved me for quite a different reason.
"In due time, in due time," she said mysteriously.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, suddenly remembering how beautiful her breasts were as they swayed gently from her body.
"What I mean by that is," she said, taking me by the hand, "I have a real fetish for shaved beavers."
"Really?" I asked. My voice sounded small in my ears. Or maybe it was just the pounding of blood that was drowning out other sounds.
"Really," she answered, placing her hand over that freshly shaven mound of ripe cunt flesh.
"In fact, I like shaved pussies as much as hard cocks. And as anyone who has ever been to bed with me can testify, I love hard cocks."
She was grinning a sly grin as she led me to her bedroom.
"Is this part of the photo session," I asked her, knowing that I'd really been wanting her to do this since the first moment I'd met her.
"Think of it as a fringe benefit," she laughed, wrapping her arms around me and kissing me full on the lips.
I felt my cunt quiver and my nipples grow hard almost at once. Her tongue raced between my lips and probed all through my mouth, squeezing up between my teeth and lips, reaching all the way to the back of my throat.
She had an amazing tongue. So long, so coordinated!
I thought about that snake-like tongue probing through my pussy, flicking across my clitoris, digging through my shaven slit, lapping up my cunt juices, which I could feel even now flowing faster and more furiously than before.
I was getting so hot, I forgot all about the original reason for coming to her studio. It seemed that the whole idea of a photo session had just been an elaborate ruse to get me into her clutches, let her shave my pussy and then make love to me.
And the strange thing is, I didn't mind it a bit. Not one bit!
I wanted it. I wanted it. I wanted this beautiful woman to make love to me. To play with my tits and finger my cunt and lick my body from one end to the other.
Don't get me wrong, Doctor. I've had healthy relationships with men, and I had had a lot when I first met Ange.
That's why it's so confusing, because I thought that if a woman was turned on by other women, it meant that she didn't like to be with men, and that was hardly the case with me.
I really can't explain the feeling. It's different, somehow, with a woman. Softer, gender. When I fuck men, I like them to be rough to me. I like them to squeeze and bite my breasts till they throb from the pain.
But with women, I can be more natural, it seems. I like the slower pace.
There doesn't seem to be the single minded focus that there is with a man, which is to ultimately get his cock into your cunt and let him fuck you till he comes. With a woman, it's like foreplay never stops. Just one endless stream of foreplay and stimulation. And when you come, there's not the feeling that some goal has been reached or anything, it's more like just another part of a much larger experience that never needs to end.
That's the biggest thing that's different with fucking a man and making it with a woman, the fact that women don't have to worry about getting anything hard and erect.
If a man can't get it up, you don't do anything and there's always this sense of failure in the air. You never know if you did something to take his mind off it or anything. But women don't have that problem. And women are more tuned in to their own bodies and just know what a woman likes better than a man. Men are concerned only with their cocks. Women seem more involved with the whole experience as it related to both partners.
But like I said, that doesn't mean that I don't like cocks. I do. I love them.
I love to feel them sloshing through my cunt and I especially love to feel huge cocks in me, cocks so big that my pussy can't take them all the way in. I like feeling my cunt stretched to the point where it feels like it's going to rip apart.
I like to feel the swollen head of a massive prick crash into the bottom of my pussy and bend the walls till they almost break. I really do.
A hard cock is a definite turn on for me. Soft pricks look kind of funny, all shriveled up and wrinkled and hanging on top of that funny looking sac of balls.
But no sooner do I see a cock start to go hard, start to swell and stand up on its own, and the whole thing suddenly becomes the most beautiful sight I can imagine.
So you figure it out. I don't know what I like. Maybe I just like it all.
But at that moment, I liked Ange and what she was doing to me, which was playing with her fingers over my naked pussy lips. Without their protective coat of hair, they felt cold and always wet. They were wet, of course, but feeling chilled like that made them seem all the more wet, like liquid was continually evaporating off the surface.
Then she got down on her knees and buried her nose in my crotch.
"You smell so good," she said.
"Do I? I've never thought pussies smelled that good," I told her, and I didn't. I used to think they smelled like fish. Maybe that's just because you learn real early that pussies are dirty and have to be kept clean and that you can't ever touch yourself there. You get a real complex about yourself!
"Don't ever be ashamed of your body," Ange told me. It was good advise and I've never forgotten it. She gave me lots of good advice that day.
Then her tongue was doing just what I'd wanted it to do. It was slithering all over my pussy, feeling the newly smooth skin, slipping in between my cunt lips, probing all the way inside my cunt hole.
It felt wonderful and I couldn't even talk or think very clearly. She knew exactly how to get me to a fever pitch fast.
"You're wonderful," I told her.
She grinned her sly grin again.
"I know," she said with confidence and I imagined that she was always told that and must have really become convinced that it was true.
Which it was.
She was the best pussy licker I've ever met.
Better than any man, I'll tell you that.
She let her tongue explore all around my cunt, but kept away from my hard clitoris, except for a quick touch or two.
Each time she touched it, I cried out from the sensation. It was so intense it was almost brutal.
"OH, LICK MY CLIT!!!" I yelled.
"Be patient," she said, and so I tried to contain my lust, it wasn't easy. Ange was a very erotic woman and knew what sex was all about.
Pleasure. That's what. Whatever turned you on, that's what she was into.
I found that I liked to have a tongue in my pussy and she happened to like having her tongue in my pussy also, so it worked out just fine.
She licked through my wet slit for a long time, and I kept getting hotter and hotter, and could feel the tension building all through my body, especially in my pussy and tits.
Then all of a sudden, she left my cunt. I was disappointed because I'd wanted her to keep on licking it, and maybe stick all of her fingers in it and pull and press me to an earthshaking orgasm, but she wasn't ready to let me come yet.
First, she wanted to explore the rest of my body.
She started to kiss me on my pussy, kissed my clitoris just enough times to make me want her to do it forever, then started to work up over my stomach, planting delicate little kisses as she went along.
She moved closer to my tits, and as if to make certain we didn't forget the focus of. attention, I could feel her fingers return to my shaved beaver as her lips got closer and closer to my tits.
She slid a fingertip up and down through my slit, still avoiding my clitoris and keeping right at the surface of the pink gash so filled with juice and sexual heat.
Then her mouth was right between my breasts. She took her hands and pressed them into her face, seeming to smother herself in my tits.
I liked feeling her hands on me, feeling her face between my tits and I wanted her to squeeze them.
She did, but first, she kept up the kissing movement, circling each nipple like a hawk seeking its prey.
The circles got smaller and smaller, and then all of a sudden, she was chewing on a nipple and I felt the hard bud of flesh swell at her touch.
She bit down on it, not hard, but enough to send ripples of electricity racing back down through my body and into my cunt, which responded with a heavy quiver.
Then, as she chewed on one nipple, she took the other one in between her fingers and started to massage it, rub it, and squeeze it too.
I felt like my breasts were on fire. They had never been so aroused. I wanted to feel it go on forever, wanted to feel my clitoris get the same treatment.
Face it. I wanted to come.
God how I wanted to come. I wanted my body to go into blind crazed spasms of orgasm. I wanted to be driven senseless.
She slowly gave me my wish, not as fast as I wanted, but it was more enjoyable when it finally hit me.
She held me back, kept bringing me close and then letting me fall away.
It became an endlessly repeating pattern.
Stimulation. Arousal. Gathering sensations. The build towards orgasm.
And then, always, the frustrating fall back, feeling your body return, yet still crying out for release.
She did it so many times I lost count.
I finally realized that as I was approaching orgasm, my hips would begin to gyrate on the bed faster and I would start to moan and groan and breathe harder.
Those were her cues, so I tried to smother them, but that didn't work either because what happened was that when I finally cried out, it was at the very beginning of an actual orgasm, and nothing is worse than being left high and dry just when you're ready to feel your body go crazy.
She was heartless. She was without mercy.
But God was she good!
She seemed to know exactly where everything on my body was, every nook and cranny, and how to wring all the sensation out of them that was possible.
She had expert fingers and a crazy tongue.
No one has a tongue like Ange. I'm convinced of that.
Finally, I could take it no more.
"Finish me off! Please let me go! I want to come, I need it sooo bad...."
I was gasping and nearly delirious. I didn't know what I was saying, only that I was speaking out of a crying need to feel my body captured in the writhing throes of a magnificent come.
And when it came at last, magnificent was too small a word to describe it.
I was transported.
That's the only way to say it. I was literally taken out of this world.
I don't know where I went, but I do know that I've never been able to go back to quite the same place again. That's for sure.
She did it with the lightest touch her tongue was capable of, placing her head back down between my legs and starting a blizzard of tongue flicks right on top of my clitoris, but not even enough to move it around in its pink pocket.
Simply enough to make me feel. And Lord, what I was feeling! It was like electrodes had been placed in my pussy.
Supercharged electrodes that spat out a vicious current that held my whole body rigid.
I couldn't breathe, so violent were the spasms rocking my body.
I shook.
I quaked.
I writhed.
I wiggled and I jiggled and I screamed so loud I thought someone might call the police.
And I kept on screaming too, screamed from the very bottom of my guts.
And still the maddening flicker of flame kept up at my clitoris, building to a raging inferno all through my body.
I felt my juice pour out of my cunt and coat Ange's face and felt her rub her cheeks all through my spread lips to rub even more of it on her.
That turned me on! I liked someone who could get into sex on all levels, particularly such a physical one. Talk about love and romance is nice and all, but wanting to get right down to the gooey sticky mess of it and loving it was what I like most.
She then stuck a finger up my pussy as she sucked on my clitoris.
Then I felt another one creeping in there. And then another. And finally another.
Four fingers. Would she ... she did! I felt her thumb shoving its way inside me and then I felt her increase the pressure. What was she doing, I wondered. Then I felt her flare her fingers and thumb wide, almost ripping the lips wide open, start to push real hard, flare her fingers some more and shove even harder.
She was going to push her whole hand into me!
Could it fit?
I didn't see how, but she was sure determined and I had to admire her enthusiasm.
"Oh, that feels incredible. It feels so ... OH! OH! YES!!! YES YES YES!!!"
I couldn't control myself.
Coming so close on the heels of my first orgasm, this new sensation was like a volcano after a bombing raid.
She pushed aside my cunt flesh without mercy, plowing a wet soggy path right into the center of my body.
I felt so incredibly alive! I felt like I'd never experienced my body before.
And she showed no signs of getting tired.
I realized that I'd done nothing to her in return. Did she want to come too, or did she just get off on making me come? I wondered.
Then with an oozing plop, I felt her fist spring right into the empty space past my cunt hole and fill me like I'd never been filled before.
She began to rotate her fist in me, turning it one way then the other, keeping it up till I knew I was going to come again and that I would be even more out of control this time than I was the first.
I came and I came and I came till I started to lose consciousness.
The room slowly faded, all the objects became blurry and dark and my thoughts drifted away to images of a river, gently rolling hills, a sailboat out on the lake, a soft breeze....
I suddenly became aware of myself again.
I had no idea how much time had passed. The first thing I focused on was a huge nipple dangling right over my mouth and I sucked it in without even thinking.
I heard Ange gasp and I realized that she'd fist fucked me into a total stupor. That had never happened to me before!
I started to suck on the heavy tit in my mouth and reached for her heart shaped pussy. It was so wet my fingers slid right in without any resistance at all and I dug as deeply as I could.
She was hot and ready to be worked over. I did the best I could but I was still weak from the two earthquakes of orgasms she'd just given me and it took a few minutes for me to fully orient myself.
But there really wasn't all that much to it.
There were tits, there was a cunt and I had a mouth and fingers. That's all it took.
She was ready to come and did so at once.
All I had to do was to touch her clitoris and she was all over me with her lips and body.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes, oh you're so beautiful you turn me on so much oh yes fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me!!"
She seemed to be saying anything that came into her head. It was an endless stream of aroused babble and I loved hearing it in my ear.
Her body was soft yet tight and I wanted to feel it press into me.
Her nipples were hard and her cunt soggy and I wanted to play with them all day. Which I just about did.
We never did get back to taking pictures that first session, but there were many more that followed. Ange made sure of that.
And each one started out with a session of love making and ended with one too. It made for a really personal relationship.
And I have to say that the photos she took of me are the best anyone's ever taken.
I'm sure she was as good a photographer as her reputation said, but I'm also certain that there was a special energy between us that's never been duplicated in my whole career.
INTERVIEW TWO
For our next interview, I wanted Susan to tell me a little more about her first sexual encounter which she had mentioned earlier. I felt that there were some clues to her attitude buried there that would be helpful if they could be brought to the surface. However, I was beginning to suspect that she really had no problem at all, other than a reluctance to accept a simple fact of her sexual nature. Perhaps by reliving her early formative experience, she could get herself in touch with her true self.
I guess you got the idea from my last interview Doctor that I can really enjoy women.
I do.
Maybe that's my problem. I don't think I should enjoy making it with women, and feel guilty because I obviously do enjoy it so much.
The first time I had a sexual experience with someone was when my sister Julia had a friend home from college. I was just in high school then and was definitely a virgin.
I'd let boys play with my tits, but everyone did that. It was the easiest way to get dates, and even get someone to go steady with you.
But you had to be careful, and time everything just right.
You needed to pace them, if you know what I mean. Make them think more was coming, and always give them a little more, but always less than what they wanted so they would keep coming back for more.
It's a rotten kind of game. But it's how you get through high school.
I'd even had boys' fingers on my clit, but usually it was when they'd try to stuff their hands down my jeans and since I always wore skin tight jeans, it made for a rather uncomfortable situation.
But sometimes, you'd find yourself in a position where you either had to put out or admit that you'd run out of tricks to keep leading them on.
Whenever that happened, I'd fall back on the old birth control ruse, or something like that, and once I had to let a guy eat my pussy just to give him something for his efforts.
But all these were not very good experiences and I didn't consider them very sexual. They were just part of a mean game boys and girls play when they're in school.
Julia's friend, however, was something else.
Tall, slender, with tight firm breasts bouncing off her torso with every step.
She was a very pretty girl. I'd never looked at a woman with desire before, or felt a woman's gaze turn me on, but Karen certainly did it to me.
She was going to be there for a week, and after the first day, she sort of fell into the routine of the house and became like another member of the family. So it was easy to get loose around her.
One afternoon when I came home from school early, I felt like going for a swim in the pool in our back yard, so I went up to my bedroom and took off my clothes, got out my bikini and as I was putting it on, I glanced out the window and saw Karen do a perfect swan dive into the water.
She was graceful and a very good swimmer, gliding through the water with effortless ease.
Then she climbed onto the side of the pool, and as she got out of the water, one of her breasts slipped out of the top of her bathing suit.
She lazily slipped it back inside, but I saw her first give her nipple a kind of loving tweak and rub her hand over her entire breast. Then, she walked to the diving board and stepped out to the edge, stood there balancing herself over the water and just waited, seeming to be unable to make up her mind what kind of dive she was going to do next.
She took a practice bounce on the board, and as her body shot upward and back down, I was entranced by the way her breasts shook and jiggled beneath her bathing suit.
Suddenly I realized that I was feeling a little funny between my legs and without even thinking about it, I started to play with my clitoris.
Suddenly I came, and it sort of shocked me back to awareness, which became focused very quickly on Karen again.
She had gotten out of the pool, walked over to a lounge chair and very carelessly slipped out of her top.
Her breasts were great big round melons with large brown circles in the center.
She picked up a bottle of suntan lotion and started to rub it all over her body.
Her skin took on a brilliant sheen. She was like a piece of porcelain in the sunlight. I realized that I was becoming very aroused watching her.
So, I continued what I had originally planned to do, which was to put on my tiny bikini and go down for a swim. But as I descended the stairs and walked out onto the patio, there was a major transformation in my ultimate objective.
Karen was lazily sunning herself, and since no one else was home, she casually looked up at me, gave me a smile and closed her eyes again.
"How are you doing Susan?"
"Oh, Pretty good," I replied, trying to sound casual. "It's a great day to catch some rays, isn't it?"
"Ummmm...." she murmured in affirmation.
I walked over to the diving board, did a quick dive and swam to the side.
Karen was watching me when I climbed out of the pool.
"That's a nice bathing suit you've got. Where'd you get it?"
"Oh this? I bought this in London last year when we were over there on vacation."
"Come here. I want to look at it."
I walked over, conscious of each step, feeling each breath as it entered my lungs and was exhaled.
"My," she said, "I like the weave. What kind of material is it?"
I didn't even hear her question, so preoccupied was I with watching her tits glisten in the sunlight.
"Susan?" Karen asked, wondering if I was still there.
"Huh?" Suddenly I felt really embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."
"Hmmm...." she said with a thoughtful grin. "What did you ask?"
"Oh ... it doesn't matter. Why don't you join me. The sun's great."
"OK," I said and then realized she meant to take off my top too.
All of a sudden, I felt uncomfortable. I don't know why, just like I didn't know why I was getting so aroused looking at her from my bedroom window.
Then she eased my doubts.
"Is there anything wrong, Susan?" she asked, softly.
"Uh, no ... I don't think so."
"Why don't you come here?"
I stepped closer to her, wordlessly, afraid yet fearing to leave as well.
"Are you sure you wouldn't want to join me?"
Her voice was becoming hypnotic, almost.
I watched in a trance as she raised her hands to my breasts and started to fondle them. It felt strangely delicious.
Then she slipped the material off my nipples (it scarcely covered more anyway) and let them swing free. They felt good, and the hard driving stare of her eyes felt like a tingle racing through them.
"You're very beautiful," she said simply.
"So are you," I answered not knowing what else to say.
Her fingers were lightly dancing over my breasts as she spoke with me, and I could feel the nipples growing more and more aroused by her touch.
They felt like two hard stones at the tips of my breasts, like cherries on top of mounds of ice cream.
And just like ice cream in the sun, my breasts were beginning to melt beneath the heat of the sun and the hot touch of her fingers.
"Do you do this to Julia," I suddenly asked. "Oh, sometimes I do. She likes it as much as you seem to."
That stunned me. I'd always thought of Julia as a little conservative, but she'd always had boyfriends in high school and seemed to get off on them a lot.
Did this mean that my sister was a lesbian, I wondered. Did it mean that I was one too?
Such questions soon became irrelevant, as her fingers were probing with increased urgency.
I wanted to feel her touch me all over my body, particularly between my legs which were getting wet. Very wet, and it wasn't from the residue of pool water from my quick swim either.
"Susan, I think I'd like to go back in the water. Would you like to come with me?"
I followed, still in a trance.
As soon as we were in, Karen turned to me and without a word, placed her hand on my cunt. It was outside my bathing suit bottom, but my pussy still went into a frenzy of sensation simply from her touch.
She looked deeply into my eyes and could easily see the passion rising there.
She smiled at me.
"I really do like your body," she said. "I want it. I want it very much."
"Take it," was all I could force out of my rapidly constricting throat.
She slid a finger up under one of the leg band of my suit and I felt it searching for my slit.
She found it without any trouble, ran it up and down through my hair and then probed deep into my cunt chamber.
I felt like I was floating.
"I ... I, I've never felt this ... way ... before...." I said, feeling like I was falling into a dream.
"You haven't felt anything yet," Karen said, and placed her finger right on top of my clitoris.
"Oh yes, oh that feels so good."
But instead of working it hard like I'd expected, (mainly because that's how all the guys that had gotten their hands inside me treated it) she simply pushed it like it was a button.
A button that switched on a flood of energy that charged my entire body.
I gasped deeply, closed my eyes and backed towards the side of the pool for support.
Karen followed, keeping her finger on my clit, keeping up a steady series of gentle pushing motions right on top of it.
She was so soft and delicate, I couldn't stand it. I wanted to cry out, I wanted to flail my arms about in the water, I wanted to lose control yet I was afraid to.
She moved closer to me, gave me a tiny kiss on my lips and started to press against my clitoris harder, but not harshly.
I was starting to turn to liquid. I could feel my body dissipating through the pool like ink poured into a glass of clear water. I was going slowly crazy.
"Karen, should we be doing this?" I asked, feeling suddenly afraid.
"All you have to do is tell me to stop."
She knew I couldn't do that, even if I'd wanted to.
Her finger was moving around inside my bathing suit now, probing back into my pussy hole, and her other hand was fondling my tits.
Each nipple was begging to be touched, to be squeezed, to be mauled. But she kept her touch graceful and delicate and drove me even crazier for it.
I wanted all at once to feel her lips on my cunt, to feel her drive me to orgasm.
But there was no way we could do it outside in the pool. There was no way of knowing when someone would come home, and it would have been really bad if we'd been caught.
So she simply used her finger and kept up her movements inside my cunt until she heard my breath break up into a series of short staccato gasps, and then she stopped.
Opening my eyes, I saw her smiling at me with a kindly expression.
"I've never ... done that before," I said finally.
"Did you like it?" I nodded.
"Well, maybe we can get a chance for something a little more involved before I leave."
I hoped so. I certainly hoped so.
That night at dinner, I could hardly keep my mind on my food or on the conversation between everyone else.
"Karen, what do you study at college," my little brother asked.
"Well, I'm in dance," she said, "but I have other interests as well."
I'll bet you do, I thought to myself. And they were rapidly becoming my interests as well.
"You mean you can go to college and just spend all your time dancing?"
My little brother struck me as being as stupid as any little brother, and I was getting annoyed with his stupid chatter.
"Boy, when I go to college, I'm going to take all my records and spend my whole time dancing."
"Well Timmy, it's really not the same type of dance. It's more structured."
"You mean ballet!?" he asked with obvious distaste.
"Well, not exactly. It's called modern dance, and it can be very beautiful."
"Ugh!" said my brother.
"Oh Timmy," said Julia. "You're so stupid. Why don't you shut up!"
"Don't have to!" he responded at once. "You shut up. I can talk if I want to."
"Mother! Make him shut up."
"Now you children stop your fussing and eat your dinner. Do you want Karen to get the idea that all you do is fight?"
"Oh, don't worry, I have a brother too."
"Yeah, I'll bet you hate him too, don't you?" asked Timmy, who was really starting to get on my nerves.
"Oh Timmy," said Julia, "you're such a little fool. Just eat your dinner and try to behave."
"Don't wanna. Don't wanna."
"Mother!"
"Timmy, you hush now. Julia, be more patient with your brother."
"Well, I didn't ask for him to be MY brother."
All at once, the entire family was driving me crazy. Such an insane conversation!
Didn't they realize that a major part of my development had taken place that afternoon? That I'd experienced something that I hadn't been able to get out of my mind?
But of course, how could they?
Even Julia, who Karen said had done things like that was just another annoyance to me.
I wanted them all to vanish, right then, and leave Karen alone with me. I wanted to see what else she could do to my body.
Every once in a while, I would catch her looking at me out of the corner of her eye, and once she gave me a sly little grin.
As if there was a shared secret between us.
Of course, Timmy picked up on it real quick.
"What are you two hiding?" he asked.
My stomach dropped to the floor.
"Timmy!" My mother saved the day. "Just eat your dinner, and don't talk with your mouth full. And keep it full."
Timmy grumbled and continued to eat his dinner in blessed silence. The table talk drifted off to other topics, while my mind drifted into it s own form of dream.
I kept feeling that finger tip touching my clitoris and charging my entire body.
I had never felt anything that felt so good. I wanted to feel it again, but I was afraid that I wouldn't get the chance.
Would Karen leave, without ever giving me more of what I wanted? It started to seem like that's just what would happen.
For the rest of the week, she and Julia did everything together, including, I wondered, playing around with each other. I still had difficulty imagining Julia doing such a thing, and wondered if maybe Karen had made it up just to ease my mind.
Well, if she had, I didn't care, because it did the trick, and I now only wanted to have it happen again.
One time, I thought we were going to be alone for the afternoon, while Julia went shopping for school clothes and Julia stayed home to do her exercises which were a daily ritual that she couldn't skip.
I walked in on her dressed in her leotards and tights, had my breath taken away by the perfect contours of her body out-lined beneath the stretch material and immediately felt my thighs turn to syrup.
"Hello," she said sweetly, continuing her exercises.
"Hi," I said, my voice feeling small again. "Nothing to do?" she asked. "Not really," I answered. Then she stopped and looked at me. "Did you have any ideas about what you might do about it?"
"Well, sort of."
"Really," she said, making it a statement and not a question. "I think so...."
She smiled at me and walked over to where I was standing.
Her hand was being extended towards me, I could almost feel the fingers on my nipples already, when I heard the back door slam.
"I'm home!!!!!" yelled Timmy.
Damn! I thought.
Karen's hand was rapidly withdrawn. She looked straight into my eyes again, gave a sort of wistful sigh and went back to her exercises.
In fact, I had all but given up. By the time the last night of her visit came, I had even started to lose some of the immediacy of the moment, not really forgetting what it felt like, but having some of the feeling fade from my thoughts.
They were going back to school the next day. I would probably never see her again, and would never know if what we did was the start of something or simply a slight glitch in an otherwise normal development.
I had to know.
But how? .
My heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Was that a sound at my door?
I listened, scarcely breathing, wanting, hoping I'd hear it again.
And then I did hear something, almost like breathing but not quite....
It was my name!
A voice whispering my name, so softly I could just barely make out the sound!
"Who's there," I asked, knowing already who it was.
The door creaked open and I could make out the form of someone entering my room.
Someone tall and slim.
I could also make out the bulge of two perfectly rounded breasts. And long dark hair.
"Are you sleeping," asked Karen.
"No, I was thinking of you, actually."
"I thought you might be."
She moved over to the bed and quickly slid between the covers.
She was naked.
I felt my entire body go crazy. I was scared but I wanted her. Badly.
"Oh touch me," I begged, and no longer did I sense any teasing attitude in her. She wanted me as much as I wanted her. She slid a finger into my pussy and started to churn my juices around.
"Lower," I told her, surprised at my assertiveness.
"No, higher," she said, and found my clit without any trouble.
That's when I started to lose my grip.
My body was turning to liquid at her touch and I couldn't control it at all.
I was afraid that I would start making too much noise, and tried to contain my muffled screams, but she was becoming too intense for me.
"Don't worry," she said, "I checked your sister's room and your parents' room and they both have their air conditioners running. They couldn't hear a bomb if it dropped on the house.
Then her finger went wild. It was like a dancing snake in my cunt. In and out it went, wiggling and spreading my pussy.
"Oh yes, oh yes, I love it I love it," I moaned.
Then she took my hand and placed it on her pussy.
"Finger me as I finger you," she said.
As I slid into her, I was amazed at how smooth she was. It was the first time I had ever felt the inside of someone else's pussy and it was a great feeling.
"Yes," said Karen. "Fuck me with your finger. Fuck me fuck me with your wicked finger."
Her hips rolled agains me.
Her breath started to come more quickly.
And each time I touched her clitoris, her own finger worked my pussy harder and harder.
"Karen, lick my clit, would you please."
She gladly obliged me.
I felt her head sliding beneath the covers, felt her tongue lick a slick trail down my body and wind up finally between my legs.
I couldn't believe it was happening. And the fact that I was enjoying it!
Why was this happening to me? And why was I enjoying it?
The first touch of her finger on my clit nearly made me explode. I couldn't believe what I was feeling. And from a girl!
It was stronger than anything I had ever experienced.
So strong that I felt something happening inside me that had never happened before. I didn't understand it. I felt that I was being lifted up on top of a precipice and then held dangling over the edge.
And the weird part was, I felt myself wanting to fall over the edge.
And yet some part of me was clinging to it for my life! "Oh, my God, what are you doing to me? What's happening to me?" I cried out, but she ignored me.
I guess she knew very well what she was doing to me.
I tried to hold on, but I couldn't. And then I began to fall, and it was as though I suddenly had suicidal tendencies, because I wanted to fall. I wanted to drop right over the edge and kill myself.
Because if that's what dying was like, I was ready for it.
I was crying out. No, more than that, I was actually screaming as my climax shuddered through my body, causing my pussy walls to spasm over her probing fingers.
Why had I never felt like this before? Why couldn't a man make me feel like this?
It was totally incredible.
No sooner had I come then I began to come again, and then it was one continuous climax washing over my body.
My whole body was shaking from the explosions rocking it. And I knew nothing at that moment except I was suddenly in a world I had never been part of before, a world controlled by the senses.
And I knew that I never wanted to leave it!
And then something even more incredible happened to me. She reached down her mouth to my pussy and began to suck on my clit.
She actually put it in her mouth and began to suck on it, pulling it away from my flesh, making it so sensitive, making me so hot, that I didn't think I could stand it.
I wanted to push her mouth away from me, Wanted to tell her to stop before I passed out from the ecstasy, but I was unable to do anything but just go along with the fever that had swept over my body. She was amazing!
My body had never been so totally submerged in a river of passion.
I only wanted it to continue.
So, it seemed, did Karen. I guessed she really got off on sucking my clit.
"Suck me," I screamed.
"Suck my seething clit. Suck it right out of my body. Suck it right down your flaming throat."
And she tried to. She really did.
My finger was playing at her asshole now, and as I probed deeper and deeper into that dark place on her body, she was getting hotter and hotter and her lips were going wild on my pussy.
I felt my clit being twisted by her tongue, scraped by her teeth, rolled around within the wet steaming pocket of pink pussy flesh, crushed by her lips and pulled and shoved.
Totally out of control now, I thrust my hips against her mouth, my cunt spreading its juices all over her lust filled face.
I felt the gathering waves of orgasm begin to mount steadily in my pussy again, felt the muscles in my abdomen begin to spasm and contract and felt a long animal cry well out of my throat.
I was delirious I was insane. I was insatiable.
And so was Karen.
She flipped her body around on the bed so that my mouth could do to her cunt what hers was doing to mine.
Her cunt was sopping wet and hot as the sun.
I felt the flames of her lust lick at my face as she ground her hips into my lips, my teeth, my tongue which was racing through her pink flesh.
I dug deeply into her pussy and tasted the salt of her flesh, felt her asshole with my fingers and her body responding with insane jerking and rolling.
"Yes," she cried. "Yes, more, more, more."
I was amazed. She had seemed so calm, so in control. Now she was like .an animal, a crazed animal with no inhibitions at all!
She was insatiable, and so was I.
The two of us fed on each other's passion, the energy flowing out of our cunts combining to form something even more powerful.
I came again and again and couldn't control it no matter how hard I tried.
My stomach muscles hurt, they clenched tightly, they contracted.
My brain was a total blank.
I had no idea where I was or what was happening to me, except that I was coming and never wanted to stop.
She kept flicking that magic tongue over my clitoris, never pausing and as long as she did, I stayed right there at the peak of passion, not able to come down, even if I had wanted to, which I didn't.
I felt fingers pawing at my cunt lips.
I felt teeth chewing at my clit.
I felt her suck my entire insides out.
And again I came. Each orgasm was more intense than the one before it.
Each one took me further and further past the bounds of sanity and reason.
And each one burned an indelible mark on my brain. The mark of a woman.
The feel of a woman's tongue.
The touch of her breasts against my breasts, of her nipples against my nipples, of her juices mixing with my own juices.
I wrapped my arms around her body and pulled her tighter to me, wanting almost to fuse our bodies to one.
She seemed to share my desire because I felt her breasts pressing harder and harder against my skin.
I felt her finger start to slip up my asshole again, and then there were two.
At the same time, she shoved more fingers into my cunt. It felt like she had twenty or maybe even thirty fingers, so full did I feel from her probings.
Our bodies were covered with sweat, our muffled groans and moans filled the room.
All at once, I was scared again of being found out.
"Are you sure no one can hear us?" I asked.
"Well, it's your house. You should know better than I would."
"I'd hate for someone to walk in."
"I know what you mean. Are your parents light sleepers?"
"No. Sometimes, they sleep right through parties we throw here."
"Well, what are you worrying about. This is a party, but it's a pretty quiet party by comparison, don't you think?"
"I guess so," I said, feeling her tongue start to race over my clitoris again.
It was a feeling that never grew stale. I felt like I could lay there all night and all day and all night again, my legs splayed wide, her head buried in my crotch, that wild tongue of flame setting my entire body on fire in a way that I knew I would never feel again.
It was almost disappointing, because I knew that she was the peak. She had to be! How could anything ever top this?
She kept on flicking with her tongue, kept on probing with her fingers into my pussy and my asshole and I came again.
All muscles in my body rebelled against the tension, every nerve went spastic and fizzled out.
I was growing numb, so overloaded was I from the feeling.
She lowered her hips against my face again, indicating that I was supposed to give her the same workout that I was getting from her, and I collected my thoughts enough to give her what she wanted.
My tongue went into her bottomless pussy and I felt her shake on me.
Then she went rigid and I felt her move to the peak of orgasm again, relentlessly coming all over my face, loving it, craving it.
I was so excited that I didn't hear the door open.
But I felt the bed sag as someone got onto it with us.
I sat up as much as I could with Karen's legs wrapped around my face.
"Who's there?" I asked in blind panic.
"Relax," said Karen. "I've been expecting her."
"What?" I asked, incredulous. "Shh, don't worry about a thing, sister. It's just me."
"You're kidding?"
"Well, it's not our stupid little brother, is it?"
I couldn't believe it. My sister. My older sister, in bed naked with me and her best friend, and all of us so hot we could hardly take the time to talk at all.
Already her fingers were on Karen's tits and my pussy.
"Oh, that feels wonderful," I moaned.
"Doesn't it though," agreed Karen, content to lay back for a change and let someone else take over the job of bringing me off.
"Oh, Julia, that's amazing," I said as she started to lick my pussy. I couldn't believe that so soon after getting such a work out from Karen that a new tongue could bring me right back to the peak again.
But she did it.
With a practiced touch that told me she'd been to bed with lots of women before.
Or maybe she'd just been to bed with Karen. I had the feeling that someone like Karen had a lot to teach and that spending a little time with her would be one hell of a learning experience.
I must have been right. When I closed my eyes, it was just as if Karen's tongue was back at my clit. I had to stretch my imagination to convince myself that this was actually my sister's tongue.
And it was licking me harder, harder until I felt myself falling off the edge.
"Help me," I cried out, fearing that I would get totally out of control.
"Shhh," said Karen, taking my hand and holding it tight. I felt her face drawing close to mine and she gave me a big wet kiss as she started to stroke my breasts with her other hand that was still free.
"You like this, don't you?" asked Julia, pausing a minute for some air.
"I love it, don't stop!" I screamed.
"Hey," said Karen, "you've got to be cool. Someone will really hear us if you do that again."
"I'm sorry, but I just can't contain myself ... please do it some more."
Karen started to suck on my tits, and Julia resumed her work at my cunt.
I was lost. I could no longer even tell the difference between my body and the two bodies around me.
All of us were simply different extensions of the same creature, it seemed, a six-legged, six-armed, six-titted sex machine that was able to fuck itself and give itself orgasms without limit.
I was glad to be a part of something like that.
I never wanted it to end.
But, finally it had to. Karen and I could take no more, and after both of us taking turns licking Julia's cunt till she came again and again, we all lay still, our arms tangled like pretzels.
It seemed to take nearly an hour, but at last my muscles stopped their quivering, my breathing almost became calm again, and I felt myself begin to settle back.
My body had felt like it was literally disintegrating in the mad frenzy of orgasm. Now, I started to take shape again, and I realized that I was simply in my room with my sister and her friend and that I felt better than I had in my whole life.
I was a woman, and I had just made love to two women.
It had been an unspeakably grand experience, and somehow, I knew that I might have seen the best sex I would ever experience. I hoped not. I wanted to feel that way again.
We lay together on the bed.
I felt my arms and legs and breasts being lightly stroked, and I reached out and began to stroke the first arms and legs and breasts that my hand came in contact with.
"You have the most tender soft body I've ever touched," Karen told me.
"Well, I like that," said Julia.
"I'm just trying to make her feel good," said Karen.
"I know one thing," I told them.
"What's that," asked Julia.
"I know I'd like to do this again."
I had meant that I didn't want this to be the last time I ever made love like this, but they mistook my meaning.
At once, they were at my body again, licking my tits, rubbing my pussy, working me once more towards the frenzy I'd just fallen away from.
I came almost as soon as I felt those lips on me, and once again the mad dance of passion went on without let-up.
We fucked with each others bodies like that until dawn, when Julia and Karen both went back to their rooms.
I knew that they would have a long drive back to college.
But if they felt anything like I did, it would be a pleasant drive.
If only they could stay awake.
So you see, Doctor, why I was so molded by that first experience?
I never forgot it. It was the most powerful sexual experience I've ever had. I guess I keep looking for it to happen again, but so far, it hasn't.
CONCLUSION
Susan's problem is not a problem at all, but simply a misdirected attitude.
She is not unlike many women in this, and although she fears that she may be a 'lesbian', such labels only serve to confuse her.
Through many counseling sessions, she slowly came to an awareness of the fact that she is not abnormal, and if she enjoys making love to both men and women, so much the better.
And if she finds that she enjoys making love to women more, well, what's wrong with that? What matters is that she lives her life in the way that will make her most happy.
There is no way of knowing whether the therapy was successful. That will take years to uncover.
The last anyone heard of her, she was involved with a man who seemed to be giving her the kind of sexual satisfaction she needs and seeks.
But if she hasn't come to terms finally with her need to love women as well, she will probably never be truly happy.
CASE HISTORY SIX
SUBJECT: HEATHER B. AGE: Twenty-five
INTERVIEW ONE
Heather is a beautiful actress who gave up theatre to marry her husband, and who longed to return to her former life of glamour and glory. She finally left her husband when the pressures of living a life she perceived to be lacking in self fulfillment became too great. Her marriage hopelessly in ruins, she set out once more on a renewed career and found in the process sexual renewal as well. But the years of marriage had taken their toll, and left their mark, "and many other well known cliches" as Heather herself might phrase it.
Her most striking aspect, aside from her gargantuan breasts, is a face that while being quite beautiful, is more what one would call complex. She wore her hair in a shoulder length shag with cascading npples of tight curls washing over her. One cannot help being taken in by her wit, ever ready, though at times quite caustic.
Our first interview dealt with the subject of her sexual feelings and her past, along with some of her sexual fantasies and how they related to the breakup of her marriage.
Well, I guess I always have been sort of an exhibitionist. I just like showing off for people. That's why I was attracted to the theatre as an undertaking. I never thought about it so much in terms of being a career ... it was just something that I liked to do and I did it as soon as I found any kind of structured organization. I guess that was in junior high school.
Then, I just continued it in high school and by the time I was in college, I had a pretty solid background.
And that was my life, till I met Stephen. He was unlike anyone else I'd ever associated with.
Everyone I knew was an actor.
Stephen was a musician.
Actors are always a little extroverted, and usually very good at projecting their public image. They usually appear to be in pretty solid control of how they appear to others.
Stephen, on the other hand, didn't even seem to be aware that he had a public image. Or else, he didn't care. He wore his hair long, and had a beard, in a decade when polyester double knit slacks and disco was the accepted norm. He hadn't bought any new clothes in years. And he had no concept of socially acceptable behavior. He just did what he pleased and didn't think of what other people thought.
That isn't saying that he was thoughtless or unkind. In fact, he was one of the kindest persons I've ever met. But he just never gave other peoples' opinions any recognition alongside his own needs and whatever it was that was affecting him at the time.
But the thing that intrigued me most, was that he was shy about sex. At least compared to the guys I'd been hanging out with. It took three nights of being with him on one pretext or another before we went to bed. For a short time I was wondering if I was chasing a mirage, but then I finally just looked at him, threw my arms around him, gave him a big kiss and before I knew what was happening, we were up on my bed, he had his hand down my pants and his lips on my breasts and honey, let me tell you! Phew!
I was soaring. That boy had a tongue and fingers that were unbelievable. And I told him so. He just looked at me like I was stupid or something and calmly explained the reason.
"I'm a musician." He wiggled his fingers. "Guitar. Remember?" He wiggled his fingers again.
"And I played sax when I was a kid." He stuck out his tongue and wiggled that too.
"It's simply a matter of muscle tone and coordination."
"Dear," I told him, "what you do has nothing in common with lifting weights. You've got one fuck of an imagination!"
"You forget. I also compose. It's simply a matter of structure and dramatic build. Commonplace."
And with a careless shrug of his shoulders, he dismissed what seemed to me to be the best damn technique in bed I'd found in years.
Maybe ever. I'm still debating that one in my mind.
The thing about him was that he would always vary his style and approach.
Sometimes, you go to bed with a guy for three times and you already know what to expect and when to expect.
Not Steve. I got to the point, finally, where I could feel an overall style to his lovemaking, but never did I notice a set repeating pattern to what he did to turn me on.
Some guys, you know ... OK, first he'll grab me by the tits. Then he'll rub each one for exactly thirty-eight seconds, then he'll start rubbing my cunt, then he'll unbutton exactly three buttons on my blouse (unless it's a pull over, at which point he will pull it exactly three inches above my tits ... you know what I mean.
Boring!
Sometimes Stephen wouldn't even take my clothes off. Once he fucked me in an elevator just by stopping the car between floors, raising my dress and pulling my panties aside and just slipping himself into me. It was great, and I thought of the crowds of people who might be waiting on the first floor, and I was right, because when we got to the lobby, they were all looking at us with funny expressions. I wondered if they could tell by the rosy complexion in my cheeks that I'd just been making love.
He would sometimes just spend an evening licking my pussy. Or perhaps he would fondle my breasts, lick, suck and rub them. He was so good at it and knew how to stretch it out over so long a time that he could make me come that way, never even touching my pussy once.
Or else he would tie me up.
I have to admit, that was something that I seldom asked him to do, but when I did, he was only too glad to do it to me and always with a consideration to my fears about being badly hurt. He never would have whipped me, unless I really convinced him that it was what I wanted, and even then he would never have really gotten off on hurting me.
What he did enjoy was making me come. He would spend hours simply feeling my body going out of its skin. He loved it.
Needless to say, so did I. In fact, he got me addicted to it after a while.
He would take sometimes as long as an hour to build me up to the point where I was actually close to coming, and then he would hold me there for as much as another hour.
In the beginning, I never wanted him to hold it out that much and I even got impatient with him sometimes, but one night, he had a solution.
"Here, eat these," he suggested.
"What are they?" I asked, regarding the four white tablets in his hand with suspicion.
"They're Quaaludes."
"Really? I thought they might be acid or something."
"Come on, you know I don't do that stuff anymore," he told me.
"But won't they just make me want to go to sleep?"
"Well sure," he answered, laughing at me.
"If you pump enough into you, they'll kill you, but neither result is exactly what we're looking for."
"Well, what are we looking for?"
"Simple. Here, eat this and if you don't feel anything in an hour, you can eat the other one."
"Is that how long they take to work? An hour?"
"More like forty minutes, which is why we'll wait an hour."
So, after an hour had passed and I didn't feel anything, I ate the other.
Then, about five minutes after that, my legs started to feel like large rubber bands that were very slowly being pulled taut. Never actually becoming taut, just being pulled in that direction.
"Stephen," I asked, a little confused.
"Hmmm?" he asked with a dreamy grin.
"If I wasn't feeling anything before, and I needed the second pill to get off, it would take another forty minutes to have some effect, right?"
"Well ... OK, yeah. Maybe not quite that long ... why?"
"But it wouldn't make a difference as soon as five minutes, would it?"
"No way. It takes that long for your stomach to break the damn pill down in a form your body can absorb."
"Oh. Well, I think the first hit just came on."
He sat up and looked at me, and I could see that the dreamy grin had gotten dreamier and wider.
"Well, guess you'd best get to where you want to be for the next five or six hours, 'cause soon as that second one starts flowing through your brain, you ain't going nowhere, and you're gonna do it real good too."
He didn't make any sense, but I got his meaning anyway. And he was right. All I wanted to do was to stretch out on my bed. Fortunately, I'd had the presence of mind to pull out my satin sheets and put them on the bed before we took the ludes, and now I couldn't believe how much I wanted to feel skin contact. Contact with anything. I didn't care.
"So how you doing, sweetie," he asked me a few minutes later and I just giggled.
"I think it's about time to get naked," he suggested and I put up no resistance.
That's when my lesson in foreplay began.
I was in a mood to feel fingers touching my body, and Stephen was more than willing to stroke me. For hours. In my pussy, over my breasts, he kept up an ever increasing motion all over my body.
I was a little groggy, so it took a while to start a flicker in my cunt, but after a while, it was unquestionably there, tingling away at the center of my clit.
He brought me higher by small, infinitely small degrees, each time leaving me on a plateau for an eternity until he would carry me softly to the next step.
When I finally was ready to come and my pussy was dripping wet, he refused to take me any further. He wouldn't let me fall off, but he just kept me right there at the leading edge of orgasm. It was torture, but a most exquisite kind.
I couldn't believe how delicious the agony was. No pain. But heavy agony. My entire body screamed out for release.
His slightest touch would send ripples of sensation rolling like waves all through my body, making my breasts feel like they were swelling, making my cunt feel like it was flooded.
Then, his fingers finally sought out the opening to my pussy.
I felt his fingertips delicately press themselves right into the open wet gash between my legs, spread the two folds of flesh and then press onward into my cunt, right to the center, where my body felt like it was impaled on him, on his hand, his dancing fingers.
He was slow, steady and never once did he back off from the rising tension.
I lost all sense of time, and felt only the motion of my body suspended on the bed and floating across my satin sheets. I was in space, I felt like I was filling the universe.
The drug had me almost powerless to do anything but simply feel. Feel his magic fingers probing my body. The rest of me was like a limp dish rag.
But still he wouldn't let me come.
His tongue grazed my clitoris, slipped in and out of my cunt hole, lapped along the rim of my anus, but each time he felt that final clenching of stomach muscles and heard my breathing start to go spastic and heard the moaning in my throat increase its urgency, then, and only then did he back off. I hated him for it!
More than anything in the world, I wanted to come at that moment, and he was the one person with the ability to make me come, and he refused.
At least for the moment, he refused. Instead, he started to stroke my hair, kiss my ear lobes, stroke my cheek and kiss my breasts until I was just solidly aroused instead of falling into the bottomless pit of orgasmic insanity.
But it happened again. I came closer and closer to coming, so close, I actually felt a couple of jolts of energy that were like electricity shoot through me before he stopped and let me fall back.
And he did it again and again ... I was completely out of control, a slave to my craving for the gut wrenching spasms of orgasm. I wanted to come and I was begging him for it, but he said nothing, just kept raising me higher and higher then letting me fall back, raising me back again and letting me slip away.
It was the drug that enable me to stand it. Any other time, I would have long ago simply stuffed his hand in my cunt or tried to flip him on his back and force his cock into me (it was always stiff as steel the whole time he would do this kind of thing to me) or, if all else failed, I'd have simply fingered myself to an orgasm.
But not this time. One reason was I hadn't the physical coordination to pull it off, and another reason was that I like the simple pleasure of letting my body feel what it was capable of feeling. It was a great sensation.
To become saturated with sexual tension. I had never done that before. What I didn't realize, but was soon to learn, was that when the pressure is finally released after so long a period of mounting frustration, the energy that hits you is a quantum leap above a normal hop-in-the-bed-bang-bang-bang kind of fuck. Or a masturbation session too, for that matter.
What Stephen showed me was that the act of fucking was great, and if prolonged, it made the entire experience much more meaningful.
And therein lay the seeds of destruction for Stephen an me.
I don't know how to put it, but he was too direct. What he did to my body was too much, to violent an expression of raw emotions. I wasn't ready to accept such a straightforward relationship.
I didn't know it at the time, however. What I experienced that night has never left me. When at last I came, I really don't remember it all, because I passed out. Maybe the drug was responsible, but I have never been so transported by anything in my life. I felt like I left my body. He later told me it was the same for him, that the actual orgasm he experienced felt like it lasted for nearly a minute. Which, considering that he kept me climaxing for over five minutes might be considered a short time, but for a guy, its almost unheard of. At least that's what he told me.
I became a total slave to the feeling of his fingers, his tongue, his cock. I needed it. And I needed him. And it began to translate into other aspects of our relationship. He was alway so willing to do what was necessary to make me feel right. When you're in bed, that is a definite plus, but in the real world, you want to feel like you're dealing with a person who has his own personality and his own direction. That's when I realized how far Stephen had evolved in our relationship. When I first met him, it was his utter lack of concern for anything but his own life that intrigued me. Now, his life had become my life, and mine was equally wrapped up in his. The result was that instead of our energies feeding off each other, they simply consumed each other. We became used up, spent.
He stopped playing music. I got away from theatre. I became fat. So did he. I started wanting money. He produced it. He got a job, we got bills.
Without the faintest realization that we were doing it, we found ourselves drifting out of the very state that had kept us together in the first place.
We worked at it with each other, but finally, we began to fall apart in bed also.
I felt so lousy about myself that I couldn't respect him for staying with me. What a shitty way to feel, right? Nonetheless, that became the theme of my feelings towards Stephen, and what was worse, he knew it.
And that was just a short jump from simply finding him unappealing.
The bitch of it was that we were both as hooked emotionally to each other as we had been sexually. It was a much more powerful addiction and far less productive or rewarding. Very unhealthy, as a matter-of-fact.
It didn't take long. I started to want out. I wanted other men. I wanted to get back to the stage. I wanted glamour. I wanted artifice. I wanted to become a show again. I wanted my public image to be something different from what was inside me, and with Stephen, it was impossible since he knew me so well. I wanted to be false, he would have accused me ... but maybe that's exactly it, and maybe that falseness, that lack of such direct contact was what made our sex so good in the beginning. I don't know. I've thought about it a lot, ever since we split up.
I have so much more now than I did when we were together. I'm out of debt. I don't have to worry about being pleasing to someone else if I'm not in the mood. And most of all, I've gotten rid of the major source of guile in my life: a failing relationship.
So why do I still feel guilty? I'm crazy, I guess.
Maybe that's why I'm here, Doctor. After I left Stephen, my sex life, which had dropped to nil suddenly blossomed again. And what was stranger, some of the best times were still with Stephen. But I discovered other men. And I learned to get into roles again in sex, roles of personality and manipulation that I really found I enjoyed.
And for that, I feel guilty. Guilty about Stephen, guilty about the relationship, guilty about feeling guilty. So go figure.
INTERVIEW TWO
The next time I saw Heather, she was much more open and free in her style and stance. Perhaps she had managed to release a lot of the guilt feelings she had about Stephen. At any rate, as she described her new sexual and theatrical careers, one thing struck me. And that was confidence.
But beneath the confidence beats the heart of a true actress, never sure if the role is performed properly until she reads the reviews. Or at least hears the audience applaud.
Her varnish looked quite effective, but one could only guess at the stains it hid just below the surface.
So, I left Stephen. Or rather, he left me after he realized that I was becoming a sexually attentive person again, not because of him but because of the people I'd started hanging out with.
I guess I knew that we were moving in separate directions when he bought a guitar again and started to practice. I felt a pang of jealousy over that and also started to miss theatre a lot.
Then he joined a band and I started to seethe. If he could pursue his interests why couldn't I? The unfortunate fact was that our separate interests just weren't good together. I don't know, I guess I was just tired of him. But I joined an independent theatre company and started to write and act again and for the first time in years, I felt alive, both as a creative person and as a woman.
I remember on scene I had to do in a comedy skit we were rehearsing. I was was supposed to play a slinky french girlfriend type in what was presented as a foreign romance with English dubbed in. The action onstage was obviously about a man coming home and catching his woman with another man, the ensuing fight and the climactic ending resulting in the boyfriend shooting the jealous lover and running off with the girl. The English dubbed over this action was something stupid, like a guy and a girl studying for a math exam and ordering pizza, with the pizza arriving when the jealous lover comes onstage ... you know, typical wise-ass pseudo creative comedy, but we did it real well.
But I remember being really turned on during rehearsals, because I had to do the entire scene wearing a real slinky black slip that exposed most of my breasts and out-lined my thighs and hips real closely. Real close.
And I liked it!
What can I say, I loved showing off my body and knowing it was being used for its sex appeal. And I didn't want to restrict it to Stephen.
Actually, I wanted to share it at that moment with the director of our troupe who also played in that particular skit with me.
Lord God, did I ever have a fetish for that man's body. I'd pass notes back and forth with another woman in the company during rehearsals and we'd compare notes on the men's bodies and which ones we craved most, but I realized right away that Stephen really didn't have anything to do with that part of me.
And that was what he realized too. Because he started to fuck some little teeny bopper he worked with, and even though I'd been thinking about cheating on him, it really took me by surprise when he beat me to it. As a matter-of-fact, it was almost pissed off. It was almost as if he'd broken the rules, but that I wouldn't have if I'd done it ... oh I don't know, I get so confused about it all.
I do know that two days after I found out he wanted out, I was in bed with one of the other actors in our troupe.
I felt like a school girl again. It was the first man who had touched me in almost three years and I didn't know how to react at first. But, as Stephen says, most important things are pure instinct anyway, and I remembered real quick.
My cunt seemed to have grown to fit the dimensions of Stephen's cock, because the first night I fucked Tim, I was real conscious of feeling something in there that was ... different. A different shape, a different rhythm, a different approach.
He was great, but different. I decided right away that I like the difference. Getting used to one cock can be a drag, as I found out. But now, I had lots of cocks to choose from. I delighted in the attention, I loved the feeling of an audience, and whether it was a real audience on the other side of the floodlights, or an audience of one in low candlelight, my sense of being a performer was what gave me energy. I loved to perform. I loved to be an actress. I loved to be able to control what I looked like to other people.
I think another thing about Stephen that finally made me bored with him in the first place was that he was so damn considerate. That's what I always told people was his outstanding trait, but deep inside, I didn't like it. It was so deep inside that I probably didn't even admit it to myself, but I didn't like someone who was never out of control: In his own way, he became as predictable as if he'd made love the same way every night.
I knew that if we had a fight, he would never hit me. Why would I want to be hit, you may ask. I didn't. But knowing that I'd never have to fear it took some of the risk, the thrill out of it. Does that sound weird?
Also, knowing that he'd never tie me up unless I asked, and that once he did have me powerless and helpless he'd never abuse that advantage took some of the excitement out of it.
Do I want to be whipped? No. I can honestly say that I don't want it and would never seek it out. But that's not the same thing as saying that if someone did actually tie me up and whip me that I would NEVER under any circumstances think back on it with fond memories. I don't know if I can say that. I think, actually I know that I probably find it thrilling, maybe not fun but pleasurable.
That's the edge Stephen could never push me over. I don't know why. I know that later on, he found someone who really wanted to get kinky and he went whole hog off the deep end with her to the point that they both put each other in the hospital one time. But I won't get into that.
It frightens me at times, but I really do think about it. Being whipped, I mean.
I think, if it was to be any kind of success, he would have to be a total stranger. I would know beforehand that there was no possibility of personal involvement at all. That's important. I'm not sure why, but I feel it to be real important. I don't want to love anyone who enjoys whipping someone. But that doesn't mean I don't need such a person. There are other kinds of fulfillment besides love.
I don't ever think about what the situation is when I fantasize about being whipped. I just project myself into a place, a room, a situation that I know already involves me having no choice in the matter.
I see him enter the room. I already know what he has in store for me. I can see the chains hanging from the ceiling, the neatly arranged row of cane whips set on a rack against the wall, the long strands from the cat-o-nine-tails dangling off its stand....
He comes close to me. He is not smiling. I look deeply into his eyes and see a bottomless chill, almost a freezing stare. He has no emotions. He is simply a cold calculating demon. That's how he strikes me.
He takes my hand and leads me to the chains.
There is a collar attached to my neck, there are wrist and ankle bracelets firmly in place ... I can be fastened to any variety of devices in the room, or simply fastened wrists to ankles and set in the middle of the floor with my pussy and ass completely exposed to whatever punishment he wants to inflict on me.
That, as it turns out, is his choice.
I am stretched out on the bed, my arms are pulled behind my head and then he pushed against my legs, bending my body up and back so that my feet move towards my head. He fastens my ankles to my wrists. My back is curved, and I rock gently on his bed.
My thighs are totally spread apart, so much so that I am in pain. The position of my body causes both my cunt and my asshole to face almost straight up in the air, with nothing interfering with a carefully applied stroke of the whip.
He takes his time. I feel the ends of the cat-o-nine-tails tickling my pussy, dangling onto my clitoris, dipping into my ass. Then he swings.
I am consumed by pain on the first stroke. His aim is true, the tips of the whip streak across my tightly spread ass cheeks. I feel the whip biting deeply into the flesh of my asshole, feel the tightly clenched muscle quiver from the unexpected abuse and pain.
He swings again, and once more, my body goes blank from the total overload.
And again he swings. I scream now, but know already that no one can hear.
He places a stroke solidly on my spread cunt, ripping the leather strands directly through the soft pink flesh beneath my gaping pussy lips.
Then he homes in on my clitoris. I shriek from the agony, I revel in the ecstasy. My pleasure is an agony, the agony I feel total pleasure.
I come, and come again. I continue to come. Nothing can stop me.
And I never want to come any other way, then from the biting strokes of this well applied whip. It drives me into realms that I've never before experienced.
Of course, this is all fantasy, and I can't imagine ever actually feeling this way in real life ... but it was this type of thing that Stephen never came close to touching in my life. I suppose all women want some form of abuse. Perhaps it was because I never ever got any at all from Stephen that my fantasies take on such a bizarre turn. If he'd treated me more like shit in our daily life, I might have still remained sexually addicted to him. But would I have been happier? I doubt it.
I guess, like I said earlier, Doctor, I'm all fucked up.
CONCLUSION
Heather is typical of many modern women, in that she is a product both of the sexual revolution which has freed women to seek more personal means of sexual fulfillment, and of the puritanical attitudes which preceded it.
Thus, she finds sexual pleasure and later feels guilty about it. Or, she experiences genuine love and commitment and feels she is somehow depriving herself of a vital aspect of life.
She really needs to simply accept herself as an individual, and to not take her role as an actress as the only role she is able to realize. There is also the role of the sincere, intelligent woman, the sexually confident woman, the woman who doesn't need to be manipulative.
