"I didn't kill the Old Man. Can't nobody say I did. Not you nor nobody. Didn't nobody kill him. He just up and died. And why not? He was six weeks older than God, and his time come. That's all. And even if I did kill him by screwing with him, he died happy. They tell me he was smiling real peaceful.
"I give him plenty of fun those last few months. More than lotsa people did his whole life long. He told me so. I didn't mean his sons. They was real good to him on account they loved him. They hired me, didn't they? Just to look after him and see he got his water or whatever when he wanted it. And help him to bed when he got tired. But mostly to be there if the house caught fire or any emergency like that. No, I wasn't expected to feed him but sometimes I did. Snacks, mostly. Once in a while, if the boys wanted to go out early, I'd give him dinner. I didn't have to actually feed him. There wasn't nothing wrong with his hands and arms. Just his legs.
"No, they didn't hire me to screw him. There wasn't nothing like that even suggested. Him and me, we thought of that ourselves. And worked it out, ourselves. A man that ain't got the use of his legs, he can't do much without help. Sure, I helped him. I'd'a had to, wouldn't I? If there was gonna be any screwing.
"And I ain't a tramp, spite of what the cops say. I mean I don't screw for money, like some I know what get away with it, mostly on account they're smarter. Do I get a break? No sirree! They pick me up like I'm a common little two-bit whore. They'd'a booked me, too, if my folks hadn't come down real quick and made a deal with the court for this psychiatric treatment. And at that, they put me on probation. I ain't supposed to screw until I'm eighteen. Three years! They're nuts. Can't nobody go three whole years without screwing. Not anybody that likes it, like I do.
"So you're gonna fix it up so I won't feel the urge, huh? That's a laugh! Honest, how you gonna get rid of something that's built in? Scare me? How? The cops have already scared me plenty, but that hasn't stopped me wanting. Okay! So you won't try to scare me. Just reason with me? There ain't a reason on earth as strong as the one right here in my panties. My little ole cunt. And when that gets itchy-well, I just gotta. That's all.
"Okay, so maybe you know secrets I don't. I 'spect you do. You're educated, with degrees and everything. But I know one secret that ain't so se cret. Been around since Eve et that apple. And that's when you gotta, you gotta. Like going to the bathroom. You just try holding your water for three years.
"So I'm lucky to have parents that go to bat for me? I'll clue you in on something, buster. They ain't doing this for me. They're doing it for theirselves, so's they won't have a daughter in jail for whoring. Like it's a disgrace or something, which I guess it is. But in our crowd, getting caught is the disgrace. I know plenty of 'em-right in our neighborhood-getting their nooky regular. And don't nobody say nothing about it. I even know who my pop is laying, and she ain't no eighteen-No, scrub that. I don't know nothing about it-Come to think of it, I ain't so sure I even heard of it, now that you mention it-My pop? Laying a school kid? Don't be silly! What's all this with 'prosecution'? What for? Because some kid maybe-just maybe, mind you-has itchy pants and my pop maybe-just maybe-takes care of it once in a while? So scrub it. And we start fresh. Okay? Okay.
"I was just about fourteen when I got this job baby-sitting the Old Man, rich as creases-What's so rich about creases?-Oh, he was a man. Named Croesus. Okay-Anyway, the Old Man has got more money than Carter has pills. And he's paralyzed. His legs. The rest of him is all right, figuring his age-How old? I dunno, maybe sixty, seventy. Real old. Even his belly had wrinkles. And his back. I know, 'cause I seen 'em. After all, who screws with his clothes on? Except maybe the first time, like it's an emergency and you don't take time to undress. Just up with the skirt and down with the panties and you're at it.
"Oh, I'd been around. Nothing serious in the way of screwing but I'd had the boys playing around, panting for it. Feeling up, smooching a little, things like that. You gotta expect that when you're built the way I am. I had nice little titties by the time I was thirteen and my legs were real good-looking. What am I talking about? They still are.
"I think it was them that first got the Old Man. My legs. Like I wear hot pants the first couple of times I go there. They show a lot of leg and they fit kind of snug around my behind. Like they're painted on. And they twitch when I twitch.
"The first few times the Old Man asks me to fetch him some water, I figure he's a mighty thirsty old coot. Only he don't really drink much of each glass. Just a sip. And gets me to get some more. Finally I catch on. He's watching those hot pants and how they twitch. And enjoying it. Oh, he enjoys it all right. There ain't nothing wrong with his eyes. Or the rest of him, except his legs. I'll bet he was a regular devil with the girls when he was younger and had his legs and could go chasing on his own.
"He done all right even without legs. Like he had 'em, of course, only they didn't work. I don't know how I'd'a felt if his legs hadn't been there. Like cut off. I think I'd'a felt different. Shivery, maybe. And maybe nothing would've happened. But he looked all right. Whole, I mean. Not a freak type with just stumps.
"Anyway, it was them hot pants done it. Or a lot of it. The rest-or maybe most of it-was what was in 'em. My little behind and my nooky-Nooky! My hot box, cunt, pussy, slit-The name don't matter. It's what happens there. And plenty happens.
"Like I say, I don't have to feed him. Just bring him a snack now and then. And I have to bend over a little to hook the tray on the arms of his wheel chair. Which sort of does things to hot pants. And he'd reach out and pat 'em. Just sort of friendly. And chuckle. So who minds a pat on the be hind? Just kind of reminds a girl she is a girl and glad of it.
"Of course it don't stop at patting. If it had, nothing would've happened. Like what's a pat? A girl can't get worked up over a pat on the behind. But he gets to rubbing it and looking kind of dreamy, like he remembers when he was active and doing more than rubbing. He likes it, so-I let him. Oh, sure, I like it, too, or I wouldn't've let him. It kinda makes things interesting. Helps to pass the time, too.
"Then it ain't just rubbing and patting. It's patting and feeling. Sliding his hands down my legs and back up. All this from behind, you understand. While I'm sort of stooped to set his tray. So I just turn a little bit, accidental-like, and let his hand wander up the front. Inside my thighs. It feels real good, exciting. And the Old Man likes it, too. He runs his hand up and down my thighs, about reaching my nooky but not quite. Once or twice he runs his hands over the outside of them hot pants, which are pretty snug and show just about how a girl's built down there. As if he didn't already know.
"And I get just a little steamed up myself. He don't actually put his hand on my nooky on account my hot pants are sort of tight and restricting. So the next time I don't wear hot pants. I break out my miniskirt and a pair of sheers-real gauzy stuff. The girl that sells 'em to me says they're like cobwebs. Except, of course, they aren't sticky. Just clingy. But loose enough for a little maneuvering.
"And the Old Man does some maneuvering that night. When I turn around from setting his tray, his hand is right there, sliding up and down my legs and creeping up on my nooky, near about getting me crazy. Lots more so than the boys that's been feeling me up. It's an awful good feeling, getting excited that way, from having a grown man's hand playing up your panties and right over your nooky. And then right on it, his fingers playing right along the slit, until I can hardly just stand there and let him play with it. Then one finger slips inside and I'm having fits, all inside my skin from the feelings that run up from my nooky all through me.
"I push it at him a little and his finger goes in deeper, feeling awfully good, only it makes it hard to breathe. 'Specially when he wiggles that finger a little. I near about take off like a rocket. Only, instead, I sort of squat down on it, so it'll go deeper. And feel better, more exciting. With more quivering in my stomach. Ain't it funny? Now, if my stomach was to get the same amount of quivers from eating something that don't agree with me, it don't feel so good. But from a finger up my nooky-that's swell.
"Suddenly he kind of shoves me away, getting red in the face and says, 'Get along with you, gel.' He calls me 'gel' all the time-not 'girl-gel.' And he lays back in his chair, breathing hard. 'Get along, gel. You make me remember too many things. Things that can't ever be again.' Only he's started something in me, remembering how good a piece of nooky can be. Can you remember something that hasn't happened yet? Well, it was something like that. Like I already knew how swell getting screwed would be. I guess that's what makes us all do it the first time, knowing in advance how good it will be. Even when we been told it's bad. Something inside says 'Do it!' and you do it.
"It's like that with me. I'm all hot and ready, with my nooky feeling wide open and wet-and waiting. And I want more'n just a little fingering in my snatch. Only you can't just come out and say so. 'Specially to a guy that ain't really equipped, not having the use of his legs. But there's other ways than saying it.
"So I pretend I don't mind being shoved off and go sit on a low ottoman, right smack in front of the Old Man. It raises my knees so the miniskirt might as well not be there--just them breezy seethrough panties. And the Old Man is seeing right through 'em. I can tell. And it's getting me hotter right down there at my snatch, just having him look. I clasp my hands over one knee and pull it up a little and rock around some on the ottoman so my panties slip aside. And he can see the whole thing. Not even hair to block his view. I don't have hair there. Not then-not even yet-just kind of goldy fuzz.
"So the view is clear. And I wriggle a little on my behind, making things interesting down there. How do I know it's interesting? Well, it interested me, just feeling my parts rubbing together. And it interested the Old Man. I can see it in his eyes. Like they was out on stalks.
"Finally he sighs and beckons to me. 'You're a wanton, me gel. A true heathen wanton. So come here.'
"I come over and stand beside his wheelchair and he reaches for my legs, running his hands up the inside of my thighs for a few times and then slides it right on to my nooky. He sure knows how to feel up a girl till I mighty near scream with excitement. Then he says, 'Ain't any harm in looking, gel.' And tries to see up my panties while he's finger fucking me. It don't work. So I flip off that miniskirt and let him ease down my panties and get a real good look."
That is the start of Jeannie's story of her seduction of the Old Man. It is definitely her seduction of him, since she makes no effort to minimize her role in the affair. In fact, she rather glories in it. In one important factor her story is not typical of the other case histories of these nymphet baby-sitters. Jeannie seduced the party she was expected to "baby-sit." The others have different targets, as we shall see.
However, in the matter of her aggression in sex, she is typical. In all five cases cited here, the young girl was basically the instigator of her seduction. Which would bear out the contentions of the Blau-Bender-Rasmussen study of pre-teen sexual activity, a broad study of young girls from the age of nine to thirteen who had sexual relations with adult males.
The B-B-R study of young girls in their sexual relations with adult males concludes "that they were not the helpless victims but played an active or even initiating role in their delinquency. They might even be considered the seducers rather than the seduced." The study goes on to conclude from the case histories, that "the association in the act of a grown-up, who to the child represents the omnipotent parent (authority), probably condones the aggression." Certainly in none of the five cases cited here, does a single girl child express remorse or regret for her sexual act, only for being caught at it. Since none of the five girls involved appears to have suffered any traumatic experience, this would appear to tear out the B-B-R report that the transgression was "condoned," whether because of the inclusion of an adult male in the act or not cannot be determined on the basis of what is known.
It also bears out Sigmund Freud's postulate that "psychic trauma must come from within." Since none of the girls appear to have felt guilt, there is little likelihood of permanent psychic damage occurring as a result of the sexual act.
A follow-up on the Blau-Bender segment of the study, conducted twenty years later, showed that all the girls who had been involved in sexual affairs with adult males were living normal lives, with only the usual percentage showing neuroses that would be common, and in the same ratios, among "normal" controls, that is, the general run of girl children in their development into adulthood.
Are these five girls unique, or freaks? Are they children with spectacularly peculiar appetites, sexual deviates? Not at all. According to a study conducted by and reported by Maxwell Douglas in his book Documented Cases of Sub-Teen Sex, figures from the California Youth Authority are cited which show that, in the State of California alone "there are more than one hundred thousand cases of sexual activities of young girls annually." He also cites figures from the National Committee on Crime Prevention and Parole as indicating "there are more than a million sub-teens who become involved in sexual activities, annually." A million girl children each year, throughout the United States, have sexual intercourse, usually with an adult male.
Quoting from the UCLA venereal disease clinic which treats an enormous number of young girls, under the age of fifteen, for V.D., about 70% of those between the ages of thirteen and fifteen had their first carnal experience with a member of the family-a brother, father or other close relative living in the home-among those of twelve years and under, more than 90% had had their initial sexual experience incestuously, with a father, brother or other close relative living in the home.
Against these figures, the five cases cited here are puny in number, a mere cipher in this vast array of statistics. In fact, the statistics become virtually meaningless when taken coldly as statistics. Only by close scrutiny of individual case studies can we reach an understanding of what forces motivate these young girl children to commit sex acts with adult males.
Baby-sitting is a very common practice, especially among young teen-agers who want or need to earn spending money, which often their families cannot afford to supply. Are they all potential nymphets? By no means, as these case histories demonstrate. Each girl had some other drive than the mere fact of baby-sitting. The practice simply provided a launching pad for their own particular emotional drive.
It is true, as a study of these case histories will demonstrate, the young teen-ager is subject to enormous emotional pressures. As Freud puts it, she has just emerged from "the period of latency" which he places at from the age seven to puberty. During that time, he states, the child is virtually unconcerned about sex organs, which, from an early age to about seven, occupied a lot of the child's attention and interest. The child's widening world absorbs much of its attention from then until puberty. At that time there are great physical changes, particularly in girls-the emergence of breasts, the development of rounded legs, hip development and the onset of menstrual period, as well as her newly emerging emotions.
It is then, particularly, that parental guidance and understanding are most needed, although, too frequently, neglected. Young teen-agers, particularly of this generation, are for the most part an obstreperous lot, given to rebellion and rejection of authority. Vance Packard, in The Sexual Wilderness, points out numerous factors involved in this "rebellion" among our young.
As Freud has pointed out, sexual experience is one of the most intense of personal experiences and most people indulge in sex for "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive."
Initially, Jeannie employed exhibitionism, admittedly one of the major stimulants to sexual activity, to arouse both herself and the Old Man. With the older brother she accepts and enjoys cunnilingus. Among the other girls involved in these particular cases, nearly every one of them, some time during her brief career as nymphet, tries, or has practiced on her, a number of what are often called sexual aberrations.
Such conduct, according to Manfred S. Guttmacher in Sex Offenses, is extremely common. "In many individuals these are the normal components of the sexual foreplay which precedes sexual intercourse and they are often indulged sporadically by quite normal individuals as an end in themselves."
Though, in these five cases, the girl children involved practiced sexual activity-along with some rather odd variants-it is certainly not our intention to imply that they are representative of all teen-age baby-sitters. They are not. Each is a special case, each representing some causation for their particular sexual activity.
Careful study will reveal these causations and perhaps provide an indication of how to correct the cause and thus diminish the number of actual nymphets practicing, whether as baby-sitters, or in some other capacity where the real or potential opportunity exists. Most such protection begins in the home with sympathetic understanding of the emotional needs and drives of the young girl, just emerging from her "period of latency" in sexual matters and growing into her initial stages of puberty. It takes a great deal more than admonitions and "Don'ts" and "Mother knows best." It takes genuine understanding of these needs and a sympathetic approach to the problems that confront a young girl.
CHAPTER ONE
Widowers Need Theirs, Too
"Gosh, you'd think I was a little tramp, the way they treat me. You'd think parents would be more considerate, wouldn't you? Well, yes. They did keep me from going to a home. Home for Wayward Girls! Who's wayward? We were just having a little fun. So now I have to take this therapy treatment! Tell you all about how I got into doing what I did! Now is that fair, I ask you?
"Well, I guess you do think it's fair, since you get paid for it. But what good is it going to do me? Get it all out of my system? How silly can you get? You don't get sex out of your system just talking about it. Sex is there. Fact is, I think sex is here to stay. And frankly, I'm glad of it. I like sex or I wouldn't have done what I did. Sex is fun. Or maybe you've talked about it so much you've therapied yourself out of it.
"Oh, you like it too! In moderation? Phooey. What's moderate about sex? You can't just do sex halfway. Either it's whole hog or nothing.
"I just wish my folks weren't so Puritanical. And all on account of that silly phone call. If the real baby-sitter had had any sense, she'd have covered for me. But no, she had to go and bust out the whole story ... What is the whole story? How far back do you want me to go? Well, I was born. Oh, that isn't what you meant? Just about when I started feeling sexy and wanted to get laid? Honest, I don't remember. Really I don't. I always had the boys looking at me, ever since I can remember. And I liked it. Oh, sure, I know I'm cute. Not beautiful, maybe, but cute. I've got a kitten face. That's what Pop calls me, Kitten-Face. When I was real young, maybe eight or nine, I was chubby. Baby fat, Mom called it, but I sort of strung out soon after I was twelve.
"I don't think I ever went through what adults call the awkward age, all teeth and elbows and knobby knees. I never had pimples. I guess I bypassed that, too.
"I was about twelve when some of that baby fat turned into boobies. Mom had me wearing a bra soon after because she said they jiggled. So let 'em jiggle. It didn't hurt me any. And the boys liked to look at 'em when they jiggled. Sometimes at school I'd go in the little girls' room and slip off my bra to give the boys a thrill. Not that I could see anything thrilling in jiggling boobs, but the boys sure did.
"Some of 'em used to make passes. Awkward kind of passes. Just touching the outside of my blouse, maybe. And snigger. Like they'd done something smart. Later, some of the older boys would make a few real passes. Like a hand on my knee and sliding up my thigh, creepy-cautious like, to see how far I'd let 'em go. And I let 'em go just about as far as they wanted ... with their hands. I liked seeing them sweat and get stammery and red in the face. I didn't get much excitement out of it, not really, the sexy kind of excitement that makes you go limp and be ready for anything.
"Oh, sure, I enjoyed it. It was kind of thrilling, having lots of boys wanting to pet with me. And I got a sort of kick out of the feelings it gave me to have them slide a hand up my dress and play with my thing. My thing ... my snatch box, my cunt, if you want to get vulgar.
"Go ahead, get vulgar? You mean it? Oh, you think it might help to get at the truth? Hell, you know the truth ... Ed had an affair with me. Okay, he screwd me. Is that vulgar enough? And we got caught all on account Pop has an accident and Mom phones his house and gets the real baby-sitter, who spills all she knows. Of all the tough luck! If it hadn't been for that phone call, Ed and I could still be having fun. And maybe he'd have married me. He sure liked screwing me.
"So what's a difference in ages? It's a good thing if the man is older. Well, with Ed and me the difference wasn't really so much ... seventeen, eighteen years ... maybe twenty. I don't really know, I never asked him for his age. So he was thirty-six and I was fifteen. You think that is significant?
"Maybe it was, come to think of it. If it hadn't been for those boys feeling me up and getting me interested in what would happen if I let 'em go all the way, maybe I wouldn't have been so eager to go for Ed. So you might say the fix I'm in is really the fault of those boys that felt me up. I didn't let a single one get more than his hand on my cunt. And feeling my boobies. And a little kissing and tonguing while the boy is feeling you up.
"Now that got real interesting sometimes. And a few times I very nearly let 'em go all the way, because I got sort of carried away. But I didn't. I made 'em stop, even if, a couple of times, the boys had their peckers out, trying to get into me. They already had their pants open and their pecker sticking up. But I wouldn't let 'em.
"Maybe I looked ready to get laid but I didn't have all the feelings. But, each time a boy started feeling me up and playing with my boobies I got a little more that way. Itchy, you know. Yes, I know the boys called me a teaser and got mad. But none of 'em ever got mad enough to quit. Each one was figuring he had the right system and I'd give in.
"That's what made it interesting, seeing how those suckers would come back for more-of what they hadn't gotten in the first place. It was real funny sometimes, to see a boy get so all-fired sure he was going to make it this time. And so foolishlooking when he didn't get it.
"I'd had baby-sitting jobs. Mostly with kids five or six and up. I don't like babies. They're too hard to take care of, not that I don't know how but there's too much work. Besides, young couples don't trust their precious little dumpling to a teen-ager. Yes, I was a teen-ager, going on fifteen.
"Some of the papas were right cute. I mean, kind of serious, junior executives, but fun underneath. There were a couple of 'em I could really go for. And get ideas about. About maybe they could finish up what the boys started-and do a good job of it. After all, they had kids, didn't they? Or. I wouldn't be baby-sitting. Sometimes I'd go in the bedroom and look at one of those big double beds and imagine the boy had me there instead of his wife. And all the things we'd do. It got real exciting.
"Then I got this job baby-sitting for Ed. He was a young widower with two boys, 6 and 7. His wife got killed in an auto accident. Broke her neck. Oh, no, it wasn't Ed's fault. He wasn't even in the car at the time. It wasn't even his car, I heard.
"The old biddies in the neighborhood used to talk about him. How he really needed a good woman to look after him. Those were the ones that had marriageable daughters. They'd talk about how he was too young to go on grieving for his wife. What's over is finished, they'd say and how he ought to start fresh, especially with two kids to raise. I guess they'd have talked about him like that if he'd had two heads and a forked tail.
"He didn't. He was real cute. Smooth, you know. Sort of suave. Which made him kind of romantic. All the kids that do baby-sitting envied me getting the job. Like it was a real plum. It was, too. But not the way they meant. They" talked about things that happened between them and the papas, like getting laid. Most of it wasn't so, of course, but it made exciting talk. And got me sort of fired up. I was wondering what it would be like to get laid. Especially by Ed who was real cute and sexy looking.
"That's what go me started with Ed, so you might say it was their fault for talking so much about it. No, I'm not trying to put the blame on anybody else, only telling what's so. Those kids talking did make me interested. Of course, I was a little itchy anyway, from playing around with the boys.
'Mom and Pop are sort of 'advanced,' you know. They figure you can get your education if you really want it. And don't bother much with whether I do my homework or not. So I had more free nights than most teen-agers. Responsible teen-agers, I mean, that could get jobs baby-sitting. Anyway, I told Mom I really did my homework better when I was baby-sitting because there weren't any phone calls. Mom's advanced but she's double death on phone calls. Mostly because it ties up the line and she's missed some good bridge dates that way.
"And Ed likes to run around. Why not? He's got no wife he'd got to report or come home to and go to bed with or take out. So he runs around. What's wrong with that? I figure it's fine, because I make more money baby-sitting that way and can buy some really snazzy stuff Mom wouldn't buy for me. Only, of course, I get these itchy ideas the girls had....
"And I wanted to try out my new clothes. I tried looking feminine around him. You know, real womanish. I even got some of Mom's scent. But. Ed's always in a rush to get to his bowling or to the club or something, so he doesn't pay any attention. Just says, 'Mind the boys, Kathy, and see that they behave. And behave yourself.' But he doesn't mean that, because he's got this cute little grin when he says it.
"So I don't get to first base when he's leaving. You know ... he's hurried. But when he comes back, I figure there's time for him to ... well ... notice me. So I decided I'd really get set for him to notice me ... in that special way. Like sexy. I wore an old pair of panties that night and the miniskirt Mom says shows my appetite. All ready, in case the opportunity occurred.
"He didn't even notice the miniskirt when he was leaving, because he was hurried, as usual. So I took off those old panties and ripped them a little. And left them off. With nothing but the miniskirt between me and night air ... and anything else that would come along. And when I heard his key in the door, I slid down on the couch so even the miniskirt was hiked up. Which left me kind of bare down where it counts. And pretended I was taking a nap. Lots of people don't mind if you take a nap while you're baby-sitting. It's just to have somebody in the house if the kids wake up. Or if there's an emergency.
"I could hear Ed come in, even if he was quiet on account of the sleeping kids. And then he stopped in the living room. So I knew he could see me ... and see a lot of me you don't usually see. Ed sort of coughs and I pretend to wake up, sitting up and pulling down at my miniskirt, except miniskirts don't pull down very well. Not when you're scrambling to sit up on a couch.
"I can see he's looking right at my snatch ... staring. Then he sort of pulls himself up and says, with a funny little quirk to his mouth, 'Kathy, you've lost something besides your dignity, haven't you?'
"I pretend at first I don't know what he means and then I let light dawn. 'Oh, you mean my panties? I tore 'em, so I took 'em off to mend them but I couldn't find any sewing things.'
"Ed nods, like he understands. 'You didn't happen to look in that sewing box at the end of the couch, did you? My wife wasn't exactly domestic, but she could sew.'
"And he walks over and opens this sewing box. He's right. It's got all the necessities. Which leave me feeling a little foolish. I can feel myself blushing, all the way down to my cunt. So I get a needle and thread and start to work, with Ed looking on, kind of amused. But I also manage to wriggle around so my miniskirt hikes way up. You know, so he can see up to practically my appetite. And he notices ... I can see that. By the way his smile sort of fades, a little at a time. Finally he says, mock stern, 'Young lady, if you don't pull your skirt down and behave yourself, I'll take you across my knee and paddle you.'
"So I throw myself across his lap and yank up my miniskirt, which doesn't really need much yanking to reveal everything. Of course, I'm taking a chance he'll really paddle me and send me home and never ask me to baby-sit again. But I figured if I could get him to feel me up, I'd be set. Boys get real horny feeling you up, and I figured a man wasn't anything but a boy with more to get horny with.
"Ed gives me one good pop that made me grunt. A real stinger. But the next one is sort of gentle. And by the third he's not paddling, he's feeling my little rump and realizing I'm a real live girl. So I wiggle a little so that by boobies will rub against his leg and he'll know I'm built.
"He knows, all right. I can tell by the way he rubs my behind ... real gentle, sort of hesitant. And by the way his pecker is swelling. I can feel it humping up. So I wiggle some more, sliding down a little so that miniskirt will really go high. And I can feel his pecker stiffening up against my stomach.
"His hands are roaming a little over my rump and sliding down between my legs. So I open them, not much but enough to give him ideas. And I'm getting ideas, too. And getting hot down at my cunt. It's real exciting, having a grown man feel you up and know he can do the business. Even if I wasn't real sure I knew what the business was. I hadn't ever let any of the boys get beyond a good feel, so I wasn't sure I knew what screwing was all about. But by then I wanted it-and wanted it bad.
"I rolled over, so he could see my cunt and get his hand on it easy. My boobies were pressing against his stomach by then and he knew I really had 'em. He put one hand on my boob and one on my cunt, moving very gentle. I could see his face, which is sort of sad-romantic, and he's getting a little dreamy over the feeling up.
"I let my legs fall open-they wanted to anyway, like they had gotten sort of loose at the hips. And his hand slid right in, over my cunt, with one finger tapping and feeling for the opening. I could feel it getting wet, too.
"His finger slid in and I moaned and grabbed at his neck, pushing my boobies right up against his chest, trapping his hand. He started squeezing and feeling that, through my blouse and then sliding his hand down inside, right on my skin, which really got me, especially since I didn't wear any bra, in case something like this did happen. Only I hadn't expected it to be so ... breathtaking. Like I couldn't get a full breath.
"I help him a little by unbuttoning my blouse and letting it fall open. He leans down and stares at my boobies and then pulls me up close and kisses one of 'em. Real hungry-like. And all the time his finger is working it's way up my cunt, starting all kinds of things happening inside of me. I reach around and undo this wraparound miniskirt so that it falls open ... and I'm practically naked.
"Just having everything out in full view of a man is exciting enough, but he's feeling me up. And kissing my boobies and tonguing my nipples, murmuring a little, like he's angry ... with himself, not me. 'You're being a fool, Ed, letting this kid get to you this way ... lay off.' Only he doesn't. He slides a hand around behind my back and caresses that for a few minutes while his fingers are doing all sorts of crazy-making things to my hot, wet cunt. I can't help but whimper.
"Suddenly he picks me up in his arms and carries me into the bedroom and almost tosses me on the bed, kind of rough-gentle and growls, 'You asked for it, baby, and you're going to get it.'
"I'm just a bit scared then, because I had never ... I'd never been screwed before. And there I was, on a bed. My miniskirt had fallen off and my blouse ... well, I could wiggle out of that easy enough. And then I looked at Ed. He was being very deliberate, very slow, about taking off his shirt and undershirt. And then his pants and shorts, watching me. And I'm watching his pants come down.
"I've seen boys' peckers when they undid their pants, hoping to lay me, but "they weren't anywhere near as big as Ed's. His head-the head of his pecker-looked huge, like some big purplish onion on a great big stalk. And I'm scared. That thing is going to go in me? It'll split me wide open! I'll bust like a melon.
"Ed is watching me and he says, kind of husky, 'Want to call it off, Kathy?' I can't say anything because my throat won't work so good, but I shake my head. And open my legs so he can get in me. He nods, almost happy, and starts playing with my cunt with one hand and feeling my boobies with the other, until I'm about ready to scream at him to go ahead and fuck me. Oh, sure. I've known the word a long time, only did not know what it really meant. I learned that night, all right.
"Ed lay down beside me, cradling my neck in his arm and draping it so' his hand played on my boobie, while he kept fingering my cunt. My nipples were hard little knobs-and he played with them-and my box was getting real wet and slippery, so his finger was sliding in and out real easy. Only there wasn't anything easy for me. It was driving me right up the wall. I was squirming.
"About then, just when I could almost scream with the want of his pecker in me, he rolled over on top of me, holding himself just off my chest on his elbows. And his legs went between mine. There is his big old pecker hanging down, quivering and shaking, wet and shiny, right by my cunt. He moved around a little, pushing my legs wider-I don't think I could have done it myself-until I could see, peeping down between us, that his pecker was aimed right at my cunt, and about to go in.
"I hump my pelvis a little, so that his pecker rubs against my cunt, which is wide open now. I feel it touch my clitoris and ... Bang! I'm on fire and hump like mad to get some more of that excitement. That's when he pushes real hard with his pecker and that head goes in. I can see it ... better still, I can feel it.
"That head is actually inside my cunt, making all kinds of excitement that I can feel way up inside me. And I can feel it rubbing against the walls of my cave ... but only just inside. It feels awful good but my little cunt is being stretched till I'm sure it'll split, but that doesn't seem to matter ... not down there, even if I'm thinking it up in my head.
"My little pelvis wiggles all by itself, it seems, sliding my cunt up on that shaft, and Ed drives with his shaft. It goes in deep but I still want it deeper, even if it hurts a little I just want to feel it way, way up in me. Ed backs off a little, pulling it pretty near out and then goes back, driving a little deeper. I think I squeal ... and he pulls back again. But I really want it up me by now. Way up. So I hump my pelvis and slide up on it, feeling his bulky head ram deep in me.
"Because he's on his elbows, his hands are free
... and playing with my boobies and teasing my nipples. He puts his mouth on mine and rams his tongue inside, sort of surprising me if anything could along about then. But that feels good, too, starting more excitement, which I thought couldn't get any higher.
"It did, though. Ed rammed his pecker shaft deep into me, sending that bulky head way up, deep inside me. Only I seemed to have space for it and be ready for it. Ready to take anything. And I got it. Ed moves slowly, but he gets there, until I can feel his pelvis jammed tight against mine. And my cunt is working. I can feel the excitement of it, like a mouth, almost.
"My chest is so tight I can't really breathe good, even if Ed is holding himself off me, his chest just brushing my nipples when he moves. My hard little nipples that sort of transmit those rubbings into new excitement.
"But the real excitement is down farther, at my cunt and way up inside me. There's hurt, too, but it's the kind you know is part of the excitement. That cock head and his big long shaft are working away inside me, stirring up all kinds of new feelings I never even guessed existed. Oh, I can feel 'em all right, but just feeling 'em has nothing to do with the way it makes me feel. It's what they do, rubbing around, in and out as he pumps, that really count.
"And I pump right back. I didn't know I could move my pelvis like that, pushing up and thrusting and feeling all at the same time. With his big pecker rammed so far up me, moving just a little felt exciting. And things are building up inside. Like pressure, almost, only a lot more interesting than pressure. Tensions, I guess you'd say.
"My little cunt is working and my pelvis is ramming at him and he is slamming back at me.
Sometimes we sort of collide but mostly I learn to move with him, like dancing, but lots more exciting. And Ed's breathing heavy and ramming hard. And I'm taking it, all of it ... and loving it.
"Then things seem to start happening ... his shaft is pulsing and moving-like heavy breathing-inside me. For some reason he gets me even more excited and tense, like I've just got to explode. And then he rams real hard and holds it, pumping just a teensy bit, just barely moving. And there are things happening in his pecker that I can feel. Why they're so exciting I don't know, but it seems like I'm wound up so tight something has to let go.
"And something does. His prick suddenly swells and a big load of his come slams into my belly, right up there in my tunnel, way up my cunt. And that makes me explode ... like big roman candles going off. And I can feel juices just pouring out of me, and into me ... from him.
"He wiggles just a teensy bit, in-out, and more juices flow and there's more of his come pouring into me. I'm humped as high as I can go, trying for every last little bit of his pecker, while he's pushing hard to ram it deeper. And we hold it like that, just letting things happen to both of us ... and it is happening, way up inside me!
"Then, except for kind of minor shudders and shivers, it's all over. I can feel his hard on start to go down, slow, but going down. Just the motion of it going down starts me splashing more juices but that doesn't last. I've finished. I sort of ease down with my pelvis and his pecker starts sliding out of my cunt, creating new waves of excitement, but mild compared to what had just happened.
"I had been screwed and I knew it. I hurt some, sure. Just his deflated pecker sliding out hurt a little. But with the wonderful thing that had happened, the excitement and all ... what's a little hurt! And when his pecker slid all the way out, I knew it was all over. Oh, juices flowed out when he pulled that plug, and I made a sticky-wet spot on the sheet. And my little cunt was wet and sticky but it felt so good, even if it did feel kind of stretched and pulled.
"Ed dropped his head on my shoulder and shuddered, making my nipples want some more of that. He kissed my neck once and then sort of rolled over and off me. We kind of huddled together, not really wanting anything right then but some rest. Still, it was comforting just to have him there, one hand on a boobie. I could look down and see his pecker, awful little-looking now after that monster he threw into me. And sticky-wet.
"A funny thing happened then. I felt it in my throat, like I'd like to taste his pecker and all those sticky juices. I didn't, because I wasn't sure about things. The first time you aren't. But later I learned to lick' his pecker and taste all those salty juices. Maybe that doesn't really describe 'em. I just know they taste ... sort of like the finish of a good fuck, which of course they are.
"We lay like that for some time, with him just stirring a little, reminding me again and again of the wonderful time we had just had and wanting it all to start over. Ed was murmuring to himself about how he was a rotter and stinker and shouldn't have done such a thing to a sweet little kid, only he was so hungry for it he sort of forgot himself. It was a kind of apology to me and excuses to 'somebody.' I thought at first he was maybe talking softly to his wife who got killed.
"Later he told me that wasn't it at all. He had hated her because she was a little tramp, screwing any guy that came along. And had got killed when she was out joyriding with another man. He hadn't slept with her for maybe two years before she got killed. He sort of blamed himself for her trampiness, which could have been because he hadn't screwed her enough himself. Or given her a really good time when he did. He said later I had sort of restored his confidence in himself as a man. Oh, sure, there were plenty of 'latere.' We had a good thing going and we knew it.
"If it hadn't been for that old biddy lousing things up. Or if my father hadn't had that accident ... All right, all right! So I've got to learn to take the responsibility for my own acts. Only I still say...."
Kathy J. came from a middle-class milieu that closely approached upper middle class. She was an only child but not well supervised at home. Her mother, though a sincere woman of fair mentality, was constantly involved in pursuits that were just a degree, above her. She was somewhat of a social climber and much of this may well have been in behalf of her daughter, to provide her with a slightly better station in life through a "suitable" marriage. The father was a man preoccupied with his business and the effort to maintain and raise the family status.
Kathy herself, by her own account, was somewhat late in passing through what Freud, in Thompaon and Mullahy's Psychoanalysis .'Evolution and Development, calls the "period of latency," the period between the ages seven and puberty, generally accepted as following the first menstrual period for a girl, or about thirteen in girls of our Western culture and climate.
Kathy had become what our society calls a tease in her early teens, probably at about thirteen, when her bodily development was several years in advance of her emotional development.
Physically she seems to have matured well past Freud's "period of latency" in sexual development without a corresponding development in any emotional drive toward sex. She appears to have retained the mere sexual curiosity that motivates very young children in their interest in bodily functions, of which interest in the sex organs is only a small part.
This is not an uncommon condition. Many girls reach well into their teens after an initial physiological development of the mammary glands and primary sex organs in their early teens without feeling any emotional drive toward sex. Some become motivated toward sex prematurely through outside influences, including what amounts to rape.
Kathy permitted sexual liberties for several years on her body without becoming sexually aroused herself. She seems to have taken a certain pride in her ability to arouse sexual interest in boys of her peer group without herself reacting. However, she does admit to an increasing interest in sex as she permitted more and more of these liberties, until they reached a climax in her relations with Ed B. and her sexual arousal became what Freud calls "the hedonistic gratification of the sex drive."
Another factor in Kathy's affair with Ed is what Vance-Packard calls "the sexual wilderness." This author maintains that our present Western society, and particularly the younger generation, in this current period of unrest and social disruptions, is in the midst of an emotional entanglement that is manifesting itself in excessive sexual liberties.
Kathy is apparently unaware of any social unrest, and it is doubtful if many of the younger generation caught up in it quite understand the forces driving them. However, Kathy, to a certain extent, is a victim of this very social disruption to which Packard refers. Otherwise, it is unlikely that, at her age level and among her peer group, there would have been as many opportunities for the sexual dalliance she cites with such glee.
The Dean of Students at Hope College puts it another way. He suggested, more formally than Packard, that "our society is giving up the JudeoChristian tradition as a basis for law and morality without replacing it with any consistent rationale." The Judeo-Christian tradition is the foundation of our Western civilization, its laws and its morality. It is by these precepts that we abide'-or which we knowingly abrogate. And, by abrogating, we become knowingly immoral or criminal or both.
Certainly, Kathy was striving for intensity of emotional experience, what Freud calls "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive."
Lester A. Kirkendall, in his thoroughly documented study Premarital Intercourse and Interpersonal Relationships, calls aggressiveness in sexual matters "definitely a masculine chararacteristic," which would seem to absolve Kathy of any blame in her sexual intercourse with Ed B. However, the Bender-Blau-Rasmussen study of more than seventy cases of very young children, between the ages of nine and thirteen, 65 girls and five boys who committed sex acts, concluded that-in a number of instances-these young children were not the helpless victims of older children or adults but played an active or even initiating role in their delinquency. 'They might even be considered the seducers rather than the seduced." A twenty year later follow-up on the cases indicated no permanent traumatic injuries and concluded that most were leading perfectly normal lives.
The authors of this study account for the rela tively slight emotional disturbance on the basis of Freud's earlier postulate that "psychic trauma must come from within." Their own theory is that, because the sex act was committed with an adult, "the association in the act of a grown-up, who to the child must still represent the omnipotent parent, probably condones the transgression, thus obviating the trauma."
Kathy apparently considered a seduction by her employer as a distinct possibility, in view of the stories she had been told. She was obviously disturbed by the fact that her employer, a very desirable male, was apparently totally unaware of her as a female. She therefore began a campaign and "played an active and even initiating role in her delinquency," according to the Blau-Bender theory. Her efforts increased in intensity until she broke through the shell of his resistance. Not that this, under our Judeo-Christian tradtion, makes his participation any less reprehensible.
Kathy appears to have considered their relationship immensely satisfactory. Certainly she enjoyed what Freud calls "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive," without any. particular thought of the possible consequences. It is highly probable that Kathy-because the sex act was committed with an adult-actually felt that "the association in the act of a grown-up, who to the child must still represent the omnipotent parent, probably condones the transgression."
However, there is no indication that Kathy's sexual activities with Ed carried the slightest connotation of "father image," the usual catchall phrase of parlor psychiatrists for any sexual relationship between a young girl and an adult male. Nevertheless, Ed was an adult and thus automatically carried the stamp of adult authority, which is what the previously mentioned Blau, Bender and Rasmussen study means by "omnipotent parent
"We didn't do anything more that night You know, no fucking. Just lying there kind of enjoying what had happened and letting the excitement drain out. I'd like to have gone to sleep, but Ed said he had to get me home at a reasonable hour. I was kind of surprised at how early it was. Not even eleven.
"All that fun and excitement hadn't taken nearly as long as it seemed. Less than an hour before I'd been a virgin and here I was, in bed with a grown man, and I had been screwed. But good. You know, the whole thing was good. The excitement, the feeling, the actual come, and then the resting afterwards.
"Ed was trying to work up nerve enough to tell me I was fired as a baby-sitter. I could see it coming. But I guess it's hard for a man to tell a girl he's just laid that he won't have her around. So I beat him to the punch and told him I'd be back tomorrow, in case he wanted to go out bowling again. I figured he wouldn't seeing that screwing is lots more fun than bowling.
"But do you know, he did ... go bowling that is. I came that night, expecting maybe he'd want to start right in where we left off, and I was willing. But he treated me just like he used to before we fucked. Pleasant, you know, but just a little ... well ... standoffish, distant ... as if nothing had happened. He just left the usual instructions and a telephone number ... and said good-bye. Like always.
"It's awfully frustrating for a girl who's come expecting to get a real good screwing, to be left with nothing but a television set. Which isn't much of a comfort at the best of times, though there is one of those private eyes I could go for. He looks as if he wouldn't go bowling if there was a girl handy. And all the girls he does meet seem willing. The private eye, I mean. Not Ed. He goes bowling.
"The next night is different. I come at the usual time and Ed already has the boys in bed. And his bowling ball and bag handy. But I can tell right away it's a bluff. He isn't going bowling. He wants to have a talk, which mostly means he's got something on his chest he wants to get off, no matter who it hurts. Which will be me.
"He starts, kind of stammering, about his inexcusable conduct, but once more I beat him to the punch. I start telling him about how wonderful that night was and what it meant to me. And in parts I get real graphic, telling him how my little hot box aches and how it felt so good with his pecker rammed in me. I make it real specific, eyes sort of downcast-I'm really watching the bulge in his trousers-and when I get part way through I can see it is swelling, from just reminding him of the good fuck we had. It's kind of hard to talk about screwing without getting the other party excited, especially if he was the one that did the screwing with you.
"I can see I have him hooked. So I just show a little more of me, sitting on an ottoman in front of him. That way, he can see right up my skirt to that pair of loose panties I'm wearing. And I lean forward a little so my blouse falls open some, giving him a nice view of my boobies. The very boobies he'd played with only a couple of nights before.
"I don't have much hair around my pussy, just a little fuzz, so he can look right in at it when my panties swing aside, which I see to it that they do, by squirming a little sideways. I sort of work it up so that I'm about to cry, something about me being a virgin and he was the first guy ever to get into me-which is to get him to remember how good it was and maybe feel a little guilty-and something about how he doesn't care the least bit about me, or maybe he didn't like screwing me. That's to start him protesting he did, too, like it....
"So I jump up then and fly into his lap, snuggling up so my boobies are pressed tight against him, and I start to slide a little. So he's practically got to grab me. 'Oh, Ed, I knew you liked screwing me. I just knew it.' What can he say? He's got me in his arms, one hand right spang on my ass. He just starts to comfort me, patting my ass in an absentminded sort of way that soon isn't so absentminded. It switches from that to feeling me up.
"His hand feels awfully good roaming over my ass. I can tell he's ready to slip it up between my legs and play with my little slit, so I open my legs ... and kind of sigh happily, 'cause that's what I've been waiting for.
"This time I know more what it's all about, so I can sort of observe and watch for details, things that make each new screw so interesting and exciting. Though for Ed I'd lie down any time and just open my legs for him to ram that big cock up me, even without preliminaries. After all, I've been thinking about that first screw for two days, which has kept my little box on the ready and excitement churning inside me. So I'm really noticing. And enjoying it all the more because now I know what it leads to. His hand slides under my bottom, and I open my legs a little to give him room. One finger plays a kind of tattoo against my brownhole for a minute. I didn't know there was excitement there, but it really stirs things up inside and makes my little cunt start twitching. It is opening up, getting set and all ready for the big moment when his dong will go slamming right up inside of it.
"His other hand slides up under my blouse and cups over one boobie so he must feel my nipple get stiff and stand up. I know he does, because he starts playing with it. Sort of pinching it lightly between his fingers. Not enough to hurt, really, just enough to make it feel good. So I kiss his neck, tonguing that big pulsing artery. And undo my blouse so his hand is free to roam. Which it does, covering both boobies. He even spreads his fingers and taps at each nipple, like a guy playing a cornet. And it plays on me. I can barely catch my breath from the tightness that starts there.
"I undo my wraparound skirt and let it fall off, but I have to hump up a little and let him help me slide out of my panties. And I'm naked. I like being naked in front of Ed. Maybe I'm an exhibitionist. Or just plain sexy. I've got a nice body, slender. Well, you can see me right now. I'm not pudgy or bulgy. Not anywhere. Except where it's a good idea to have bulges, like boobies and behind.
"And Ed likes having me naked. He can see what he's playing with. And he likes to play. You know, run his hands over all the parts. And I like it, too. I like it when he teases my nipples with his fingers and then slides a hand down my stomach to those little creases that lead down to the best spot of all, my cunt.
"Teasing my nipples gets them hard, and starts getting me excited, because I knew then for sure he's going to go all the way. And I'm going to let him. And his sliding hand going up and down the insides of my thighs, maybe not quite touching my little cunt but coming near enough to start delicious shivers, that's half the fun. And Ed knows just what to do. I mean, he doesn't go too fast, like he's got to get there-and throw his dong in meall in one minute.
"I didn't realize what was happening the first time. You know, about how careful he was being with me, because it was my first time and I was too excited to notice-and maybe too anxious to get to the main part, where he'd actually screw me. And I don't know that I really appreciated it the second time, because by then I knew what was coming and wanted to get down to it. But later times I began to appreciate it. And really like that slow buildup.
"Ed doesn't even touch my cunt for some time, not till he's felt all over me, and kissed my boobies and tongued my nipples and got me to the point where I'm almost shaking with the want of him, and his big pecker ramming way up me. I just lay there, kind of breathless, waiting for things to happen. My cunt gets hot and wet ... suddenly Ed is playing with it, easing his fingers down my slit. My legs just naturally fall open and let him reach where he wants to. His finger plays with my little clitoris until I begin to whimper with the want of more than that. Then he slides one finger up my cunt and plays around. And my cunt is opening up, like a hungry mouth. And I'm really ready, begging him to throw his pecker to me.
"I don't even want to bother waiting to go to bed I'm so ready for a good reaming. I squirm around and sit on his lap, facing him, so he can kiss my boobies and lick my nipples. And inside his pants I feel his pecker, hard and ready, right up against my bottom.
"I reach down and unzip his pants and reach in for his pecker. It's stiff and ready and his bulky head is glistening. So, while Ed is kissing my boobies, I raise up a little and slide down on his pecker. And feel the head slip in.
"Ed moans, happy, and I slide down some more, until his pecker rams well up inside me, and I'm ready to squeal with the excitement of it in me, rubbing the sides of my passage. I can feel his prick moving up and the shaft riding along my cunt, big and pulsy. And I want more.
"I just let go then and sink right down on his shaft, ramming it far up me, all at once, for a great big thrill. I'm practically sitting on his hairy bush, wiggling, to get more feel up my passage.
"Ed stretches back on the couch and rams his pecker up me a little more. And that little more is some real excitement. It tightens my throat so that even if I wanted to squeal I couldn't. Besides, I didn't have breath for squealing. All my breath I've got is just there to keep me going. I haven't any to waste.
"Then Ed leans forward to give me a real hot kiss, running his tongue in my mouth so I can taste him. And that pulls his pecker out a little, rubbing the sides of my passage with his bulb, so that new excitement starts. Some of it from the kiss but mostly, I think, from the way his pecker slides up and down in my cunt.
"And then we start humping, just slow and easy at first, with Ed rising slowly, just raising his rump a little and dropping back, so's his pecker rams up and then, when he drops, pulls a little bit out. Then ram and drop, ram and drop, till we hit a rhythm, which gets faster and faster, until I'm panting and sweating and getting tense ... tighter, like I'm wound up and ready to let go with a bang!
"I can feel his pecker swelling and subsiding, swelling and subsiding, way up me, and I know he's getting ready to come with all kinds of excitement happening. Because Ed is all the time playing with my boobies and nipples while he's screwing me. I think maybe that's what makes this sit ting-down screw so wonderful, all the playing he can do while his pecker is ramming me.
"Suddenly he grabs my boobies, not real hard but firm, as if he has to get a grip on something. And he humps, ramming the last little bit of his pecker way up me, holding it there. I can feel the pulse of his shaft and the sudden gush of hot juices from his prick. And I shoot off, too. Like fireworks. I can almost see 'em behind my eyes. And I catch enough breath for a long moan. I try to sink down more on his shaft, but I've got it about all, already rammed up in me, spurting juices.
"Anyway, it's almost all over. I'm limp and draining, and Ed is laying back on the couch, pooped, sweaty and grinning. I can feel his pecker go down, sliding out of my cunt. There's a few last-minute thrills as it comes out, but the main thing is over. I sigh and lay down on Ed's chest, just letting his pecker slip out, and all our juices with it ... like it's been a plug in my hole.
"Ed makes some feeble gestures at patting me, mostly on my rump, but we're both too pooped right then to take any fun from it. Just comfort. Once in a while I shiver with the dying excitement, and Ed sighs every now and then. Finally, he pushed me off. 'Kathy, you get heavy ... and I'm accustomed to breathing. I'd like to keep on with it.' So we lay on the couch, sort of crowded together, side by side. It's very comforting to lie beside Ed after a good screw. Besides, it might lead to another good screw.
"Ed must have had something of a similar idea, or else his clothes were making him hot. He hadn't taken off his pants, just unzipped 'em. So he wriggled around, got out of his clothes and then we were both naked, lying there together, our bodies crowded on the couch but nice and comfortable. But after a good screw you don't mind that.
"I am snuggled up in the crook of his arm, with his hand just resting light and easy on one boobie and sort of playing with it, idly, maybe with no intention of anything more. But I guess those things do build up. Not fast maybe, but they do build up after a while. Because pretty soon I notice his pecker is beginning to show signs of life, shuddering a little and swelling. And I am getting a pretty good build-up myself. My cunt is beginning to ooze more juices, as if it's ready to start all over again. Which I know I am. You know, I really dig getting screwed.
"I am kind of fascinated with the way his pecker first swells a little and then subsides, like it can't make up its mind if it will or won't get hard. So I reach down and take it in my hand. It's still wet and sticky but it feels good in my hand, something warm and alive, and swelling. Ed moans, not in protest, but because he likes it. I pull on it a little and it gets bigger and harder, until it's standing straight up. And Ed is playing with my boobies, like he really means it.
"Finally he says, 'Kathy, did you ever try Frenching?' and I tell him no. I never did anything like this except with him, but I'm willing, if he wants it and thinks it's fun. He says, 'It's fun ... if you're game. We can sixty-nine it.'
"I don't even know what he's talking about. Well, I'd heard about sixty-nine, but didn't know what it meant. Or how you did it. Ed shows me. He told me to turn around, so my head was down by his pecker, big and swollen and staring me right in the eye. 'Now lick it. Easy ... see if you like the taste of it.' So I licked it. The taste was sort of surprising. Salty and I guess you'd say, male. Anyhow, very sexy tasting. And Ed was tasting my cunt, real easy, with just the tip of his tongue. He was sort of teasing, until I was real excited again, ready for anything. And really wanting it.
"Then Ed says, 'Put it in your mouth and suck on it.' I tried but it was a little awkward. So Ed moved me up to rest on his stomach and I could get at it real good. And he could get his mouth on my cunt, because I opened my legs, one on each side of his head. And he really went to work sucking on my cunt and reaming with his tongue until I could hardly breathe. Especially with his big pecker in my mouth.
"And Ed reaches down and plays with my boobies and fingers my nipples until I am near crazy and suck all the harder. And he'd work on my cunt, causing all kinds of excitement way up in it, even if his tongue doesn't reach that far.
"I lick at his pecker and suck on it, tasting all the salty stickiness that's'so good and sexy-tasting and my stomach seems to be pumping to make his suck more fun. Until it's all one big excitement and I know I'm ready to come. I can feel his pecker pulse and swell, so I know he's going to come, too. Just about then he says, Take it all the way, Kathy,' and pushes at my head. I feel his cock head slide down my throat, way down, and his shaft is pulsing in my throat. I can't get my breath but that doesn't seem to matter right now, because his prick is pumping hot, salty come into my throat. And I'm giving him juices to suck on, down at my cunt. We suck like that, oh, maybe not a minute but it seemed longer. And then his pecker is shrinking and sliding out of my throat I can breathe again and swallow and taste that sexy, salty juice of his. While Ed still laps at my twitching cunt
"After that we're both really pooped. We just lie still, happy to be breathing and remembering the wonderful thing that had just happened. I can feel Ed's stomach under me pumping and even the pounding of his heart. I guess he could feel mine, too. I don't know how long we lie there like that, but suddenly I hear one of the boys pattering along the hall, headed for the bathroom That startles Ed and he sits up, nearly throwing me on the floor. 'My God, the kids!' And then he calls out, telling the kid to finish up and get back in bed, he'll be in there in a minute to tuck him in. The kid murmurs sleepily, and does his stuff and heads back to bed. While Ed sits there, his head in his hands, saying, 'What can I have been thinking of! What a fool I am!' I comfort him and tell him we can do it somewhere else, meaning in the bedroom, where the kids wouldn't come if we closed the door.
"But Ed won't hear of it. 'We've got to stop this madness. As of now! Suppose one of the kids had walked in here, right when we were ... screwing. He might not realize what was happening but he'd sure talk about that funny thing Daddy was doing with the baby-sitter. And then the fat would really be in the fire. We'd both be disgraced. And I'd wind up in jail. It happens to be illegal, you know. We'd both be ruined.'
"I'm not about to give up all that good fucking and sucking, now that I know what it's all about. So I argue with him but he says, 'No! We must stop. This madness can't go on.' Only I know it can, and I mean it to go on. That's when I get the idea of the motel room. Sure, that was my idea. But just to save Ed from getting caught by his kids, you know, so it wasn't really my fault. Not all the way. And I suggested a baby-sitter to stay with the kids while we were at the motel, to protect the kids, you know. That same baby-sitter that bitched us up.
"Anyway, we decided maybe we could try it once more, on account of Ed is holding me close and I'm naked. Which is a very good argument, you know.
"So, a night or two later, when Ed has had time to get this old biddy for baby-sitting, I meet him a few blocks from home, telling Mom I'm baby-sitting. It costs Ed plenty because he has to give me baby-sitting money, so I can account to Mom, and he has to pay the regular baby-sitter and the motel room. But he doesn't mind, he has plenty.
"We go to this motel. It's a kind of dingy place where they don't ask questions. They just take your money and give you a key. The room isn't too clean and kind of musty, but it's got a big, bouncy bed. Ed is a little embarrassed about the motel and sort of self-conscious when we go in, but I'm too interested in what's going to happen to get upset about that. So what's one room or another, as long as it has a big, nice, bouncy bed?
"Ed tells me it's not us he's embarrassed about, but it's on account of his wife, who used to take any man she could get and go to motel rooms with 'em. She was a real little tramp, screwing anything that came along wearing pants. And she was killed joyriding with some guy she hardly knew.
"I'm kind of embarrassed myself, hearing all this, but I start to comfort him, sitting in his lap and patting his cheek. And the first thing you know, he's patting me ... and not on my cheek. So everything is fine again and we build up to a very good screw.
"Ed takes off his clothes first, this time, and then undresses me, slow and easy, enjoying each piece he takes off, like it's a strip tease. He's sitting on the edge of the bed and I stand there, letting him take off my blouse and kiss my boobies and then undo my skirt and drop it and finally slide my panties down, real slow, enjoying the view as it unfolds.
"His pecker is quivering and then getting hard and standing up, the head begins to glisten with juices. And my cunt is getting real itchy and wet. I start to take off my stockings-sometimes I wear 'em-but Ed says no, I look sexier in nothing but stockings. So I keep 'em on. He pulls me up close to him, kissing my boobies while his pecker just tickles my cunt. Then he gets me to kneel on the bed, with my legs spread, right over his pecker. By that time I'm ready for anything he wants to do, I'm so excited.
"Ed holds me by the hips and guides my cunt right on to his pecker and eases me down on it, slow, until his cock head is well inside and stirring up juices and-excitement like crazy. Then he lets go. I'm not really prepared, so I drop down on his pecker and ram it all the way up me. For a second it hurts but it feels so good rammed in fast like that I don't mind. And we go to town, humping and pumping, while Ed plays with my boobies and kisses 'em and sucks on my nipples. And then he lays straight back on the bed, ramming that pecker of his another two feet up me, it feels like. Maybe it's only an inch or so, but it feels like he might send it clear up my throat ... and it feels wonderful, way up there. Especially when he humps his butt a little and it moves around up there. I wiggle a little and hump, too, getting even more motion way, way up inside me. And believe you me, motion up there really counts in building up excitement.
"I'm about to yell with excitement and tension when suddenly he humps way up and his pecker pulses and lets go, shooting a full load so far up I can almost taste it. And I let go, too, with all the fireworks and pinwheels and bright lights. It's wonderful! I just don't see how anything that good can be illegal but you people say it is. So maybe it is. Ed said so, once, too. I really don't know.
"After that we just lie there together, panting and getting our breath back. With Ed comforting me. He's the best comforter, especially for getting a girl all excited all over again. So we did it all over again. Not fancy, just regular screwing, with him on top of me. And lay together for a long time after that.
"Then we took a shower. It's fun, taking a shower with Ed, and sexy ... enough to keep a girl interested, but not enough to get her too worked up. Especially as it was getting time to go pick up the real baby-sitter.
"After that, we went to a motel maybe two or three times a week. A different motel each time, only they're all pretty much alike ... the kind we could go to. Sort of almost crummy. But Ed said we didn't want to get in the habit of going to the same one too often, because the guy might identify us.
"With Ed it was sort of like being married and for a while I began to get ideas, like maybe he'd marry me and we could do this regular ... and legal. Only, Ed said it wouldn't work. He was too old for me and one day, soon, he'd be an old man, no longer able to screw, and I'd be still young and beautiful and want to get laid regular.
"Anyway, it didn't work out, because along about then Pop had his accident and Mom called Ed's house to tell me she would be at the hospital and not to worry, only she got the real baby-sitter, who was kind of baffled, and said she was the baby-sitter and I wasn't there. Fact is, she said, she'd never heard of me.
"That's when it all came out. I mean, with Mom. She never told Pop and he doesn't know, even yet. Nor anybody else. Mom said if I'd take this psychiatric therapy, she wouldn't ever talk about it. Or let Pop know, because he might kill Ed. So that's why I'm here, spilling all this goop on you, though what good it can do I don't know. Getting it out of my system? Just from talking about it? You can't talk sex out of existence. And I've got it built in. Just look at me. Can't you see that?
"Sure, I won't ever do it with Ed again. He's scared shitless. But there are plenty of other guys. And someday...."
Kathy bitterly resented the interruption of her affair with Ed, because it deprived her of the "hedonistic gratification of the sex drive," rather than because it deprived her of Ed himself. In her estimation, Ed had become interchangeable with any suitable male and the potential for "hedonistic gratification."
Kathy is inclined to shift the blame for her troubles on any available shoulders, demonstrating an inherent immaturity which is at considerable variance with her sexual activities.
The prognosis is that psychiatric therapy will not benefit Kathy to any material degree, unless she can be given other motivations than "hedonistic gratification," which-once developed-is extremely difficult to sublimate.
CHAPTER TWO
He Was Better Than My Kinfolk
"Sure I'd been screwed before. How do you think I'd know it was fun. My uncle, the lousy bumhe's on relief and sits around all day with nothing to do-he screwed me. When I was, oh, about twelve I reckon. Yeah, twelve. Well, you can't get him, see. He's skipped. Maybe Mexico. He always said he was going there 'cause he'd heard you could get plenty of young girls for screwing. He likes young girls.
"Why? How'd I know? Maybe because he ain't got much of a dong, which he ain't. He's scrawny. There, like everywhere. Nature kinda cheated him, I reckon. Or maybe it's too much trouble getting full-grown women. Anyway, he likes young girls.
Like me. When I was twelve, going on thirteen.
"Whadaya wanta know about him for? He's a bum. On the lam. I thought we was gonna talk about me being a baby-sitter and getting screwed. And getting beat up. By my brother and his gang. Well, no, he didn't actually do the beating up, but he sicced 'em on me. Oh, sure I'm sure. I know them guys. Knowed every one of 'em whilst they was gang-fuckin' me ... and then beat me up. Testify against 'em? Maybe you're the one needs your head examined. They'd kill me next time.
"No. I ain't testifying against nobody. I told you that ... I told the cops that. This guy I was babysitting for? Why should I? He gimme a lotta fun and he treated me right. Real good. It's them bums of my brother's gang done the beating and put me in the hospital, and I won't tell on them. And I told you why. I like my skin whole, at least whilst I'm wearing it
"So we talk about Uncle Bart ... short for Bartholomew, I think. Everything about him was on the short side, including his dong, though it looked big enough the first time he threw it into me. Stubby, you know.
"How come he screwed me? And I let him? Look, when you're twelve, and your own uncle says, 'Come here, kid, and sit on my lap,' you do it. He ain't really such a bad guy. Just a lazy bum. My Pop at least goes down to the union hall, even if all he does is guzzle beer and yak-yak with the boys.
"So Uncle Bart has me on his lap, telling me how pretty I am-and I really ain't bad looking when my face ain't bruised from bicycle chainsand I'm taking it in. Letting him pat my hair and run his hand up my back, with me sort of snuggling up. Sure, I like petting as much as anybody but around our house, who's to pet? Mom's always too bushed, running the house and baking and selling stuff to keep us floating. And Pop is always at the union hall or else home, full of beer and complaints about how lousy things are.
"So Uncle Bart is petting me up, when the first thing I know he's feeling my titties. Oh, I had titties, even at twelve. Not much but real cute. Tight and kinda high. And they ain't changed much. I mean, I ain't exactly a hag yet. Not at fourteen. Nothing's drooping ... so who's gonna show 'em to you? I was just telling you and sort of illustrating, see. So keep your back hair fastened down. Anyway, they're kinda bruised-lookin' right now, on account of the beating.
"Oh, yeah. Back to Uncle Bart. Well, he runs his hand over 'em, and talks about how nice they are and how pretty they'd be to look at ... and maybe taste. And I'm getting a little hot in the pants and kinda short on breath, on account it is exciting. Hadn't nobody up to then paid no attention to my titties. Oh, maybe some of the boys at school had eyed 'em, but that's all.
"So I let him run his hand up my T-shirt and put it right smack on a tittie. It makes me real hot and kinda flustered, feeling the nipples getting stiff and standing up. So who's to object if he lifts my T-shirt and looks? Lookin' ain't nothing. Only it's kinda exciting. And when he nibbles at 'em, sticking out his tongue and running it over 'em, I really get hot, way down by my cunt. And whilst he's running one hand over my titties or maybe kissing and tonguing 'em, his other hand is sliding up my skirt, kinda rubbing my leg ... going a little, higher each time till he hits the open switch. My cunt, if you understand it better.
"I hadn't never let a boy get up that far ... not that so many tried ... and it was real breathtaking. I mean, I could hardly get any air in me. Or it didn't seem like. And I am arching and wriggling on account I ain't never felt nothing like that before and I sort of like it and want more. Sure, that's what happens to girls. They get a little excited and they want more. Or else quit worryin' about what's gonna happen.
"Did I know what was gonna happen? That's hard to answer. I mean, I sort of knew only I didn't really know. Know what I mean? I had ideas but it hadn't never happened before, so how was I, to know? Besides, I wasn't just sure how far Uncle Bart wanted to go. And maybe he wasn't either then, right. I mean, we was just sorta letting things happen.
"Like I let him slip my T-shirt over my head, so's he could see my titties without it falling every now and then. And I kinda lay back on his shoulder and stuck 'em up at him. So he could tongue 'em. Like it felt so good. And his hand playing up my leg was even more exciting, especially when he hit my cunt and started fingering it. Just easylike ... teasing, sort of ... running a finger up the edge of it without really going in.
"My legs got sorta limp about then and kinda fell open, so's his hand could play around. And he undid my skirt and slid it off, so there wasn't nothing but panties covering my cunt. And they was kinda thin, so visibility was high. Also, they split awful easy. Right across. At my cunt. And then right up the side. Mom gimme hell for splittin' my panties. 'How you do that, girl?' Only I don't tell her, natch. I say, 'I do it on a bicycle.' And Mom sighs, 'Kids ain't got no respect for clothes nor money nor what things cost.' But she don't know Uncle Bart tore 'em off.
"And I'm sittin' in his lap, jaybird naked. What's this about jaybirds being naked, anyhow? Only that's what you say, meaning you ain't got a stitch on. Which I didn't. And Uncle Bart is kissing my titties and feeling up the sides of my legs and right up into my cunt, like he's got more arms than an octopus. Naw! Course I ain't been screwed by no octopus. Only it ain't no joke what Uncle Bart done. It scared me shitless for a while. I hadn't ever been screwed before nor ever been naked with a man, and I wasn't sure what was gonna happen next. I only knew I wanted it to happen. Or leastwise, couldn't do nothin' to stop it happening.
"Uncle Bart is fingering up my cunt, which opens up like it's got lips. I didn't know it could open like that but I feel it, and feel me getting wet. Uncle Bart rams a finger up me, and his thumb is moving over my clit, gettin' things real heated up, and I am wriggling and trying to get his finger deeper up me, because I got an itch up there that really needs it.
"Then Uncle Bart pulls his finger out and sniffs it and then licks it and says, 'Edy, I think you're ripe for it,' and turns me around so I face him in the chair, with my legs spread and my wet cunt open and facing him. He kisses my titties and tongues my nipples, making 'em stand up and leaving me shivering.
"He gets me to stand up on the chair, even if my legs is sort of rubbery, and my cunt is right up against his mouth and he is tonguing it to beat hell. His tongue slides over my clit and right into my cunt. I don't notice at first, but whilst I am getting his tongue up my cunt-and pushing for more on account it is exciting-Uncle Bart has undone his pants, and spread 'em open, so I can look right down and see his dong standing up and quivering, with the big purplish bulb already wet. It sure scares me. It looks so big. And I know by now he's gonna ram it into me. I mean, what else is a cunt for but ramming with a dong? Oh, peein', 'course. But that's everyday stuff. This is something don't happen to a girl but once ... her first time getting rammed. An' it's scary, even if it is exciting.
"I want to tell him to stop but somehow I can't I'm sorta hypnotized. An' I ain't so sure I woulda, anyhow. I was getting real anxious to have that dong rammed in me, just to find out what it's all about ... and itchy for it, too. An' my cunt is kinda quivering inside for it. An' my nipples standing up right hard.
"Uncle Bart says, kinda hoarse, 'Sit on it, Edy. Sit on it easy. An' we'll both have fun. Lotsa fun.' He guides me on to his-dong with his hands on my hips whilst I squat. An' he's tonguing my titties and nipples till I almost scream. When his dong really touches my cunt I sorta whimper, 'cause now I am both scared and anxious. It feels so good, him just pushing against my cunt.
"I can see it, looking down past my titties, pushing hard against my cunt an' spreading the lips. I will say this, Uncle Bart done it gentle. He pulled me by my hips, a little at a time, so it slid in, easy-like. An' my cunt just swallowed up his bulb with a kinda soft 'plop' I could feel even if I didn't hear it.
"That first push didn't hurt much ... or maybe I didn't notice on account I am so excited. An' he kept pulling me a little at the time whilst his shaft kept going up in me. I could watch it goin' in ... a little, then more. An' I helped. I don't deny that. It felt so good even the hurting was good. An' exciting. Then he grabbed my hips and rammed it up me, all the way, till my cunt is smack up against his bush. I can feel his bulb sliding up my hole, an' see how wide my cunt has got, taking his dong. An' it hurt. Only by then I don't care. I got a real dong up my cunt and I'm spouting juices an' humpin' back and forth like I'm trying to drive through him.
"That makes his bulb and shaft rub up against my hole and make even more excitement. An' Uncle Bart humps some himself, so we bump together till we get in a rhythm. Then it's all fine an' we're goin' strong, pumpin' at each other. An' my hole is gettin' a good rubbing that makes everything hazy an' breathless.
"All the time somethin' is going on in me, like winding a clock too tight. Know what I mean? So something's gotta let go. All of a sudden Uncle Bart yells, kinda soft but excited, 'Hold on, Edy, here she comes.' An' buries his face against my titties, suckin' for dear life.
"I can feel his shaft pumping, an' then, suddenly, his bulb lets go, way up inside me. An' his come floods me. An' I think I came, too. Anyway, things get awful exciting. My heart is doing a rock rhythm an' my juices start busting out and floodin' my passage, it's a hot and wonderful feeling.
"Uncle Bart kinda folds up, slumpin' in the chair, shakin' his head an' sayin', 'I shouldn't'a done it. I shouldn't'a! I done ruint me one sweet kid.'
"I slump, too, restin' against Uncle Bart's chest an' laying my titties right up against him, whilst his dong is going down and oozing outta my cunt. Even that is exciting in a way, so I'm shivering with it. An' maybe wishing it could start all over again.
"It does, but not right then. Uncle Bart lets me play with his shrunken dong, like I am inspecting for flaws. An' that starts things all over again. So we go at it. That time it's more fun, 'cause I got an inklin' of what's gonna happen an' can sorta anticipate.
"After that we do it most every day, one, maybe two times. And sometimes he slips into my room at night and we bang away some more.
"Only my older brother, Chester, catches on ... and he wants in. He tells me, 'Kid, I didn't know you was puttin' out. So I'll be taking some of that.' Also, he threatens to tell Pop about Uncle Bart an' me if I don't screw him. That's when Uncle Bart takes off. For Mexico, maybe. He'd been talking about it, an' how young girls like me was a dime a dozen. Only, of course, I was for free.
"Ches is kinda tough. He belongs to a gang. Yeah, the same bunch as gang-fucked me and beat me up. An' he's rough ... just wants to climb on and ram like hell. He don't make no effort for a build-up, like Uncle Bart does. Like the ads say about travel, 'Gettin' there is half the fun.' Well, it's the same with screwin'. Gettin' into a cunt is half the fun. For a girl, anyhow.
"Oh, it gets excitin' but it just ain't the same. So I miss Uncle Bart. But I don't try to stop Ches or else I wouldn't get no screwin' at all. An' I like it, rough or smooth. But I like smooth better. Older men do it smoother.
"So it goes like that for maybe almost a year, with Ches screwin' me pretty regular, mostly at night, after Mom and Pop have gone to bed. He just sneaks in and whispers, 'Move over, kid, and open up. I'm comin' in.' An' he does. He don't ask nor nothing. Just opens my legs and rams his dong as far up me as he can get and bangs away. An' shoots off in me and climbs outa my bed. An' I'm wantin' more'n that, like I got a little lovin' up from Uncle Bart. And some soothin' down afterward. With a good screw in between.
"'Long about then, when I'm thirteen and needin' things of my own, like some snazzy blouses and a leather belt I got an eye on, I see this ad for a baby-sitter. Right in the neighborhood, too. I mean, like a couple or three blocks away. It's a nice neighborhood, too. Real rich people live there.
"I'm sorta developed by then and maybe a little tall for my age ... not horsy, just tall, kind of willowy but with titties, see. So I apply for the job. It ain't as easy to get baby-sitters as you think. An' even if I am a little young and maybe not so educated, I get the job. What does a baby-sitter need with education? All she's gotta do is see the kids get out if the house burns or quiet 'em down if they wake up scared. I ain't there to give lectures, just baby-sit. Leastwise that's what Jim's wife says in that weary, husky voice of hers. 'Anything, so's we can get out of the house once in a while.'
"It's Jim who ain't so sure. 'I'd like someone with a sense of responsibility. A mature woman, maybe.' And she says, kinda provoked, 'Then you find one. I've tried. And by tonight. I'm not sitting here, minding brats another night, getting my kicks from a TV set.' So I get the job.
"It's a swell job. The kids go to bed early and behave real nice, so I get to watch color TV. And they got real super bathrooms, with great big tubs and enough hot water and big towels and Jim's wife has plenty of scented bath oil. None of which we ain't got at home. Besides, this Jim is a real groovy looking guy, kinda distinguished. With just a touch of gray in his hair. But that's for worryin' about his wife. I don't know it right off, but she's an alcoholic.
"So I'm working there maybe a couple of weekends when I decide what's the harm in takin' a real good hot bath with scented bath oil and everything. I can leave the door open and hear the kids, should they wake up and yell. And I'll be through long before they get back. They don't usually come in till maybe one or two-or later.
"That bath oil has a real sexy smell an' I'm soaking in it and reading a comics when I hear the door open. So I figure I'm in for it. She's got a real mean tongue in her.
"Only, she's so fuckin' polluted ... okay, she's drunker than a skunk ... that Jim has to practically carry her in and dump her in bed. And on the way upstairs he sees me sitting in the tub, so he knows what I'm doing, swiping a bath and his wife's scent. And his eyes kinda rove a little, too. So he knows I've got titties.
"So what am I gonna do? I like this job, see. It's easy. The kids are nice and no trouble. I got color TV which I ain't never seen before outside a store. And I got a big deep tub with enough hot water and scented bath oil. Like I say, it's a good job. And the money's okay. Nothing great, but okay for a kid thirteen.
"I figure Jim is gonna put his drunk wife to bed and come fire me. So I might as well enjoy my bath. And just maybe get Jim interested in me. I smell sort of sexy and with just a towel around me ... so what can it hurt? I'm game to try, anyhow.
"Jim comes down the hall, mostly mad as hell with his wife and ready to take after anybody. And there I am, sure to get fired. That's what he says, first off, 'You're fired.'
"So I say, just kind of low and a little sobby, 'Okay, Sir, if that's what you want.' And let the towel slip just a little so it shows one tittie. And I can see Jim eyes it, but he ain't weakening none. I mean, he don't grab me and rape me or nothing. So I try harder, crying just a smidgin and talking about how poor we are and what the job means. And all the time I'm lettin' the towel slip a little more, so's he can see what I got. And I pretend I don't notice how much of me is showing. Only I know. It's just caught up under one arm and hanging a little cranksided so it just gives maybe a glimpse of my cunt. And my titties are right out there for him to see. And he sees 'em. I can see him lickin' at his lips and trying to frown, like he's real mean.
"So I let go the towel and sort of fling myself at him, weeping like crazy and babbling about needing the job and the money. Jim has to catch me. And then I am in his arms, ready and willing and smelling sexy.
"He carries me into the living room, making shushing noises. 'You'll wake up the kids with your yowling ... quiet, kid. So maybe I was a little tough on you, but I've had a rough evening. Now, quit yowling ... ' And he sits down with me in his lap, patting me. I lean up against him so's hell get the sexy smell and feel my titties pushing against him.
"He does ... he starts soothing me down, rubbing my back and, just maybe by accident, letting his hand slide over my butt. I wriggle a little and press up tighter, flinging an arm around him and telling him he is real good to let me keep my job. And wiggle my butt right down against his lap, kinda pinning his hand.
"With his hand on my butt and my titties up against his chest, he's beginning to breathe kinda heavy. And then one of his hands sorta wanders toward my titties. I wiggle so's he can get at it easy. Maybe I even push it a little, so he's got a hand right smack on the softest tittie he's felt in a long time. A real nice tittie. And he squeezes it with a kind of groan. 'Child, Child! You're killing me. When I haven't had a decent lay in years ... and you ... ' With that he bends down and kisses my tittie. 'very gentle. Tastes it, sort of, like it's a very rare fruit and easy to bruise, but he wants it.
"I ain't never had nobody treat me real gentle before, like I might break or something. Not even Uncle Bart who was pretty good but not as smooth an article as Jim. And I ain't even beginning to compare my brother Ches. So I sorta quieted down on the weepin' and just hiccuped a little, just enough to make my chest jump and shake my titties.
"Jim was comforting me. I guess maybe that's all he meant to do, but I kinda went for him. He's tall and distinguished-looking with that touch of gray in his hair and his face sorta sad. So I flung an arm around his neck and kissed him, real sweet, like a little girl oughta ... then I let it get kinda hot. Which wasn't hard. He's got a hand on one tittie and one hand under my butt, wiggling maybe to get free only it feels like he's doing a little feeling up, too. Which makes me pretty hot down at my cunt and all over.
"That's when he groans and then bends down and really works on my titties with his mouth. Whilst his hand gets free and starts roaming over my legs. I let 'em slide open a little and he's caressing the inside of my thighs, real exciting. And his hand wanders up to my cunt ... and jerks away. So I catch it and put it back, just to let him know I don't mind.
"After that, getting him to screw me is easy. He's doing most of the work from then on. I just spread my legs a little wider, so's he can see and touch my cunt. Sure, there ain't no bush to hide it. I got just a soft down there. And his fingers start playing on my slit. One of 'em slides in and I lay back against his shoulder, humping my little pelvis at his fingers. Like finger-fucking, only I know it's gonna get better.
"About then I just let my hand drop down to where his dong is and rummage a little. It's already getting real hard inside his pants. I fumble around for the zipper and pull it down. So now he knows I'm ready for a good screw. I slip one hand inside his pants and play around with his dong, squeezing it a little. And we're both ready.
"He heaves up and lays me across the couch, with my legs over the side, which makes my stomach and leg muscles real tight and that makes his next few caresses even more exciting. He kneels down by the couch and lays his face right up against my cunt, which is hot enough to scorch him. And his hands play with my titties and his fingers sort of milk my nipples until I'm breathless and wriggling.
"He turns and rams his mouth right up against my cunt and starts tonguing me, playing with my clit, whilst his hands are still working on my titties and nipples. Suddenly he stops playing with my titties but don't miss a beat with his tonguing on my cunt and clit. At the same time he's sliding out of his pants and briefs.
"Then he's kneeling in front of me, his dong stiff and aimed right at my cunt. He pushes my legs a little farther apart and opens up my cunt with his fingers, real gentle, and bends down to kiss it one last time ... a long, real exciting suck and tonguing. Then he straightens and aims his cock at my cunt. I can see it is glistening with his juices. And I know my cunt is wet and expecting. He pushes his cock up against my cunt easy as anything and then with a groan, drives it up my hole so hard and so fast I squeal a little.
"But I like it, even if his dong is bigger than eii ther Uncle Bart's or Ches's. Bigger around. And longer, too. I can feel it way up inside me, not all the way yet, but far enough to be real exciting. So I hump my pelvis at him and that drives his cock a little deeper into me. After that he pushes slowly, easing it way up me, so far I think any minute he's gonna hit my stomach. I feel him go over that little bump up my cunt and on past that where ain't nothing ever been before.
"All the time his hands are wandering over my titties and fingering my nipples or else teasing across my stomach and down along them creases where my legs join my pelvis. And I am just laying there, enjoying it and getting more 'n' more excited, till I 'most don't have breath left. So I just hump at him. That's when he gives the last big ram up my hole until I can see he has buried his whole long cock in my cunt, right up to his bush.
"We lay there like that, me on my back across the couch and him kneeling and driving his cock way up me, and holding it, tight against me. Then we both start moving a little, sort of experimental. And it all gets a lot better! I can feel his cock head moving way up inside me and all along my hole I can feel his hard shaft, just moving enough to make the feeling very good.
"Along about then, with his hands playing on my body like he's playing a piano or maybe a harp-because I can mighty nigh hear music-we start some real humping at each other. I ain't so used to this position but I like it, even if I can't quite hump as much as I'd like. Jim makes up for that, though, pulling his dong out a little and ramming it back up to the hilt, till I'm seeing stars and lights and hearing this here music that ain't there.
"Suddenly we're working like crazy, screwing to beat the band and everything is going wonderful. And then that last big ram of his, that mighty nigh takes me clean across the couch. And we hold it, while juices explode out of his cock. I can feel 'em pulse up his shaft. And I explode right back with a flood of j uices.
"I've really been screwed. By an expert.
"I collapse on the couch and Jim lays his head on my stomach, sighing. And then he begins to talk, sorta to himself, like. About how he's a beast and what's he done to a little girl? I kinda pet him up a bit and tell him it's all right by me, I liked it. And he says, 'God help me, so did I!' And then groans, 'It's been so damn long. Judith has been drinking so heavily ... '
"So I get him up on the couch beside me, both of us naked as jaybirds. And we talk, getting sort of hot and bothered all over again. So we do it all over again, like I was hoping we would.
"So I'm all set then. I got this baby-sitting job for keeps and I know I'll get some real good, gentle-type screwing thrown in. We sorta set it up like that, for future dates. And I'm sitting pretty. And all set for screwing regular."
It is difficult to evaluate the report on Edith K. since the initial interviewer does not appear to have established a proper rapport with the subject, so essential in successful psychiatric therapy. Part of this lack of rapport is due to the flippant attitude of the subject toward the therapist and toward her own predicament.
A large portion of this flippant attitude can be attributed to the subject's fear of reprisal. Another portion can be assigned to the subject's lack of moral standards regarding her sexual activities, including her incestuous relations with her uncle and brother. It is the causations back of this lack of moral standards that require more intensive study.
The subject appears to have sexually matured beyond her norm and to have emerged early from what Freud calls, as it has been pointed out previously, "the period of latency," which he describes as the period between natural animal curiosity of the developing child in its own bodily functions-including interest in its sex organs and those of the opposite sex-and the advent of puberty. Freud ascribes this period of latency to fear of castration, that is some form of sexual deprivation-not necessarily physical castration-by the parent of the same sex; boys fearing fathers, girls fearing mothers. Later psychologists and psychoanalysts agree on the concept of a "period of latency," but ascribe it to biological reasons. The child in its early years-from birth to above seven-has little occasion to notice anything of the world, except its own bodily functions, including its sex organs and their differentiation from those of the opposite sex. After that conclude such eminent psychoanalysts as Adler and Jung the child becomes immersed in orienting itself to the fascinating world around it.
Therefore interest in its own bodily functions diminishes. Freud, Adler, Jung and others agree that interest in sexual matters is re-aroused at puberty, when there are readily discernible changes in the sex characteristics and the early beginnings of sexual stimulation, either external or internal or both.
Adler, Jung and most later psychoanalysts accuse Freud of being absorbed in observations among those who are oriented to Judeo-Christian ethics in which interfamilial sexual relationships are taboo. They point out that the period of latency occurs universally, not solely among peoples of Judeo-Christian origin, with similar arousal of sexual interest (and sometimes activity) at puberty.
George P. Murdock, noted Yale anthropologist, has pointed out that "not more than 5 percent of the peoples of the earth" subscribe to the JudeoChristian ethics and that, among the remaining 95%, most do not regard interfamilial sexual relationships (incest) as either improper or criminal. Among many peoples such relationships are not only condoned but even considered ritualistic, a necessary rite to introduce the young girl into her rightful womanhood. Such rites are usually conducted by the father.
As Margaret Mead has pointed out in Male and Female, these sexual rites between father and daughter, marking the girl's emergence into womanhood, are almost always mystic and often religious in performance, with an audience, generally all male, in which the local religious leader is usually an interested observer-to confirm the girl's new status as a "woman" and therefore eligible for marriage.
Among numerous ethnic groups, the interfamilial relationship is not so formally observed but is completely acceptable, father with daughter, brother with sister. Among these, as several anthropologists have pointed out, after the informal interfamilial sexual relationship is accomplished, the nubile female is considered sexually free to participate in sexual acts with other males until marriage.
The fact that there are people who do not regard this interfamilial sex relationship as anti-social or criminal in no way excuses Edith's uncle Bart or her brother Ches, in their sexual abuse of the girl. Both lived in a community so oriented, and they would be expected to abide by its legal and social dictates. They could be held criminally responsible for their offenses (incest) against the child Edith. Edith, as we see, chose not to prosecute or aid in the prosecution of the two or of her later lover Jim for reasons that seem quite valid to her-on the one hand fear of reprisals, and on the other a form of affectionate loyalty.
Edith's sexual relationships with her uncle and brother were largely the result of calculated compulsion, though she admits being interested when initially aroused by her uncle. He chose his timing well: Edith was just emerging from her period of latency into puberty, which made her susceptible to his advances. Her brother, as we see, used wiles and a form of blackmail to perform what amounted to a series of rapes on the child.
Her affair with Jim was motivated by curiosity, aroused and intensified by her uncle and brother in their rough sexual treatment of her. Jim was an attractive male of what to her were gentle manners, with whom she fully anticipated having agreeable sexual relations. A secondary motive in her seduction of Jim was fear that her actions in taking the luxury bath would cost her what she regarded as a very superior job. She assumed-quite rightlythat if she could seduce Jim, her job would be safe. With a man of stronger character than Jim she might easily have failed in her seduction of him and so lost her job anyway. However, she judged Jim's needs correctly ... the deprivation of sex by reason of his wife's alcoholism.
"'Course I couldn't go to Jim's place every night, even if my folks didn't care if I did my homework or not They ain't much on education, nohow, not havin' any theirselves and bein' so smug about it. Except maybe Mom, only Pop had knocked the gumption outta her a long time back, so she don't say nothing. Anyhow, I tell her I can study better at the job than home on account it's quieter. I don't a'course. Even when Jim ain't there-which ain't too often-I got that color TV to watch and I take them luxury baths like crazy. I bet I'm the cleanest kid on our block, where baths ain't considered so necessary.
"Also, I quit screwin' Ches. Like I told him, if n he tried to stick it in me, I'll yell and Pop will come along and whup him with a razor strop. More 'n likely Pop'll whip me, too. And then screw me, hisself. He'd'a done it before if he'd noticed I was gettin' titties, like he done fucked my sister Ruth who ran away when she was fourteen. Only, he's too swacked from guzzlin' beer and ain't noticed yet.
"So we ain't a nice family ... ain't nobody said we was. When you're poor like us, and your old man don't do nothin' but guzzle beer, what's to do but screw? And it's cheaper screwing relatives. What's that word you used? ... Incest? So what's incest? ... Oh, screwing a relative! Well, it's just as much fun with a relative, unless you got a brother like Ches, who ain't altogether human, I don't think. Skunkmean, he is. An' it makes him sorta sore I won't screw with him no more.
"Why should I? He don't give me a really good time, like Jim. Just hops on, screws and goes back to snore in bed. An' leaves me feeling bruised and not really satisfied. He ain't got no couth. Besides, he's got those chicks that run with his gang ... he can screw them whenever he feels the urge. Anyhow, he leaves me alone, only he don't like it. He frowns at me, sorta like he's puzzled I don't want no screwin' no more, which to his way o' thinkin' ain't natural.
"He don't know I'm getting some really good stuff from Jim. Not often, maybe. But it makes up in quality what I don't get in quantity. On account Jim don't come home completely swacked every night and has to be put to bed. Only once in a while....
"Then his Missus has this heart attack, see? Not real bad but it scares her. It scares me, too, seein' her gaspin' and threshin' around. And it scares Jim. He calls an ambulance and shoots off to the hospital with her. And I stay all night with the kids. I send word to Mom so's she won't worry, and sleep over in one of them big soft beds with cleansmelling sheets. Since t wasn't expectin' to stay over I didn't have no nightie, so I slept in the raw. It's kinda swell sleepin' raw between them sheets smelling nice and clean. Almost as much fun as gettin' screwed.
"Sure I stack things up against how it feels gettin' screwed ... more fun or less. Only I ain't found anything that's more fun. Have-you? ... Okay, so don't answer that question. You don't look like you've had too much fun of any kind....
No, I ain't being insulting. You just look kinda sour on the world ... so it's what you hear in this here place that sours you. Okay, get out. Get out an' have some fun. Get screwed a few times ... No, that ain't flip, ma'am. Just common sense. Women was meant to be screwed. Nature built 'em that way ... Okay, so I'm a horrid child. But it's true just the same. Now, if n you'd'a had Jim ... a good screwin' would relax you more ... a good screwin' would sure fix you up ... so that's enough? Okay! Okay. So where was we? ... Oh, yeah, the Missus had a heart attack. Yeah.
"Jim came in along about three o'clock, sorta bushed. And wakes me up to tell me that his wife was getting along nicely. He's bushed, see. Dogtired ... do dogs get specially tired? ... All right. All right!
"I'm sleepin' raw, see. No nightie, though there really ain't much interference to a nightie, if it comes to that. Jim looks kinda bewildered, too, like he needs comfortin'. So I sit up and comfort him. Naked? 'Course I'm naked ... I put my arms around him and pull his head down on my titties whilst he's sitting on the side of the bed. And hold him close, patting him. And the first thing you know he's patting me. And rubbing my back and running his hands over me, easy and gentle and kind of half sleepy.
"I undo his tie and slip his shirt off for him and he wiggles outta his undershirt. Jim's got a nice chest. Big and broad, with a good tan like I wish I could get. And a kinda rough mat of hair down his front. Which I'm glad I don't have. I like me kinda smooth and silky. And so does Jim. I start to undo his pants but he grumbles sorta sleepy he can undress hisself. And he does, just steppin' out of his pants and underpants and kicking off his shoes. He don't bother with his socks, just leaves 'em be. And tumbles into bed alongside me. Bushed. Sprawled out. His dong is limp then.
"Havin" Jim layin' there beside me in that big, bouncy bed and them clean-smellin' sheets sorta gimme ideas. 'Course, I had ideas all along, that bed being just naturally sexy, but him being there, all six feet of him naked alongside me sorta got the ideas to humping theirselves. I leaned over him so's my titties would push up against his side and chest and kissed him real easy, letting it get hotter. And Jim was answering. Not hot and heavy, but answering and touchin' me.
"I let one hand kinda wander down his front, teasing through the hair and down to his bush. And right on to his dong, holding it easy and maybe pulling a little on it till it begins to swell and get big and hard, standing up and quiverin'. I play with it a little more, till I can see the glisten of juices. And Jim is waking up a little, feeling my titties and running one hand across my rump. But he ain't got much steam behind it, even if his prick is big and stiff and ready.
"He sighs a little an' says, 'Edy, the spirit's willing but the flesh just ain't got the oomph for it. If n I was to lay on top of you now, I'd poop out and squash you.' He yawns then, stretches.
"That gimme an idea. I wasn't gonna miss no good screw just on account he might collapse on me. Besides, I'm all heated up from his feelin' and my playin' with his dong. So I climb over him, straddling him like I'm riding a bike. An' slide down him, till I feel his dong quiverin' right against my butt. Right in the crack and almost to my slit
"I raise up a little and sit right on top of his dong, with his cock head pushing up against my cunt that's already open and wet from waitin' for this. He humps a little and the head pops right smack into my cunt, feeling mighty good. Then I ease down slow, ramming it up my hole, feelin' it go in and seein' it go in. Seein' is pretty near as exciting as feelin'. There's somethin' extra about it that gets the excitement goin' faster and harder.
"I let down real slow, watchin' ... sorta prolongin' things ... seein' his dong go in and in. Sometimes I pull back just a mite for the fun of feelin' his shaft move inside me. It's a special kind of thrill, slidin' down a man's dong. Just pushin' it way, way up. And then pullin' back a hair or so, for the fun of watchin' an' shovin' it in some more. It builds the excitement till you almost want to scream, it's so good.
"Until I'm sittin' with it all the way up me. I don't know if that rams a man's dong farther up, but it sure feels like it. Feels like it's gone places ain't nothin' been before. Like there's some more virgin up there that ain't been touched.
"Jim's likin' it too. He moans and threshes a little, pushing his dong like he's gonna go all the way up into me and out my mouth maybe. And we sorta work together, humpin' and bumpin', with me risin' just a little now and then to get the fresh feel of his prick slithering up my cunt.
"Jim reaches down with one finger and teases my clit, which makes things get awful tight inside. An' we really start humpin'. That bed is nice and bouncy, just right for a good, hard screw. And that's what I'm getting. The best ... a real deep screw. With his cock sliding up and down inside me and stirrin' things up till I almost can't breathe. Then I feel his shaft swell and pulse and I know he's gonna come ... and quick. So I raise way up, till most of his shaft is outa my cunt, gleamin' with both our juices ... and sit down hard on him. It drives his cock way, way up me just as it explodes, hot and hard inside me. And I explode, too. It seems like everything comes loose in me at once, in one big splash of juices and excitement. We hold it like that for maybe a minute, him humped up to ram his dong as far as he can and me sittin' hard on him to get as much in as I can.
"Then Jim kinda folds up, dropping back and I fold on him, laying my head on his chest but peeping down my front to watch his dong come slitherin' out, gettin' the best of that last touch, on account I know Jim can't go another round. Fact is, he's mighty nigh asleep before his dong gets all the way out of my cunt. So I roll over and cuddle up by him, just enjoying all over again that last screw. Until I fall asleep too, with his arm around me and one hand just slipping off my tittie.
"That's the last I remember till broad daylight, when I hear the kids stirring. So I'm up and showering when the kids get up. I fix them a breakfast and then get a breakfast for Jim and me.
"The kids don't ask no questions about their Mom. I figger there's been plenty o' times when she don't get up to get their breakfast, so having me do it ain't so strange. They ain't old enough to figger there's any reason I shouldn't be there. I'm their baby-sitter, ain't I?
"So I take Jim his coffee-and I make pretty good coffee. You should ought'a learn to make some good coffee if you want to get a man ... Okay, ma'am. So you don't want a man. So that's all right by me. Kinda funny, though. Most women do.
"Jim's kind of apologetic. Not for screwin' me, but for not gettin' up to fix breakfast. He's feelin' a mite perkier this mornin' an' maybe has ideas about screwin' me again. Well, so have I, only the kids is around and the day maid will be comin' soon, so we postpone it. Till like night, when I'm to baby-sit again, on account his Missus will be in the hospital.
"When I get there that night, Jim has the kids ready for bed and we got all evening for fun and games. So we take it easy, real easy. I mean, like just smoochin' a little, with Jim feelin' me up, under my dress, just like he don't already know what's there and has gotta explore a little. And runnin' his hand inside my dress front, which I kinda leave loosely buttoned, to feel my titties. And my nipples get hard real quick, what with his fingers playin' around 'em and squeezin' a little.
"He's got one hand up my dress, just teasing along my thighs and right up to my cunt but not quite touchin', which makes it more exciting than if he just grabbed. And I play around with my hands on his neck and kiss him on that big vein just under his ear, which makes him excited. And I kinda let a hand drift down to his pants zipper and slide it open, so's I can reach in and feel. His dong is already stiffening up and gettin' big. And hot ... real hot, like my cunt.
"He works his hand around my panties-I put on the loosest pair, just to be ready-and starts fingerin' my hot box, lightly. Nothin' rough, just a teaser, so's we'll know things'll get better soon ... an' they do. They do in no time at all.
"I'm laying with my head in his lap and I got one hand on his dong, inside his pants. I pull it out an' there it is, practically in my face, stiff and already gleamin' with his juices. I ain't never tasted a man's dong, like Uncle Bart used to taste my cunt and like Jim does. So I turn an' slide my mouth over it, just tastin'. Jim groans like it hurts so I back off, though it tastes good, hot and salty. He says, 'Go ahead, Edy, go ahead.' And lays back, poking his dong straight up at me. An' I go down on it again, runnin' my tongue over his prick and suckin' a little, while Jim moans ... and then he sort of leans way over and lays down, so's his head is right next to my cunt. He slides my panties down and dress up and starts tonguing my cunt.
"With his cock in my mouth, tastin' wonderful, and his tongue in my cunt, I'm really getting excited. Things is churning inside me like crazy and building up to something big. Only, the position ain't so comfortable on that couch. So Jim picks me up, head down, my mouth still on his dong, and carries me to the bedroom ... his bedroom. He and the wife ain't been sharing for a couple of years, he says. He lays me across the bed, my head just hanging off one edge. His pecker slips outta my mouth but I'm still holdin' it and squeezing. He gets outta his pants and undershorts and peels off his shirt. He comes back at me, his dong real big and hot, an' I take it like a baby takes a bottle ... sucking! And he bends way over and spreads my legs so's he can go down on my cunt, sucking and tonguing me. I can feel my cunt open up and feel the juices, an' he's lapping 'em up, whilst I am sucking on his dong. I can't get it all in my mouth, but I try, 'cause I can feel I'm just about to come, even without no dong rammed up me.
"Suddenly Jim humps hisself and that dong slides way down my throat, mighty nigh chokin' me. Only it feels so good slitherin' in an' out I don't care. I grab his butt and try to pull him closer. He rams some more, pulling back just enough so's I can breathe. An' all the time his tongue is rammin' an' reamin' in my cunt and he's suckin' so hard I can feel it most up to my eyeballs.
"I know I'm gonna come any second, so I pull his butt in hard, an' he rams his dong deep down my throat. I can feel the throb along his shaft an' his bulb spurts juices way down my throat. Just when I'm comin', with bells on. It's like the wildest ride down a shoot-the-chutes, only more so, when you wonder will your stomach ever catch up with you. Only this has got taste, too, and all other kinds of excitement. His come is floodin' my throat and tastin' hot an' salty. And he's lickin' at my juices down at my cunt and teasing my clit with his tongue. So there's a shoot-the-chutes ride with pinwheels goin' on inside me.
"Jim sighs an' lets up on suckin' me ... just a few easy lappin's at my juices. His dong goes down and slips out of my mouth, but I grab it an' lick at his bulb for more of that hot, salty taste. But mostly that's over.
"Jim lays on the bed with his head right at my cunt an' his hands still playin' with my inner lips. Every now and then he's tastin' it and sighin'. And I hang on to his pecker and lick at it, but not so hearty, now. Things inside is dying down to a quiver.
"We kinda unkink ourselves an' lay on the bed regular fashion, just bein' close, with one of his arms around me an' his hand on my tittie. It's real nice, layin' like that ... No, ma'am, I ain't lying ... Oh, like lyin's the right word for layin'? Layin' means----Well what the hell did you think we was doin'? Playin' tiddley winks? Not that I ever did. Play tiddley winks, that is.
"Finally Jim says to me, 'Edy, where'd you ever learn takin' a guy like that?' So I tell him I don't learn it, I just sorta invented it, on the spur of the moment. Like it seemed natural. Which it did.
"So he says, 'Edy, you got any more inventions like that?' Kinda laughin'. So I remind him I sort of invented how to screw just by sittin' on his dong. To which he says, 'Amazing! Got any other ideas?' Like he's ready to try 'em out if I do. I kinda think around but don't come up with much, except how I seen dogs do it, which looks interestin'. Anyhow, the dogs seem to enjoy it. Or there wouldn't be so many dogs.
"Anyhow, I ain't got the inspiration right then, bein' as I'm kinda on the calm side after such a swell suck-fuck. But willin', you understand, if opportunity presents. So Jim starts feeling my titties like he means business-one hand slidin' over my stomach and down to my little hot box, which suddenly starts gettin' hot again. And I see his dong is quivering, gettin' set for a big rise.
"So I look around for something sorta unusual, and spot a big thing, kinda like a desk, that's maybe just right for his dong when he's standing up. So I tell him, 'Let's try it there, huh? Me lay in' on it and you standing up?'
"He likes the idea, so we do it. Jim carries me to this desk thing and lays me out so my legs hang over and he kisses my cunt, on account of my legs is gettin' weak, like they do when I'm gonna get screwed, and they just naturally open up. I see him standing above me, his big dong aimed right at my cunt, his bulb beginning to get glisteny with juice. He leans over and starts kissing my titties an' playin' with 'em, so I'm gettin' real anxious. And all quivery inside, knowin' what's coming.
"Whilst he's kissin' my titties, he pumps his bulb right into my cunt and rams his shaft half way up me. I wrap my legs around his butt and kinda pull him up on me, humpin' my butt and wigglin' my pelvis so's to make the feel of it better and make him go in deeper. Then he's in so deep I feel his balls knockin' against my butt. An' we're at it again, screwin' up a storm.
"So maybe I didn't invent it. Jim says it's in a book ... Tell me, who writes books about screwin'? I mean, why waste time writin' a book? If they know so much, whyn't they just do it? Besides, who needs to read a book? Screwin' just comes natural ... was done long before folks could write books. Or wouldn't none of us be here. Adam didn't need to read no book to ... Okay, ma'am. Only maybe if n you was to read that book. ... Okay! Stick to the subject. Yessum. Where was we? Oh, yeah! I was gettin' screwed on this table or desk or whatever. I think Jim called it a ... Okay! It don't matter none what it was, I was gettin' a good screw on it when you interrupted. I mean, I was telling about ... Okay!
"Anyways, after that we screwed all kinds'a ways, sittin' in a rockin' chair-now that's a dilly-or dog-fashion-I don't think so much o' thatand even dancing. Now that's fun, only sorta difficult, keeping things together. Oh, not that night Gee, there ain't enough time in one night for all the kinds'a screwin' we done. Every which way. I could write a book! Maybe I should ... That's just kiddin', ma'am. I can't spell worth a damn. So don't get in a tizzy.
"All this happened over maybe three or four weeks ... maybe longer. Whilst his wife was in the hospital, gettin' over her heart attack. An' after that he kinda sold her on the idea o' takin' The Cure. For boozin'. So it looks like we're set for plenty of good times. Without no interruptions.
"Only that's when Ches sics his gang on me. Oh, sure, I know it's his gang. Knowed it then, 'cause I knew most o' the boys. Which is why I wasn't scared when they first come up to me, talkin' an' actin' big. I know they ain't nothin' but punks. Mighty mean punks, though. An' some are downright nasty ... like Mort. He swaggers around an' sneers at girls an' makes remarks on account he has almost got a mustache. Sticks his thumbs in his belt and acts big, like a movie tough. But Ches beat him up once, an' he was whimperin' ... so he ain't so tough. Tougher'n me, though. An' a heap bigger.
"So when he grabs me an' says, 'Get in the car an' no yellin!' I tell him Ches will beat him up an' he laughs. 'Who you think set this up?' So I knew Ches done it on account I ain't been screwin' him lately. An' I figger they won't do nothin' to me except maybe a little gang-fuckin' which I figger I can take. So I don't holler nor fight nor nothin'. I just go along with 'em.
"They take me to this old garage that's been shut up, only they know a way in. They got the windows blacked out and lights rigged up inside, like a sort of headquarters. And it's fixed up with cots and benches for havin' screwin' parties with their chicks.
"Mort shoves me in, rough. A big, tough guy when he's got a chick to rough up. He don't even tell me to strip. He just grabs my dress in front and rips it down, leavin' me naked in front of the boys. So right then I know I'm in for real trouble. Mort wouldn't never dare rip my dress off, less'n he was really worked up an' knowed Ches wouldn't come after him.
"Most of the boys is gawkin' like they never seen a naked chick before. An' they're almost droolin'. Mort stands in front of me, his dong a big bulge in his tight jeans. He takes it out and wiggles it at me. 'I hear tell you don't like common ole screwin' no more. It's gotta be society stuff.' So I know Ches found out about Jim, somehow. Or maybe just guessed. He's got that kinda mind. Nasty, you know. Even ifn it wasn't so, he'd'a guessed screwin'.
"An' I can tell you, I was scared then. I tried to run but somebody tripped me. An' then three of 'em pick me up, not gentle, mind you. An' feeling me up, real rough. One guy, I think it was Beaky, sticks his finger in my cunt and scrounges around, hurting like hell, an' then tastes his finger. That's society jizzum, sure enough.' And laughs.
"Then they tie me across one o' them benches. Not a cot, mind you, just a bench. With my legs spread an' my arms way up, so's my titties stand straight up.
"Mort wriggles out of them tight jeans and comes at me, his dong straight out and quiverin'. And just rams it in me. Wham! Right to the hilt. I scream but it don't do no good. He just keeps rammin' till he comes. I can feel him explode and leave his hot stuff way up me.
"After that each o' them boys takes his turn at rammim' an' reamin' me. Maybe some of 'em two or three times, I don't know. I" ain't really conscious then. Just one mass of aches from that hard bench cuttin' into me and them ramming their dongs up me, one right after the other. And squeezing an' pinchin' my titties.
"That kinda screwin' ain't no good. Not a bit o' fun for anybody, not even them. It's just pure cussedness comin' out. Finally they cut me loose, standin' around, jokin' about how I ain't really such hot society stuff after all. And how my cunt ain't no better'n a lot they had. Tryin' to make me feel mean an' small. But they was the ones that's mean an' small, an' knowed it, or they wouldn't have to talk like that. An' all the time I'm just tryin' to sit up an' get some blood back in my legs and hands. They feel like they been cut off. An' my cunt and insides is hurtin' like nothin' I ever felt before. Just one fiery ache.
"Mort come over, grinnin' and says, 'No hard feelin's, huh? You ain't a bad little chick. I'll take you on an' you can be my chick.' An' I spit on him.
"He smacked me across the chops then, nearly knockin' my head off ... and they all started beating on me. Some with tire chains. They cut so hard and deep you almost don't feel 'em right away. That's when I started to scream. I knowed then Mort 'ud kill me, he was so mad.
"That's when the cops busted in. Only, the boys scuttled out a secret way they had an' got away. The cops taken me to the hospital. And now I'm talkin' to you, ma'am.
"Testify against 'em? Shake your head ma'am and let me hear the rocks rattle. I done forgot completely what they looked like or where I was took.
"No I ain't talkin' to no cops about Jim, neither-which ain't his real name. Oh, I reckon they could find out, easy enough. Only, I ain't testifyin' against him neither. On account he was good to me. Kinda funny, ain't it? I won't testify against one set o' guys on account they was mean to me, and I ain't testifyin' against another guy 'cause he was good to me. And I can't testify against Uncle Bart. He's in Mexico. And the court can't make me. Oh, maybe you can put me in a home for a while. Maybe that would be smart, on account of Ches, only I think by now he's scared shitless. An' seein' as how I'm the victim, I ain't gotta testify-like I develop an awful good forgettery. An' you can't use this here statement in court on account it's privileged or something. Maybe even sacred. I dunno. But I ain't testifyin' against nobody. An' I'm sayin' it loud an' clear. Got that, ma'am. So can I go back an' get some of these bandages off? Oh, I can walk, ma'am. I'm just black an' blue. I ain't crippled."
Lester A. Kirkendall, in his well-documented Premarital Intercourse and Interpersonal Relationships, comments on the factor of aggressiveness in sexual relationships as "definitely a masculine characteristic," but this is not necessarily so. As we see, Edith was the "aggressor" in her affair with Jim by deliberately placing herself and her nubile body in the position for Jim to "seduce" her.
Her basic drive for this initial sexual relationship with Jim, and her subsequent affair with him, was what Freud calls "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive." Edith had learned to like sex for its physical gratification. As we have seen, even the prospect of "gang rape" did not appall her.
CHAPTER THREE
Three Is Better Than None
"I didn't kill the Old Man. Can't nobody say I did. Not you nor nobody. Didn't nobody kill him. He just up and died. And why not? He was six weeks older than God, and his time come. That's all. And even if I did kill him by screwing with him, he died happy. They tell me he was smiling real peaceful.
"I give him plenty of fun those last few months. More than lotsa people did his whole life long. He tole me so. I don't mean his sons. They was real good to him on account of they loved him. They hired me, didn't they? Just to look after him and see he got his water or whatever when he wanted it. And help him to bed when he got tired. But mostly to be there if the house caught fire or any emergency like that. No, I wasn't expected to feed him but sometimes I did. Snacks, mostly. Once in a while, if the boys wanted to go out early, I'd give him dinner. I didn't have to actually feed him. There wasn't nothing wrong with his hands and arms. Just his legs.
"No, they didn't hire me to screw him. There wasn't nothing like that even suggested. Him and me, we thought of that ourselves. And worked it out, ourselves. A man that ain't got the use of his legs, he can't do much without help. Sure, I helped him. I'd'a had to, wouldn't I? If there was gonna be any screwing.
"And I ain't a tramp, spite of what the cops say. I mean I don't screw for money, like some I know that get away with it, mostly on account they're smarter, Do I get a break? No sirree! They pick me up like I'm a common little two-bit whore. They'd'a booked me, too, if my folks hadn't come down real quick and made a deal with the court for this psychiatric treatment. And at that, they put me on probation. I ain't supposed to screw until I'm eighteen. Three years! They're nuts. Can't nobody go three whole years without screwing. Not anybody that likes it, like I do.
"So you're gonna fix it up so I won't feel the urge, huh? That's a laugh! Honest, how you gonna get rid of something that's built in? Scare me? How? The cops have already scared me plenty, but that hasn't stopped me wanting. Okay! So you won't try to scare me. Just reason with me? There ain't a reason on earth as strong as the one right here in my panties. My little ole cunt. And when that gets itchy-well, I just gotta. That's all.
"Okay, so maybe you know secrets I don't. I 'spect you do. You're educated, with degrees and everything. But I know one secret that ain't so se cret. Been around since Eve et that apple. And that's when you gotta, you gotta. Like going to the bathroom. You just try holding your water for three years.
"So I'm lucky to have parents that go to bat for me? I'll clue you in on something, buster. They ain't doing this for me. They're doing it for theirselves, so's they won't have a daughter in jail for whoring. Like it's a disgrace or something, which I guess it is. But in our crowd, getting caught is the disgrace. I know plenty of 'em-right in our neighborhood-getting their nooky regular. And don't nobody say nothing about it. I even know who my pop is laying, and she ain't no eighteen-no, scrub that. I don't know nothing about it-Come to think of it, I ain't so sure I even heard of it, now that you mention it-My Pop? Laying a school kid? Don't be silly! What's all this with 'prosecution'? What for? Because some kid maybe-just maybe, mind you-has itchy pants and my pop maybe-just maybe-takes care of it once in a while? So scrub it. And we start fresh. Okay? Okay.
"I was just about fourteen when I got this job baby-sitting the Old Man, rich as creases-What's so rich about creases?-Oh, he was a man. Named Croesus. Okay-Anyway, the Old Man has got more money than Carter has pills. And he's paralyzed. His legs. The rest of him is all right, figuring his age-How old? I dunno, maybe sixty, seventy. Real old. Even his belly had wrinkles. And his back. I know, 'cause I seen 'em. After all, who screws with his clothes on? Except maybe the first time, like it's an emergency and you don't take time to undress. Just up with the skirt and down with the panties and you're at it.
"Oh, I'd been around. Nothing serious in the way of screwing but I'd had the boys playing around, panting for it Feeling up, smooching a little, things like that. You gotta expect that when you're built the way I am. I had nice little titties by the time I was thirteen and my legs were real good looking. What am I talking about? They still are.
"I think it was them that first got the Old Man. My legs. Like I wear hot pants the first couple of times I go there. They show a lot of leg and they fit kind of snug around my behind. Like they're painted on. And they twitch when I twitch.
"The first few times the Old Man asked me to fetch him some water, I figure he's a mighty thirsty old coot. Only he don't really drink much of each glass. Just a sip. And gets me to get some more. Finally I catch on. He's watching those hot pants and how they twitch. And enjoying it. Oh, he enjoys it all right There ain't nothing wrong with his eyes. Or the rest of him, except his legs. I'll bet he was a regular devil with the girls when he was younger and had his legs and could go chasing on his own.
"He done all right even without legs. Like he had 'em, of course, only they didn't work. I don't know how I'd'a felt if his legs hadn't been there. Like cut off. I think I'd'a felt different. Shivery, maybe. And maybe nothing would've happened. But he looked all right. Whole, I mean. Not a freak type with just stumps.
"Anyway, it was them hot pants done it. Or a lot of it. The rest-or maybe most of it-was what was in 'em. My little behind and my nooky-Nooky! My hot box, cunt, pussy, slit-The name don't matter. It's what happens there. And plenty happens.
"Like I say, I don't have to feed him. Just bring him a snack now and then. And I have to bend over a little to hook the tray on the arms of his wheel chair. Which sort of does things to hot pants. And he'd reach out and pat 'em. Just sort of friendly. And chuckle. So who minds a pat on the behind? Just kind of reminds a girl she is a girl and glad of it.
"Of course it don't stop at patting. If it had, nothing would've happened. Like what's a pat? A girl can't get worked up over a pat on the behind. But he gets to rubbing it and looking kind of dreamy, like he remembers when he was active and doing more than rubbing. He likes it, so-I let him. Oh, sure, I like it, too, or I wouldn't've let him. It kinda makes things interesting. Helps to pass the time, too.
"Then it ain't just rubbing and patting. It's patting and feeling. Sliding his hands down my legs and back up. All this from behind, you understand. While I'm sort of stooped to set his tray. So I just turn a little bit, accidental-like, and let his hand wander up the front. Inside my thighs. It feels real good, exciting. And the Old Man likes it, too. He runs his hand up and down my thighs, about reaching my nooky but not quite. Once or twice he runs his hand over the outside of them hot pants, which are pretty snug and show just about how a girl's built down there. As if he didn't already know.
"And I get just a little steamed up myself. He don't actually put his hand on my nooky on account my hot pants are sort of tight and restricting. So the next time I don't wear hot pants. I break out my miniskirt and a pair of sheers-real gauzy stuff. The girl that sells 'em to me says they're like cobwebs. Except, of course, they aren't sticky. Just clingy. But loose enough for a little maneuvering.
"And the Old Man does some maneuvering that night. When I turn around from setting his tray, his hand is right there, sliding up and down my legs and creeping up on my nooky, near about getting me crazy. Lots more so than the boys that's been feeling me up. It's an awful good feeling, getting excited that way, from having a grown man's hand playing up your panties and right over your nooky. And then right on it, his fingers playing right along the slit, until I can hardly just stand there and let him play with it. Then one finger slips inside and I'm having fits, all inside my skin from the feelings that run up from my nooky all through me.
"I push it at him a little and his finger goes in deeper, feeling awfully good, only it makes it hard to breathe. 'Specially when he wiggles that finger a little. I near about take off like a rocket Only, instead, I sort of squat down on it, so it'll go deeper. And feel better, more exciting. With more quivering in my stomach. Ain't it funny? Now, if my stomach was to get the same amount of quivers from eating something that don't agree with me, it don't feel so good. But from a finger up my nooky-that's swell.
"Suddenly he kind of shoves me away, getting red in the face and says, 'Get along with you, gel.' He calls me 'gel' all the time-not 'girl', 'gel.' And he lays back in his chair, breathing hard. 'Get along, gel. You make me remember too many things. Things that can't ever be again.' Only he's started something in me, remembering how good a piece of nooky can be. Can you remember something that hasn't happened yet? Well, it was something like that. Like I already knew how swell getting screwed would be. I guess that's what makes us all do it the first time, knowing in advance how good it will be. Even when we been told it's bad. Something inside says 'Do it!' and you do it.
"It's like that with me. I'm all hot and ready, with my nooky feeling wide open and wet-and waiting. And I want more'n just a little fingering in my snatch. Only you can't just come out and say so. 'Specially to a guy that ain't really equipped, not having the use of his legs. But there's other ways than saying it.
"So I pretend I don't mind being shoved off and go sit on a low ottoman, right smack in front of the Old Man. It raises my knees so the miniskirt might as well not be there-just them breezy see-through panties. And the Old Man is seeing right through 'em. I can tell. And it's getting me hotter right down there at my snatch, just having him look. I clasp my hands over one knee and pull it up a little and rock around some on the ottoman so my panties slip aside. And he can see the whole thing. Not even hair to block his view. I don't have hair there. Not then-not even yet-just kind of goldy fuzz.
"So the view is clear. And I wriggle a little on my behind, making things interesting down there. How do I know it's interesting? Well, it interested me, just feeling my parts rubbing together. And it interested the Old Man. I can see it in his eyes. Like they was out on stalks.
"Finally he sighs and beckons to me. 'You're a wanton, me gel. A true heathen wanton. So come here.'
"I come over and stand beside his wheelchair and he reaches for my legs, running his hand up the inside of my thighs for a few times and then slides it right on to my nooky. He sure knows how to feel up a girl till I mighty near scream with excitement. Then he says, 'Ain't any harm in looking, gel.' And tries to see up my panties while he's finger fucking me. It don't work. So I flip off that miniskirt and let him ease down my panties and get a real good look.
"The Old Man sort of sucks in his breath and holds it, looking his fill ... and feeling me up, with one finger right inside my snatch, working. And I'm wriggling to help it work. And my juices are really beginning to wet me. What's more, my titties are aching for want of a little petting. So I slip out of my blouse, showing my titties. And I got real cute ones. Not so big but nice and firm and round, with the nipples standing up like somebody just played 'The Star Spangled Banner' at a 'veterans' Day parade.
"I'm naked. And the Old Man is looking at my titties like they're peaches he could eat without cream or sugar. I didn't even know just being naked in front of a man could be so exciting, but it is. Real exciting, all over. But most especially in my nooky. And way up inside. Lots farther than his finger is going.
"With him looking so hungry at my titties, I lean over a little, pushing one of 'em almost in his face. And he takes it like a baby, sucking on it. And his other hand comes up and plays around with the other boobie, fingering my nipple, like they're chewing on it, which he is doing with my other tittie and nipple, only real gentle.
"Now I got a finger up my snatch and both tits being worked on. I'm really going crazy, shivering and shaking with the want of lots, lots more. And I want to get closer, lots closer, so I can push my titties right up against him. So I slide the tray off and shove it on his bedside table ... and look down.
"His robe is open and so're his pajama pants. And there ain't a thing wrong with his pizzle ... his prick, dong, pecker. Whatever you want to call it. It's standing straight up, like it hears 'The Star Spangled Banner,' too. And it's quivering. It's also big, real big, with a sort of helmet on it A kind of reddish, purplish helmet, glistening with juices. It's exciting, just looking at it and knowing where it is meant to fit. Only, I know nothing that big'll ever fit in my little nooky. But men and women are built like that, a pecker and a nooky, and most generally they'll fit, somehow.
"I'm leaning over, looking at his pizzle and the Old Man is playing with my snatch and teasing my titties till I want that great big ole pecker rammed right into my nooky. Then I figure out how we can leastwise get 'em together, so anyhow it'll rub outside my nooky. I can slide into his lap and poke my legs through the arms of the wheelchair and be right spang up against his pizzle with my snatch.
"The Old Man sees what I'm planning when I try to slide one leg in and he grins. A real wicked, cute grin. And he helps me. Like I say, there's nothing wrong with his hands or arms, and he practically lifts me into his chair, facing him, with my legs straddled on either side. And my nooky is right there, hot and wet against his pizzle. And spread wide for him.
"I press down on him, sliding my snatch up and down, rubbing it against his dong so that it teases my clit, which is exciting. And the Old Man is playing with my titties and sometimes running a hand down on my legs and across my stomach, starting some real way out excitement like I never felt before.
"Somehow I just gotta have that big ole pecker inside my snatch, even if it splits wide open. Girls get to feeling that way when they really need a good screwing. Like it's just gotta happen.
"So I sort of humped myself up and tried to sit right smack on top of the Old Man's dong but I don't make it. I just scrape that helmet right along my slit, starting some new fires. Then the Old Man helps me. He grabs my hips and holds me up, so's his pecker slides right along my slit and touches right into my snatch. And he eases me down on it ... slowly.
"And I watch. I don't know which is more exciting, feeling that big ole dong of his go in a little, or watching it. Anyway, both add up to a lot of excitement playing up and down my insides. I can see the lips of my snatch open up and sort of gulp that big, soft helmet. It's hard but still it's soft, cushiony. And it goes in like I swallowed an oyster. And his shaft, with all those blue veins standing out, is still outside.
"He eases me down some more, letting that shaft ream into me and shove that ole helmet way up insides. I don't know where it's all going to, but it's going somewhere. I can see it shoving in and in and in. Just a little bit at a time, stretching my snatch and ramming it all up inside. And each little bit seems more exciting than the last, till I'm burning and churning inside.
"So I come down on it, riding it up into me, real slow, like he's letting me test it and see how much I can take. And I'm ready to take it all, if he goes real easy, which he does, and I take it all. Every bit, till my little twat is sitting right on top of his gray, hairy bush, with that big shaft buried somewhere up me. I am feeling great ... scary you know, because it's never happened before, but great.
"I'm riding his pizzle and he's playing with my titties and teasing my nipples till I'm about to scream. On account his legs don't work, he can't hump none, which is what really makes screwing feel so good. That big dong rubbing up along a girl's insides makes her feel wonderful, excited and big. Really big. Like she's got the whole world in her insides. But he can't hump.
"So I try it. I wiggle a little at first, just to feel that shaft and helmet move way up me, stirring things up. Wiggling don't really do it. It helps but it doesn't get things to the boiling point. Then the Old Man shows me how. Jiggling up and down does it. Like I'm riding a pony. I done that once, up at the park.
"Jiggling makes screwing real good. I get kind of bouncy, with the Old Man doing his best to help and grunting with excitement all the time. His big old pizzle is riding up and down inside me, touching all points and starting a fire in my belly.
"The Old Man pulls me up to him, so my titties are jiggling right in his face and he tongues 'em, one after the other, with his hands roaming all over, along my titties, down my stomach, even a finger teasing my clit, and back up those folds from my snatch out across my legs and up to my belly button. And then up and down my back. I lean into him and kiss his neck where it pulses. Then he kisses me, pushing his tongue into my mouth and we're really working on a real high class screw, with all stops out.
"Suddenly he grabs my hips, lifts me maybe an inch or so off his shaft and slams me back down, reaming me good, all the way up. And holds me there.
"I can feel his shaft pulsing inside my snatch, like it's pumping. And that triggers a lot of things for me. Like I shoot off Roman candles inside. And juices just bust loose. And his come goes way up inside me, hot and filling. We just hang on to each other while things happen we ain't got no control over. Leastwise, I ain't. Man-oh-man, do things happen! And I'm whimpering and wriggling and trying for more of that good old come.
"But it's all over. Or anyhow, mostly ... there's some more shivers and nice exciting feelings left in me while his pizzle goes down and slips out. I'm watching it shrivel up and slide out, with juices coming along with it, while I lean against his shoulder, peeping down between us. And the Old Man is slumped, breathing so hard I think maybe he's having an attack or something. Only he says, 'No, gel. I haven't felt this good in years. You've done me a world of good. I almost feel like a man again.'
"He's a man all right. Ain't no mistake about that. It's just his legs don't work. And I'm glad he's a man. I like it that way. Anyhow, I squat there on his lap, with my bare snatch up against his shriveled pecker and we both just stick to breathing for a while. Later I get up and get him a damp washrag to wash hisself off with. Only I wash him, being as he is limp, with his eyes a little glazed. It's kinda interesting to play with a dong you know has been rammed up you, even if it ain't nothing the size it was. I mean, playing with it gives you ideas.
"Only the Old Man says he can't do it anymore. 'Not tonight, gel. This has been an experience but not again tonight.' He grins kinda watery, his eyes twinkling, 'I can remember when I Wouldn't have let you off so easy, but these days, gel, I just haven't got the mustard. Fact is, till you came along, I didn't know I had any left.' He pats my behind and chuckles. 'You've done me a world of good, gel ... a world of good. Even if I am ashamed of myself. Except, I know you're a wanton-a very happy wanton-and if it wasn't me it would be somebody else. You were spoiling for it.'
"I guess I was and hadn't knowed it. Because I was sure built for screwing. And I liked it, I mean, I really liked it. Not just something interesting that happened but I liked the whole thing, right up to the end. Which is maybe the best part though it doesn't last long. But you can repeat it "Anyhow, by the time the younger son gets home-that's Theo-I'm back dressed and have got the Old Man in bed. So everything looks copacetic. And the Old Man is happy. Every now and then I can see him smile to hisself, and he reaches out and pats my hand, remembering the good screwing we had.
"Theo takes me home and I'm so demure it hurts. But I don't want to lose this good baby-sitting job with a built-in fuck, like I know it's gonna be from then on.
"And it is ... about three to four nights a week the sons are going out for the evening. Sometimes for dinner. Then I have dinner with the Old Man-him eating off his tray and me off the bedside table. No, I don't have to fix the meals, cook does that. I just take 'em up to him. We have fun eating together.
"Mostly it's on account we both know what's coming and dinner is just a sort of introduction. Plus, of course, the meals are pretty good. Better than at home. I sit opposite the Old Man and let him look right up my skirt, so he can see my snatch and whet his appetite. Sometimes, just teasing him, I'll sit real demure and just gradually move my legs so's he can see what's for dessert. But he knows it's there, ready and waiting. And maybe just as anxious as he is to get on with it.
"He likes to have me do a striptease for him. You know, just a little at a time, peeling down to bare essentials. And then strutting around naked so he can really see me and know he's getting a real good thing. I never knew that just being naked could be so exciting, but it is. In front of a man, I mean. It don't give me much of a boot when I do it at home, even in front of a mirror ... like eggs without salt. It's all kinda wasted then.
"When I'm strutting, I pass close enough to his chair for him to reach out and pat my behind and then gradually close in on him, letting him reach my titties and then grab me, as if I was trying to avoid him, Only it's a game, see, and the wrestling is part of the excitement with me. I'm pretending I'm trying to get away, only somehow snuggling up closer, till I'm in his lap. He's petting me up, feeling my titties and maybe running his hand under my behind and up on to my snatch fingering the lips of my slit and getting me all hot and bothered.
"I like that. It's for steaming me up, getting me sort of set. And sitting like that I can feel his pizzle stiffen up and bounce against my behind, till I know he's as ready as I am. Then I swing around and we sit facing each other, with his helmet sliding along my slit, eager to plunge in. And the first thing you know, it's in and reaming me. And we really go to town, till the fireworks go off with a big bang. And I've been screwed again.
"Once in a while we try it backwards. That's fun, too, I sit with my back to him and he holds on to my titties while I slide down on his pizzle. I like it because I can look down my front and see his hands on my titties and his big prick right up against my snatch. I can even see when it goes in. And I watch his shaft ram way up me. Only it really don't go as deep that way, even if I lean forward and let the Old Man pull me back against him, Still, it's fun ... the looking makes up some for not going so deep.
"Once we try it with him going into my brownhole, but neither of us care much for that, except he reams out my snatch with his fingers while he's ramming his big dick into my brownhole, which is pretty exciting.
"Another way we do it, is I get him on to the bed, lying on his back, and I sit right smack down on his pizzle ... which rams it way, way up me. Now that's real exciting because his dong gets to places it ain't never been before. Only he can't play with my titties and suck on 'em so easy that way. And we don't do any real hot kissing while we fuck. Not without pulling his dong outta my snatch some. And I liker it way, way up, where it'll be when the big explosion comes.
"That's the best part of a fuck, the big explosion, when lights go on and juices flood way up inside me. Of course, with the Old Man, there ain't but one shot left in his gun for each screw. Like for one night, it's only one time in me. And I still got ideas and my snatch can still take some more. But he's out, pooped.
"So I'm thinking maybe one of the boys-Theo's kind of cute-might like a little nooky, especially if it's right there in the house. Not that I'm gonna slight the Old Man, you understand. He comes first with me, always, on account he is the first one to get into my panties. I guess a girl always feels that way about the first one to ream her with his dong. There's something about that first time that stays with you.
"Maybe a girl don't remember it right, but it always seems like the biggest moment, the greatest. You know, there ain't never been anything like that inside her and suddenly it happens, all new and exciting.
"Still, a girl wants to try other ways and maybe other fellows'. And I Was getting curious about what a guy would be like if he could do most of the humping. But just wondering. Not really getting down to serious thinking about it, because the Old Man and me was really having a ball. Still, a girl gets ideas...."
Jeannie represents, sociologically, a segment of our youthful society in rebellion, without respect for the fundamental laws of morality and behavior that are and have been for centuries part of our Judeo-Christian ethic. Biologically, she is in the stage of what Freudian psychoanalysts call the emergence from "the period of latency" of sexual awareness into what Freud termed "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive."
Jeannie came from a relatively poor family, not truly poverty-stricken but struggling to maintain a precarious economic stability. Usually, according to sociologists, this is a social level at which the people are very consciously moral. In Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, Kinsey notes the special abhorrence of this socio-economic group for sexual aberrations, stating that the research team had to develop a special language level in order to communicate. In their intense distaste for sexual misbehavior, this group had developed special meanings for common words. However, he points out, normal sexual intercourse, penis in vagina, is not regarded as degrading but is accepted as a way of life. This, of course, does not apply to the sexual activity of juveniles which is still abhorrent.
Jeannie violated this taboo and, according to her own account, the greater taboo of cunnilingus. Her parents, as she says in her account of her sexual depravity, were horrified at her activities but were more concerned about the social disapproval of their own peer group should her sexual behavior become known and a matter of record.
It is, of course, natural in our Judeo-Christian ethic for parents to be concerned about the sexual behavior, or misbehavior, of a daughter, no matter at what socio-economic level they may live. Almost any set of parents at any socio-economic level would act to shield the sexual activities of a young daughter from public eyes, even in these times of sexual laxity. This is what Vance Packard terms "the sexual wilderness," in his book of the same name, referring to our present era of general sexual laxity.
Jeannie appears to have passed through the (Freudian) "period of latency" and only to have emerged, slowly, testing her own responses against the casual petting, smooching and feeling-up of the young males of her own social milieu. None of this apparently aroused her to ardent desire and immediate action in copulation. However, this constant amateur effort on the part of her male peers does appear to have had a cumulative effect.
It aroused her curiosity about sexual activity and, emerging from her period of latency in sexual matters, she appears to have been slightly behind Freud's timetable. This "emergence" is generally put at twelve years among Indo-European peoples.
According to the Blau-Bender-Rasmussen studies of sexual activities among young children (aged nine to thirteen), many young girls who have indulged in sexual activities with older males were "not the helpless victims but played an active or even initiating role in their delinquency. They might even be considered the seducers rather than the seduced."
Certainly, Jeannie played an active and even initiating role in her sexual relations with the Old Man since obviously he, as a paralytic, could not have been the aggressor, as she admits. It was she who devised the method by which she and the Old Man were able to copulate, even though the Old Man did contribute to her arousal by his lecherous fondling of the girl. Even in this, some of the fault lies with Jeannie, who paraded her body for his delectation as well as her own physical gratification.
She admits to feeling sexual arousal just by having the Old Man look at her naked. This arousal, coupled with her emergence from her period of latency into an awareness of bodily functions-particularly those of the possibilities inherent in her female sex conformation-urged her to try for what Freud calls "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive."
This license to sexual immorality, as defined in our Judeo-Christian concept, is compounded in our present society, according to Vance Packard in The Sexual Wilderness, by six major factors that contribute to unrest among our youth, including the shift from breast-feeding of infants, the existence of the Pill, and other contraceptives which presumably made fornication safe, as well as the present tensions of international wars and social upheavals.
One of the manifestations of this confusion among the young and their consequent unrest, Packard points out, is the sexual ambivalence evidenced in the present accepted mode of dress. He states that the males and females now tend to dress so much alike that they are often indistinguishable from each other. He regards this as another evidence of a growing disregard for conventional standards.
Though Jeannie may have been influenced subconsciously by the "sloppy" dress of her peers-"sloppy" is a term Packard uses liberally to indicate this disregard of social mores-she herself was obviously extremely conscious of her femaleness and dressed to exhibit it. She wore hot pants, very brief, very tight garments that leave little to the imagination. It appears to have been her more or less regular costume. In fact, there is a hint, in what she says, that she wore them because they were brief and tight. Brief in order to give the boys their thrills, tight to discourage culmination. They apparently made completion of feeling up difficult.
According to her story, she discarded them in favor of equally brief and revealing miniskirt and see-through panties which permitted her elderly paramour-to-be to reach and touch her sex organs, stimulating her and urging her to further experimentation in sex, which culminated in her actual copulation with the Old Man in his wheelchair. This was an act that had her full cooperation, if not actual initiation, which appears to have been the case.
"I'm thinking about this younger son, Theo. He's cute. Not little bitsy cute like me, but big. Maybe six foot one. Still he's got mischief in his eyes. And a lock of hair that falls over one eye. Not really over it, but it droops down along about his eyebrow. It gives him a sort of pixie look, with his twinkle and half smile. You just know he isn't going bowling near as much as he tells the Old Man.
"The Old Man knows it, too. He tells him once, 'Run along, son, but don't get your balls mixed up and bowl with the wrong one.' Oh, he knows Theo is out tomcatting.
"So do I. And I'm kind of envying the girls he's tomcatting with, because he's got a real dong. And he knows how to use it. To do some real fucking. And I'm wondering how it'd be to get screwed by a guy that can hump on me, not just me humping on him. You know, I sort of picture myself lying there with my legs open and him coming in on top of me and reaming me with his pizzle, like screwing was meant to be, and like I hadn't had it.
"A couple of times I sort of hint around he could do as well at home, only, he don't get it ... at least, he don't react. So, I figure maybe drastic measures is necessary, to make him see I got the same equipment and maybe better arranged than most girls. Bit it's gotta be done just right. I mean, you don't get more'n one chance at something like that. So there can't be a slipup. One night I wait till I know he's really gone bowling. I don't want him to come home too tired and maybe not interested in screwing, after having had some all evening.
"I get my licks in with the Old Man, which is plenty fun, don't get me wrong. I like screwing the Old Man. Only I want something more than he's got. So I give him one real good fuck, with him lying in bed and me sitting on top, riding him with his dong way up me. And he really sends me ... I give him a real good ride, too. So much, he's pooped and ready to sleep. Fact is, by the time we're finished his eyes are drooping. He just pats my behind and says, 'You're a real wanton, gel. A real, one hundred percent solid wool and a yard wide wanton. And don't get me wrong, gel. I like it that way.' And drifts off, smiling and murmuring.
"So I wash up, only I don't get right back into my clothes. I'm figuring on Theo coming home a bit early and he'll notice me. Sure as shootin' he'll notice I ain't got any clothes on. Plus I figure he'll like what he sees. Only, it's got to be accidental-like, as if I don't mean to get caught naked and am all embarrassed about it. So it's gotta be just right. I wait in the Old Man's room, naked, with my clothes all ready to grab up, like I'm dashing for the bathroom.. The Old Man is sleeping, whuffling a little. He don't really snore-just whuffles. And while I'm waiting I get the craziest pictures of what's gonna happen when Theo sees me. And them pictures get me so hot in my nooky, I pretty near am ready to wake up the Old Man and give him another ride.
"Theo comes in. I can hear him. And I wait till he's right in the hall, where I can't miss running into him. Then I sort of gather up my clothes, careless-like-only I've practiced it-so's one tittie shows and my legs are on view. Then I run out, kind of scuttling, like I'm ashamed. And run smack into Theo. I nearly knock him down, so he has to grab something, namely me.
"He's real polite. He says, 'Excuse me ... ' and then his eyes bug out, seeing how I'm dressed. Or ain't dressed at all. I'm naked all over. So I kind of wriggle a little in his arms, like I'm trying to get away, only I get him more tangled up with me and my clothes. So by the time I do get clear of him, he's holding the clothes and I'm out in full view.
"He scowls at me and says, 'What's going on, here? Why are you running around without ... Oh!' And looks at the Old Man's door, shaking his head and saying, 'Oh, no! Oh, no!' Then he grabs me and hauls me into his room and almost slings me in a chair and throws my clothes at me. 'Put 'em on! Right this minute! Kee-rist! You and the Old Man! How on earth ... the old boy's been paralyzed for six years! What? How ... ' He's so flabbergasted he stammers. And so concered about the Old Man he don't really notice I'm naked any more. And I think maybe I've overdone it.
"Theo leaps up and dashes out to look in on the Old Man and then comes back, scowling. 'How long has this been going on? And how in hell do you two manage ... Don't answer that!'
"I've sort of dropped my clothes on the floor and am sitting back in his chair, with my head hanging down, working up a pretty good quiver with my lower lip. And I sniffle, just enough to sound like I might bust into howling hysterics any minute. I even turn my head, kind of half into the chair and curl up, with one leg drooping, so he can get a good view. And work into some real tears.
"Theo says, 'Cut out that caterwauling! You'll wake up the dead!' And comes over to frown down at me, 'You don't seem to have done the old boy any harm. Fact, he's been seeming better lately. Could that be you?'
"I reach up and grab one hand and sort of pull myself around so he'll get a good view of my titties. And lay my cheek against his hand. 'Please don't be mad with me. He's been awful nice to me. And I've been ... well ... helping him pass the time.'
"And Theo nods. 'That you have, Jeannie. That you have.' And sighs, 'Still, I guess no harm's done. Just yesterday Doc said he was in good shape, so maybe ... '
"I pull myself up in the chair and throw my arms around him. And just happen to lean my titties into his chest. And lose my balance, so I fall into his arms. He practically has to grab me. I wriggle a bit, to get more settled and let him feel how good I feel in somebody's arms. And he's feeling. One arm's around me, with a hand on my tittie and the other is under my behind, and acting just like hands in them places ought to, squeezing a little, feeling a little. And by then he knows I'm female. Really knows it, not just from looking.
"He really picks me up and backs into the chair, sitting down with me in his lap, still holding on to my tittie and my behind. And looks me over, the way a man looks over a girl and gives her the shivers, because she knows things will go on from there. They always do.
"Theo pats my behind and plays with my tittie, sort of absentminded at first, like he's still trying to figure out how me and the Old Man got connected. Only he really gets interested and pays attention to what he's doing ... which is feeling me up.
"So I know I've got it made, and he knows he's got me made. Which is fine by me. I never had a full-grown able guy lay me. So I just kind of lie back and sigh and nuzzle up against his neck while his hands go to work serious-like.
"The hand on my tittie begins playing with the nipple, which is already hard and straight up. And the one on my behind creeps up between my legs and plays around my snatch, just lightly, kind of tapping its way along the edges of my slit. Maybe because I know he's full-grown and able, I really get shivery and excited, more than I do from the Old Man's fingering. The excitement is running way up my insides and starting new excitements there.
"I squeeze down with my legs on his hand a couple of times, just to let him know I know what he's reaching for, and then I let 'em spread a little. Which is easy, seeing as that is what my legs want to do anyway, sort of opening up for what's gonna happen. He slides his hand over my hot box-and by that time it's really hot-and his finger starts exploring inside. I damn near can't breathe, it's so exciting, especially now I'm sure he's gonna screw me. So I'll get it regular fashion, like it's meant to be, with the man on top and doing the pumping.
"My cunt is not only hot but getting wet with juices, so his finger slides in and out pretty easy, and he's sweating. From the way his prick is knocking up against my behind I know he's about ready. So I moan a little and give him a real hot kiss, pushing my titties up against him and catching his hand. It's the hot kiss done it, I figure. Because he answers and then sort of groans before he picks me up and carries me to the bed. He lays me down real gentle and then stands beside the bed, looking down at me and shaking his head, like he's trying to tell himself no, he shouldn't.
"So I reach up with both arms and grab his neck and pull him down, whimpering a little and saying, 'Please! ... Please!' like I really need a good screw. And by then I do. I fumble a little at his tie and that starts him.
"Theo starts to undress, undoing his tie real slow and looking down at me, shaking his head. He gets out of his shirt kind of awkward, watching me like he expects I'll vanish or something. Or maybe ain't for real. But I am for real and anxious and exicted, never having had a real able man screw me.
"He peels out of his undershirt, struggling a little, and I see his chest. It's broad and big, with a mat of hair reaching down past his belt, which is as far as I can see. Then he unzips his pants and undoes his belt and drops his trousers, and I'm looking. There is a big bulge pulsating in his shorts that gets me even more excited than I was.
"Theo sits on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes and slide out of his pants. Only he stops long enough to run one hand over my stomach and down to my snatch just to keep things stirred up. I kind of curl around him and run one hand down his back, feeling that hot, sweaty skin, and just accidental-like let it drag on his jockey shorts and then fall across his lap to feel the throb of his prick.
"He really hurries then, practically tearing out of them shorts and swearing softly when they get hung up a little. Which gives me a chance to stare at his prick ... is it ever big! I thought the Old Man had a hunk of meat to ram into me, but nothing like that! And I'm suddenly scared. That thing can't get into my little cunt, and if it does it'll split me clear up to my navel! I start to wriggle away but Theo grabs me and slams me back in the middle of that big bed.
"He shakes me a little and kind of growls, 'No you don't, young lady. You asked for this and you're gonna get it!' And he stands beside the bed with his prick jutting out and quivering. I never seen anything looked so big. A great shuddering shaft and a big puplish-red helmet, already dripping juices and gleaming. I reach out real slow and touch it. And suddenly I'm ready for it. I don't seem to care if it tears me wide open. I want it ... I want it rammed way up in me.
"I can mighty near imagine how it's gonna feel and I'm aching for it. My legs just naturally open wider. And Theo climbs on to the bed and gets between my legs, that big shaft aiming square at my cunt, which is opening up, too, like my legs. I can feel it, and feel it getting real wet with my creamy juices.
"Then he's pushing that helmet knob right at my snatch, and I'm humping up to meet it, like my cunt is a hungry mouth. And it takes it all in! And I squeal ... not loud but it's a squeal. Theo says, 'I'll make you do some real squealing, young lady, before this is over.' Almost like he's mad with me. Or maybe with himself.
"He's not rough, really. Just kind of ... well ... inevitable, like an avalanche. And his prick slides in deeper. I can see the shaft disappearing into my cunt ... and feel it inside. Boy, can I feel it! That big knob is sliding along up my tunnel like a plow, opening things up in a way the Old Man's knob has never done. And Theo's shaft is bigger, too, and harder, so my little snatch is being stretched good ... and feeling great for being stretched. I moan a little, just from the excitement, and wriggle a little to make that prick wiggle inside me.
"And suddenly he's humping me! Pumping up and down and a little sideways. And his prick is sliding along inside of me like crazy. I never felt anything so exciting. I can't even breathe good. Not on account of Theo laying on top of me, because he ain't really putting no weight on me, except along my stomach. My not being able to breathe good is just the excitement working in me ... and me getting worked up for some real fireworks. Like I'm wound up tight and something's got to bust loose.
"Theo gets his elbows down on the bed and his hands free so he can play with my titties, squeezing and teasing 'em. And I reach up around his shoulders and hang on, tight, moaning. My titties just kind of touch that hairy chest when I pull up a little, just a teasy sort of touch but it sure set off some excitement, and don't improve my breathing one bit.
"I am aching a little from his reaming and the slide of his shaft in my tight little snatch, but it's a wonderful, exciting sort of ache ... and growing. Not really the ache but the excitement, till I'm ready to explode. In fact, I do. I come. With bright lights and sky rockets and the works. And Theo keeps right on screwing me, only a little slower, maybe so I can enjoy my come. He keeps up his banging, even after I've come, which at first kind of worries me. That ain't never happened before, that I should come first. Only, I don't really have time to worry about it because suddenly I'm beginning a new buildup for a big explosion. And it grows while he fucks and fucks me and I claw at his back, trying to hump to match him.
"He stops humping suddenly, with his prick half outta my snatch ... and he holds it there. Suddenly he rams down hard, pushing it so far up me I figure he bruised my tonsils. Only it feels so wonderful, I don't care. His prick is pulsing and swelling inside me and its knob is throbbing and swelling ... and then ... he lets go!
"I can feel his hot come explode way up inside my belly and I explode, too. Better than the first time. I hang on to him for dear life. Isn't that wonderful? Two comes in one screw! I never knew it could happen like that! Imagine, two comes in one screw ... like wonderful!
"Theo kind of sighs and sags, leaning his weight on me for a moment, while his prick goes down and slides out, slowly with some interesting feelings as it slips down my tunnel and finally plops out of my snatch. Then he rolls off me and lies down on the bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. 'You're a crude and ugly lout, Theodore. But this girl asked for it. And got it. Still, you're a louse for letting her get under your skin.'
"Seeing as it was him got under my skin and even inside it, that don't seem right, only I know what he meant. I'd really got to him. And I'm happy with it. Tired, maybe, but still kind of glowing with it. A really good screw does that for a girl. Makes everything fine and dandy.
"Finally he rolls over and pats my behind. 'llp with you, wench, and get some clothes on. I've got to take you home. And you can use my shower, if you like.' They have each got a bathroom with every bedroom and don't have to share with the whole family like we do.
"I kind of grin, maybe a little weak, but a grin and say, 'Why don't you take a shower with me?' He groans and shakes his head. 'You are a wench, aren't you? Not on your sweet little ass would I get in a shower with you. I'd never get you home tonight if we started playing that game.'
"So I take a shower alone, kind of glorying in the ache in my little twat and the way the hot shower takes the tiredness out but leaves the feeling, the really good part of the feeling, which is like remembering, only with real shivery feelings running up and down you.
"I am just getting out of the shower and coming back into Theo's room when Oliver-he's the older brother-comes in, talking, saying, 'I heard your shower going, so I knew you hadn't gone to bed ... Oh my God, Theo! Not with that kid!'
"I've just got this big towel, rubbing myself dry and I sort of let it slip and just stand there, like I'm stupefied, but letting Oliver see what I've got and that I am not just a kid.
"He looks and then waves at Theo. 'Get her out of the house! Right now! And don't ever let her back in!' And stalks out ... but not before he takes a good long gander at what I've got, sort of gulping.
"Theo takes me home, driving slow, like he's trying to make up his mind what to say. Finally, he shrugs, 'What can I say? I made a jackass of myself tonight. But don't let what Oliver said worry you. The Old Man likes you. Maybe he even needs you. So you'll be coming back. Your job's safe.' He thinks that over and grins. 'Even if you're not.'
"So I've still got my job, and the Old Man still has got me, which is fine. Only, since I've now had a real screw from a whole man, the Old Man ain't quite so exciting. Oh, he's still got some ginger in him, and we do all right. For maybe a week. Then I put him to bed and give him the full treatment, figuring I've muffed the big deal with Theo, who doesn't show up except to take me straight home.
"But this night Oliver comes home early, just after I've fixed up the Old Man, which has been pretty good but I'm still feeling sexy. You know, I'm ready for another round. But the Old Man has had it for the night. And there's Oliver, scowling at me, looking me over kind of puzzled. I've got back into my see-through panties and the miniskirt and I'm wearing a pretty near transparent blouse, without a bra ... that's the way the Old Man likes it. By then my titties are still kind of swole up and my nipples still feel itchy and are standing up, pushing out the flimsy blouse so it has an interesting shape.
"Oliver is looking at my titties right through the blouse, while I'm standing just outside the Old Man's door. He scowls and stares, so I set down in a hall chair. They're so rich, they got special big chairs in the hall, even if nobody uses 'em much. Sitting down always does interesting things to a miniskirt, interesting to men, anyhow. And I try to look very demure, which I can, even if you don't think so. Of course, looking demure while you're showing your ass in a miniskirt makes the viewing all that much more interesting.
"I act very demure, keeping my eyes down, at just about his crotch, so I can judge how things are going. 'I'm sorry you don't like me, Mister Oiver. Because I think you are a very nice man. Kind of attractive, in a rugged sort of way.' He isn't really, being just a bit weedy and stringy, but that kind of talk always sets a man up.
"Oliver sort of coughs, but he don't take his eyes off the center of interest, namely my legs and little behind. 'It isn't that I don't like you, child. It's just that ... well ... I don't understand how my brother could ... ahem ... take advantage of such a young girl. It's ... it's shameful. It's an abuse of. ... Do you always sit like that?'
"I shake my head, looking very sweet and demure, which is intriguing, especially when I pull one leg up and clasp my hands around it, knowing he can see them see-through panties and what's inside 'em ... my little snatch.
"I look up, then, because I have seen his dong is swelling inside his pants, and I figure he is about ready for the big pitch, which is to get him to screw me, which I need right then. 'I wish you could like me, Mister Oliver. Theo likes me ... and the Old Man likes me.'
"He grins then. He's real cute when he grins. 'I'll say they like you! Theodore told me ... I mean ... I can see that they do. And I like you, too. Of course I do, only ... '
"I don't let him get the rest of it out. I just jump up with a little squeal and throw myself at him, hanging on to his neck and giving him a big kiss. Not a hot one. This ain't the time for hot ones. That comes later. Just a big sort of girlish kiss, while I'm pushing my titties against him and thrusting my pelvis right up against him, so his swollen dong is getting the full benefit of a hot little snatch rubbed up against it.
"His arms go around me, and I wriggle a little against him, pushing with my pelvis so my snatch is tight up to his dong. And in a minute he is patting me and sliding his hands over my back, across my behind and back up, just accidentally sliding under my blouse. I feel his hands on my skin and I'm excited. So I give him the first sort of warm-up kiss. Not really hot yet, but interesting. And I wriggle a little more, rubbing his dong against my hot little snatchy And I am undoing my skirt belt with one hand, so it'll fall down and look like he done it, fumbling with my blouse.
"So there I am, in nothing but a see-through blouse and high-visibility panties. And he's getting excited, with his hands roaming. I undo the two buttons on my blouse so his hands can get right at my titties. My blouse drops on the floor. And I've only got on panties that are no real obstruction at all. And which he can slide down easy as pie ... as he does, muttering to himself.
"Now I'm naked, right there in the hall, except for socks and shoes, and in Oliver's arms, with his quivering dong pressed right up against me. He picks me up and carries me to his bedroom, just down the hall, his hands feeling and squeezing in a way I know he means business. I'm gonna get laid by another grown man that can do the whole job ... maybe real good. Because he sure feels a girl up like he knows the score.
"Oliver carries me into his bedroom, only he don't lay me on the bed the regular way. Or what I think is the regular way. He lays me across the bed, with my legs hanging over the edge, with my behind just barely on the bed. And he opens my legs, kneeling down between 'em and looking right at my snatch. Suddenly he buries his face between my legs and runs his tongue over the outside of my slit, till I'm moaning.
"I can't put my legs together, even if I wanted to. It's like the hinges is loose, and I'm too weak to close 'em. Not that I want to. Having his tongue sliding over my slit is even more exciting than the way Theo does it, just reaming me with his prick. And it's so exciting, I kind of push my snatch at him, while I feel it opening up and the creamy juice flowing.
"Oliver lets his hands wander, playing with my titties and running lightly across my stomach and down right to my crotch, so I'm near screaming with the excitement of it. One hand keeps playing with my titties and my nipples while the other is undoing his tie and shirt. And then his pants, only I don't see that. I don't even know he's got 'em off until I feel his dong right up against my snatch, pushing at my slit. And I don't even see it, then.
"My hands are beating against the bed and I'm saying, 'Please! Please! ... Oh, please!' and staring up at the ceiling, my neck so tense I can't really bend down to look. But I can feel.
"I feel this big knob push harder and harder against my slit until it wedges in, and I feel my snatch close around his shaft. Then it's sliding in, way in! It's a wonderful way to screw, on account of your skin is so stretched you feel everything that much more. Plus the tonguing has got you all hornied up first.
"I feel his big knob going way up in me, opening things up inside and really going places. And then he's pumping back and forth, sliding his dong almost out and then driving it back again, a little deeper each time. I come once, wriggling and moaning, and then, just when I'm about to explode again, Oliver lets his load go. Hot and salty, way up inside of me. And I go off in skyrockets and pinwheels! A real doozy of a screw!
"While his dong is going down, Olver leans over and tongues my titties and nipples, adding to the excitement when it should be dying down. And not much later he starts fucking me all over again, ramming at my snatch, and building me back to being ready again. And I come twice to his once again. What a fuck!
"After that we all get along fine. I give the Old Man his thrills early in the evening while the boys are out and then I get a good screw from whichever comes in first. Once or twice I had all three in one night, only that made me kind of late getting home and I was a little droopy the next day.
"Things rock along like that for maybe a year, when suddenly the Old Man dies. Like I said, he died peaceful, in his sleep, with a smile on his face ... maybe from remembering our last good fuck. And I figure that's the end of my baby-sitting job, seeing as how the newspapers splash the story of the Old Man's death, him being important, so my folks see that and know I've got no more job. So there's no excuse for going to visit the boys and getting laid, like I want to.
"Oliver figures a way. He invents a baby-sitting job for me, like with his Old Man, only it's a fake. So on my baby-sitting nights one of 'em picks me up and we go to a motel for a good evening's screw. Maybe a couple of times, once in a while three times. And a few times both of 'em come to the motel and we have a real ball. I even get so I like sucking one of 'em off while the other screws me. And I'm very happy.
"Only, they have to go away, Europe or somewheres, to see about some property the Old Man left 'em. And there I am, with no screws. So naturally I look around and talk to guys and let 'em pick me up. Only I don't charge, see. It's free ... for fun. So I ain't really soliciting when them cops picked me up. I'm just out looking for fun.
"Now they say I can't do no screwing till I'm eighteen. Eighteen? That's three years off! Who can wait that long? Could you wait three years? Even with a psychiatrist jabbering at you? You can't turn off nature like it was a faucet. I'm built for screwing. I like screwing. And I'll always like screwing. And no psychiatrist is gonna make me think different.... No, I ain't rebellious. I'm just natural, with natural instincts for screwing. I always will be."
Jeannie's affairs with the two sons were certainly and very specifically initiated by her, once her sexual appetite was aroused by her intercourse with the Old Man, their father. She appears to have had almost no moral judgments beyond the "hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive," which Freud regards as the basic drive (rather than procreation) to sexual activity.
She certainly appears, from her story, to be primarily concerned with this gratification and intent on further exploration of its possibilities. The prognosis, in the case of Jeannie, is that she will fight psychiatric treatment and probably emerge very much as she was, without any major rehabilitation.
CHAPTER FOUR
If It Hadn't Been for That Dose....
"So who cares what that old frump says? She ain't even married to George and they got a baby, so who's she to talk? Sure they got a baby. That's how I met George, through baby-sitting. And he ain't so much, neither. Frousty ... Frousty? That's kind of like a man is a frump. Scruffy, longish hair and a sort of beard. Not that it's much of a beard, really. More like he don't give a damn about shaving. And cutoff jeans so his hairy legs'll show. You know the kind. Wears a peace medal and fights with everybody, including that frump he's hooked up with, Linda. Mrs. F. she calls herself ... the one reported me to the V.D. clinic.
"Yeah, I got it. Caught it from one of their scruffy friends. No, I can't say who, 'cause I don't know. Did I know he had the clap ... do you think I'd'a screwed him? Anyway, how am I to know? You don't ask a guy for his doctor's report when he's feeling you up for a lay. Leastwise, I don't. And I don't see no signs of clap. Wouldn't know 'em if I did see 'em. Even on me. At first I think I just got an itch.
"No, I ain't got it no more. Them doctors at the V.D. clinic give me some injections. All I know is I got stuck so much I feel like I sat on a porcupine ... anyhow, all them needles is enough to discourage a girl from ever screwing again. Better maybe than a psychiatrist. That's what you're supposed to be doing, ain't it? To keep me from going out and getting laid again? Not that I want to. Not right now, anyhow. With all them shots in my ass I don't feel much like lying on my back and letting some horny character ream me out. That's what they are, horny characters. Always got their dongs ready to slam into anything that's got a hole in it.
"And they ain't all as hot as they like to think they are. You take George-and you can have him-who thinks he's real hot stuff because he screwed that frump of his and give her a baby. You'd think he sired a litter or something. I've seen dogs that made a better job of it. Leastwise they do sire a litter. And don't make nothing great of it like George done over that brat of theirs.
"It's mostly on account of the brat they're living together, I figure. And that's just because he knocked up this frump, Linda. So they make like a big thing of it and don't get married, saying they are liberated people. Well, I figure it's just screwing with results. Like she didn't take her pill or something that week. Or maybe she even done it deliberate, not taking her pill, so she'd have a hold on George. I've heard 'em fight about that. Of course, being peace people, they're always fighting over something, so I guess that's as good an excuse as any.
"No, I don't know they're not married when I take the job of baby-sitting for the brat. Mom didn't know, neither, or she wouldn't'a let me. Mom's death on having bastards. She likes folks married upproper. Not that she's church ... or anyhow, not very much; just at Easter if the weather's good and at Christmas when they're handing out baskets.
"The brat? Oh, he's cute enough, even if he is a bastard. He don't know it yet so it don't bother him none. Fact is, he don't know nothing much except when his pants is wet and when he wants his bottle. Which I am there to take care of.
"Do I know how to change a diaper? Are you nuts or something? Four younger kids in my family and you want to know can I change a diaper! Look, I've changed diapers so often I can do it in my sleep. Babies don't care when they wet their pants or who they wake up with their howling. And they got appetites like they can eat all times of day and night. Can we get on to how come I got laid and got the clap?
"Well, I had plenty jobs baby-sitting, having got experience at home, you might say. People around know I can handle kids. So I'm kinda in demand. 'Specially on Fridays and Saturdays, which is when most young folks want to step out a little, not being able during the week since the guy is usually working. .
"Only the F.'s-that's what they call theirselves even if they ain't married-don't work. They're artistic-if you want to call the junk they knock together art-and live off n her old man, mostly. Though sometimes George's mom loosens up with a few bucks when she can slip it by his old man who don't think much of George's long hair and scruffy beard ... nor his art. Not when the old man has a good job as superintendent at his factory waiting for him.
"Which George scorns. He says making plumbing fixtures ain't artistic, just money-grubbing. So what's he got against money? And he sure must'a had a grudge against art, too, from the things him and Linda did in what they called their studio. I've seen better art work flung together by accident on the city dump, where they get most of their art materials. And their friends come around and exclaim over it ... how it expresses soul and all that. Only they don't buy nothing, mostly being broke themselves, and scrounging meals offn George and Linda when Linda's check comes. Funny how folks that scorn money can always smell it around and come galloping toward it, especially if it means a free meal.
"Anyway, like I was saying, they don't work regular so they ain't just off on weekends like regular folks with jobs. So I can take 'em on for extra nights, like Wednesdays, seeing as I can do my homework there as well as home. Maybe better, because with five kids, our house is sorta awful full and crowded. Which is one reason I like baby-sitting.
"I get plenty of jobs because the neighbors know that I know how to take care of kids. Only babysitting ain't quite what I thought it was gonna be like. I mean, it was just like taking care of the kids at home, only getting paid for it. Not like some of the girls talk about ... Oh, you know, the papas make passes and try to lay the baby-sitter. And some of 'em do get laid. To hear them tell how it was, that is.
"Oh, I had some passes made. But sort of halfhearted, you know, like the guy knew I wouldn't, but he was keeping his hand in. They was kind of interesting, and one or two looked like they might really get down to business. Only they didn't. I mean, something always come up, like his wife comes in or he's got to go on an emergency job or some buddies drop by to take him bowling, or maybe he's just going out with his wife. Which is mostly the way of baby-sitting.
"And driving me home afterwards-well, that's when most of the passes is made-there ain't really time to get things going. Beyond getting a girl kind of hot and bothered. And that it does. I mean, like me getting horny and waiting for more. Only it don't happen. The guy is just keeping his hand in, to see can he get a girl worked up, like he done his wife once. Which is maybe why she's his wife ... and why I've got a job baby-sitting with the result.
"Some of the fellers is real cute. Young but grown-up so you know getting laid by one of them isn't gonna be like some snotnose fumbling in the back of a car. It'll be for real, with a grown man's pecker rammed in you and riding you good. And you try to figure out just how good it'll be, but you ain't got nothing to go by except some tales from other girls that ain't always truthful. Some of 'em can dress up a pass to make it sound like rape with bells on.
"But even that can be exciting. Just talking about getting screwed, even if you can figure it didn't really happen. On account some of the girls can get pretty flossy with the details. And by now I know some of them details ain't so accurate. Like one girl says this feller has a pecker sixteen inches long, and buries it in her. Ain't no guy got a pecker that long! Why, it'd stick out the girl's mouth, maybe. I ain't never seen one more'n half that and most a lot less. But they done all right.
by me, anyhow. I don't think size matters.
"Sure I been screwed. How come you think I got this V.D.? Out of the ladies' powder room? Or drinking fluoridated water or something? I got it getting fucked, which is the usual way to get it. But it wasn't George got into my panties first, though it happened at his house.
"I get this call from Linda, sweet-talking Mom into letting me come to baby-sit, just like it's a regular job. Only I get there and it ain't. Linda is throwing a party on account George sold one of his sculptures-most likely for a doorstop or maybe somebody needed firewood-for ten bucks, and she's spending fifty or so on the party. I'm getting five, so there ain't much profit in George's sale. Not that I care about that, but I'm teed off on account all they want me to do is keep the brat quiet while they throw this party, so he won't disturb nobody. And I gotta stay in the bedroom and not butt in on the party.
"Honest, I don't mind the brat. He's sort of cute for a bastard. And mostly pretty good, except about wetting his pants, and at that he's an expert. I don't even mind the kind of baby smell that always gets in a room where there's a baby ... and hangs on. Kind of ammonia and talcum smell, along with the smell of marshmallows. Don't ask me why kids' rooms smell of marshmallows. They just do.
"I'm just sitting there, watching the brat sleep, which ain't exactly exciting. I can't have television or my record player on, on account it'll wake him up. And I got to keep the door closed on account of the party noises. So I just sit there, thinking. And dreaming up how some guy will screw me and how it'll feel. Which gets me some excited down in my panties, remembering some of the stories and imagining how it'd be with a grown guy's pecker rammed up me. I get real hot and bothered and decide to have a look at me. There is a mirror door in the room where I can see me full length. So I peel slowly, so as to get the feel of a guy taking my clothes off, right down to the buff.
"I've got a right cute little figure, even if I'm only thirteen. My tits are not big, but they're high and sort of nicely rounded. With little pink nipples that start getting stiff and standing up when I play with 'em. And my legs are nice, too. Not skinny with knobs for knees but rounded. And my slit looks interesting. As it turns out, it's interesting to men, too. Anyhow, I'm playing with it, just running my finger along the lips and tickling my clit, which gets me excited but don't really make me come, even when I sort of squat and run my finger inside, getting a little more excitement.
"So I don't notice the door open or hear this guy come in till I see him in the mirror, standing right behind me and grinning, kind of cute and wicked, like he knows some real naughty secrets. He quirks up one eyebrow and looks at what I'm doing. 'Is that the best you've got? Or could you use what I have to fill in?' And he reaches around me, grabbing a tit in each hand. And squeezing ... not hard ... letting my nipples spurt out between his fingers, which is working on 'em.
"He pulls me back against him and I can feel the bulge of his pecker against my rump. I'm scared but I like it. And I like the way his hands roam all down my front, teasing, and then coming back to my tits to play with my nipples. He winks in the mirror at me, 'And don't yell, because you'll wake the baby.'
"I ain't about to yell. Why should I? This here is what I been dreaming would happen and now it's happening. Only, it's scary. And I suddenly ain't so sure I want it to happen, except I'm excited from playing with myself. And here a grown man is sliding his hand down my belly and right on to the open snatch, cupping right over my little sex box, with one finger playing at the lips and starting in.
"By now I can't yell, I ain't got the breath. It's so exciting it sort of cuts my wind and makes my belly tighten up, and my sex box gets kind of loose and easy. And about then this guy-I don't even know his name-backs across the room, holding me close against him and playing with my twat. He sort of folds into a chair and pulls me on his lap, spreading my legs with his knees. Which makes it even easier to get his finger up my snatch. And even more exciting to me, because I can feel his pecker swell and bulge in his pants, right up against my rump.
"With one hand teasing my titties and the other working in my sex box, he's really got me going. I mean, real hot and suddenly ready for anything he can throw in me ... I'm ready and wanting ... and waiting ... and a little scared. I ain't denying the first time is scary, like you don't know what's gonna happen but you know it's gonna be big. And maybe wonderful, or maybe not, depending from whom you heard about it.
"Then I look down at my little hot box and what's sticking up? His pecker, right between my legs. I can't see much of it, just that big head, oozing so it's gleaming, like dewdrops. Now I don't really get worried on account I'm too excited, with that big dong peeping out from between my legs and rubbing right up against my slit. But I do get the shivers wondering how it's gonna be when that thing reams up my hot box.
"This guy is sort of rocking back and forth, just a little, so his pecker is moving up and down along my slit and starting things going in places I never even knew I had, way up in my guts, and up under my ribs, so I can't hardly breathe at all. And he's fingering my clit ... I'm almost shaking with excitement. Hell, I am shaking, and shivering. And when his fingers spread the edges of my slit and his big cock rubs right smack into it, I really get the heaves so bad I'm almost sick to my stomach.
"Then he kind of slides down a little and lifts me some and pumps his dong head right smack into my slit. I see it ... I feel it ... it hurts. I mean, that little sex box of mine ain't never had nothing bigger than my finger in it, and now it's taking that tough dong head. It's stretching. I whimper a little, and this guy rubs my tittie and says soothing things while he's pushing that head deeper and deeper with that baseball bat dong of his. Least it feels that big going in. And it looks something huge.
"But my snatch is taking it all. Stretching some, but taking it. And suddenly it's good, awful good. Like nothing that ever happened to me before. Good and likely to get better, at least that's how I felt. Sure, it was gonna be wonderful. So I kind of settle down on it with a sigh, driving that dong up my cunt some more. I can feel that huge head moving way up inside of me, pushing parts of me aside like I'm made of rubber, very sensitive rubber that can feel and mighty near think. Only I ain't really thinking, just feeling, with excitement building up and up, like I'm a clock getting wound too tight.
"And then I'm riding that pecker of his, bouncing up and down to make the movements up inside me all the more exciting. While all the time he's playing his hands over my titties and across my stomach and once in a while down to tease my clit, just for extra kicks. And he's kissing the back of my neck and around the sides where them veins pulse under your ear.
"I feel big as all outdoors and kind of light, like I could float, only instead I'm bouncing up and down, driving that pecker of his up my snatch, way far up. Lots farther than I could ever get a finger. Or even a candle, I think, though I ain't ever tried a really big candle, like some of the girls say feels just like a pecker. Couldn't nothing feel as good as a pecker up my cunt.
"Now him and me work together, him humping and me bouncing, with him sort of controlling the bounce with his hands and arms. And I'm whimpering. Not loud, 'cause I'd wake the baby. All I want is something big to happen that will untie all them knots in me and let that spring unwind.
"Only, it keeps getting tighter and tighter and more and more exciting, with my juices way up me keeping his dong wet and slippery so it can move easy. And then I begin to get so tight, I figure I am really about to scream when it happens.
"This guy suddenly grabs my hips and lifts me a little, holding me like that while I can feel his pecker in me throbbing and bobbing and swelling. And I just know IT is about to happen, not that I'm sure then what IT is, but I find out. He slams me down on his pecker, ramming way, way up, and holds me while things explode inside. Real hot come pumps into me, and I go off like a hotrod start. And my juices are pumping through me and I'm seeing lights that ain't there. Only, it's all in my head, or maybe my belly where it's all happening. I hold my breath for it seems like an hour but ain't really more'n a minute. Time don't count, just feeling. And I'm feeling more things than the law allows. I'm big ... tremendous! Like I fill the room.
"Then it's over. Oh, maybe there's some excitetment when his pecker slides out, wet and sticky and a lot smaller than when it went in. And he lies back in the chair with a sigh, and I fall back against him, shivering with the easing off of excitement. That was my first fucking, and I ain't never even seen the guy's face except in the mirror.
"I just lay back against him, feeling his chest heave and his hips kind of settle down. Finally I move around to get a little more comfortable, sort of curling up in his lap and laying my head on his shoulder. And I see him for the first time for real. Profile. And he's cute, masculine cute, with a kind of snub nose and a faintish mustache and a real kissable mouth. What's more, he ain't so scruffy-looking as most of the guys that hang around George and Linda. His shirt's even clean. Well, rumpled now, but still clean, even if he has sweated some in it.
"He grins down at me, his eyes crinkling up. 'Hello, there. Since we're such good friends we might introduce ourselves. I'm David. And seeing as we're old friends now, you can call me Dave.'
"I kind of sigh and try to grin back, only it don't work so good, seeing as I'm still shaky from the fucking. 'I'm Elaine ... the baby-sitter.'
"He pats my rump, real gentle. 'Happy to know you, Elaine. 'very happy to know you. And maybe we'll meet again some time. Like tomorrow?'
"I shake my head. 'Not tomorrow. I'm not babysitting no more until the day after. For the B-s.
On Hill Street.'
"Dave grins real wicked. 'Good old B-s. I know 'em well. And I might just wangle myself an invitation ... when they're not home.' He grins again. 'And you are.'
"I kind of think that over. The B-kid is usually pretty good. He's in bed by the time I get there and generally sleeps right on through. And the B-s are nice people. I mean, they don't mind when you raid the refrigerator, just so you don't leave a mess. I ain't never asked them about having a boyfriend drop in but I figure if they don't mind raiding the refrigerator, a boyfriend won't matter.
"Finally I nod, 'Friday night at the B-s.
They go out early. About six-thirty and they come back around twelve. Even on Friday nights they ain't so much on real lateness.'
"Dave pretends he is thinking that over and then nods. "That should be eminently satisfactory. Provided .the good old B-s have a convenient couch. I don't know what a chair would do but a couch is better. For some things. Don't you agree?'
"If he knows the good old B-s so well how come he don't know they got a really swell couch in their living room? Then I get it. He's kidding about knowing them. So I wink at him. 'There's a couch. And maybe it's better. I don't know. I never tried it except in a chair. This chair.'
"Dave's eyebrows go up. 'Oh, ho. So George has been ... No? Listen, kid, are you saying I'm the first? Well dog my cats! I been cutting some fresh nooky and didn't know it! Ain't that bodacious!' And suddenly he is worried. 'You all right, kid? I mean, you aren't hurt or anything? Good Lord! And I thought you were just something good and private George had stashed away! Are you sure you're all right?'
"I nod and smile sort of dreamily. 'I'm fine. Only I ache a little. But that don't make no never mind. I liked it. Honest! I been dreaming about getting it ... only not like this. And I got it. And I like it. So maybe that couch will be better. I'm willing to find out.'
"Dave shakes me a little, frowning. 'You sure, now? There's no way of fixing up what I've done, but I don't want to hurt a sweet kid like you ... '
"I put a finger on his lips-which he kisses, real tender-and tell him, 'I ain't hurt none, beyond aching and that's a good kind of ache. And I'm willing and able.'
"Dave nods, making his face real mock solemn. 'Able you are, Elaine, able you are. So able ... and maybe so willing that just having you sit here in my lap, even after that jim-dandy we just had, is giving me some very naughty ideas. Naughty but most interesting. So jump up and put your clothes on. Or better yet, sneak a shower. I'll stand watch over Junior while you wash up.'
"Sitting there in his lap is giving me ideas, too. Only I know it ain't safe. Linda might come in to look at the brat any minute. I don't know if she does it, but lots of mother do. So I better hurry and shower and get back into my clothes.
"Dave flips a hand at my rump as I get up. It stings a little but just enough to show it's for fun, not a real bottom smack, like I've had some guys give me. And I get my shower, maybe taking a little longer than usual on account it feels so good on my skin, and I've got lots of things to think about. And they're very exciting things. Like the first screw I ever got. I've been fucked by a guy I hadn't never really seen. Then I thought about the date me and Dave set up for Friday.
"And I just about make it. I'm just settling my clothes when Linda pops in, peering around. She's awful nearsighted, but she won't wear glasses. Ain't vanity a funny thing? She dresses sloppy when she could afford really swell clothes and goes around in sandals, with her feet dirty, but she won't wear glasses.
"She spots Dave. 'Oh, there you are! I missed you at the party. And wondered what happened to you.' She leans forward a little and stares at me. 'You're Elaine, aren't you?' Like she hasn't seen me before when I been coming there for weeks. Of course, not wearing glasses, maybe she really don't see faces so good, just pink blurs. But who else does she expect to find in the baby's room except the baby-sitter. And, of course, Dave, who she don't expect to see.
"Dave nods toward the bed. 'I've just been admiring your son, Linda. He doesn't resemble George very much, does he? But of course, he's George's son ... isn't he?'
"Linda kind of draws herself up, huffing a little. 'Of course he is. Mine and George's, why else do you think I married him?'
"Dave shrugged. 'Could have been the cabbage patch, but of course that's not it, no matter what people say.'
"Linda turns to leave, peering over her shoulder. 'You are a nasty piece of work, aren't you, Dave. Just because you and I once ... ' She went out, slamming the door.
"Dave grinned at me. 'At least it took her mind off what you and I might have been doing' He leaned over and kissed me, real nice and kind of cool. 'See you Friday. You and that couch.' And winked at me as he went out.
"So I got a lot to think about while I'm sitting out the rest of the party. Besides what a grand screwing I had and how wonderful fucking can be. Lots better than you ever dream up before it happens.
"I got some long-range plans of my own to work on, like for Friday night, and how fucking is gonna feel lying on that big cushiony couch. And scrounging around in my head for other places I baby-sit where maybe Dave can come over and we can try out some other couches.
"I work up a fair list of places where we can screw in comfort, without nobody dropping in or coming back unexpected, like the H-s do sometimes, since they lots of times have a fight at a party and come home early. So I've got my own long-range plans, and some good remembering to do. And first thing I know, the party's over and I'm headed for home, with George driving, even though Dave offered but Linda says, kind of snappish, 'Let George do it!' and she ain't making a joke.
"But I don't really care. I got Friday night to look forward to."
Elaine A. came from a low income family, as indicated by her speech, her own account of the family, the general circumstances and her peer group friends. Baby-sitting seems to have been a customary and fairly general occupation among the young teen-agers of her social milieu. As she indicates, sex seems to have pre-occupied the minds of her peer group contemporaries, as might be expected. Her peers were all young teen-agers, girls just emerging from the period of latency with great interest in their sex organs.
Up to the age of six or seven, Freud theorizes, a child is intensely curious about its sex organs, as it is about virtually everything that has to do with its body. By the age of seven other interests have superseded those of its person. The child is becoming absorbed in the world around it and curiosity about its organs goes into what Freud has termed "the period of latency," to be reawakened at puberty when significant changes in bodily structure are occurring. For girls this is most noticeable, particularly in the emergence of breasts, the rounding out of legs, development of hips and, particularly, the menstrual periods, which definitely focus attention on the genitalia.
While girls of one social milieu may become secretive about the emotions aroused by these significant changes, those of another find them the most fascinating topic for discussion and speculation. In the particular socio-economic milieu in which Elaine was reared-with relatively few outlets for entertainment and, because of generally large families, only slight parental guidance and control-the topic of sex provides many interesting hours.
Elaine herself recognized that a number of the girls were fantasizing about their alleged sexual experience. Yet, as she said, the very fact of talking about it aroused interest and curiosity. Given the factors of her-very recent emergence from the period of latency into the excitements of puberty-with only token parental supervision-and the stimulus of discussions of sexual encounters some of them graphic, if false and inaccurate-it is only natural that Elaine developed an intense interest in the prospects of a sexual encounter with one of her baby-sitting clients.
As Maxwell Douglas indicates in Documented Cases of Sub-Teen Sex, juvenile delinquency among sub-teens (fourteen and under was the subject age selected by the American Institution of Motivation Research, which funded this project study, as being that at which emotional drive was not as great as other factors), there is far greater sexual activity among this group than the general public is inclined to believe. He quotes the California Youth Authority as saying, "There are more than one hundred thousand cases of sub-teen sex annually in the State of California." He also cites the National Committee on Crime Prevention and Parole as estimating, "There are more than a million such cases annually in the United States."
Emotional drive exists at that age level, as Freud has pointed out. Usually it remains only an emotional drive until other factors intervene, factors that can trigger the emotional drive into sexual activity. One of these, as we see, is the repeated stories of sexual promiscuity circulated among the group, coupled with an aggressive personality and the necessary opportunity.
The Blau-Bender-Rasmussen study of sub-teen sexual activity concluded that the majority had contributed to their own delinquency. "They were not the helpless victims but played an active or even initiating role in their delinquency. They might even be considered the seducers instead of the seduced." This indicates a somewhat aggressive nature, generally, plus the factor of opportunity.
Elaine had this aggressive nature. She went out and obtained her baby-sitting jobs, at home she managed, with apparent capability, four younger children. She had her sexual interest stimulated and provoked by stories from her peers. And lastly, she had opportunity, of her own deliberate seeking.
Though she says she didn't dare yell-at the time Dave made his initial approach to her-for fear of waking the baby, this is a thin excuse. If she had not been pre-conditioned to the idea of sex by her bodily needs, the stories of her peer group and her immediate effort at masturbation, she could have easily avoided Dave's advances. As it was, by acquiescence, she contributed to her own delinquency.
The Blau-Bender section of the massive study on youthful delinquency further states that "the association in the act of a grown-up, who to the child must still represent the omnipotent parent (authority), probably condones the transgression." Certainly Dave was a grown-up. She obeyed his in junction not to yell. And she not only submitted to his sexual advances but cooperated fully. Also, she seems not to have suffered any psychic trauma from her sexual activity with Dave. So it is quite possible that she met the Blau-Bender criteria, without any emotional traumatic effect. Freud states that "psychic trauma must come from within," and Elaine apparently felt no guilt. Only, as she states, immense physical satisfaction, or as Freud puts it, "the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive."
"I'm not a tramp, like some girls you see, screwing for money. Like I done for Dave, I screw for fun. Of course, Dave is a kind of special case, being my first. I don't even hint around they should give me presents, like some girls do, even if Dave did gimme this amber necklace. Pretty, ain't it? And real amber. That's stuff that ... well, there's some superstition about how it keeps you well. Hasn't done me a bit of good, seeing as I got the clap anyhow. Of course, I wasn't wearing the necklace at the time.
"Not any of the times, matter-of-fact. I keep it as a sort of memento of that first time. In my drawer.
Maybe I should'a kept it in my drawers.... That's a joke. Then maybe I wouldn't'a got this clap.
I tell Mom it's glass, from the dime store, and she don't know the difference. I don't figure she ever seen real amber, so how can she tell? Not that she pays that much attention to me, having four younger ones to look after, and they're a handful, I can tell you.
"Dave gave me this that Friday he came to the B-s' place. And, like I say, I keep it for a memento. It's to remember that first screwing I got. As if I need a necklace to remember that. Only, a girl likes to have something she can han die, to help her remember all along how good it was. I got the necklace to remember by. And the phony gold peace emblem George gave me, for the one time he got into my panties. And Fred's gold locket with the diamond, just a teensy bit of a chip but it's a real diamond. Mom still thinks I got it out of a Cracker Jack box. She's kinda naive in some ways. Simple ... sweet, but simple. I like Mom, in spite of the lambasting she gave me when she found out about the clap. She still kinda half believes I got it from the ladies' John in the department store. Maybe because she wants to. Moms are like that, ain't they?
"Maybe if she hadn't been so took up with the younger kids, so we could have had talks about things, I wouldn't be in this jam. I don't know, honest, I don't. I got the itch, so maybe all the talks in the world wouldn't have stopped me. And I like screwing-all of it, except this clap I got, and the shots I have to take in my ass. Sure I like fucking. Who doesn't?
"Dave? Oh, sure ... sure. ... Well, I go to the B-s and they go out, like regular, saying, 'Midnight, maybe later.' So I got plenty of time for me and Dave. And he pops in almost as soon as they're gone, like he's waiting outside, watching to see when they leave. And grinning that impish grin. And holding up the necklace, jiggling it, 'A memento of a momentous occasion.'
"He also gives a box-the Pill. And tells me I better use 'em, so I won't get no babies. Not that I figure I'll get one. I'm kinda young for a baby to get going, though there's a couple of girls I know had 'em at thirteen. Anyway, I appreciate his thinking of it ... thirteen? Gosh, it just hit me! They must've started screwing when they're only twelve, which is kinda young, ain't it? Sure, thirteen's young but it's a lot different from twelve. I got tits and nice looking legs, but a kid of twelve, why, she's just a kid. Mostly scrawny and flatchested. At least I was developed ... sort of grew up sudden.
"Dave settles down on the couch, with his arm around me, talking soft and low, kinda intimate. And he puts the necklace on me. Only the clasp don't work, and it slips down my blouse. Or maybe Dave done it on purpose, so he could reach down and grab a feel, fumbling for the necklace. Anyway, it works, 'cause it starts me to really getting hot in my snatch.
"Not that I ain't sort of ready for what's coming, just from thinking about it and remembering how he screwed me that first time. My little twat is almost twitching with being ready. But funny enough, I ain't in a hurry. I mean, we got all evening and even a good screw don't take long. Not really, just seems like it does. And yet, it seems too short, too. Now that's funny, ain't it? But the preliminaries-that's Dave's word for fooling around, teasing me up-they've their own kind of fun and excitement. And make the screwing that much better. Only, I don't believe it at first, on account I remember that first fuck, which was sort of unexpected and hadn't none of these preliminaries-and it was pretty good.
"Dave lets me alone for a few minutes, just talking ... mostly about was I sure I really wanted to go ahead, which was silly. Of course I did. And getting more so, just sitting next to him and feeling his body heat. And then he put his hand on my leg and started sliding it up and down, talking soft and easy the whole time. And getting closer to my sex box each time. And one hand draped over my shoulder, fiddling with my blouse and then sliding his hand inside, cupping my tittie and squeezing. Which makes me kind of limp and breathless, so I lean against him and push the other tittie up against his chest and nuzzle a bit into his neck, tonguing that pulse in his throat.
"That sort of starts things getting serious. He undoes my blouse and looks at my titties. 'Baby, you got 'em!' And he kisses one, tonguing my nipple. That drives me crazy ... I undo my miniskirt and let it slide down on the couch, so there's nothing but panties to get out of. And they ain't much. Kind of skimpy but loose. I wore 'em special 'cause I figured I'd want out of 'em pretty quick. And these kinda tie on each side, in bow knots you can just tug at, and they come apart. Which is awful convenient, especially if you don't tie the knots too tight to begin with.
"Dave finds the knots quick enough, running his hand over my panties and across my snatch. And he tugs. So I'm practically naked. The panties fall off, between my legs, which is good enough ... he can reach right down and feel my sex box. Which he does, playing a finger right up against my slit. I am breathing kind of heavy and with a little trouble, kissing his neck and tonguing that pulse in his throat. I reach around to grab him around the neck, which pulls my titties up against him. It catches his hand but that don't matter, 'cause just feeling his hand hot against my tittie is giving me butterflies in my stomach, and making my sex box into a real hot spot.
"Dave is fingering my pussy, wiggling his finger a little, so I'm not only getting hot, I'm wetting myself with juices. And I'm opening up. I can feel things swell inside of me. And his finger slips in, teasing my clit and then sliding right into my snatch. I'm near ready to scream, only instead I start begging, 'Please, please, please ... ' and opening my legs so his hand's got free play.
Only it ain't his hand I want, it's that big dong of his, with the bulby head rammed into me.
"I even reach down and feel his pants, where his pecker is bulging and throbbing. Dave reaches down, unzips his pants and guides my hand inside, where I can really feel it. It's big and stiff and throbbing. I pull it out and stare at it. And I don't believe it. I don't believe that that big dong and huge head can be slammed up into my cunt.
"Dave is undoing his belt and sliding out of his pants, while I still hold his big shaft, squeezing it just a little and watching his juices pop out and glisten. He peels out of his shirt-he ain't wearing either briefs or undershirt-knowing they'll just get in the way. And soon he's naked, too, holding me on the couch and feeling my snatch and my tittie, and maybe running his hand over my stomach till I'm near about heaving my cookies with excitement. He turns me a little and eases me back onto the couch, keeping his hand on my snatch, and I still got hold of his pecker, which by now I am pulling on, to get it into my cunt. I let my legs drop open more and Dave climbs between 'em, with me still holding on to his dong shaft and tugging it up close against my cunt, which is open, wet and ready.
"Dave reaches down and takes my wrist. 'You don't have to choke it to death, kid. Or pull it off. I like it and I got uses for it. Like this.' And he gets my hand loose and pushes his dong head right at my snatch.
"I can't see it so well as I done the first time, with my back to him and his dong head poking at me from behind, up between my legs. But I can sure feel it. I feel it all over, inside and out, and his dong can't go in too fast to suit me. Only, Dave holds it like that, just working it back and forth right at the entrance of my pussy-and pretty damned near setting things on fire down thereand a long way up, inside. I reach up and grab his shoulders, trying to pull him down on me, so's his dong head will slip inside and really get things going. I even reach for his butt and pull him to me, but he resists, telling me, 'We hold it, kid ... it's better.' So, maybe he knows.
"Because when he does drive his dong head into me, I'm near ready to explode, just feeling that dong head slipping way up inside. And his dong itself is sliding in and out of my snatch starting fires and beating drums I can't see but can hear. He gives me a real hot tonguing kiss, deep in my throat, and rams that pecker of his up to the hilt, till I can feel his hairy mat up against my crotch. And his dong is moving just enough to be exciting and stir things up for me. I'm near about screaming. And I can't. I'm sucking on that tongue of his ... it's 'most choking me. And we're humping. Dave is rising up a little and ramming back down. And I rise up a little to meet him. Slow at first, like we're just getting the hang of each other. And then faster and faster, with me clawing at his shoulders and every now and then reaching down to his rump to pull him up deeper.
"I'm pretty close to blowing a gasket and splattering everything for yards around when suddenly he stops, with his dong about halfway out. And he moves real slow and easy, just teasing. And I know it's coming. And I'm ready for it. Ready and waiting.
"Dave rams down, hard, driving that shaft into me, pushing his dong head so far up me I'm sure something's gotta give. And it busts. Or feels like it. That dong just explodes his come into my belly, hot and exciting. And I go off, flooding my own self with juices, and whimpering and clinging to Dave like he might take off into the wild blue yonder without me. Only I'm writhing and twisting ... and then I go limp. A person can take just so much excitement when something has to give. And I gave all ... and slumped.
"Dave slumps on me, drooping his head and snorting practically in my ear. I like the feel of his body pressing on mine. And the hotness of it. And I get a sort of extra kick out of having his dong wilt and slide out, starting some new shivers. But the main screwing is over. We're fucked out for now.
"Dave rolls off a me and lays beside me, breathing heavy and grinning like crazy. His dong is sure melted down to near nothing and is wet and shiny with our come. And I lay there beside him just enjoying us both snuggled up on one couch. But for right then I've had it, even if littler bells and lesser sky rockets go off every now and then in me, mostly maybe from just remembering, setting me shivering.
"That's our second fuck, and the. first of that evening. The next one is slower. And maybe even more exciting for being slower. He takes my hand and guides it down to his limp dong, so I can play with it, while he teases my clit with a finger. And gradually I can feel his dong throb and grow. And we're at it again. It is better for being slower. Or anyhow, it seems so. Maybe we'd have done it a third time, only the B-kid wakes up and yells.
"Dave nudges me and grins. 'Saved by the yell. Go tend to the kid. And I guess we call it quits for tonight, on account of it's getting late.'
"So I slip into my miniskirt and blouse, without the panties, and go fix the kid a fresh diaper. And by then it is too late for another screw, even if I could take it, which I ain't too sure then I can, being near exhausted and aching a bit down around my snatch. That ain't really true, I find out later. I can take lots more'n that.
"Why, one night Dave and me went four times, and then there was that time I had them three fellows in that motel room and each of 'em fucked me twice.
"That was after things got kinda complicated. Like I wasn't figuring on. screwing nobody but Dave, seeing as he was my first. And what need was there of more, since we were doing all right? I mean, I'd get a job baby-sitting and tell Dave, and he'd come around and we'd have us a ball. We could get in maybe two good fucks in an evening and then Dave had to haul tail before the folks come home. We had to be careful whose house we done it in because some folks come home early and unexpected.
"That happens once when I'm baby-sitting at the F.'s. George and Linda had a spat at some party and George comes home alone, early, real early. So it must have been some spat, 'cause they was always fighting and arguing, without walking out on each other. Anyhow, George came in just as Dave and me is finishing up our first screw, and he catches us. We're both naked as peeled eggs. So there ain't no mistaking what's happening.
"George comes in, steaming about Linda and some guy she's making eyes at. He lamps us, naked on the divan, and blows his stack. I'm embarrassed as all hell, being caught like that, even if George is kinda funny. I mean, he's sort of weedy, so storming about 'violating his home' and pointing to the door-only it's the door to the bedroom by mistake-and telling Dave never to darken his door again.
"Dave could have whipped shit out of him, 'cause Dave is really built. Only he don't want no fight, especially with me involved, like he says.
So he goes quietly, a smile on his cute face.
"That leaves me sort of huddled on the divan, hugging my clothes and looking over 'em at George, who is glowering. So what can I say? I'm fair caught out. And maybe he'll tell Mom about me screwing Dave and all hell's gonna burst loose. So I just look up at him, kind of shy and appealing, and bundle my clothes up closer under my chin, so he gets a good view of my titties, and I curl around so he can see my snatch and get a really good view of my legs and rump.
"I whimper, 'Please don't tell Mom. Please, I'll do anything ... Honest! ... I'll do anything, only don't tell Mom.' And I got that anything in mind, even if getting caught has sorta cooled down my hot cunt.
"George goes on glowering for a few minutes, getting sort of pompous. 'You have violated a trust, Elaine. We trusted you. And this is how you betray that trust ... with a cheap four-flusher like David.'
"I whimper some more and work up some real tears, enough to trickle down my cheeks if I squinch my eyes up. Only, I watch him from under the lids, sort of peeping, And he's noticing me. I can see his eyes roving. And he licks his lips.
"Finally he comes over and sits beside me, patting my leg. 'Don't cry, Elaine. Maybe we can work something out.'
"I drop my clothes and turn to give him a big hug and smile. 'Oh, thank you, Mister George. Thank you.' And I press my titties up against him, mighty near scratching my chest on that dangly peace medal. George starts patting my shoulder and saying, 'There! There!' in kinda hoarse, scratchy tones. Plus his hand is wandering along my leg. And the hand on my shoulder starts wandering, too, reaching for one of my titties. So, I know I got it made. He's hooked. No question.
"I sigh, real soft, and sorta crumple, letting one hand droop down on his crotch. I can feel his dong bulging like it's about to bust through them tight jeans he wears. And I rub a little, stirring things up in him. And in me, too, I'm getting over the scare I had from getting caught and begin to feel real horny again.
"He's helping it along, squeezing my tittie and letting his other hand drift up on my snatch. 'Maybe I was a little harsh, Elaine.' And he says it with a real tremble in his voice. 'Maybe you and I can work this out. Just us two. And nobody need ever know.' And I know how he figures on working it out, by getting a good lay for himself. Which I am willing to do, seeing as I am getting steamed up again, almost like I do for one of Dave's second fucks.
"I let my legs fall open, even if it means stretching one a bit, so he can get his hand right down on my hot snatch. He does, playing with it. He ain't as smooth as Dave. Maybe when there's a hand right on your snatch, smoothness don't count too much. Anyway, I'm all hot and horny, ready for another good screw. I'll say this much for George, once he gets started, he ain't bad. Not real gentle, like Dave, and maybe a little hurried, which could be on account he don't know when Linda might come home. He's out of them tight jeans faster'n I would think he could manage. And his dong is bigger'n you'd expect from such a weedy sort of character. Big and stiff, bobbing around like a pole in the wind.
"I kinda let myself fall over on him, rubbing that dong up against my slit and wiggling so my titties will rub against his chest in spite of that scratchy peace medal, which he practically yanks off, along with his shirt. He ain't hairy in the chest, like Dave, but he's broader than you'd take him for.
"He plays with my titties and nibbles my nipples, while his finger is reaming up my sex box. So I'm really ready. I climb on him, facing him, and rub my slit right on his dong, which is wet and glittery. It's right pushed up against my slit and aiming in-and my snatch is opening up and making wet for the big entry.
"I slide down a little, pushing his dong almost inside. And then I back off, making like I'm horrified. 'Oh, Mister George! We hadn't oughta! Betraying a trust like this ... ' And I let him grab me back.
"He pulls me on to him, saying, 'Just call me George, not Mister, and with you and me, this ain't betraying. It's a sort of mutual agreement.' And he rams his pecker at me, so its head slips in, making me too breathless to talk any more. But who needs talk from then on?
"He rolls me over, so my back is up against the back of the divan, and really gets some leverage to stick his dong in. And I'm cooperating. I ain't saying I didn't. I ain't trying to make out George forced me or nothing like that ... I helped. Some on account I don't want him to tell Mom, but most on account I like getting screwed. And I'm getting screwed.
"We sort of slip around a little on the divan, so I slide under him, with my legs wide open and we really start fucking. I can feel his prick drive way up in me, practically all the way up my wet velvet tunnel, and I feel every scrap of it going in. Starting the real excitement, which is what fucking is all about. That awful, wonderful feeling of not having breath enough. Just from having a dick moving way up in your belly. And your belly gets tight and real tense. I reach around and grab his rump so I can pull him deeper in and get more dong rammed up me, till his bush is smack up against my slit. And he starts ramming, with me moving, too. Just a little at first, to stir things up inside me. And then we're really churning. I don't even remember it's George has his dong in me. It's just a dong, big and long and way up my belly, moving to make excitement more better.
"Suddenly, George draws his dong way out. Almost clear out, but I hump up to meet it, whispering to him, 'Don't take it out. I had my Pill, so I can't have a baby.' And he really rams me then ... deep. And holds it, while I feel the throb and swell of his dong. His throbbing dick explodes so hard I feel maybe I'll bust with the load of come he's spurting into me.
"I grab his shoulders and hang on, pushing up against him as hard as I can, taking every bit of his come, like I ain't never had any before. It's funny, ain't it? Each good screw seems like it happens for the first time, even if the action is the same and the excitement is pretty much alike each time. And it's plenty exciting.
"We lie there, hooked up and holding on, gradually subsiding, with me dropping away from him a little and him sliding down, away from my snatch, so his dong slips out, making me shiver, even if I know it's all over.
"Finally he looks at his wristwatch and says, 'Oh, my God!' and hops up. He points to the John and says, 'Get in there and wash up. And put your clothes on. Hurry. No telling when Linda might get sore at somebody else and come barging home. Oh, Christ, what have I done! ... '
"He's dressed when I come out and nervous as a six-titted cat with eight kittens. He keeps looking at his watch and muttering things. Finally he sits down, looking hard at me. 'We won't say anything about how you've been ... acting ... with Dave. And, of course, we won't mention what happened this evening. This will just be our secret.' And he tries a sort of watery smile on for size. So, I agree. That's what all that second screwing was for, wasn't it? To keep him from telling.
"Only he does tell. Not Mom or Linda, but among the men he knows. Maybe even a little strutting and bragging about how he's got something real good, right in his house, whenever he wants it. Anyway, it gets around I like getting laid. Which I do. At first it was just that I liked getting screwed by Dave and didn't think much about the screw itself. Then, after George, I know I like the getting laid part, and it isn't just Dave ... though I still like him best, on account he's the first.
"Anyhow, pretty soon Mom's getting calls for me to baby-sit for guys that ain't got any baby to sit with. Only, Mom don't know they ain't got no babies. I don't, first time out with this Fred character.
"At first, Fred pretends there's a baby asleep in the back room. He's sort of twitchy right at the start, like he ain't sure where to start or maybe should he even. I don't get it for a while, till he starts telling me about how cute lam and works out from that into sort of specifics, like my legs. Then he wanders around the room and looks back at me, and I'm sitting real demure, legs together and my hands in my lap, like I'm waiting for instructions. On baby-sitting. Only I'm catching on.
"So I'm not so surprised when he comes over and sits on the arm of my chair, looking right down my blouse which already starts getting me fussed up. You know, hot in my snatch, because I see it coming. And I lean forward, so he can see better. And he looks, getting a little red in the face.
"I know George, very well. 'very, very well. And he tells me that you ... well, would ten dollars be enough? Fifteen, huh? ... twenty?'
"I look real demure, only I show him some leg by wriggling in the chair so my miniskirt hikes up. That's more'n I usually get. For baby-sitting.'
"He grins then, like he's got his cue. 'I ain't talking about baby-sitting, kid. You know what I mean. This.' And reaches for my tits.
"I pull away, twitching my skirt even higher, and tell him, 'If you mean what I think you mean, I don't do it for money. I'm not that kind.' And I ain't. I just do it with guys I like. And I sort of cotton to this Fred character.
"Then I let him get a hold of my titties, and the fireworks start. So Fred lays me. Only we do it in his bedroom. Seems he not only don't have a baby, he don't even have a wife to give him one.
"The word gets around. And I find plenty of guys like Fred, who ain't got babies or wives but who need a lot of baby-sitting. And I'm getting my cunt worked out pretty regular. Not at the real baby-sitting jobs. I don't let any of the fellers come around then, except Dave, who is sort of special.
"Some of these guys just live in rooming houses where they can't take girls, so that's how come I wind up sometimes in a motel room. Like I say, once with three guys who take double turns, till I'm clear fucked out. Six times in one night is kind of an exhauster. And it's one of them guys who give me this clap. No, I don't know which one. How would I know? But he must've known he had it, so it ain't fair he screwed me and give me his clap.
"I don't know how Linda got on to it. Maybe one of the fellers that got it from me told George and he spilled his guts to Linda. He's the kind that would. Anyway, she reported me and got my behind shot full of antibiotics so I won't have no more clap. And I got to take this psychiatric treatment.
"There's one laugh I get out of it. Linda kinda held his screwing me over his head and made him go back to Papa and the plant, with his hair cut and regular clothes. Serves him right for spreading it around I could get laid, making like I got round heels, which I ain't really, I just like getting screwed. By guys I like. So what's wrong with that, except I got the clap, and got stuck in the ass so much I feel like a sieve...."
Elaine can be cited as an almost classic example of the very youthful sex delinquent. This does not in any way mitigate her acts, and more particularly those of her several paramours, any more than saying a man is a classic example of a murderer condones the act of murder.
Elaine could not alter her milieu. She could not change her bodily structure or fight her emergence from the period of latency, even had she known what it was. Because of a number of factors not emerging from her story, such as that she may have been subconsciously stimulated by the act of changing the diapers of her younger brothers, giving them baths, dressing and undressing them; the possibility that she witnessed the act of copulation between her parents; plus any number of other contributing factors, her pre-conditioning toward sex may have been greater than with many of her peer group. Certainly, Elaine was ready for sex ... and had it.
CHAPTER FIVE
Affair With a Vulgar Cad
"Charlene. Isn't that a silly name? Just like something Mother would dream up, a little too fancy. But that's Mother ... always a little too fancy. And not very close to reality. Now she's turning me over to a psychiatrist to do a job she should have done herself, starting years ago. But no, Mother's much too elegant to do the work of raising a child. If she could have managed it, she'd have had someone else to bear me.
"No, I don't think I'm a sophisticated brat. Not if sophisticated means what you think it does. Which it doesn't, really. Oh, I know, to you it means some sort of snobbery. Over-smart, in the brattish sort of way. Actually, it simply means knowledgeable. At least I know a lot about men. Oh, do I know a lot about men!
"We're not really rich, you know. Not in the jet set class by any means, though my father probably has a very good income. But Mother likes to live as if we were rich. Now, she's the sophisticated one, in the way you mean it, with snobbery thrown in. And she is just a little exaggerated. For instance, she'll say, 'I'm tormented. Simply tormented. Those nasty little creatures didn't send my gown in time, so what am I to wear to the E-s. He's the E-, you know, of the banking clan.' As if I didn't know the E-kids. Why, I had sex with his son a year or so back. Not that he's very good at it, but then he was my first experience. Oh, he's a good enough kid. I suppose. And he hasn't an ounce of snobbery in him. So it wasn't as if he was laying the kitchen maid. He was getting something good and he knew it.
"Even at thirteen I was nicely put together. I'll give Mother that much credit. She did see to it that we were well-fed and properly exercised. We had a governess and a physical ed tutor. She didn't do it herself. She was too busy running off to the Riviera or whatever was the in place of the moment. San Juan les Pins was out the last I heard, though I used to like it there as a kid. But, somebody famous will get laid there in a 'really shocking scandal, my dear,' and the place will be in again.
"No, I'm not being brash. Though actually you mean unfilial, don't you? I just know my mother. She's probably 'tormented, simply tormented by Charlene's disgrace.' As much as she was over that gown that was delayed. Or maybe she's 'prostrated, simply prostrated.' That's a little stronger than tormented as far as Mother is concerned.
"Certainly, I know Mother would do anything for me ... if she could buy it. Can she buy me a new cunt? Fresh and virginal? Yes, I can get vulgar. Vulgarity's rather smart in our crowd at the moment. And did she show up in court? There was a superexpensive lawyer who got me off with a scolding, and the condition I take this psychiatric treatment. Not that I believe in your particular brand of voodoo, but a court order is a court order. And I accept the realities, which is more than Mother ever did. My father? I don't know him. Oh, I know who he is, all right. I just don't know him. He's too busy making money for Mother to fling around to ever get to know me. Or to let me get to know him. Maybe I'd even like him. Perhaps I should have committed incest ... then I'd have known him. And probably not be any worse off than I am.
"Incest shocks you? Why? Animals do it all the time, and we're just talking animals. Why, people even inbreed cattle, horses and dogs to get special strains for the good of the breed. No, incest doesn't shock me. I happen to know several brothers and sisters who have sex together. Right in our crowd, and they seem to like it. Though I'd never think of doing it with Willie, my brother. He's Mother's little prig. And a year younger than I am, anyway.
"Maybe I am a bit of a snob at heart. But I just couldn't see myself sleeping with the riding instructor. Oh, he made passes. But he was getting his kicks from too many of the other girls in our crowd. I think he probably hung up a ribbon for each new conquest, as he did for the horses' wins. He made a couple of the girls enceinte and they went out West, to a 'ranch' for a prolonged stay. And they came back without much sun tan.
"Oh, everybody knows who they are but they weren't officially caught at it, the way I was. They were just 'caught,' which means getting yourself knocked up. Oh, yes, I know all the words: Fuck, cunt, prick, screw ... the lot of them. And I can use them if necessary. And I can see that it is going to be necessary, in order to get through this psychiatric bit. And I know everything about the Pill. Have known for years. I suspect the local druggist sells more of the pills than he does aspirin. Practically everyone in our set needs them.
"Fornication is the favorite indoor sport. And it's done outdoors, too. I know an old cemetery with flat gravestones that is a favored spot, I've even had a piece of ass there myself. And I came home with lichen on my dress, and a date stamped on my derriere. And it wasn't the date I got laid. But I can't say I like that place. Not because of the dead, they couldn't care less what happens above ground. But it's uncomfortable, like screwing in a convertible is a pain.
"That's where I first got laid. By a grown man, I mean. I don't count Buddy because that was just a fumble ... a real disaster. Even if he did take my cherry, if I had one. I doubt it, if you ride horseback much, there isn't any maidenhead left. That's why so many young girls like horseback riding. They get sensations pretty close to a screw, even if they don't know it. And the pommel is, of course, a phallic symbol. Plus it rubs the clitoris. Quite stimulating. I know one girl who puts two steel marbles up her cunt every time she goes riding. The jogging of the horse shakes the steelies up and down, and she masturbates that way. Personally I consider it a cheap thrill. But it's safe, of course, you don't need a Pill.
"Why did I start? With Buddy, you mean? Well, everybody else in our crowd is fornicating all over the place, so I thought I'd try it. I didn't think much of the way Buddy handled it, though the act itself got me emotionally aroused. I liked what happened to me, even if I didn't care much for Buddy. So, I looked for greener pastures, or, to get vulgar, bigger pricks.
"That, of course, meant a grown man. Or I thought so, not having any criterion forjudging the size of penises. I discarded the life guards for the same reason I passed up the riding instructor. They were probably satiated with girls willing to get laid. I'd be just one of a mob.
"Fastidious? Well, some, I guess, though you wouldn't think so from my record, would you? I believe it mentions ten men in one day, though I recall but eight. Still, even eight men in one day is far from fastidious. And three at one time. That's in the court record, too. One in my rectum, one in my vagina and one by fellatio. However, that was practically my graduation course. Under Professor James L. Oh, yes, he called himself professor, probably because he was the official school photographer. That's where I met him, at school.
"Of course, by the time I met Jimmy I had had quite a few experiences. And Jimmy has always had a keen eye for potential lays. A photographic eye you might say.
"Oh, I had been looking for experience, I'll grant you. Rather naively for one you consider sophisticated. And why? Because I speak a more or less accurate brand of English? I learned it from my governess. Actually, in spite of the experience with Buddy, I was quite naive. Especially, when you consider the milieu in which I was brought up, where fornication was rather the order of the day. Wife-swapping in our set is quite commonplace.
"I looked over the field, discarding such obvious males as the riding instructor and the life guards. The bellboys at the club were quite too .smirking in their knowledge of our foibles. And not always too clean, I suspect, though the club steward in sisted on fresh linen daily. Older men probably wouldn't pay much attention to a child, which they would have considered me. Besides, they already had their sexual activities rather mapped out. That left only the younger men, whom I naturally preferred. They are, by and large, more sexually active.
"I picked baby-sitting as a means of meeting them with any degree of intimacy. It was a mistake. Aside from the fact that Mother was 'tormented, simply tormented' at the idea of me working, naturally. And then she let it pass as a childish whim. It was a mistake. When the younger crowd-they don't have live-in servants the way we do-needs a baby-sitter, it is because they're going out. And they are often impatient to get away. Oh, every now and then one of the men would give me a look that sent shivers up my spine, but that's as far as they went. I met Cass that way. Cass was my first conquest, you might say, discounting Buddy.
"Cass is quite handsome and he knows it. That's how he married into our set. To Janet, of the S Trust. And she's lucky to get him, since she hadn't an asset, except her millions. She's not homely, just rather-nyah! ... a blash. Cass is one of those who gave me The Look-and did nothing.
"Until one night they came home early, since Janet was not feeling well. Probably from too many martinis. She told him she was heading for bed. 'Take this child home, and don't disturb me when you come in.' So it's not drinks-or not all of it-but a spat.
"Cass is rather sullen as he starts home with me, muttering about women and how they don't understand a man. That's a pretty fair opening for a girl who plans to put the make on him. So I hud die a little bit, leaning on his shoulder and patting his leg ... in sympathy, of course. But I managed to touch his crotch, just a tap or two. And I suggest that since it's early, we drive out to The Point and catch a breeze. He whisks the car around and we drive up the The Point, which is a favorite necking spot. And some pretty heavy necking goes on. I'd like to have a dollar for every girl that got laid up there, me included.
"Oh, yes. Cass lays me. But he does require encouragement. I undo my blouse, just two buttons, and fan myself, as if I am getting warm. And truthfully, I am. Not there, however, much lower ... I don't wear a bra, so my breasts are quite visible. They even gleam a bit in the moonlight. Cass notices, and stares, and reaches. He squeezes a little and then laughs, nervously. 'You have quite an equipment ... for a kid.' So I let him see some more of that equipment. My legs. I pull them up, so my miniskirt drops back. And they are on view. They're very nice legs. Much better than Janet's skinny shanks. And Cass eyes them. And he puts out a hand to caress one. And his hand goes wandering.
"That's what I want. Caresses that wander up as far as my cunt. And start working on it, just fingering it a bit. So I swing around and give him a big kiss. Not that it connects too well the first time. With his hand on my cunt, playing tricks that are driving me crazy, simply wild. Buddy never did anything like that, though he fumbled around a little. But Cass! ... he really knows how to get a girl worked up. And he's a wiz at buttons and zippers. I fail to recognize it then though I realize later, it must have taken lots of practice for him to be so good.
"Right then, though, I can't care less. I am having the thrills I dreamed about. I am so intent on my own excitement, I fail to realize he has removed my blouse and undone my skirt. Almost without me knowing it, he gets me to raise up so he can slip off my panties. That, of course, gives him free access. And he makes the most of it. His finger slides along the edge of my cunt and dips in-just a fraction but enough so that I squeal. He stops that with another hot kiss, thrusting his tongue in my mouth. And his hands continue to play with me, teasing and squeezing my breasts and nipples and fingering up my cunt. I can feel it getting wet and opening up.
"I wriggle around, trying to get close to him, but that steering wheel is in the way. But I do get my hand on his crotch. And his pants are unzipped and the belt undone, so his fly is open. He pushes my hand in. And I feel his penis. It is big! ... terribly big, and long. So big, it frightens me. I feel I've started something that is going to split me wide open. But I can't stop. It's really driving me wild.
"I push one of my breasts at him, but neither of us can get anything like real satisfaction out of that. Then Cass slides his arms under my bottom and lifts me. And slips under me, into my seat on that side of the car.
"That puts his penis right under me, and his arms wrap around me, his hands cupping my breasts. I can feel his stiff penis sliding up against the cheeks of my derriere and then between my legs. They're open, because I'm straddling his legs. And his head-the head of his penis, that big bulbous thing--is sliding back and forth, right across the lips of my cunt.
"And I can hardly breathe. It should be awful, but instead ... it's wonderful, really wonderful. And all the time his fingers are playing games with my nipples, so they're standing up, erect and firm. It's almost hard to know what is going on, so much seems to be happening to my body at once.
"For some crazy reason I want to reach down and grab his penis and push it into my vagina. But that isn't necessary. Cass lifts me a little, with one arm, and plays around with my vagina with his other hand. Suddenly, he slips that bulbous head in. Then things really do happen inside me. I feel like whooping with the excitement of it except that I can't get the breath for a whoop. It's more of a whimper.
"Cass eases me down on his penis, sliding it in. Buddy's been in me before, but he didn't have anything near that big. It spreads my vagina and starts up my tube. Slowly but, it seems, inexorably. And the deeper he thrusts, the deeper I want it. I feel then I could take a yard or two up my tube, though I know I can't. And it keeps coming, a little at a time, with Cass murmuring in my ear, 'Are you all right? Are you all right?' All I can do is nod.
"He keeps coming in, slow, but very exciting. So exciting, I feel as if I might take off. And pull him with me, hooked with his penis in my vagina. I almost laugh at the idea, only I can't laugh. My stomach muscles are being used for something else.
"Cass lets his hands wander from my breasts down to my stomach, teasing my belly button. I hadn't known that I had so much sensitivity in it, but when there's a penis in me it suddenly develops new feelings. And one hand slides down on the crease of my legs and pelvis ... and follows down to my vagina. He plays with my clitoris until I feel giddy, light-headed. And I am tightened up inside, really wound up.
"I didn't know I had so many sensations in my insides, up my tubes. I've never felt anything in there except when I've been sick, so I didn't know.
But big excitement stirs in there, and heat. Oh, Gcd, did I get hot! And the feel of his penis, rubbing the walls of my tubes was the most exciting thing ever to happen to me up to then.
"Actually, from the cramped position we were in, with me sitting in his lap, he can't get his penis really very far up inside me. But it's far enough to be wonderful to me. Cass humps a little, driving his penis a little further, and I bounce a little, trying to slide down on it. Then we hump and bounce in a sort of rough unison that starts new fires inside and builds new tensions. And when he grabs my breasts again, the nipples are so sensitive, I almost scream. Except I'm concentrating on what's happening in my vagina.
"It's Cass's penis, swelling and pulsing, his bulbous head seeming to expand inside me. Cass grabs me and slams me down, hard ... so hard, I grunt. And then I try to get down deeper on his penis, because my vagina can feel the swelling and the big pulsation. Without knowing how, I know he's going to have an orgasm, a big one. And so am I. Though I try to hold out I want to make it last.
"Cass humps up, as high as he can, and holds it, while his penis throbs and beats inside me ... that bulbous head seems to disintegrate in a vast boom, way up me. And I let go, too. Like everything in me lets loose. As if a too-tight balloon suddenly lets out all its air. I even look at my stomach to see if it has deflated. And then I sink back against Cass with a sigh.
"His hands play over me for a little while and then gradually slow down, dropping to his sides. 'You can certainly exhaust a man, Sharl. That was some screw. A real doozy.' Cass is just a little bit vulgar, you know. But a very good cocksman.
"I'm still getting shivers of excitement, even as his penis goes down and slides out. I can still feel things way up me, as if my juices are still flowing. And maybe they are. Certainly I'm all wet and dripping around my vagina. And I can see Cass is wet, too. Slippery wet. His whole penis glistens with it. I suspect his shorts are ruined with those juices and his trousers are a mess, where we both spilled our juices.
"We both just sit, sagged in the seat, catching up on our breathing, which I felt had been suspended indefinitely. Then he taps my leg. 'Hump up, sweetie, and let me slide out from under. Because that's all for tonight.'
"I raise up and Cass slides back under the wheel, whistling through his teeth, and fixing up the front of his pants. He hands me a handkerchief to wipe myself with. I do, dreamily remembering how exciting it all was. And I even finger my clitoris for a minute, to see if I can start some more fires going.
"Cass really looks me over. I'm still naked. And the whistling hits a higher pitch. 'You're really put together, Sharl. Really put together. And who'd have thought a kid like you could screw like that. Why, you can't be more than thirteen.'
"I am struggling into my panties but I do manage to give him a nasty look. 'I'm going on fourteen. And this isn't my first affair, so don't get so pleased with yourself.'
"Cass looks interested, as if he's about to ask me who else has been having sex with me. Except he thinks the better of it. He lights up a cigaret. 'What about a repeat performance? In more congenial surroundings. Say one of the club cabanas. They have very comfortable couches.'
"Now, we belong to the club. And so do Cass and his wife. But us kids can't take a cabana with out one of our parents signing the chit. You have to be eighteen to get your own key and be able to sign a chit.
"'Can you sign up one? Without Janet knowing?' I didn't mean to insult him, but everybody knows Janet foots the bills. But how closely she checks them I don't know. I know Mother just glances at the total and pays. And I bet the stewards pad her bills something awful.
"Cass rubs his thumb and finger together ... a very vulgar gesture, meaning money being paid. 'There are ways, Sharl. There are ways. And once inside, I can give you thrills you never dreamed of. Shall we say ... tomorrow. About three? Janet has a bridge date.'
"And that tells me Cass has done this cabana bit often, with any number of women and girls. That's about par for the course in our set. As I said, practically everyone is fornicating with someone else besides wife or husband. So I can't make a big scene out of it. Anyway, it's a little difficult to make a big scene when you're squirming back into a miniskirt.
"Besides, I'm still feeling the excitement of tonight in my stomach and up and down and around my vagina. Still, I pretend to think it over, as if I had to rearrange my social calendar to make it. Actually, I'm off from school at two-thirty, so I can make it easily. Finally I nod. 'At three. Tomorrow.' And hesitate. 'That is Thursday, isn't it? Then it's okay.' I'm very nonchalant.
"So now I have a real date to get laid! And I go home, dreaming about what's going to happen then. I even kiss Cass half-heartedly when he drops me at our house.
"My vagina aches that night and most of the next day, I must admit. However, the pain was a sort of stimulus to memory, helping me to men tally reconstruct the things that had happened the night before. I'm afraid I was a bit absentminded in school for the children of our immediate circle. We were all certain of promotion. So nobody really cared.
"At three o'clock, I wander nonchalantly out on the club terrace as if I hadn't a thought in the world. And certainly none about being laid. Cass is there and waves at me, so I stroll over. He lights a cigaret and says, 'Cabana 68. I have the key.' I nod and stroll down toward the cabanas. Being probably much too nonchalant, as I now realize. I pass Cabana 68 with a real lurch in my stomach, a lurch of excitement. And on down to the end and then back, slowly, waving at friends, and then moving around the corner. The door of Cabana 68 is open, so I move over as if to speak to someone.
"Cass reaches out and tugs me in. 'Glad you could make it, Sharl.' And he holds me tight in his arms, so that my breasts crush against him and I'm already nearly suffocating with excitement.
"Frankly, I think much of the stimulus toward sex is in the anticipation, the thinking about it Particularly in a girl as young as I was. Curiosity and anticipation are potent factors, I suspect. Or don't you agree? Oh, I grant that there must be the physical drive, the development of the glands, to trigger the thinking and anticipation. Oh, yes, to get back to Cass.
"Cass is slower this time. I suppose that's natural. But I am impatient for the act itself. I want to feel his penis forcing its way up my tube, to know the intense excitement of fornication. However, it is thrilling to be slowly undressed, to have my blouse removed and Cass admire my breasts, fondling and kissing them until I grasp his head and thrust one into his mouth. His hands are sliding under my miniskirt and across my derriere, triggering intense excitement, generating heat in my vagina, churning my stomach to intense desire.
"He slides my panties down and then sits on an ottoman, admiring my cunt, just staring at it for a moment, holding me by the hips. Then he leans forward, pressing his lips against my cunt, darting in with his tongue to tease the lips and even to penetrate as far as my clitoris. I almost faint with excitement because of the wild surges that seep up from my vagina all through my stomach. All the time his hands are reaching up to play with my breasts, until I begin to beg him to fuck me. Oh, yes. I know the terms. And they're easier to use when you're excited.
"He picks me up and lays me on the couch, wide-eyed and waiting, watching him chuck out of his shirt and strip down his pants and underpants. His penis is enormous! Bigger, far bigger in that dim half light than it had seemed in the dark. And I know he is going to go deeper into me than he went before. He's telling me this, talking softly about how he'll really ream me out this time ... the softness of his voice is almost hypnotizing me.
"He sits on the bed, down by my hips, facing me, and talks some more, only now he is playing with my breasts and my cunt, occasionally raking his fingernails lightly across my stomach and down to my pelvis. With my highly sensitized skin this is both excruciatingly painful and at the same time an enormous stimulant to desire.
"I can see his penis, erect and stiff and seeming to vibrate. I am terrified of it, yet I want it. Oh, how I want it thrust into me. I can see the glisten begin on his bulbous head, even as I feel my own juices wetting my vagina. And I am opening up. I can feel my own cunt opening. My legs, which had been rigid and held tight together, are falling open of their own accord. I toss and moan, writhing in anticipation of his penis in me, while his hands continue to play with me, caressing my breasts, playing with my nipples and sliding over the insides of my thighs.
"I can't stand this a moment longer. I need completion. I need his penis in me. I reach for it, grasping and tugging. He grasps my wrist. 'Don't yank it off, Sharl. We'll be using it.' I let go and half sit up, reaching for his shoulders, to pull him down against my breasts. He bends with me, and gives me a long hot kiss while he is sliding over between my legs, so that his bulbous head is pressing against my open cunt.
"Then he begins a slow, rhythmic pump that spreads the lips of my vagina until his bulbous cock heads slips in. He begins his drive up my tube. I whimper with delight, and move my pelvis up to meet his shaft, driving it deeper into me. And I gulp with sudden fear as it goes on up and up. How can anything that huge go so far up me? I can feel my tube stretch to accept it, feeling new areas open as he goes beyond where he had been the night before.
"And then his pubic hair is right against my mound-and he begins pumping. I move my pelvis to match his rhythm, and the excitement builds, nerves grow taut. My stomach is one intense ache of desire! I keep murmuring his name-'Cass!Cass!-Deeper!-Deeper, please!'
"There is nothing like that climax! Those tensions explode into wild gyrations as we pound together. Then that last, slow near-withdrawal of his penis, and the final, almost violent stab far up my insides. And true explosions-then, a wondrous release. Magnificent peace after so much tension! I sag back, whimpering with the delight of it. Cass gives one last thrust and subsides on me, breathing heavily, perspiring, going limp.
"I wait the slow shrinking of his penis and its titillating withdrawal that triggers minor explosions in me-minor but delightful. And it is all over. Cass rolls off me, and we lie together, warmed by each other's body, and the memory of a tremendous experience. Not that we really need warmth. Our bodies gleam with sweat from the exertion and excitement. Nevertheless, the bodily warmth is comforting.
"Cass makes our common shower a delight, teasing my breasts as he soaps my body, kneeling to wash, and kiss, my cunt. We even kiss in the shower, the warm water pouring over us. But it is a rather tender kiss. He dries me off with a huge towel the club supplies, admiring my body, molding it as he slides his hands over me.
"'You're a beautiful child. Beautiful. And a great delight in bed. I wish we could do it again, but I have to meet Janet. Even as insatiable a bridge player as she is, she has to quit sometime. Do we meet again tomorrow?' I nod dumbly, because I could have taken another thrust of his penis-another exciting, delightful fornication. But tomorrow would have to do.
"'Wonderful. I'll reserve the same cabana. And for the same time?'
"Again I nod. And that began the series of assignations with Cass-and the curious ending. He was really a cad, you know, a vulgar cad."
Charlene Z. as we can see, puts on a gallant show of nonchalance about her predicament. She is overeducated and over-indulged, raised in an atmosphere of social extremes, too much money and too little home supervision-social proprieties must be preserved, but sexual activity is rampant. With the precocity of a thirteen-year-old, she can see the falsity of the social structure without having the true sophistication to judge it properly, on an individual basis, and govern herself accordingly.
Her language, as she tells her story, sounds like that of an educated adult. Many of her perceptive judgments of the people concerned also seem adult, yet she has not the capacity for control of circumstances her apparent sophistication should ensure. In almost tragic gallantry she recites a story that, as we shall see, ends in degradation. Degradation and disgrace.
by the end of her story, Charlene herself is aware of the forces, at least the social forces, that drove her to concupiscence and adultery. As for the biological urges that drove her to seek sex as an outlet for restlessness and over-indulgence, it is doubtful that she understood them, or even considered them. Sex was part of her milieu and therefore, to her, a perfectly commonplace thing. There is a hint, in her closing remarks of this session of her psychiatric therapy, that she understands what the psychiatrist may be able to do to curb her sexual desires. But that, as she infers, is not a desirable attribute in the society to which she must return.
She is the victim here, even though she did contribute to her delinquency and even initiated her original seduction. First of all, she, too, is victim of her emergence from that period of latency in sexual development. This is the period, usually extending from about age seven into puberty, where the child is not particularly curious about bodily functions, even those of its sex organs, which, after all, have as secondary function that of elimination.
At puberty, curiosity about and interest in these organs-by then virtually mature and able to function at a sexual level-is again aroused. Puberty, particularly in young girls, has wrought some remarkable changes. Breasts have begun to develop, legs have become rounded and definitely female in contour, menstrual periods center attention on the vaginal tract itself. There are even urges toward sexual activity, purely from an emotional drive and not simply from curiosity. The temptation to experiment, Whether it be leaping from a shed roof with bedsheet wings in an effort to fly, or indulging in sex becomes very great.
These experiments to indulge in sex appear to be inherent in children who have reached puberty, notably young girls, whose physical configuration, the opening of her vagina, makes such experimentation possible. The instances of forcible rape of young girls, even those who have not reached puberty, is adequate evidence that penetration can be achieved, even though there may be no gratification, no orgasm for the young girl.
Charlene is also the victim, not simply of her general environment-which was conducive to sexual experimentation and indulgence-but her home environment as well, where interest in and supervision of her development was negligible. Had she been given adequate sex education and guidance, she might well have behaved differently, even in the indulgent milieu of her social group.
Karl Bernhardt, in his book Natural Sex Techniques, says, "Actually, we should not need 'sex education' as we usually think of it. Knowledge of sex should be allowed to be integrated to the growth of the child as simply as any other bodily functions." He goes on to say that, with this form of slowly integrated information and guidance, naturalness would take over and we would be spared, as a society, a number of our psychoses and aberrations.
Charlene, as we can gather from other cases cited herein, is not an isolated incident. Maxwell Douglas, in his book on juvenile sex activities Documented Cases of Sub-Teen Sex cites the California Youth Authority as placing the number of girls under fifteen who have had sexual relations at more than a hundred thousand annually. The reports of the National Committee on Crime Prevention and Parole places the national figure at more than one million young girls (under fifteen) who indulge in sex.
These are appalling figures. And they must be accepted. More than a million sub-teen Lolitas ... every year! Charlene (and the others noted here) represent but a tiny fragment. This does not make each fragment any less important. Or any less in need of sympathetic treatment and firm parental guidance.
With such guidance, Charlene might well have grown up to become a fresh, gay, unspoiled and undespoiled young woman. As it was, Charlene falls into a group noted in the Blau-Bender-Rasmussen study of children between the ages of nine and thirteen who had had sexual relations with adults. The conclusion was that, in a number of instances, the girls were "not helpless victims but played an active or even initiating role in their delinquency. They might even be considered the seducers rather than the seduced."
Charlene certainly played an initiating role in her affair with Cass. Why Cass, a man considerably older and certainly not of her peer group? Sigmund Freud, in Clara Thompson's definitive study of his theories, Psychoanalysis: Evolution and Development, is quoted as saying that psychic trauma must come from within not from external incidents. And, in connection with this and Freud's theories on "father fixation" and the "father image" in the sexual activities of young girls, Bender and Blau conclude that "the association in the act of a grownup, who to the child must still represent the omnipotent parent, probably condones the transgression."
Not that Charlene, given her milieu of very permissive sex, needed to have her transgression condoned. It is doubtful, from a close study of her own words, that she felt she was transgressing. Getting caught at it was the transgression within her social sphere. Which is noted in Vance Packard's The Sexual Wilderness as a society that has a growing disregard for social conventions and morality. This has an influence on the young of that society, with respect to their regard or disregard for standards, particularly those of morality.
"Cass was really a cad. If he hadn't been, I don't suppose I could have seduced him in that convertible. Oh, I did seduce him, or at least initiate it. Someone less of a cad would have known how to turn off a child's advances, no matter how provocative. At least, I think so. Or perhaps not. In our circle casual fornication is likely to be the rule rather than the exception. So I really can't say-about whether or not an man would have resisted what I had to offer-and it is quite good. I have a good figure and nice breasts and quite shapely legs.
"Still, Cass is a cad. I say that from hindsight. For those first few meetings he is my gallant, tender lover, and I live perpetually on my private Cloud Nine, waiting each day to meet him. Unfortunately, Cass can't get away that often. And weekends are taken up with club activities.
"At first, for almost a week, we do meet every day, and each session is a wonderful experience ... richer and deeper. Then it drops to every other day.
Then to twice a week. I don't realize it then, but Cass is tiring of my girlish enthusiasm for sex. Or perhaps he's weary of me, a huntsman's game.
"One day I go to Cabana 68, it is now virtually our own, I push open the door and walk in. There is a stranger there. Well, not a stranger, exactly. I know him. It's Bill, married to Alice, the tobacco heiress.
"Bill grins at me and then, as I start to back out, saying, 'Excuse me, I thought this was someone else's cabana,' he reaches over me and shuts the door, enclosing us in semi-gloom. 'Oh, it's Cass's cabana, all right. But he can't make it today, so he suggested I might take his place.' And he studies me carefully, focusing on my breasts and then running his eyes down my legs. 'And I'm happy to oblige. Yes, I am very happy. Provided, of course, it's all right with you.'
"It isn't. I am suddenly sick to my stomach. I mean, I really want to retch and vomit. In fact, I make a break for the John and upchuck in the basin. Cass has just sold me out to any guy who wants to screw me. That's what it amounts to. Not that I really thought our relationship was sacred or even permanent. But I did think it meant something to him. More than just a roll in the hay. Only, as I calm down, I realize that's all it is. Even for me. I just grabbed Cass because he was handy when I needed a man.
"Bill comes in, just as I'm flushing away my lunch, very solicitous. 'Sorry, kid. I didn't realize I was so repulsive. Or even how this might seem to you. I really am sorry. But Cass gave me to understand ... '
"I back up against the basin and nod. 'Oh, I understand. Cass told you I had round heels, and was a good lay ... and that's all I have been to Cass, a good lay. I expect I am.' I try for dignity, and then bust out crying. Bill takes me in his arms, patting my back and making soothing noises. And I bury my face against his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Bill. I didn't mean to turn on the faucets. It's just that I hadn't realized ... '
"Bill keeps patting me and leads me back into the main room. 'Of course, kid. And I ought to be shot for even thinking of taking his place, or trying to force myself on you. I wouldn't have hurt you for the world, kid.'
"He sits down in a chair and holds me on his lap, patting my back until I stop hiccoughing from tears. 'It's not your fault, Bill. I realize that. And I'm just being a baby. So if you want me ... '
"Bill, grins at me. 'You're all right, kid. You're swell. But I don't think I want to be a substitute. I was crazy to think of it. Only I'd seen you around and you looked so cute and desirable...." He shrugged, sort of helplessly, 'Can you forgive me?'
"I smiled at him. 'I can. And do.' And gave him a big kiss, meaning just to make it sort of impersonal but friendly. Only, somehow, sitting there, close to him, smelling his maleness-there is a special odor about men, you know-I began turning that kiss into something real hot.
"And Bill's patting became more than just comforting. I mean, his hands began to stroke my back, all the way down to my derriere. I gave him a little more tongue in that hot kiss and wiggled a little, so my breasts rub against his chest, starting things up for me. And the wriggling set my derriere to moving against his legs and crotch, and things began to happen. Inside me, and inside Bill, I suspect.
"He moves one hand around so it caresses a breast and his other slides under my derriere, working its way up my miniskirt, until he is feeling me up. And I can feel his penis swelling, throbbing against my hip. One hand undoes my blouse and slides in, covering one breast. I turn a little so he can reach it easily and settle back with a sigh.
"Bill is gentler than Cass, less hurried. And maybe a little doubtful about how far he can go with me. By then, with his finger tapping my vagina, I'm ready for him to go all the way. I'm getting hot, real hot. So I finish undoing my blouse and struggle out of it, with Bill helping me, eyeing my breasts. He twists down and kisses one. I raise up a little, to push it closer to his mouth and that opens my legs. His hand reaches in and cups over my vagina, one finger playing on it like it was a bongo drum.
"He stops playing with my cunt long enough to help me slide out of my miniskirt and panties, and I sit there naked in his lap. And I am excited, knowing that I am going to get laid. And I don't care if it's Cass or not. So that does make me a round-heel.
"Bill plays with my breasts and runs a hand around my derriere and then pulls it out and goes to work in earnest on my vagina, fingering me until I'm writhing with excitement, moaning and letting out tiny yelps of pleasure over what's happening. I nuzzle him, kissing his neck as he picks me up and carries me to the couch, standing over me and looking down, sort of dazed. He peels out of his shirt slowly, stopping every now and then to touch my breast or my stomach or my vagina, as if he is reassuring himself I'm still there, and real. He drops his trousers and shorts. I can see his penis, then. I don't know if it's really bigger than Cass's or just seems so. But it looks enormous to me. And very exciting. Because I know now my vagina can stretch, and the more stretch the greater the excitement, and excitement's where it's at.
"Bill leans down and kisses my cunt, playing in it with his tongue, teasing my clitoris so that I'm humping up to meet his tongue, wishing his penis was already in me. And he plays with my breasts and nibbles my nipples. Maybe it's the same old treatment-and it pretty much is, as I find out later-but it works. I nearly scream with the want of his penis in me and reach up to grab his shoulders.
"Bill has very big shoulders and tapers down to a slim pair of hips. I slide my hands down there, trying to lever him over on to me. He lifts his head to murmur, 'Don't rush it, kid. Getting there is half the fun.' And he goes back to tonguing my nipples.
"By that time I am whimpering and pleading, begging him to take me. And finally he slides between my legs, pushing his gleaming cock head up against my vagina, holding it there without going in, moving just a fraction, enough to tease my clitoris and get my juices flowing. Then, without warning, he thrusts. His penis slides in, not slow, like Cass does it, but in one big swoop, so that I nearly shoot off the couch. That method has its own special brand of excitement, because he pulls his penis almost out and does it again, really ramming way up in me.
"I yelp and try to twist away, and then I am humping to meet it, to ram it further up me. Until his wiry pubic hair is right up against my bare little vagina-which isn't so little, now, being stretched and titillated, so that it seems to be growing of itself.
"His prick is so far up me, I can almost taste the glisten of it, though of course, it isn't really that far up. And we really go for a ride, with Bill pumping and my humping, until the tensions get so great that something has to give. I suddenly hump as far as I can with Bill's weight on me, and he drives back, sinking me into the couch.
"Explosions far up inside me rock me. I claw at his shoulder and cry out, almost like little dog barks, while things happen, wonderful, exciting things. Things I'd like to keep going, only if they really kept going I'd probably go crackers. You can stand just so much excitement. And the explosions relieved the tension.
"I shivered and lay still, limp as a rag, and Bill drooped over me, dropping his head by my ear. 'Wonderful! You're wonderful, kid. Really great!' I kissed his neck, but gently, and then closed my eyes, drooping down on the couch, waiting while his penis slid slowly, shiveringly out of me.
"We took our shower together, and Bill's soaping of me started excitement all over again, especially when I played with his penis until it was stiff again. Bill's wife is out of town, visiting her people in Chicago, so he does not have to rush off. He carries me back to the couch and it all begins again, maybe more wonderful than before because we're both too tired to rush it. Slow screwing is best, I think.
"That's what started me fornicating with men, which is different from having an affair. I had Bill, oh, maybe a dozen times. More, if you count our doubles. And then there were the others. I think Cass was spreading the word. Maybe he was a little miffed that Bill took up so much of my time and I didn't give him a date when he asked.
"I got propositions, very carefully worded of course, and the offers of keys to any number of cabanas. And I took some of them up on it. The ones I thought were cute. It got so I knew the ceilings of practically every cabana in the private row. And I had a wonderful time. Not every time was as good as it was with Bill. He had something special. And some of 'em were a little crude, with no real preliminaries which, as Bill said, are half the fun.
"About this time I have my graduation picture made and I meet Professor Jimmy, the official school photographer. He seems to like me a lot. And he takes some extra shots of me, full length. He talks about how I ought to come to his studio for some really good photographs. I guess I was a little naive. I liked the stuff he had shot. So maybe he could do better at his studio. I go down there one afternoon.
"At first he shows me real glamor shots, telling me I really ought to be in pictures, which even I recognize as an opening gambit Especially, since his arm is around my shoulders guiding me from mounted picture to mounted picture, as if I couldn't move under my own power. And his hand wanders. Down my back, first and then he squeezes me and drops his hand over my breast, moving it just a little, teasing my nipple.
"By then I think I know the score-he wants a good lay. And I'm ready for one myself. I mean, by that time, what's another man in a girl's panties? I've had several, some very good, some hot so hot So why not the Professor? He's not big but wiry and sort of pixyish. So I let him play around, getting more intimate with each move, until his hand is inside my blouse, right on one breast He draws a big breath and says, 'Sharl, I know you don't care much for these glamor shots but I have some real interesting ones in my office.'
"That's nearly as corny as 'Come up and see my etchings,' and just about as obvious. But if that's the way he plays, I'll go along. Mostly because his hand on my breast is starting to get things inside me interested.
"Jimmy takes me into his office and displays some nudes. 'very good ones, I think. 'very nice lighting, well composed. I don't think I got excited just looking at female nudes. Why should I? I could look at a pretty good specimen right in my mirror. But it was the idea that these girls had been nude in front of a man, showing their bodies for his delectation, that really began to get me worked up. So when Jimmy said, 'How about it?' I was willing.
"He skips into his studio, saying he'd get the lights and cameras set up and I can undress in his office. It makes me a little nervous, undressed like that and stepping out into the studio. And maybe a little disappointed. He seems just to want another nude model, not a lay.
"Still, it is something of a thrill to stand naked under bright lights and know a man is looking at you, even if it is from behind a camera. Jimmy tells me to change the pose, but apparently I don't do it right, so he comes out and takes hold of me, to move me-I think then. Only his hands begin to wander from just taking hold. He caresses my breasts and then down my stomach and up the insides of my thighs, so that I know he means to lay me.
"I cooperate by giving him a big kiss, pressing my breasts against his chest, while his hands wander down my back, to my derriere. He pulls me up close, so that I feel his penis throbbing inside his pants, which is very exciting, especially with my skin warmed by those lights.
"Jimmy picks me up and takes me to this studio couch, still under those bright lights, and lays me across it, with my derriere on the edge and my legs hanging over. It's a very exciting position, because the skin is stretched taut and much more sensitive to touch. And he touches, running his hands over my breasts and down my stomach and up my thighs and right on to my vagina, until I am wet there with anticipation and I know it's open for him to go in.
"He doesn't. Not with his penis. He kneels between my legs and starts kissing my vagina and running his tongue inside to tease my clitoris. 'very, very exciting, since his hands play over my breasts and stomach at the same time. I moan and writhe under the stimulus of his tongue in my cunt, and spread my legs wide for him. Waiting, wanting more.
"He stops for a moment and steps aside, to shed his shirt and pants. I can scarcely see for the bright lights in my eyes, but enough to know he is undressing. Then he steps between my legs, into the lights, and I can see his penis. It's big, bigger than you'd expect from a rather small character.
"I am not afraid of it, though. I've had some pretty big ones thrust into me and I know I can stretch to take them. Mostly, I just want them, hungrily. I ache for him to push his throbbing prick inside me. I can't reach him but I beckon. He moves on me slowly, rubbing his hard on against my vagina, teasing at my clitoris until I am really ready to scream with the tension and excitement. All his movements are slow, even the way he goes in. Just the tip of his prick ... and he holds it a little more....
"Step by slow step he thrusts his prick into me. I've never felt it done that way, and it is very exciting. And once more he starts playing his hands over my body. I arch up to feel them and thrust at him with my pelvis, until his prick is buried in me, right up to his bush against my vagina. He begins his slow pumping, moving his prick slowly in and out so that I feel its bulbous head moving far up inside me. Lots farther, it seems, than any man has been before. And starting fires up there that I've never felt before, hotter, more exciting.
"I writhe and twist and hump back at him, trying to make him speed up that slow, wonderful rhythm. I beat at his shoulders. I reach down and grab his derriere to try to pull him in deeper and faster. Until I am so tense inside, so hot and excited, I explode before my time.
"And still he keeps on, and on. And the excitement builds again, so tight I nearly scream. I am whimpering and writhing and humping. And it happens! His penis swells and throbs, so that I feel it all up my vagina, and then his tremendous prick spouts a great gob of his come way up, hot ... it seems to fill my belly. And I answer, letting go inside like a small bomb, with such an orgasm as I hadn't dreamed was possible! It was marvelous, simply wonderful!
"And the release was equally wonderful, the slow return of peace and great, great contentment. I slump back on the couch as Jimmy pulls his penis out, holding it just a shade long right at my vagina, and then pulling it out. He knelt again and started kissing my vagina, thrusting his tongue in and seeming almost to scoop up my juices.
"And of course, that started me wanting him all over again. But he didn't put his penis back. Instead, he came around the couch, to my head, and leaned over me ... all the way over me, to kiss my vagina from there. And that put his penis almost in my face.
"It was big and swelling back to fornication size, when he raises his head and looks at me. 'Have you ever had it this way? In your mouth? It's real wild.' And he bends to tongue my vagina again, letting his penis stiffen, aiming it right at my mouth. I never had had it that way, but I was building up to such excitement again, I decide to try it, not that I'm sure of how.
"I open my mouth but his penis is still an inch or so above it. So I reach for it, shivering with excitement from his hands playing over my breasts, while his tongue is in my vagina. I pull on his penis a little and he lowers himself, so that his prick is in my mouth.
"I can taste the juices of it, since it is still slippery and shiny with them. And suddenly I like the taste ... it's salty and sharp. I run my tongue over its bulbous head, sucking on it. He suddenly thrusts with it, and the big head of his prick goes down my throat, almost choking me. And he rides up and down, excitingly. I play with his shaf-what's still outside-and his testes-which are almost on my nose. And I suck, even though I can't really breathe very deeply.
"Jimmy is tonguing my vagina and sucking-I can feel his sucking way up-and playing with my breasts and stomach and even the insides of my thighs. All the time this great bulbous head is riding up and down in my throat, creating new excitement that I never felt before. And I have an orgasm! A very thrilling one, even without a penis inside me. And at the same time, Jimmy has one, too.
"He gives one big thrust, driving his prick far down my throat, his balls almost clog my nostrils. I can feel the throb and pulse of him in my throat, and the sudden flooding of his juices way down. He pulls his penis out, while he's still spurting juices, filling my mouth with this salty flood of his orgasm, my cheeks and chin are dripping with his semen.
"It's an indescribable taste, since most of the taste is really the excitement of sex, or at least partly. The rest is the taste itself, salty and tangy. I lick a few more tastes from his prick and then drop back, exhausted. I don't think I could have taken another fuck.
"Jimmy didn't expect it, thank goodness. I was just emotionally exhausted. And to tell the truth, Jimmy wasn't much better. He sags down by the couch, one hand draped over my breast, murmuring in my ear, 'You're the greatest, Sharl. Really great! This has been wonderful!'
"It is at least half an hour before I even feel like moving. And even then I move very slowly, almost dreamlike. The shower revives me somewhat and I come out at least, a little more than half alive, trying on a smile for size. Jimmy is dressed and grinning at me. 'Sharl, this has been a wonderful afternoon. If you'll come back tomorrow, I'll have the prints ready.'
"I had almost forgotten he'd taken those nudes. So I nod and drift out, still half dreaming of the excitement and wonder of this new method of having sex. Some of the taste is still in my mouth, and I savor it, remembering.
"The next afternoon I go back, pretty sure Jimmy is going to give me another terrific lay. Instead, he has the nudes he shot all finished up. Plus a series of shots of him sucking me and screwing me and of me sucking him.
"I am horrified. 'How did you ... ' And Jimmy grins. 'Automatic cameras. I had three set up. Aren't these dillies?' And he thrust the pictures at me.
"Seeing yourself being screwed, sucking on a man's penis, isn't exciting. It's pretty sickening. It doesn't even bring back memories of excitement. I just sat there staring at those bright, glittery pictures, not really hearing Jimmy.
"And he's talking up a storm. 'Pretty good, aren't they? You can see you just as plain. No mis taking who that is. Why, even your mother would recognize them. Not that I intend to show them to her, of course. Still, I might have to. I've got a lot of money tied up in those pictures. Unless you want to buy them? Huh?'
"I catch a deep breath. 'Jimmy, that's blackmail! And you know I don't have the kind of money to buy these. My allowance is about five dollars a week ... '
"Jimmy pats my arm. 'Look, kid. I'm not blackmailing you. Of course not. And I don't expect you to pay for those pictures. Not one cent.'
"For a moment I'm relieved, then I hear the rest of what he has to say. 'Not one cent ... however, you can repay me. In kind. You know, just helping a fellow out.'
"I don't get it. 'You mean-screw you again? You don't have to blackmail me into that. I came willingly and I'd come back again.'
"Jimmy shakes his head. 'Not quite that, Snarly. Not quite that. I know a number of guys that would ... well, take care of poor old Jimmy ... if they could lay a nice fresh young piece like that.' And he taps the pictures. 'In fact, I showed them to one guy this morning. And he's here, now. Waiting to see if you will take him on. How about it?'
"What can I say? If I don't, Jimmy will show those pictures to Mother, who'll really go into a flip. A real freewheeling ding-dong of a flip. And Father! ... I sit there for a minute and finally I nod. 'Okay. It's a deal. If you give me the prints and the negatives.'
"Jimmy grins, rubbing his hands. 'Smart kid, real smart. And you shall have the prints and negatives ... afterwards.' So I get up like a zombie and walk into the studio, scared spitless of what's coming. The character in there is a nice enough old duck. Not really old, but sagging in places. And he's as nervous as I am.
"Somehow that helps. I mean, I am not quite so dead in my feeling. I go over and sit on the couch by him and begin to take off my blouse. He turns and says, very politely, 'Let me help. I'd really like to.'
"After that, it's not so bad. He's careful and, in some ways, considerate. And the screwing turns out all right, even if I don't give it my full attention, still feeling sick about what Jimmy has done. And what Mother would say. But mostly, how it would affect Father, even if I didn't know him too well. But the old duck was satisfied. In fact, he was quite happy, even if he couldn't manage the second time around, though he tried. He just didn't have the steam.
"I didn't really understand what Jimmy meant when he said he'd give me those prints and negatives afterwards. Afterwards didn't just mean that one time ... Jimmy had me hooked, solid. So, for two afternoons a week and on Saturdays I went to Jimmy's studio. Mostly, the guys were old goats. The first one came back several times and we even got chummy.
"And then came some young ones. Real horny characters, who gave me some really exciting times. I even liked it. And when three of them wanted to work a three way operation, I was willing, though I didn't see how.
"One lay on the couch, with his penis stiff and erect, telling me to sit on it. I had to take it in my rear. That was new, and exciting, crazily exciting. Another climbed on the two of us and thrust his penis in my vagina, and the third stood at my head, for me to suck on him. It was real crazy and exciting.
"I didn't know it then, and didn't find out until after Jimmy's place was raided, that Jimmy had photographed that three-way session. And lots of others. And he had been blackmailing the solid characters, like my elderly friend, who had been screwing me. Jimmy had some other girls under his thumb, too. Some of them might surprise you. It did me, and some of the younger wives.
"That's why it was more or less hushed up. Too many important people, a lot of them right in our set, were involved. And so I didn't go to jail or some reform school, I'm doing this psychiatric bit with you, so I'll be readjusted and normal. That's a laugh! In our set, fornication is normal, with wife-swapping and all the rest. And, as I said, even incest. Normal! What's normal? And how am I going to be readjusted? I was raised in an atmosphere of sex, so you'll have to readjust me to that. I already was adjusted. Maybe a little young, but I'll outgrow that. So what do we do? I suggest we play tiddley-winks until these sessions are over."
Until she was forced into a form of prostitution by Jimmy's peculiar method of blackmail, Charlene felt little or no qualms about her sex activities, except for fear of the one unforgivable sin (in her social sphere) of getting caught. The selling of her body-though she did not actually participate in that phase nor profit by it except to the extent of not having her activities disclosed to her parents-became a real degradation.
It was the crass commercialism of Jimmy's transactions that horrified her, rather than the sexual acts he forced her to commit. She seems to have enjoyed these acts, even though, as she says, she could not personally select her sex partners. Her whole series of sex acts was for the hedonistic gratification of the sexual drive. And this appears to have included those into which she was forced
-in a way of speaking-by Jimmy's blackmail.
Charlene's clear if somewhat juvenile perception of her social milieu and its lax sexual standards, is perhaps very well expressed in her closing comments to her psychiatric therapist. In that she asks him why she should be "readjusted" and made "normal," when that was not the norm of her group. She even suggests, she and the psychiatric therapist "play tiddley-winks."
This may seem a juvenilism, almost a reversion to her childhood, but it does, however, show her recognition of the status of her social milieu, with the added fillip of a childish contempt for it.
CONCLUSION
Presented here were five cases of baby-sitters who became involved in sexual affairs with mature adults. This is certainly not intended as a condemnation of the practice of baby-sitting. Nor is it an effort in expose of its evils, if any such exist.
Most baby-sitting jobs are carried out competently by serious, thoughtful young girls whose major peril is fat or a mild stomachache from raiding the host's refrigerator.
The young girls involved in each of these cases were a baby-sitter only coincidentally. Baby-sitting provided them with the opportunity to indulge their own individual propensity for sexual activity. It is highly probable that, even without baby-sitting jobs, these young girls would have discovered or manufactured the opportunity for their sexual indulgence.
Their age bracket is the essential controlling factor rather than the baby-sitting. Each had just emerged from what Sigmund Freud calls "the period of latency"-from about age seven to puberty-when interest or curiosity about their sex organs is basically dormant. At puberty major physiological changes occur, more noticeably in girls than boys. In girls this is characterized by the emergence of breasts, a rounding out of legs and hips and, most noticeable to each individual, the beginning of menstruation, with a concomitant titillation of the sex organism.
These changes in her physical makeup all tend to focus interest in and curiosity about her sex organ and her own sex potential. This concentration of interest and curiosity may well lead to experimentation-as it did in each of the cases cited-which, in turn, can lead to disastrous results for the young girl, including pregnancy, venereal disease and a general weakening of moral fibre. In some extreme cases-experimentation with the wrong man leading to rape-it can mean death. Suicide is not uncommon at this age level, should a girl find herself in, to her, an intolerable situation-pregnancy, venereal disease or the disgrace of discovery.
There is no single positive solution to the problem. Nature plays this biological trick on young girls who, in our system of social structure and economics, cannot find a normal, legal outlet for their budding desires. Only through thoughtful, sympathetic understanding by parents can a girl be given the necessary advice and help that this difficult period requires.
As Bernhardt says in Natural Sex Techniques, Actually we should not need "sex education" as we usually think of it. Knowledge of sex should be allowed to be integrated to the growth of the child as simply as other bodily functions.
This would call for considerable knowledge and a broad, sympathetic understanding by the parents, particularly the mother-who is the primary source of advice and counsel for a growing child.
So, in a sense, this book is both a warning and an appeal to parents to provide such sympathetic understanding for their children, if they wish to avoid the calamities, such as these case histories, which could overtake a young girl.
