The female's desire to copulate with strangers is so common in fantasy, if not in activity, that a number of psychiatrists and modern researchers feel that the urge, at least is the norm, rather than the exception. Psychiatrists' files are filled with countless cases of women reporting dreams in which they couple with many successive strange men. From Freud, Jung, Havelock Ellis, Elizabeth Black-well, to modern researchers such as Albert Ellis, Masters and Johnson, come reports of the desires and the acts themselves.
In a recent survey on female sexuality, conducted by a colleague of mine, almost all of the women interviewed-whether or not they have given in to the urge-expressed the desire to copulate with men who are strangers to them. Only societal attitudes, reinforced by restrictive familial backgrounds and parental admonitions, kept the majority of the women interviewed from embarking on sexual adventures with strangers.
What happens to the individual's emotional makeup when the dream becomes reality? What are the consequences when the craving for excitement, mystery, and adventure with strangers becomes a lifestyle? To what extent is this kind of promiscuity a deviation? And to what extent does the urge become a symptom of personality disturbance? These are the questions which are the challenge of this volume, and hopefully, the succeeding case studies and compiled research of prominent authorities will provide some illumination to this often neglected subject. Robert M. Goldenson, in his Encyclopedia of Human Behavior, noted that psychologists and psychiatrists have not given promiscuity as much attention as it deserves. The subject has become increasingly relevant in the light of social changes, the new morality, and the widespread occurrence of casual relationships among young people today. indeed, we are caught in a maelstrom of divergent opinions on promiscuity as changing concepts collide with older attitudes and methods of investigation rooted in a more repressive society. It should be remembered that much of the research on promiscuity in the past was confined to the clinical treatment of patients who could not resolve deep-seated emotional conflicts. A typical example is the report of the San Francisco Psychiatric Clinic (1943-1944) on two hundred eighty-seven promiscuous and seventy-eight potentially promiscuous girls. The most glaring similarity in background was family disorganization. Parents were either separated, divorced, or deceased among sixty percent of these patients. To traumatic early experiences was added rootlessness, such as placement in boarding schools, foster homes, etc. It should further be noted that the study of promiscuity in the past was couched in the attitudinal framework of a society that considered sex evil and coitus the only acceptable activity, restricted to marriage for the express purpose of procreation.
But times have changed and what was called promiscuity in the past is now considered, by many liberationists, to be sexual freedom, the fulfillment of normal sexual needs. This does not mean that emotional problems are not as severe today among promiscuous young people and older adults. Surveys reveal that many young people are emotionally disturbed as a result of early familial experiences, just as they had been in previous generations. Further, many are unable to resolve the conflict between the moral dictates of their parents and the permissive attitudes of the new generations, fostered by the sexual revolution.
But there is a new attitude toward casual relationships which many young people have openly embraced and countless older adults have secretly accepted. That is, sexual variety in choice of partners is considered a healthful outlet for a normal sex drive. And this is not just the public declaration of young people, but also the opinion of some modern researchers. Such authorities as Dr. Mary Jane Sherfey, former student of Kinsey, and Dr. James L. McCary feel that the sexually complete female, at least, possesses the desire to couple frequently and at length with a wide variety of partners. Some observers feel that the multiple-partner, multior-gasmic female, described by Dr. Sherfey, would be considered the norm if artificial societal restrictions were removed. Dr. Albert Ellis states in his book, Sex Without Guilt, "Both romantic love and sex satisfaction, I would say, are most easily maintained if the individual who seeks them changes his or her partners frequently."
That we have only recently grazed the surface of our understanding of human sexuality has become increasingly evident as modern researchers introduce new findings and concepts which have caused no little controversy. Indeed, there is considerable disagreement on the definition of promiscuity. The British Medical Association, in their report on Venereal Disease and Young People issued in 1964, defined promiscuity as "intercourse with more than one partner, unrestricted by marriage." Other observers would not confine promiscuity to intercourse. Nor would they consider an extended affair with more than one partner outside of marriage promiscuous.
Albert Ellis notes that according to common parlance, "a promiscuous individual is virtually anyone who has, say, two or more successive or-especially-simultaneous lovers." He poses an example of a woman who carefully selects her partner, takes him on as a lover for a year, and then, for whatever reason, replaces him with another lover, who as the first, has been carefully chosen. Albert Ellis considers it an absurdity to call this type of woman "promiscuous," as she would be labelled by most conservative members of our society.
Robert M. Goldenson defines promiscuity as "transient unselective sexual relations with a variety of partners." A number of researchers would agree with this definition, although there would be some question concerning the meaning of "unselective." Many swinging singles today enter into countless transient relationships and yet are highly selective in their choice of partners, with regard to sexual attraction and personality requirements. Yet the nature of their sexual lifestyle would still be classified as promiscuous.
Although some observers would question the application of the term promiscuity to individuals who seek occasional sexual adventures with a variety of selected and known partners, few would dispute the fact that sexual activity with strangers on a regular basis is a manifestation of promiscuity in its purest form. There are a number of reasons why people engage in sexual relations with strangers, in terms of motivation and causal factors in their backgrounds. To define promiscuity in terms of motivation, as Vance Packard suggests in The Sexual Wilderness, appears to be specious reasoning. "When driven to despair by loneliness a woman must not be considered 'promiscuous' when she seeks to soothe her pain through intimate involvements." On the contrary, Psychiatrist Theodore Rubin notes that one of the symptoms of extreme loneliness is "chronic, compulsive promiscuity, in which sex is used as payment for fleeting contacts and in frustrated attempts to feel liked." Whether the compulsion is chronic or a temporary fling, motivation does not alter the fact of the activity.
Human beings are creatures of habit and often promiscuous females, whose compulsion is reinforced by pleasant experiences through a particular source of sexual contact, will rely on specific places or means to meet strangers. The compulsion shall be treated, then, within the framework of the various outlets for promiscuous activity as well as some of the professions females choose in order to come in contact with strangers.
Most liberal observers would agree that sexual activity with strangers may become an aberration when the individual is incapable of interpersonal involvement or any lasting, warm, meaningful relationship. This is one of the primary problems of chronic, compulsive promiscuity and the various causes for it shall be treated in the succeeding pages.
GuyA.Hayman,Ph.D. Los Angeles, California May, 1973
CHAPTER ONE
THE HITCHHIKERS
Gettin' picked up by strangers on the highway is out of sight. Suckin' and ballin' with 'em, I mean. I found that out when I was hitchhikin' with my friend Patty. It just sort of happened one night by accident. Then after that we went out looking for more of that hot meat on wheels.
The first time we got picked up was when we left this party. Both Patty and I got fed up with this clown that took us to the party in his car. He was a real conceited creep and he kept playing these put-down games with us. We met him at one of those dance bars and he had balled both of us. But I guess he got kinda ticked off 'cause I wouldn't let him in my panties again. So we just got up and left.
If a stud turns me on, he can get into my panties anytime, but that don't mean I have to make it with him again and again. None of these affairs for me. I like fresh meat, one after the other.
I started lookin' for strangers in the dance bars, but those places sort of turned me off. They can be a real drag. You meet a lot of phonies, you know, like this creep that took us to the party. They give you a long line about how great they are and by the time they get around to making it with you, you're bored out of your mind. That's why we got him to take us to this party. I was bored and I wanted to meet some new studs, but the party was sort of a flop anyway. What I needed was excitement and I sure found it when I got into this hitchhikin' scene.
A lot of guys try to date me, but they don't understand. I've had it with this romance and true love bit. I got burned a couple of times and that was enough for me. The second time didn't matter too much 'cause it was sort of a farce anyway. But the first time I thought I was going to die. I thought I couldn't live without that bastard. All he really wanted was to get into my pussy several times and that was it. He really had me believing he loved me. But after a while I was just used merchandise as far as he was concerned. I guess he was one of those creeps who think that girls have to be virgins in order to make good wives. Can you believe that? There are still some of those kind of weirdos around today. I don't believe in marriage anyway. My folks are divorced now. Most of my friends have gotten divorced or they're playin' around. I don't think there's any such thing as true love.
Well, anyway, Patty and I just got up and left this party. We were a hell of a long way from home. The party was in Victorville and we had to make it back to San Bernardino. There was a lot of traffic comin' that way from Las Vegas and other places and I guess a lot of people were headin' toward L.A. A lot of cars slowed down and some stopped, but we just sort of ignored them and walked the other way when we decided that the driver wasn't exactly what we wanted. Here we were, stuck out in the middle of the highway and we were actin' choosey. But we just didn't want any old creep or pervert to pick us up.
Then a four-door sedan Ford pulled up and a young husky voice yelled, "Hey, you wanna lift?" Patty and I checked the car out. They were a couple of cute young guys. We found out later that they were stationed at this air force base, which isn't too far from where we live. Anyway, this guy on the passenger's side got out and motioned Patty to get into the front seat. Then he opened the back door and asked me to climb in. "Where you headed, goodlookin'?" the sexy stud asked as he climbed into the back seat with me.
"S-S-San Bernardino. And You?"
"Same place, baby. We're stationed there. What's your name?"
"S-S-Sandra," I stuttered.
"Say, are you cold, baby?" he said in a warm sexy voice. I shrugged my shoulders like I didn't know which end was up. "Well, you sure sound like your cold the way you're talkin' and the way you're shakin' there. Here, let's see if we can make things a little warmer for you." He put his big muscular arm around me and pulled me close to him and I began to get warm tingly feelings all over.
"And what's your name, up there in front?" he asked. Patty turned around and smiled. "Patty. What's yours?"
"Chuck, and this is Mike, Patty," he said pointing to the driver.
"Hi, Patty," Mike said, and then we all started to shake hands and exchange "Hi's." I got to giggling because Chuck was shakin' my hand with his one arm around me and here we were introducin' ourselves all snuggled up next to each other. Then we were all talkin' at once. You know, the usual small talk between strangers to sort of break ground, but the kinda talk no one was really interested in. Then everyone just sort of dropped off into silence and all I could hear was the purr of the engine.
Mike put his arm around Patty and she -edged up closer to him. When I turned to look at Chuck, his eyes were filled with urgent hunger. He pressed his mouth against mine and placed his large, manly hand under my chin to brace the kiss. His hot, savage tongue shot between my lips and wrapped around my tongue, raping it and devouring it. His tongue continued to ravage the inside of my mouth as his hand caressed my firm tits through the thin material of my knit pullover. His hand slipped under my pullover and pressed against the bare hot flesh of my abdomen. Slowly it crept up past my navel and cupped one of my tits. I wasn't wearing a bra and I could see that Chuck was nearly getting his rocks off just feeling those bare tits.
We sucked each other's tongue in and out. His tongue went into my mouth, then mine went into his, back and forth. My pussy was creaming just from the love battle that was going on between our tongues. Finally our mouths unlocked and Chuck was gently urging me with his hands to lie down on the seat. As I squirmed around, I looked up at the front seat and saw Patty's head desappear. Mike must have had a roaring hard-on because she was suckin' him like there was no tomorrow. The car bolted faster, then slowed down, then faster again. Mike's foot was going crazy on the accelerator as Patty was drivin' him out of his mind with her hot mouth.
Chuck had me down on the seat and yanked my knit pullover up over my tits. My nipples were rock hard. Chuck tweaked them with his fingers, then he dove down like a madman, sucking, licking, biting, and chewing on each quivering hard nipple. He devoured my tits, sucking them in like a vacuum. Slowly his warm hand slid along my thigh and moved up until it pressed against my bulging snatch. He traced the outline of my throbbing pussy through the sheer material of my panties. I started rocking on the seat as his fingers probed my pussy through the fabric.
Then his fingers slipped under my panties and worked their way to the lips of my girlhood. I gasped in ecstasy as his fingers played with my pouting cunt lips that kept opening and closing in wild anticipation. "Ohhhhh, God, Chuck, oooooooh, baby." He pulled my panties down and his hot tongue invaded my cunt. "Aahhhgggg, Chuck, you're driving me crazy."
He started slurping and sucking until my hot love juices were pouring out all over his face. That drove him even wilder and he began to devour my pussy like a madman. "Ohhhh, Sandra, baby, your sweet pussy tastes so good."
His savage tongue kept teasing my clit. "You tongue-fucker, I'm I'm going to, un, uh-uhh, c-c-come. You're making me ... mak ... I'm commmmmmmmmming." My hot pussy come was pouring out in torrents and Chuck was slurping and swallowing the nectar of my sex.
Just then I heard Mike panting and gasping in the front seat. Patty was really going to town on his cock. The car slowed down to about twenty miles per hour. All of a sudden Mike let out a loud groan and the car jolted as he slammed the accelerator down to the floorboard until we were hitting about sixty-five miles per hour. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhggggggh, Patty, baby, ooohhhh." Mike was bucking all over the place. When he shot his load, I thought he was going to lose control of the car. He bucked so hard that he knocked Patty off of his erupting cock. Patty sat up startled. His white-hot come was still spurting, shooting high in the car and splattering the windshield.
Mike slowed down almost to a dead stop along the shoulder of the road. He pointed to the glove compartment and Patty quickly opened it and pulled out a rag. Mike grabbed it and started wiping his come off the windshield. Patty went back to his crotch, while he was doing this, to lick up the rest of his come. They way she was slurping on his cock, his love juice must have still been spewing out of his blowhole.
Chuck and I were sitting up now and I was caressing the bulge that was making his pants stick up like a tent. God, he had a huge prick. I could feel through his pants that it was thick and long. He was hung like a bull. I unzipped his pants and his white boxer shorts shot up out of his fly like a circus tent going up, as his huge pole strained at the material. I worked the fly of his shorts around to the pulsing, bulging head of his cock and released it.
His huge whanger snapped out of his shorts, rocking back and forth, throbbing and straining like an animal that had just been released from its cage. I lowered my lips to its bulging head. I breathed in the salty musky scent of Chuck's manhood. My mouth could hardly stretch around the monstrous pulsing melon that crowned his cock. Chuck gasped as my hot lips caressed his knob and my tongue darted at his blowhole.
Slowly my mouth slid down one side of the long shaft-down to the root of his huge flesh-tree. I opened his shorts wider and pressed my face against the soft black forest that surrounded his magnificent monument. The aroma of freshly laundered shorts mixed with the fragrance of his pubic hair. I sucked and chewed on his fertile black grove. I reached down into his shorts and pulled out the two giant orbs of his manhood. I licked and sucked on each of his balls. I sucked like I was trying to drain his love juice from the huge round storage tanks of his sex. "Ahhhggggh, baby, you're driving me crazy," Chuck gasped as he spread his legs wider.
I licked and sucked my way up the long shaft until I reached the pulsing head. I stretched my mouth as far as I could and then I plunged it down over the head. "Ohhhhhh, God, baby, baby, suck it. That's it. Suck harder. I've got a hot lunch waiting for you."
My hot mouth could only go down just a little past the head and I could feel it jabbing against my throat. I tried, but I couldn't swallow his manhood any farther. If I could go down to the root of his cock, I'd have to learn to take the big fucker down my throat and it would probably end up in my stomach.
For the size of his cock I had to make do the best way I could with my little mouth. So I slurped for all I was worth on that throbbing melon-head of his. Chuck started squirmin' all over the place. "That's it, baby. Oooooooh, you little cocksucker, you're doin' just fine, just ... aaaaaahhhhhhh." I was bobbin' my head up and down as fast as I could go. Chuck started humpin' and buckin' like a stallion gone crazy.
I had my hands around his big basketballs and I was rubbin' them all the time I was slurpin' his dick. I reached down under his balls and I could feel the pipeline of his sex swell and stiffen until it got hard as steel. Man, I could feel that load coming. It was going to be a real gusher. Chuck was panting real loud now. "Oooh, baby, I've got your hot lunch right ... right-heeeeeeere."
Volumes of thick hot love juice poured into my mouth, slamming against every side and washing down my throat. His salty hot love milk kept gushing out of his volcanic cock until it spilled out between my lips and got all over his stomach and pubic hair. I licked all I could of the rest of his tasty sex that was now trickling out of his pulsing blowhole. Then I put my face down on the soft forest at the root of his cock and breathed in the sharp fragrance of his come mixed with the manly scent of his pubic hair. I pressed my face further into his black bush and started lickin' all the come that had spilled on it. When I had licked his bush clean, he put his hands on my cheeks and said, "Ohhhh, baby, I want to fuck you in the worst way."
Just then we were coming into the city limits of San Bernardino. Patty suggested that we go over to our apartment and really do things up right. Patty and I were sharing this place. Chuck and Mike didn't have to report in until the next morning and everyone was so turned on we didn't give her any argument.
As soon as we got in the door of our apartment, Chuck grabbed me and plunged his hot tongue deep into my mouth. He got me so hot with his deep French kissing that my pussy was getting sopping wet again. I broke the kiss and told Chuck we ought to freshen up a bit. "Why don't we take a shower together, Chuck?"
"Sounds great, baby. Lead the way." Mike and Patty were already going at it on the sofa. "Hurry up," Patty cried, "That shower sounds good to us, too." We tore off our clothes like we were in a race. Chuck's huge whanger was waving back and forth. It was already rock-hard. As we soaped each other up and down, I was turned on by Chuck's hard muscular body. And I could see by the way he was panting, he was turned on by the curves of my body.
He soaped my tits and rubbed and kneaded them. His tongue shot into my mouth again as he squeezed my slippery tits with his big hands. While our tongues wrapped in savage lust, his hands continued to soap my slender torso. He was nearly driving me crazy as he stuck his soapy finger into my puckering navel.
His hands continued down to my bush and cupped my twitching, bulging box. Then they went underneath, caressing my cunt lips on the way to my asshole. He took the bar of soap and plunged it into my pussy lips. I almost screamed, but I was too turned on to care if the soap was stinging. Then he soaped my asshole real good. Suddenly one of his slippery soapy fingers plunged deep into my rectum. "Ahhhhhggggh, God, Chuck. What are you doing?" His finger stayed tightly inside my asshole. He didn't answer me. He just kept plunging his fucking tongue into my mouth while he was finger-fucking my ass.
With his finger still in my ass, he turned me toward the shower and rinsed me off. Then he started sucking me savagely on my tits while his finger kept sliding back and forth in my rectum. His tongue slid down my torso and darted into my navel. He began to suck with brutal lust on my navel, trying to suck it all the way into his mouth with the suction of a vacuum. Then he slid down to my bush and started chewing and sucking on my pubic hair like a madman. Now he was devouring my pussy with his frothing mouth. After he got it real slippery and lubricated with his hot spit, the thumb of the same hand that was pressed against my crotch with one finger up my asshole now plunged into my cunt. He had a hold of me like a bowling ball.
With a firm grip on both of my holes he lifted me into the air and brought my tits level with his mouth. He started sucking each prick-hard nipple until I thought I was going to come. He brought me down again and kept goosing both of my holes with his thumb and finger until I was shaking with orgasm.
"Okay, baby, it's about time we get in some real balling," he said as he turned off the shower. I looked down at his monstrous pulsing cock and couldn't imagine how he could ever get that giant tree inside me.
When we had dried off and walked into the living room, we found Patty and Mike fuckin' on the sofa. They were in a sittin' position and Patty was slidin' up and down on Mike's pole like she was pumpin' for oil. She was facing away from Mike while she was bouncing up and down for all she was worth. She had that far-off glassy stare that looked like she was about to get her cookies. Then with his cock still plunged deep inside her, she swung around on her pivoting cunt. Now she was face to face with Mike. "Oh, Mike, oh, oh, baby, I'm going to
... c-come. Kiss me, you fucker!" As their mouths locked together, Patty was moaning like a cat in heat. She was writhing, shaking, and creaming all over Mike's lap. Her pussy come was trickling down the calves of his muscular hairy legs.
Then Mike started grunting like he had a terrible load he wanted to get rid of. His hands gripped Patty tightly around the buttocks. Patty started moaning again like she was climbing toward the top again for another orgasm. Mike reached into the crack of her ass and caressed her asshole, sliding his fingers to her pussy lips that were being seared by his plunging hot pole.
Mike kept washing Patty's asshole with her own love juice. She had creamed so much that both of them were sopping wet with her sex. Then as his ramrod pumped faster and faster inside her ravaged cunt, he plunged his finger deep inside her asshole. "Ahhhhhgggg, Mike, you're making me come again, you wonderful bastard." Mike was buckin' and humpin' like he was going crazy. He had that glassy stare in his eyes, too. Then they were both shaking, writhing, and squeezing each other as they shot their love juice together.
All the time we were lookin' at them, Chuck was massaging my tits and his huge hard whanger was pressed against the crack of my ass. When Patty dismounted, Mike's slippery wet cock was still rock-hard and some come was still spewing out of his blowhole. I couldn't let that gorgeous hard-on and the rest of Mike's love juice go to waste. I couldn't control the compulsion to go down on Mike-even though Chuck was right behind me and Patty was standing there panting from the workout she had.
Mike looked at me in disbelief as I started to suck his cock. He began to moan and his hands caressed my bobbing head. I don't think he minded at all that I was slurpin' his prick, the way his hands caressed my face and his fingers played with the rim of my mouth that was sliding up and down his tool. Mike must've wanted me from the beginning, the way he had kept looking at me. I know I'm cuter than Patty and I haven't run into a guy yet that wasn't hot for me.
I don't think Patty was objectin' too much since she was kinda worn out from all that fuckin'. Besides I've known her for a long time and we had shared a lot of guys. It was Chuck I was worried about. But I guess it was all right with him, too, 'cause he started rubbin my pussy and my asshole while I was suckin' Mike. I had gotten so horny watchin' those two that I was going out of my mind. I was gettin' turned on by the taste of Mike's salty come mixed with Patty's pussy come that was all over his slippery rod. It was the best of both worlds. I was swallowing the love juice of man and woman.
When I had finished draining Mike's cock, I turned around and saw Chuck slurping away at Patty's sopping pussy. They were both moaning in ecstasy. Finally Chuck came up for air. "Well, Mike," Patty gasped, "I think it's about time we take that shower." Mike jumped up and they left the room.
Chuck and I were standing there staring at each other like a couple of hungry animals. Chuck grabbed me and plunged his mouth down on mine in a deep sloppy kiss. The juices from his mouth still had the taste of Patty's pussy come.
Then Chuck pressed me down on the sofa. I was gettin' nervous 'cause I had never seen such a huge pole on a man before, let alone have anything that size up my pussy. "First, I'm going to get your sweet pussy all relaxed and juicy before we get into some real ballin'," Chuck panted.
He started chewin' on my pubic hair, then opened his mouth wide and cupped my love mound as if he were to eat my whole pussy in one swallow.
He sucked my aching cunt into his mouth like a vacuum and then started lickin' and slurpin' my tender pussy lips. He spread my lips with his fingers, then plunged his hot mouth deep into my eagerly waiting snatch. He was licking, sucking, and biting, my prick-hard clit until I was getting my jollies. I wrapped my legs around his head, humping, bucking, and pressing my eager pussy deeper into his face. "I'm coming, baby. Here's my love juice-all for you ... ahhhhhhhhhh."
Now that my pussy was sopping wet, Chuck lifted my mound up with his hands on my buttocks and started to position the huge head of his cock at my cunt lips. I gasped as I saw that huge fucker trying to pry its way into my quivering pussy. "Oooooooh, Christ!" I screamed. I thought he was going to split me wide open. Chuck had the head barely inside my cunt lips and I thought I was going to die from the pain. He eased his giant tool out again. "I think maybe we ought to go into the bedroom, baby, where you'll be more comfortable." He took me by the hand and sat me down on the bed.
He stood beside the bed with his huge whanger waving back and forth in front of my face. I was scared by that pulsing monster and yet I loved it. Chuck had me so turned on, I wanted that giant specimen of manhood inside me-even if it did hurt me-even if it killed me. I wanted all of him. My pussy wanted to eat him alive. I started kissin' and suckin' on it like I was worshippin' it, preparing it for the sacrifice-my sacrifice.
Chuck was panting louder now. His cock was twitching and throbbing with urgent need. He pushed me back onto the bed and placed a pillow under my ass. Then he spread my legs and put the straining monster at my pussy lips again. I thought I was already being filled up as he eased the head slowly, little by little into my aching cunt hole. "Ohhhhh, God, Chuck." I was screaming in pain and lust at the same time. I saw that thick long shaft sink into me a little more. Then a little more. "Ahhhhhggggh, you're killing me, baby."
Chuck stopped as though he didn't know whether we should go on or not. I dug my fingers into his back, slid my hands up the back of his neck, and caressed his head. Now he knew that I didn't want him to pull out. He started easing more and more of that huge shaft into my whimpering pussy. Oh, God, I felt so filled up I thought his cock was going to end up in my throat.
Then he started to pump his huge pole in and out very slowly. The pain was mixing with the urgent sweet sexual feelings of my pussy and I was moaning in ecstasy. "That's it, baby, that's it, get that huge fuckin' pole of yours up there. Ohhhhhh, baby, that's the way. Yesssssssssss." His giant tool started slipping in and out faster and faster. Chuck's eyes were gettin' all glassy. Now he was pounding the hell out of me.
I reached down to feel that magnificent shaft go in and out of me and when I lifted my hand back up I saw blood on it. But I didn't care now. I was about to slam into another screaming orgasm. "I'm coming, Chuck, I'm commmmmmmmmmming."
"I'm right with you, baby," Chuck panted, "Here it is-aahhhhhhhhhhhgggggh." The explosion of his thick hot come flooded my pussy and he still kept slamming his tool into me as his come splashed around inside me. The last thrusts of his cock made the most beautiful sweet fuckin' I ever had.
The incidence of young people hitchhiking to engage in sexual relations has not been established by any thorough investigation to date. But even the casual observer driving the city streets and the highways of our nation cannot avoid being aware of the alarming numbers of young people seeking rides. That young people are becoming increasingly promiscuous has been well documented by such researchers as John H. Gagnon and William Simon. And the alarming rise in promiscuity today, together with numerous reports and interviews regarding hitchhiking for sexual adventures, strongly suggests that more young people are engaging in such activity than ever before in American history.
Another phenomenon that has received considerable public attention is the widespread increase in those people who have deliberately chosen the single life, who enjoy complete sexual freedom and play the game by a set of rules that includes "no permanent ties." This relatively new lifestyle has been treated at length in Vance Packard's The Sexual Wilderness. And it is this lifestyle that the subject of this case history has chosen. Sociologists, including John H. Gagnon and William Simon, have pointed to the current breakdown in the family structure as a contributing factor to the widespread promiscuity among single people today.
Where once family ties and the demands of emotional interaction could be spread among dozens of persons in the family structure, it now narrows to two parents and often one. Sandra belongs to that group of young people who have grown up in an atmosphere of feeling rejected by parents. Sandra's feelings of rejection-reinforced by her parents' divorce and the absence of a father in the home-were compounded by the traumatic adolescent experience with the young man who rejected her. The trauma resulting from a highly charged emotional commitment on her part-she reported that she felt she "couldn't live without" him-set the pattern of her avoiding permanent ties, or any kind of emotional involvement. Strangers provided her that security against being hurt again.
Sandra, like so many young people, had taken stock of her parents' relationship and decided that the institution of marriage and the traumas that result from emotional commitments are not worth the cost of becoming involved. She sees marriage as a trap of loneliness, where two people are pl-edged to each other for life, yet cannot communicate or fill each other's needs.
And like so many young people, Sandra is aware of the high divorce rate, which verifies her feelings that marriage is an insecure state. She decides, in effect, to play the field, to play it safe. She is further influenced by the impact of divorce among her friends and associates. "Most of my friends have gotten divorced or they're playin' around. I don't think there's any such thing as true love."
Although Sandra views marriage as a trap of loneliness, she herself is lonely and her neurotic hunger for affection, together with the risks she takes in hitchhiking for affection, is an expression of her loneliness. Such behavior as an indication of loneliness has been pointed out by J. F. Cuber and P. B. Harroff in The Significant Americans. They state that the very lifestyle promiscuous singles choose-placing themselves in close contact with members of the opposite sex who are also "confessing" their loneliness by making themselves available-indicates the need they feel for affection. The basic difference between them and normally dating couples is the degree to which they are willing to go to satisfy that need for affection. And Sandra, as her history reveals, goes so far as to risk her life for affection.
As for the current behavior of college students-the category to which Sandra belongs-Kinsey's report of a restrained pattern of sexual activity is now outdated. His findings were taken from an investigation that is now over twenty years old. The recent studies of Gagnon and Simon are more reliable in terms of current behavioral patterns. Even in 1968, Vance Packard asserted the converse of Kinsey's findings:
Some assume that as more and more of the young people go to college they will adopt a relatively more restrained pattern of sexual behavior, such as Kinsey found among his college educated subjects. Others believe the converse: that as colleges continue to draw in more students with only a modest level of scholastic aspiration, the college student will tend more closely to reflect the sexual patterns of younger people in the general populace. Your author leans to this latter view.
Sandra's school records, intelligence tests, interviews, and even her speech patterns reveal that she is not scholastically oriented. In fact her performance has often been below average. She belongs to that vast number of college students whose behavior tends to support Packard's assumptions. She is further a member of that growing segment of the population dedicated to sexual freedom and the single life which has provided credence to Packard's observation of the contemporary American scene.
The consequences of the risks Sandra takes in her neurotic search for affection are revealed in the following acount.
Patty and I were so tripped out on hitchhikin' for suckin' and ballin' that we cut classes for two weeks. I was gettin' some real education out there on the highway and right now college was a bore. We would hitchhike to Victorville and then back to San Bernardino. We were gettin' some beautiful lays right out there in that high desert area between Victorville and the pass that goes down into San Bernardino.
We finally decided that we should split up and hitchhike alone. It didn't always work out too well with two chicks and one guy. Besides, I didn't like the idea of sharing my suckin' and ballin' with another girl all the time. I want the guy to get turned on by me and me alone. Patty was hep to the idea.
There for a while, that high desert area was get-tin' to be like home for me. I mean, several guys that picked me up balled me right out there in the middle of the desert. Some guy got the idea first and then after that I was telling other guys that picked me up that I wanted it right out there in the open-bare-ass in the warm desert air. Oh, Christ, that felt good, with the desert breeze caressing the crack of my ass and my twitching cunt while I sucked off some handsome stud, or while he balled me.
I remember one guy who said he'd never done anything like that in his life. His ballin' and cunt lappin' had always been confined to the bedroom. Well, we got way off the highway and I showed him one of the spots where it would be nice and private. He already had a roaring hard-on just thinking about it. I kept rubbin' that hard prong through his pants as we pulled off the dirt road. I just got out of the car and started strippin', and he followed my example. That desert air was making the nipples of my tits stand out like a couple of hard-ons. When he saw me standing in front of him bare-assed with rock-hard nipples, he almost creamed in his shorts just looking at me. He ripped his shorts off and came at me like a hungry animal gone mad. My tits were gettin' little goose bumps from the desert breeze and that excited him all the more. He grabbed both of my tits and thrust his tongue into my mouth and damn near swallowed my tongue, he was so turned on.
Well, he ended up suckin' just about every part of me-my tits, my navel, my cunt, my asshole, my legs, my ears, and even my toes. He wouldn't let me suck him very long 'cause he was already too excited. He barely got his cock into my cunt and he came. He was one of those quick-shooters.
That didn't bother me too much 'cause there were a lot more where he came from. There was all kinds of highway meat out there. I did just about everything with the guys that picked me up. A lot of guys these days like to stick their cocks up girls' asses. And I did a lot of ass-fuckin', too. I really groove on it. I think the sixty-nine is great, too.
Well, if I wasn't ballin' and suckin' out in the open desert I was doin' it in some guy's apartment, a motel, or in the apartment Patty and I were sharing. One guy insisted on taking me to L.A. with him. He told me he had a penthouse there. So I figured what the heck. That would be a whole new hitchhikin' scene for me.
Anyhow, this guy with the penthouse balled the hell out of me. He wanted to take me back to San Bernardino but I wouldn't let him. Hell, that would spoil my fun. I told him that hitchhikin' is my favorite sport. Well, I had no sooner left this guy's penthouse than I started the old thumb waving. I sure didn't have to wait long. Some guy in an MG pulled up and said, "Hop in!" When I climbed in, he asked, "Where can I take you?"
"No place in particular," I replied, "What do you have in mind?" A big smile went across his face. That was all he needed.
"How about my apartment?"
"You're the driver, baby," I said in a soft sexy voice. I started pullin' his meat out right there before he had a chance to put the damn car in gear. He was a little startled at first 'cause I was gettin' so aggressive, but he sure wasn't doin' any complaining about it. He had a roaring hard-on in no time. He put the car in gear and tore out of there like a bat out of Hell. I was suckin' him all the way over to his apartment. When we got there, we did just about everything in the book-and some things that weren't in the book.
After foolin' around in L.A. for a while and gettin' a good supply of strange meat, I was sort of in the mood for some more of that desert cock. I was gettin' kinda bored with L.A. so I started hitchhikin' back to San Bernardino. Well, two good-lookin' guys in a van pulled up. I'd been picked up before by two guys in a car and I had a wild time. The more meat and the more lovin' I can get at one time, the better.
The one guy was older and he had a real tough sexy look. He was really turning me on. The younger guy was cute. He had a sexy moustache and he looked like he would be a wild lay. The older guy hopped out of the passenger's side of the van. "How far you going?" he asked in a real deep husky voice.
"I live in San Bernardino."
"Well, that's right on our way, baby. We're going to Las Vegas." The older guy motioned me to get in the middle. He slammed the door real hard and locked it. Then the young driver slammed down the accelerator and the van tore off like a getaway car.
It was sort of weird. They were both quiet. No one said a word. All I could hear was the young guy breathin' kinda heavy and he had a real kooky excited look in his eyes. The older guy was just staring at me, like he was examining me. He had sort of a cold, detached look on his face.
I finally had to break the ice. "My name's Sandra. What's yours?" The older guy answered, "Boyd ... and this here's Frank."
Frank didn't say a word.
"Glad to meet you, Boyd and Frank." Frank still didn't say anything. "Say, what's the matter with your friend? Can't he talk?"
"Sure he can," Boyd said in a half playful, half menacing voice. "Say something to the young lady, Frank." Frank turned his head to me. He opened his mouth but he didn't speak. "I said say something to the young lady Frank!" Boyd's gruff voice was more menacing this time.
"Hi," Frank grunted without any enthusiasm.
"See," Boyd said in a funny tone, "I told you Frank could say something." I was gettin' nervous. These guys were acting too weird for me. I think Boyd noticed how nervous I was gettin' cause he put his arm around me. His change in behavior surprised me and I jumped when he first touched me.
"What's the matter, Sandra? You're so nervous," Boyd said now in a more affectionate tone. "Calm down, baby. Relax. Your in good hands. Leave the driving to us." He started chuckling and I let out a little nervous laugh.
We were about halfway to San Bernardino. Boyd had his arm around me for some time, but now he seemed to be gripping me harder and harder until it was hurting. "Why don't we get a bite to eat?" I blurted out. "I'm hungry." I had to get out of that van. I didn't trust these guys. If things got worse, maybe I could make a run for it when we stop to eat.
"Did you hear the lady, Frank? She wants a bite to eat. Pull over to that cafe up ahead." Frank swung the van into the cafe parking lot like a robot, not saying a word. "Okay, Sandra," said Boyd, "what would you like? I'll get something to go and we can eat in the car."
"Oh, no. Please, I would just as soon eat in the cafe. I need to get out and stretch for a while. I feel uncomfortable."
"Just as you say, baby," Boyd said. We got into one of the booths. Boyd had me sit on the inside and he sat next to me. When Frank sat down on the other side he kept staring at me with an animal-like hunger in his eyes. Boyd's hand crept over to my crotch. I was wearing slacks so he couldn't get at my pussy. He kept rubbing my bulging box under the table-even while the waitress was taking our orders. We all had hamburgers and cokes. Boyd acted frustrated that he couldn't get his fingers in my pussy. He was rubbing my bulging mound through the fabric harder and harder. He finally squeezed my crotch so hard that I let out a gasp.
When we got back to the van, I still didn't trust them. I thought if I could sit on the outside, I could always jump out when we got into slow traffic. Besides, we would be going through some slow business districts when we get to San Bernardino. It would be easier to jump out then-in case they give me any trouble. "Please, I want to sit on the outside this time, since I have to get off in San Bernardino, anyhow."
Frank looked at Boyd and shook his head no. "It looks like Frank doesn't wan't you to sit on the outside, baby," Boyd laughed. "He would rather have you sitting close to him."
"Please, I'm more comfortable on the outside. I insist."
"Just as you say, baby," Boyd said, returning to his warm, affectionate tone. We were all very quiet the rest of the way into San Bernardino. Boyd had his arm around me and held onto me tightly. I was so relieved when we got into San Bernardino. As soon as we got on one of the slower streets, I said, "You can let me off here. Thanks a lot."
"Oh no," Boyd said, "We're not going to let you off, baby. We're taking you with us." I was afraid of that. I decided to make a jump for it. Surely they wouldn't come after me if I jump out of the van here in town. I decided to distract his attention. "Watch out!" I screamed, pointing to Frank's window. Boyd turned his head just long enough for me to unlock the door and swing it open. I jumped out into the street, but Boyd was too quick. He caught hold of my hand. Frank slammed on the brakes.
I struggled as hard as I could to get away from him. Boyd was trying to pull me back into the van, but I kept resisting. I screamed for help, but no one came to rescue me. Boyd was too strong. He had me back in the van before I could let out another scream and we sped off. He slammed his hand over my mouth and pushed my head down on his lap. "Don't you do that again, baby. I don't want to hear one more peep out of you. You understand? You keep your head right down on my lap, see, and I don't want you sitting up until I tell you. If you don't obey me, I'll kill you. Do you understand me? I'll kill you."
I was moaning and whimpering, but I didn't give him any more resistance. He pushed my head down harder into his crotch. I could feel that he had a hard-on. He pulled his throbbing cock out of his fly and said, "Suck it! You heard me-suck that meat, baby, or I'll kill you!" He pushed my head down on his pulsing rod. "That's it. Suck it! Suck it harder! I want to hear you slurping on that cock!" Frank started grunting and cackling like a crazy man. He was bouncing up and down like a five-year-old and slapping the steering wheel.
I was slurping on Boyd's cock for all I was worth. This time it was really a matter of life or death. His cock swelled more and got even harder. I could feel his load coming and then his thick hot come spurted into my mouth. He pushed my head down with brutal force-all the way down the long shaft of his cock until my lips were touching his pubic hair. I was gagging but he still held me there. "Swallow it! Swallow all of my hot jism! I don't want to see you waste a drop." He finally let me rise to the top of his cock so that I was able to take the rest of his come. "That's it, baby. Now get the rest of it. There's some more hot jism trickling out. See it? Now slurp it!"
We were on the road toward Victorville. Boyd finally let me sit up now that we were out in the desert. "Take that road over there!" he commanded. Frank pulled off on a small side road and we drove for a long time until Boyd grunted. "Pull over here, off the road. That's it. Keep driving for a while. Okay, stop!"
Boyd dragged me out of the car and Frank jumped out like a wildman, grunting and breathing real loud.
Both of them started tearing off my clothes. One held me while the other got stripped. Boyd grabbed my tits and squeezed them until I screamed in pain. He slapped me across the face and said, "I don't want to hear a peep out of you." Then he started sucking on them savagely, and biting my nipples until they were bleeding. Frank plunged his cock into my pussy from the rear while Boyd pushed my head down on his cock. "Get the blanket!" Boyd yelled. Frank got the blanket out of the van and spread it on the ground.
Then the two of them really tore into me, fucking me and sucking me, biting on my pussy and forcing me to suck them. Frank shoved his cock brutally up my asshole, then Boyd did the same. They did just about everything to me. They had me in just about every position and every combination of sexual acts they could think of.
I guess I should consider myself lucky that they didn't kill me. When they left me out there in the middle of the desert, my tits, my pussy, and my rectum were bleeding. It seemed like it took forever to reach the main highway. I was scared to hitchhike after that, but when an elderly man stopped to ask me if he could help me, I was relieved. He took me on into San Bernardino, and believe me, home never looked so good.
It was a long time before I started hitchhikin' again. It was some sort of compulsion I couldn't resist. I still hitchhike now and then, but I'm a lot more careful about who I let pick me up. I don't thumb a car with two guys in it anymore and you can be sure I never thumb a van with two guys in it.
The dangers of hitchhiking have received so much public attention that there is currently in California proposed legislation for the outlawing of such activity. Hitchhiking has resulted in rape, bodily injury, and even death. A strong warning to young people of the risks involved in seeking rides is indicated in the experience related by the subject of this case history.
Unfortunately a vast number of sex crimes are unreported, as in Sandra's case, and those that are reported suggest that hitchhiking can be extremely dangerous. Sandra failed to report the brutal attack to the police because she was afraid that her hitchhiking activities would be exposed to the school authorities. Her absence from college was reported to have been due to illness. She further rationalized that because of the game she was playing, she couldn't blame anyone but herself.
The relationship between cruelty and the sexual impulse has been a well-known fact for some time. The Hindu myths of Siva and Durga ( Death and Lust), the history of ceremonial human sacrifices, and the long history of sexual actrocities in times of war have illuminated this fact.
The history of unsuccessful treatment for sexual offenders and the need for extensive psychological reorientation therapy is pointed out by Doctor Frank S. Caprio in Sexual Behavior.
Modern treatment of sex offenders differs considerably from methods used years ago. Castration and even decapitation were once the penalties imposed on sex offenders. Castration was abandoned after it was discovered that sexual abnormalities are pyschic in origin and not localized in the genital organs. It was for this reason that the opposition to castration was supported by scientists like Hirschfeld, Moll, Fere, and others....
To recommend an ascetic life to them may intensify their difficulty and result in a severe anxiety neurosis. They must be made to understand the psychological cause of their affliction.
Frequently sadistic rapists are alarmingly deceiving as the epitome of charm and chivalry. They often mask their true impulses until they have the victim where they want her. In the case reported by Sandra, the rapists were not so convincing. Boyd did attempt to disguise his impulse, but Sandra was aware that something was wrong. "These guys were acting too weird for me." Unfortunately some victims are not able to detect the signals of a disturbed personality until it is too late. And, as in Sandra's case, even awareness of impending danger may come too late-particularly for the hitchhiker who is trapped in the rapist's vehicle.
Certainly the rise in violent crimes today, including those of a sexual nature, is a strong indicator that hitchhiking is not such an attractive "sport" as many young people like Sandra believe.
CHAPTER TWO
THE BAR CHICKS
I actually have more sex than I can handle. My knockers, bless 'em, are my star attractions. Thirty-six DD's, brother. Heavy, heavy. When I jam back my shoulders and thrust those titties forward, people stop and stare. Even girls. Y'know, there's a lot of jealous bitches floatin' around the streets nowadays. To hell with 'em.
And then the guy who finally-and I really don't put up that much of a struggle-gets into my panties is in for still another treat. I must have the baggiest cunt in the city. I'm a good four inches wide and four inches long down there-a real box! When a guy goes down on me he really has an eight-course spread. They tell me that my goodies have real floppy lips-they're always moist and oh so very tasty. Baby, when I'm hot I'm hot! One of my steadies calls my vagina "the garage." Every time he slips his rod into it he blows into my ear, "Grade sweetie, one o' these days I'm gonna park my pick-up in there." He's a little too flip with his tongue but a real lovable lay.
It was on my twenty-first birthday when I made my first trip to this cocktail lounge where I do all my hangin' out. I'm alone in this world so it was a combination birthday and comin'-out party. And, cripes, was I ever square! It was just before the mini-skirt made it big, and when I think back on that day-ick! There were some hard-up creeps, all of 'em half-gassed, who gave me some horny twice-overs. Even then I knew that they must've been droolin' like sprinklers inside their guts. But I was still new to the game-and a little bit afraid-so I minded my p's and q's and didn't respond to nobody.
After several trips there I got to know the bartender, Rob, and some of his regulars. They weren't a bad lot. I eventually got to the point where I used to look forward to stoppin' in there at least two or three evenin's a week. Anyway, after a coupla weeks Rob introduced me to one of his regulars, a gal named Jessie. I got to be real good friends with her. She even took me home with her a coupla times and we talked, with Jessie spendin' most of the time droppin' hints all over the place about how I could improve my appearance. "Grade," she used to say to me, "if those were my clothes I'd rinse 'em in acid." It took me a while to get movin'-I was that much of a dodo-but, thanks to Jessie's proddin', I finally started to dress like a twentieth century twenty-one-year-old.
I managed to improve my appearance by buyin' what you might call a chic wardrobe. By chic, I mean it accentuated every curve in my body, especially my tits. Then Jessie showed me how to walk without lookin' so herky-jerky. She gave me a slower walk, a sexy walk. She told me that every man in the cocktail lounge would be hot after me if I carred myself right. And she was the one to know. Jessie was a real pro when it came to bein' a cat on the prowl.
My first score was with a guy that I had seen in Rob's place on and off for a coupla months. He was a doll and I had fallen in love with him I think the minute I first laid eyes on him. He looked like an athlete, tall and trim. But he had very sad brown eyes. Maybe this is what drew me to him, I don't know. I'm the type who's always pickin' up stray animals. I'm a sucker for those gooey come-ons.
Anyway, Joey, as I said, was a real doll. I used to stare hungrily at him until one day he finally gets up the guts to come over and introduce himself. He bought me a coupla drinks and I'm tellin' you that my cunt started sweatin' just by havin' him sit next to me. He talked mostly about the town where he had come from originally, his job, and sports. Sometimes when he made a point he emphasized it by droppin' his hand onto my thigh and squeezin' it. Brother, I can still feel those tingles.
I knew even before he had bought me my first drink that I was goin' to sack out with him that night. And when he did ask me up to his apartment, well, wow! I felt like some kind of silly schoolgirl. He was so nice and so polite and so handsome that I would have been mentally stinko not to have gone with him.
So what does my "Prince Charming" do the instant his apartment door has closed behind us? I mean even before I could get my coat off he's got his fly open, his thick cock out in the air, and he's tellin' me to go down on him. Well hell, I didn't know what to do. He had been so nice and so considerate and now he was pullin' this crap on me. But even in spite of all this I still had stars in my eyes when I looked at him. And I didn't want to upset him. I really wanted to get to know him. I was really and truly hopin' that there might be somethin' there for me. Like a steady boyfriend-a good relationship.
So I blew him. Right there, with the heels of my shoes pressed against the door, I went down on my knees and made like his prick was a thick lollipop. And when he came, I didn't even know where the bathroom was so I had to swallow it-all of it. Then what the hell does he do but open the door for me and say, "Goodnight." I couldn't believe it. I hadn't even gotten my coat off. "What the hell is goin' on?" I asked. And he said, "You got what you were lookin' for, didn't you? Now hurry up and leave before my wife gets home. I'll see you at Rob's later."
When I got home that night I threw up all over the place. I had never felt so humiliated, so degraded, in all of my life. I felt exactly like a whore, a slut tramp. One blowjob for a few lousy drinks. All night long I kept relivin' that scene over and over again. I'll tell you, that Joey really left a rotten mark on my life. I vowed over and over again that I'd never let a prick take advantage of me like that again till the day I died. From then on I would call the shots. I would clue the guys in but good before I'd let any of 'em lay a hand on me. Boy, that night carried its lesson. Any crummy innocence that I had carried over from childhood was flushed down the toilet. Believe me!
It was a good couple of weeks before I could work up the courage to go back to Rob's lounge again. I could just imagine Joey blowin' off all the hot air about how I had blown him. "A real mouth," I could hear him sayin', "a real groovy cocksucker."
But to my surprise-and relief, I might add-I found out that Joey had never returned to the bar. Rob and all the other guys greeted me like some long-lost relative, tellin' me that they had been worried that I might have left town and would never come back again. Even Jessie was glad to see me. She treated me to a couple of drinks and it wasn't long before I broke down and told her what had happened. She was great. She sympathized with me, tellin' me that somethin' like that had happened to her when she was young. Then she gave me a pep talk, a real long one on how we girls can protect ourselves, not only against creeps like Joey, but also against those guys who were real weird, the kind that could really hurt a girl.
By the time I went home that night I felt loads better. Jessie had really given me some fine points on the art of bein' a bar chick. No way was anyone goin' to screw me like Joey had again. For the first night in weeks I slept like a baby.
I was picky and extremely cautious after that. I made sure that the guys I'd let pick me up had manners and were well-heeled financially. Mostly they were homely lookin' bar-hoppers who couldn't make it with a gal on the outside. Either that or they were older men. But they all had one thing in common-they hungered after me. And I really led them down the teasin' path, enjoyin' every minute of it, before I let them lay a hand on me.
Most of the times it would be a one-on-one thing. I'd let a guy pick me up, we'd go to his place and suck and fuck, and then I'd be gone by morning. Sometimes I'd see them in the bar again, but most of the times I'd never see them again. They were just strangers passin' through in the night, lookin' for some tasty nooky, and findin' it-in me-for one night. Occasionally I'd get onto a group thing or a lez date, but I always felt safer when it was only one guy.
They all have their different tastes, y'know. Some dig just straight fucks, others go the mouth route, some were fanny freaks, and then there are those who just like to sit around and look at female bodies while they jack off. I had one guy who actually brought along his own panties and bra for me to wear. There were holes in the bra so my nipples could stick out and the panties were air-conditioned where my cunt was. I thought I'd die that night-that damned bra was way too small for my titties. But he was an easy-goin' slob. All he wanted to do was sit around and watch me caress myself while he jacked off. When he came he shot his load off into a little test tube bottle, capped it, and then put a label on it that had my name and the date scribbled on it. And then he left. Some people, I'm tel I in' you. I could just picture a shelf in his bedroom and all those little test tubes linin' it. Ick!
About a year after I started goin' to Rob's place-in other words, shortly after I had become an experienced twenty-two-I met Arnold, my steady on and off for the past ten years. Big, lumberin', and reliable. A real klutz. A true truckdriver in every sense of the word. One of these days I just may settle down with that man. Hell, I could do worse. I don't mean that the way it sounds. I really care for Arnold.
When it comes to sex, Arnold is the greatest. No other man I've ever met has measured up to him-in all aspects. In the first place, the man is hung like an Argentine bull. Ole! Ole! And he's not only got the goods, he's got the talent, too! He's the only guy I've ever met who can orgasm more than once a night. I saw him do it four times one night. Could hardly believe my eyes.
Anyway, Arnold's main idea of a good night is three or four good bouts of fucking. He warms up by coverin' my tits and cunt with kisses, but from then on it's hold on for dear life. With Arnold and me goin' to town I've had to buy three new beds over the past ten years. He's gentle when he's guidin' that juicy piece of knockwurst up into my hole, but once he's settled, the devil himself seems to possess him. His ass rears back and then slams forward time after time again, like he's some kind of wild, touched-in-the-head bronc. An' all the time he's ridin' me, he talks to me. He uses every four-letter word in the book, really excitin' himself and me, too. Then, when he dumps his load, it's like someone has turned on a faucet. It just comes and comes and comes, makin' me feel all warm and gushy and full. Then we eat and drink and do it all over again. I really love my nights with that man.
Arnold knows that I'm promiscuous. He's commented about it a few times, but never has made a really big deal out of it. Every now and then he gets this hurt look on his face, though. And when I see that kind of an expression on such a big he-man, that's when I really feel the affection for him. I really believe the big lug loves me. If only he weren't out of town so much.
I know I've got to straighten myself out soon. After all, I can't spend my entire life on a bar stool. And I'm really gettin' tired of sleepin' with people I don't know. Maybe I should make myself an honest woman. Maybe I should propose to Arnold.
The preceding case history represents a composite depiction of that type of girl who would most likely be drawn into a life of promiscuity. In this instance Gracie, a girl who was orphaned at an early age, chose to work out of a bar, accepting the advances of just about any stranger present. At the same time we can draw from our closing notations that she is a young woman on a desperate search for a meaningful relationship. In an effort to better understand this type of woman, we refer to a study conducted in the San Francisco Psychiatric Clinic (1943-1944) of two hundred eighty-seven promiscuous, and seventy-eight potentially promiscuous girls. Although these girls were representative of prostitutes and the typical pick-up, much is shown which illuminates our subject.
The most glaring similarity in background was family disorganization. Parents were either separated, divorced, or deceased among sixty percent of these patients and, in many of these broken homes, parents had remarried one or more times. In a few instances the patients had never known their fathers and their illegitimacy was either known or suspected. To these traumatic experiences was added "rootlessness," (i.e. placement in boarding schools, foster homes, relatives' homes, etc. for varying periods of time).
The report read, in part, that "Contrary to popular belief, no evidence was revealed to indicate that this problem is produced by above average sex drive. In fact, the majority of habitually promiscuous patients were promiscuous in an attempt to meet other problems rather than in an attempt to secure sexual satisfaction . ... "
Although she had not been placed in an institution, Gracie had spent most of her life being bounced around from one relative to another. The strongest feeling that she experienced during these years was that she was an interloper, a burden, someone who was always creating problems. As a result, she was unable to establish or receive any sense of love or security from these situations. Indeed, as reflected by her poor grooming habits, she was unable to receive from her relatives even the most basic information that most parents would gladly pass on to their offspring.
By the time our subject reached the age of twenty-one, and was more or less expected to fend her own way in the world, she was an extremely lonely girl. Perhaps it was by accident that she discovered the bar. But however she ended up there, she came to regard it as a way out of her loneliness. There were people there, friendly people, and they made friendly overtures to her. She came to learn that people would accept her as a human being. The bar represented a home, the regulars, a much-needed family. Unfortunately, Gracie tread the path from loneliness to social acceptance to promiscuity.
Psychiatrist Theodore I. Rubin, in his column appearing in a recent issue of Ladies' Home Journal, notes that one of the symptoms of extreme loneliness is "chronic, compulsive promiscuity, in which sex is used as payment for fleeting contacts and in frustrated attempts to feel liked."
This term, promiscuity, like a dangerously unguarded shell, has been exploded and its bits of shrapnel used as adjectives to fit many verbal puzzles. For those of less literary mien, it has been altered to such more easily stated phrases as "on the make,"
"easy mark," and "loose." The British Medical Association, in their report on Venereal Disease and Young People issued in 1964, actually defined promiscuity as "intercourse with more than one partner, unrestricted by marriage." That is to say a girl having more than one love affair between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five is promiscuous. Thus, according to B.M.A. standards, we might deduce that a great percentage of today's female society is unmistakably promiscuous!
While the term "promiscuity" may be misapplied to some women, it does appear to be an appropriate application for the subject of our case history. By regularly consorting with strangers and entertaining them sexually, she has affixed the label to herself. But, as Dr. Reuben intimated, she is on the horns of a dilemma. She is using her promiscuity to prove her femininity and to solicit friendship.
Gracie is now in the throes of changing her lifestyle. She has accepted the attentions of one man and is gradually plotting her life's course in the direction of marriage. In order to reach her ultimate goal, she will have to recondition herself to exchange love and emotional security with another human being, something she had been unable to do during her developing years. It will be a long and often agonizing effort for her.
Confessions of a bar chick, is that what you want to hear? Well to be honest with you, honey, I don't think I qualify-unless you want to change that to "confessions of a bar hen." After all, next birthday rolls around I'll be thirty-five. Never know it to look at me, would you? I take good care of myself, honey. Got to if I'm gonna hang around for another couple of years.
I didn't start off as a bar chick, you understand. I got into it only after I had outgrown several other sex careers, including call girl and sales consultant-that type of job where you use your looks and body to help companies keep buyers happy. So I been around.
Sex has always played a big part in my life. Oh, I had the usual episodes as a teen-ager-you know, the cheap feels, the necking, maybe a little oral stuff, and a taste of intercourse, if you want to dignify it by calling it that. Hit-and-miss is what I call it. It really wasn't until after I had won the beauty contest that things really began to pop. Once I accepted that crown I was fair game for every slinky Casanova within fifty miles. And none of them wasted any time in looking me up.
I had a complete course in sex education during the year of my reign. By the time I plopped the crown on the head of the next queen of sex I had learned how to screw in twelve different positions, give head when I was stoned blind, take a prick clear up to the curl in my intestines, masturbate a guy by using every part of my body including my nose, put on sexy performances for my studs, and had my cunt lapped more times than a cat goes to milk. By the end of that year there wasn't anything I couldn't and wouldn't do, and there wasn't a suggestion in the world that would have shocked me. It was that kind of a royal reign, honey.
But when I gave up the crown I also gave up an awful lot of male admirers. I guess they figured it wasn't fun anymore since they were no longer screwing royalty. So all of a sudden I was lonely-I guess you can feel for me with the way I felt, huh? All that attention and then suddenly zip! I'd go a week without having a date. I got so desperate after a while that I even went back to my home town and my old boyfriends. But, as the old sayin' goes, "How can you love 'em down on the farm after you've seen...." I was only home a couple of weeks before I packed up and left for the bright lights again.
So there I was, an ex-queen of beauty, an expert in the art of sex, but with little else to guarantee me an income. And I was broke, honey-stone broke. So it was under those conditions that I became a call girl. I didn't plan on becoming one-it just seemed to be the most logical thing to do.
At first I belonged to a tight little group, all of them beauties. I got to know a lot of them-particularly that part between their legs. We were controlled by a greasy-looking character who set up our dates and collected a huge chuck of our earnings. I was luckier than the other girls. After about a year I had earned enough money and made enough contacts to strike out on my own. The success I had was flabbergasting. At my peak I was making five thousand a week. That's right, five big G's. I was very selective and let it be known that the guy who was after me was after the choicest. And if he wanted his nooky he not only had to treat me like a lady, but he had to pay through the nose. In addition, special requests costs more. I had a standard fee just for being with a guy. Then each sex activity had its own price tag. For instance, as the client advanced from screwing to sucking and on up, so too the price would go up. If they hesitated I'd flash them a little boob. If they still hesitated I'd figure they couldn't afford me and I'd bug out.
I made a fortune during the seven years I was a call girl. Salted most of it away, too. When I'm old I'm really gonna live in style. In fact, I was gonna retire and live on my money then. But after a few months I couldn't take the loneliness-and I'm just not the type of woman to settle for one man either. I gotta have fresh faces and bodies and hangin' dicks, if you know what I mean. Guess I got a little nympho in me.
So I moved on from being a selective call girl into being a selective bar chick. I began hitting every plush cocktail lounge in the city. And business boomed. I thought that since I had already put together a small fortune that I could have sex with strangers just for the hell of it-you know, goodies on the house. But I guess I got too much of the businesswoman in me. The rates may have been slightly lower than when I was a call girl, but I still got my food, clothing, and shelter paid for by panting pricks.
Like I said, I'm thirty-five, but a great-looking thirty-five. Most of my friends tell me that I don't look a day over twenty-five. Over the years I've taken good care of my body and I'll bet that even today I could place in the top five of any beauty contest. I'll tell you one thing, my figure keeps the guys beating a path to my bar stool. I get a lot of young cock, too-you'd be surprised, honey.
Most of my pick-ups are guys looking for fast orgasms. They're not interested in developing any boy-girl relationship or anything like that-and it suits me fine. Usually the deal is made over one drink. Then we either go to their apartment or mine or sometimes just to their car. Just about all of them want me to go down on them, but a lot will pull it out before they come and ask me to ball them. I get a few s-m's every now and then, but I'm quick to show them the door. None of that rough stuff for me!
I get other oddballs, too, but they're the kind that fascinate me. Like one time I met this guy who was a hairdresser. He fit the job to a T-even talked with a lisp. I thought for sure he was gay and wondered what the hell he was doing, trying to pick me up. But he had a great build and he seemed nice enough so I went along with him to his apartment. Guess what? I got a shampoo and a set before we went at it. And even then he was very careful to keep everything in place. It was all oral-no thrashing around in bed. I gave him a neat blowjob and he very delicately ate me out. He offered me a twenty on the way out, but I just patted my hair and winked at him.
Another time I got a real, honest-to-goodness fetishist. After I was naked he took my bra and panties and put them on himself. He looked absolutely ridiculous-the bra hung down to his navel. Then he sits down on a chair and jacks himself off through my panties while I'm doing a little Hawaiian shimmy for him. That's all he wanted. He never touched me. After he had come he folded the panties up and placed them in his attache case. Then he gives me a hundred bucks, sniffs my armpits, and leaves.
Although I never see most of these guys again, there are a select few that I will take on more than once. But nothing steady. Steadies frighten me. They can get to the point where they think they own you and they start making demands on your time and on your body. And that's just not my style, honey. I like all the fish in the pond-I love variety.
There is one guy that I particularly dig. Talk about being hung! He has got such a hunk of lumber that it is sinful-and pretty damned exciting to boot! He's my fucker. Nobody-but nobody-stuffs me the way that stud does. I wet him down with my lips and tongue and then just lay back and let him take over. He does everything slow and easy, like he thinks he's tantalizing me. Which the sweet young ass is. Back and forth, ever so slowly, no hurry, no rush. Just his cock and my meat. Oh, the feeling-that wonderful, wonderful feeling. I always have two, three, and sometimes even four climaxes before he comes. Whenever I'm depressed I look him up. And I don't charge him. Hell, honey, he oughtta charge me!
Every now and then I end up being the third partner to a trio. Usually it's a guy I've laid before and he's got his girlfriend with him or another pick-up-or maybe even a horny wife. You may not know it but there are a hell of a lot of girls walking the streets who are bi. They may not admit it, and they may never get to actually try it with another girl, but they got the itch-they're curious.
My price is double on these occasions because I know that I'm the guinea pig. Most of the times these women have swung with females before, but occasionally I'll end up getting a new piece to break in. When this is the case, my fee is even higher. I know that I'm giving the guy an awful lot of thrills that he'd be damned hard-pressed to find anywhere else. So I make him pay through his nose.
As a variation, I dig girls. They remind me of when I was starting out-when I was in that house. Beautiful young bodies. But I'm always decent and fair with them. If I can see that they really don't dig the scene, I'll give the guy back his money and send them on their way. He may not like it, but that's the way it's gotta be. In truth, though, that's only happened a couple of times. I guess by the time the gals get to me they've already made up their minds that they want to sample another cunt.
The act is usually the same time after time. We all strip and the guy makes himself comfortable in a chair, prick out, and pumping away on it. The girl and I begin with a little fondling and caressing and maybe a light kiss or two on the cheek. Never on the lips. Hell, if I were to kiss a girl on the lips then I'd be a homosexual. And I'm not queer, honey, I'm just bi.
The show really takes off within a few minutes after its begun. While the guy is sitting over there getting his eyes full, the girl and I begin using our lips as well as our hands. We take turns sucking on each other's titties, making sure that our nipples really get the once-over. Nothing excites me more than having my nipples licked, sucked, and even nipped on. It just sends tingle after tingle racing down my spine. And if it does that for me, then it must do the same thing for her, so I really give her boobs the works.
When we're going good we hit the bed and fall into a sixty-nine position. Then we spend a good deal of time fingering and examining each other's cunts. This is a very important scene for me 'cause if the girl's got something wrong with her it'll usually show up on her meat. When I'm sure it's safe I'll begin dabbing at the lips and clit with my tongue. And while I'm doing this, her tongue had better be doing the same thing to my cunt. If she's slow getting to it I'll pull up and order her to get her mouth working down there. We'll go this way for several minutes before changing positions. They tell me that some lesbians can reach climax in the sixty-nine position. Well, that may be hunky-dory for them, but it's never really worked for me. The few times I banged off that way it took almost all night. So I like to eat a girl out and then be eaten-one at a time, you know.
I always let the girl go down on me first 'cause if she comes first she may not want to go down on me afterwards. Since I'm the one bein' paid I got an extra reason to lap on her even after I come. Then when I do bang off we switch positions and I go to work on her.
I take my time about it, letting my tongue diddle at her hole and once in a while I'll slip it into her, making like it's a prick. While most of the girls dig this they would prefer that I concentrate on their clit, which I always work up to eventually anyway. I drive those broads crazy, flicking at the sides of that little nub, mostly making circular motions with my tongue. While I'm not all that crazy about the taste, it does turn me on a bit. From the time I put my mouth down there to the time the girl climaxes is usually about five minutes. Any longer and I know that I got a real uptight broad on my hands.
Meantime, the boyfriend has been eating all this action up, getting hotter and hotter by the lap of my tongue. Sometimes when I'm eating out a girl I'll see the boyfriend come up and practically poke his nose in between my tongue and her clit. These characters really want the view. I watch them from the corners of my eyes and really get tickled at the way some of them react. They're always jacking off and they stare hard, like they're scared to death they're going to miss something. During more than one session I've seen their eyes roll up in their sockets as they've unloaded against the side of the bed. Oh yeah, those peepers get their money's worth.
Another trick that gives them a thrill is for the man to screw his girl friend and, at the same time, for me to dip my face down in there and lick at his rod as it slides in and out of her. At the same time, of course, my tongue touches the woman's box. This sends them both off on some kind of trip and the orgasms come fast and furious. I'm always amazed at how fast a guy and his girl friend can come to orgasm when there's a third person around-namely, me.
At most of my regular stops the bartenders know what I'm up to and pretty well leave me alone. Once in a while I'M run up against some rube who wants to set me up-for a cut of the action. I tell him to go piss on ice. I'm not sharing anything with anybody. I don't "solicit" business. I just sit there. If a guy comes up and wants to make a pitch, well then that's his business. And if I accept, that's my business. No grubby bartender is going to horn in on my life.
There was only one time that I could ever remember letting a bartender set me up with a man. He told me that this guy was loaded with money, good-looking, a tiger in bed, and that he really experienced erection every time he looked at me. I can remember looking around the bar. Hell, I couldn't tell which one it was. Half the guys were ogling me, but no one made a move to come forward. The bartender had set the date up for two a.m. sharp at the back entrance to the bar. So I show up and who the hell is there? The bartender. And as for being a "tiger in bed," it took me almost an hour to get that peanut of his up to where I could do anything with it.
I figure a good-looking bar chick like me has got a lot of years left in her. Like I said before, I take good care of myself. I just hope to hell that I'm not the type of woman who ages in a hurry. I don't think I could cope with that. I gotta get out. I gotta make the rounds. I gotta have guys coming up to me and telling me that they want to have sex with me. Hell, I couldn't stay home and frig myself all the time. I couldn't stand the loneliness. I just gotta have men around me. You understand, honey?
Although the subject of our representative case history would deny it, she is in truth a working prostitute. She differs from a totally committed prostitute only in that she also seeks out and apparently receives physical gratification from each encounter. She appears to be an appropriate example of the prostitute as defined by James C. Coleman in his book Abnormal Psychology and Modern Life:
It has been presumed that the prostitute or call girl views her behavior strictly as a matter of business and financial remuneration and does not experience an orgasm or become emotionally aroused during a professional contact. However, there is evidence that this may not always be the case....In essence, these girls want ... to be loved and to relate to others, but as a consequence of early experiences are terrified of close interpersonal relationships. Their choice of sexual partners is purposely unselective and represents both their need to relate and their defense against truly intimate interpersonal contacts.
M. H. Hollender, on whose findings Coleman bases his preceding opinion, concludes from the intensive psychiatric treatment of several prostitutes that such behavior often "provides for human relatedness in a physical and nonpersonalized form when there is extreme difficulty in maintaining relatedness in an emotional and personalized form."
The subject of our case history claims that she is selective in her choice of bed-mates. This, of course, is absurd. She is merely deluding herself to maintain her own self-esteem. The truth is that when one beds total strangers on a regular basis, one is merely manifesting promiscuity in its purest form. Further, the sexually compulsive woman is very rarely "selective."
Our subject's fear of "steadies," of forming meaningful interpersonal relationships, was undoubtedly seeded during her teen years and cultivated during her year as a beauty queen. During this latter period she was regarded by her many lovers not as a person, but as a sex-object, a vessel to be used to satisfy the immediacy of their own carnal lusts. Once she lost her status of public importance she was discarded, much like sophisticates would discard an empty bottle that once contained a vintage wine.
Preoccupation with her own physical beauty also contributes to the promiscuous nature of our subject. It appears that now that she had reached thirty-five, she must more than ever prove to herself that she still has the capabilities of attracting and satisfying men sexually. Her fear of "aging fast" will only reinforce her compulsion to seek out men who are willing to pay for her services.
We must assume that despite her flamboyant attitude and her implied disregard for striking up an emotional relationship, our subject indeed craves such a situation. Her vocalized fear of loneliness and advancing age read into her character a desperate need for someone who will care about and for her. This is the goal she must set for herself, but before it can be reached she will have to learn how to subjugate her past conditionings and adjust her emotional self to cope with the oncoming trauma (for her in particular) of middle age.
CHAPTER THREE
THE PARTY CRASHERS
I had always heard about the wild parties those rich folks had over on the ritzy side of town. I was cruising around in my old car late one Saturday night and found myself driving by all those big houses. I looked up a side street and saw a bunch of fancy cars parked in front of the biggest house I had ever seen. Goddamn, I thought, I wonder what in hell kind of fun these people are up to. I decided to find out.
I parked my car in the next block and walked back to have a look. I climbed over the fence and hid in some bushes getting out of sight of the parking attendant. The doors to the big patio were open and I could hear music and the sound of people laughing. I moved closer and looked in. I had never seen so many beautiful men.
"Hey, stranger, looking for someone?" came a voice from behind me.
I jumped up and whirled around to face a young man holding a glass of champagne with a big smile on his face.
"Wow, you scared me," I stammered. "Please don't call the cops, I was just lookin' " I blurted.
"Now why would I call the cops on a beautiful young thing like you," he grinned sipping from his glass. "We need some new blood at this dull party. Come on in and let's get things going. My name's Lance. What's yours?"
"Nancy," I answered, stumbling after him, my arm held firmly in his hand.
"Look everyone! I found us a new guest. What a catch, you all agree?" Lance was pulling me around this great big room full of fancy dressed men and women. They all laughed and toasted me with their drinks as we passed.
Finally, he shoved me down on a long couch and sat down beside me. Grabbing a drink from the tray the waiter was carrying, he slapped it into my hand.
"Let's drink to us," he said.
I nodded my head and downed the drink in one gulp. Man, oh, man, this was living.
Lance had his hand inside my blouse and rubbing my tits. My big tits were hanging right in front of his face. He put his arm around my neck and nestled his head between my half-exposed melons.
"Mmmmmmm. Take them all," I said.
"Right on," he chuckled untying the string that held the top of my dress up.
My dress fell down to my waist leaving my lusty round tits standing in full bloom. He was unbuttoning his shirt all this while and I half stood helping him take it off.
"We'll show these stiffs what a party is all about," Lance said pulling my-dress all the way off.
He reached down, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. I stood up this time and removed the rest of my clothes. He was getting a hard-on that wouldn't quit. All those people watching us was setting me off. I knew what they wanted to see, so I didn't hesitate.
He knelt down on the rug and placed his hands around my firm round ass. He pulled my crotch to his face and stuck his tongue out.
"Ahhhhhhhhh," I moaned as the tip of his tongue rounded my cunt lips.
Man he was doin' some eatin'. He licked my cunt hair and slid the side of his tongue between my crack. My hips jerked and he pressed his head closer to me. His tongue darted in my snatch and he began to really work. I was burning up. Spit was running from the corners of his mouth as he savagely ate my fiery box.
I was running my hands through his hair. "Yes, my God, eat me, baby," I groaned.
The party people had circled us and were starting to make out with each other.
He found my clit with the tip of his tongue and swirled around it. This brought whimpering sounds from me and I began to rotate my hips, working to orgasm.
"Let me suck that prick of yours," I cried, backing away. "I want to blow you sweetheart."
He sat down on the couch and I got between his legs on my knees. My long blonde hair trailed along his thighs as I reached for his throbbing cock.
My pink lips wrapped around the head of his dick. "Ahhh ... fuck!" He yelped at the touch. I had his balls cupped in one hand and was rolling them back and forth gently. My other hand was under his ass squeezing his cheeks. He laid back on the couch and I took his whole swinging cock in my mouth. Jesus, I thought he would shoot off right then. He held it back by concentrating on what the other people were doing. He wanted to make this last.
"This is the best tasting cock I've ever had," I breathed coming up for air. "Feels good, huh?"
"You know it, babe. Keep it up, I'm in heaven," he answered, lifting his ass off the couch.
I buried my head in his crotch again and sucked that rock-hard prick like an all-day sucker. My hand had found the crack of his ass and I was moving a finger around the rim.
"Agggghhhhhhh," he groaned as my finger entered his asshole. "Do it."
My head was bobbing up and down on his slick cock bringing him to the edge. He was breathing like a fire engine. My other hand was all over his chest and thighs.
"Don't come yet, I want you to fuck the shit out of me, Lance," I pleaded feeling his prick swelling to explosion.
"Just in time," he panted. "My load was almost to the head of my dick."
I stretched out on the floor and held my arms up to him. He got up and laid down on top of me. He planted his mouth on mine and drove his tongue to the back of my throat.
My hands were groping for his steel-banded prick, which I found right way. He moved his mouth to the nipple on my tit and began to tease it with his tongue. It was rigid.
"Help me put it in," I whined. "I want to feel it inside me baby."
He reached down and grabbed his tool in his hand and pointed it toward my hot moist crack. He moved the head of it around the outside and up and down my lips. I was arching my back and lunging my hips up, eager to satisfy my hungry snatch.
He poked it to me an inch at a time. My pussy was quivering and sucking it in like a vacuum cleaner. His balls banged against the V of my legs. I had it all.
"Ride me, daddy," I cried as I set up a rhythm to match his thrusting hips.
"Hump, baby. Daddy's going to ride you home," he rattled on, feeling himself building up. "Work that fucking ass."
I had my arms around him and was clawing his back. My legs were raised up and my heels were digging into the cheeks of his ass.
"l-l-l-l-'m coming! Fuck me hard! Come with me Lance!" I bellowed.
His cock was sliding in and out of my juicing cunt like a jackhammer. "Here it is," he panted as his load let loose.
His jism splattered the walls of my cunt again and again. My cunt was convulsing against his peter as he orgasmed.
We both were bathed in sweat and just lay there on the floor for a few moments.
"Come on big boy, I'm next."
I looked up and saw this redheaded chick standing naked above us. "The line forms at the rear," Lance smiled up at her.
I knodded my head yes and he got to his feet. The redhead took his hand and led him to a vacant place on the floor right in front of the fire place.
"Do you like to fuck ass?" she asked rubbing her body against his.
"Believe it," he answered kissing her neck and squeezing her freckled tits.
He stretched out on his stomach and "Red" lay down on hers between his legs. She placed her hands on the cheeks of his ass and pryed them apart a little. She stuck her tongue out and ran it up and down the crack of his ass. Man that looked good. His dick was getting hard again as he waited for her tongue to find his asshole. She was kissing and licking as she -edged closer to his shit-hole. Then her tongue was pressed against the rim darting in and out. I thought he would rip the rug from the floor it was so good. Her hand came under his crotch and she began to rub his stiff prick and balls. He bucked his ass up to meet her probing tongue.
"Beautiful, baby. Eat my fucking ass," he said over his shoulder to that mop of red hair.
"Mmmmmmm. It's delicious," she said.
Her mouth was going wild. His asshole was puckering with delight as she worked her hot pointed love tongue in and around.
"Now give me a little of the same," she said getting up and rolling him over.
She squatted over his face and he reached up and grabbed her cheeks. She lowered her asshole to his mouth and he tongued her pink hole. "Red" bent forward and with both hands caressed his prick, circling the head with her fingertips.
"What a hot ass. Baby I'm going to fuck this till you holler for help," he growled.
"Anytime, big boy," she moaned back. "Get those fingers in my pussy."
He reached over her thigh and rubbed her cunt with his hand. He eased two fingers into her wet crack and worked them around. She was writhing like a stuck pig.
"Say, would you two like some company? I'm Lance's brother Jack, and this is my friend Bob." Two naked guys were standing there looking at Red and Lance with hard-ons in their hands.
"Sure. Join in, little brother," Lance said. "The more the merrier." He lifted Red up and got out from under her ass. "I'm going to fuck her ass. Why don't one of you get her from the front and she can blow the other one."
"Fantastic," shouted Red. "Lay down, Jack, and I'll get on top. Lance, you can fuck me dog-fashion and I can suck you off, Bob."
They positioned themselves. Red slid her pussy down over Jack's pecker and they rolled over on their sides. Lance grabbed his cock in his hand and pressed it against her asshole. It slipped right in. Red leaned her head back and Bob got on his knees in front of her. She slurped his tool into her gaping mouth.
"What a tight fucking pussy. Man this is great. Don't poke that rod through her, Lance," Jack laughed as he banged his cock hard into Red's snatch.
"Jesus, this is too much. Baby, your ass is the greatest," Lance huffed.
"Ohhhhh. Suck it baby." Bob was rocking back and forth meeting Red's hot mouth with his plunging dick.
Lance had his cock all the way in Red's hot puckering asshole, fucking for all he was worth. My guts were on fire watching this.
"Aieeeee. Fuck me!" Red screeched, popping Bob's rigid rod from her mouth, then going right back to sucking it again. She was crazed with passion. Moaning and slurping she brought Bob over the edge-his creamy load oozing from her mouth down her chin.
"Milk it down, baby. Get it all!" Bob said huskily, his hand pressing the back of her head.
Red continued to suck on Bob's cock and thrash her hips in response to Jack's and Lance's thrusting pricks. This girl was getting the fucking of her life.
"While your mouth is free, you might as well be eating a little pussy, sweetheart," I said joining the group. "I'm boiling for your tongue."
Without missing a stroke, Lance turned his head and buried it deep in my crotch. His tongue went to work on my furnace-like crack. My cunt was already wet with my own juices, which he ate up like a starving man. He ran the tip of his tongue over my clit causing me to squirm with delight.
Jack was pumping harder and faster. I could tell he was about to shoot his load into Red's pussy. She was moving like a snake.
"Ughhhhhh. Here it is, baby." Jack's movements became piston-like. "Ahhhhhh ... fuck."
"Uh-uh-uh...." Red was being filled to the brim with Jack's hot jism. She was having a series of small orgasms building for the big one.
"Fuck her ass good, Lance, baby," I cried, spreading my legs wide then closing them close against his head.
His fucking cock was on the verge of erupting his load deep into Red's quaking asshole. Lance couldn't get enough of that delicious cunt of mine. He was eating as if he would shove his tongue all the way up to my gut.
"Get it, Lance," Jack spurted, "this girl is about to explode."
He pumped faster. Rockets were going off everywhere. I had my hands against the back of Lance's head pressing him farther into my quivering cunt-hole. I was trembling and my head was thrown back as I rode the tide of passion home.
We all came at the same time. Lance let loose a gallon of jism up that tight asshole. Red screamed and thrashed as she got her big one. I fell over backwards moaning and sobbing as I climaxed. We were one big pool of come and love juices.
Bob dislodged his cock from Red's mouth as Jack pulled his dripping tool from her cunt. Lance picked his head up from my crotch and withdrew his still hard cock from Red's flaming asshole.
I looked around the room. Couples were screwing all over the place. A shy looking girl was watching us from across the room. She was naked like everyone else and was rubbing her hand between her legs. Lance grabbed his prick in his hands and waved it at her. She got up and came over to where we were.
"Want to suck an ever-ready hot prick?" He asked with a wink.
I settled back as she took his rod in her hand and put it between a pair of ruby red lips. If this was the way they treated strangers, I was glad I had never met them before.
Nancy represents the classic example of the girl who is constantly seeking reassurance and acceptance through sexual contacts. Because of her continual search for sexual partners, she has come to accept sexual relations with total strangers. She also rationalizes that performing sexual acts with people she doesn't know will reduce the chances of her own family and circle of friends from ever discovering her hidden but rampant promiscuity.
Nancy is among those people who have never really found themselves. She is searching for an identity which eludes her. William Glasser makes the point well in his book, The Identity Society:
Although the need for a good sex life is more accepted in the identity society than it was in the survival society, many people have not learned to utilize this acceptance to find sexual satisfaction. That many people are actively searching for a good sexual relationship is clearly shown by the unprecedented sales of popular books containing information about sex and advice to those seeking more enjoyment from sex. The inability of so many people to find a good sexual relationship is, I believe, directly related to their failure to gain a successful identity. Unsatisfactory as their search for a good sexual relationship, most people who identify with failure continue to search in the hope they will sometimes succeed. Although part of their motivation is biological, the need for involvement is the principal drive, as it is for all people. They know that a sexual relationship implies the chance to become involved. Thus lonely, uninvolved people are urgently and continually attracted to sex because it seems to be a simple solution to the problem of getting involved.
As Dr. Glasser is suggesting above, in her sexual promiscuity Nancy is crying out her need to the world to be involved with people, an attempt to tell the world that she is not a nonentity, that she does have a name, that she is somebody after all.
In additjon, to help prove to herself that she is desired and wanted, she must go from one male to another-from one sexual conquest after another-constantly reassuring herself that she is beautiful and desired. Edrita Fried speaks to this point in her book, Active/Passive.
Many people, once they have made a love conquest, cease to remain observant since the prime reason for their initial attention was the fear of losing the beloved or the desire to conquer.
It will be seen that Nancy's desire to make sexual conquests-particularly conquests involving strangers-stems from insecurities formed in her early childhood, a subject that will be discussed at the conclusion of the following case history involving a girl much like Nancy, whom we shall call Zig Zag.
I sat alone before the television set in the living room of my apartment absently watching several guests on a popular talk-show running off at the mouth. I had the sound turned down as I had little interest in what they had to say.
Slouching deep into the easychair, my pink panties down at my ankles, I fingered my cunt, all the while wishing my finger were a big cock. I was lonely and bored. Every stud I knew was either out of town for the holidays or had a date. It was late and the phone had been silent for hours.
The fact that my cunt was itching for action added to my dismay. Therefore, my sense of dejection grew accordingly. To get my mind off my growing depression, I kicked my panties into the air, spread my legs wide, and began to reward myself with an energetic hand-job.
If only I had the weight of a man pressing against my tits, I thought to myself.
At that instant, I heard voices in the hall. The people were laughing and talking loudly. The door of the apartment across the way opened and music and the sound of voices came pouring out.
No doubt the fellow across the hall was giving another party. If it was true to form, it would go on for hours and I would be forced to listen to its laughter and music alone.
Not this time, I was determined to get into that party and get myself some cock if it was the last thing I did.
I searched for my panties, found them and slipped them on. I adjusted my low-cut, tight-fitting dress and went into the dressing room to brush my hair and douse my neck and bare shoulders with Hot Stuff perfume. Satisfied with my appearance, I went and stood before the door of the apartment across the way. I knocked and waited.
"Hello, may I help you?" asked the tall blond fellow tenant opening the door.
"I don't wish to complain," I said smiling, "but the music of your stereo is rather loud."
He returned my smile and said, "Well, you can see I'm havin' a party. Just a friendly gathering. Would you like to come in?"
Before he could finish, I had brushed past him and entered a circle of young men who stood apart from the dancing couples in the center of the room.
"Call me Zig Zag," I said to the most handsome of the men, holding a cigarette for him to light.
He was tall, with a masculine profile and a virile body that was evident under his tight jeans and blue denim jacket. He could have easily been a construction worker or a truck driver and his eyes betrayed plain old-fashioned lust.
"I'm Warren," he said as he lighted my cigarette, his eyes wandered to my cleavage.
"You like parties?" he asked.-"Some," I said. "With the right kind of people." Looking him straight in the eye, I continued. "I like fucking more, though."
Warren nervously looked at the somewhat taken-aback expressions of the other studs near him and, gathering up a little courage, took me by the arm.
"You're not throwing me out," I protested batting my eyes and slightly protruding my tongue.
Warren turned and grinned, "No," he said in a soft, low voice, "I'm taking you to the bedroom. I don't like an audience when I screw."
"Oh, big daddy ... you're so forceful!" I said as he led me into the bedroom and turned on the lights.
Shutting the door and locking it from the inside, Warren took off his jacket and carefully placed it on a chair beside the bed.
"You finish undressing me," he suggested.
I happily approached him and unbuttoned his shirt. By the time I got to his briefs, I could see that his cock was big and hard, for it extended above the elastic waistband of his shorts, hiding his navel from view.
He put his arms about me and gave me a juicy soul kiss, while unzipping the back of my dress.
"You've got beautiful tits," he said, as the dress fell from my body to the floor. He squeezed them, kissing them wetly.
My whole body trembled as he went to his knees and pulled slowly downward on my panties. When they reached the calves of my legs, he bent forward and nuzzled my bush with his nose and gently played with my slit using his long, hot tongue.
"Hot damn," I said, straining to part my legs, encumbered by those awful panties.
At that, he pulled them from my feet and wadding them into a ball, tossed them aside.
"Now give it to me, baby," Warren demanded in a low voice.
He positioned his large hands on my cheeks and buried his hot probing tongue deep into my box.
The juices within me began their flow and, quaking with delight, I slushed gobs of steaming liquid upon his fevered mouth and chin.
"You're a hot one," he said, wiping the evidence of love from his face. He rose from the floor and led me to the bed. Patting me on the ass, he said, "I get the feeling you know how to show a man a good time."
Caressing his velvety cock with one hand and pressing hard on the biceps of his arm with the other, I silently agreed.
Freeing himself from my embrace, Warren pulled back the covers from the bed and made himself comfortable. He lay on his back and beckoned me to join him.
"Oh, baby, you're so fine," he said, running his hand over me as I snuggled close to him.
"Fuck me, you big ox!" I said, licking his ear and rubbing his feet with my own.
He turned on his side and began to draw tiny circles on my stomach with his cock. He held the swelling rod lightly and tickled my stomach, trailing it in circles down to my furry patch. His eyes were barely open and his breathing was heavy.
He pulled himself over me and fiddling with his eager cock, poked about searching for the entrance to my slit. Reaching down, I grabbed hold of the thing and aimed it in the right direction. Its head was large, the biggest I had ever seen, about the size of a small peach.
"Take your time, Warren," I gently urged him, "I don't want you to split me in half before we really get to fucking."
"I'll be careful," he answered.
Just then he lunged forward, forcing the length of his cock into my pussy.
A shock of pain racked my body and I felt on the verge of passing out.
"Jesus," I screamed when my breath returned.
"What's the matter, baby?" Warren asked.
"Take it out! Take it out!" I demanded.
"No, baby, just wait awhile. You'll get used to it," he whispered.
The passing minutes seemed like hours as I lay beneath his heavy body, pinned to the bed by his enormous rod. The fiery pain began to go away and I slowly began to enjoy the feeling of his pole within me.
"Relax and breathe deeply," Warren instructed.
Following his suggestion, soon all discomfort completely disappeared. What had been pain turned to pleasure, for the presence of Warren's big cock in my love hole-still hot and hard as iron-brought me to the point of orgasm. Soon my love juices flowed and my heart beat rapidly and I shivered, heaving my breasts as I began coming again and again.
Warren reacted to my sighs and groans of joy by working his muscular ass in slight, circular motions, causing his cock to stir against the walls of my cunt, flooding me with waves of gratification. I moaned and thrashed about, digging my long nails into the flesh of Warren's back.
Gradually, Warren began to work his big rod in and out of me, slowly at first. But as moments passed, he lost his head in the flush of sexual excitement and rammed me with rapid thrusts, ever deeper, ever harder. With each deep penetration I yelled and screamed, experiencing a strange feeling of mingled pain and pleasure.
"I'm gonna' split you in two," Warren grunted as sweat fell upon my twisted face from his brow.
"Yes, Warren," I gasped, "fuck the life out of me."
His strong hands gripping my shoulders tightly, Warren lifted his ass high into the air and shoved his cock even deeper into me. The look on his face was that of a man crazed with pleasure. It frightened me somewhat, but by now I, too, was carried away with his splendid fucking, adoring every thick inch of his cock that was driven by such fury.
"I'm coming," he shouted in my ear. "Bear down!"
Responding to his order, I pressed to meet his lunge. For a fleeting second, I thought his ravaging tool would pierce me through and I screamed in terror. Then I felt his body relax, followed by great spurts of come that washed my insides with wet fire.
This set me off and I gushed my own juices in the most overwhelming orgasm in my experience. My ass was damp, for we were laying in a small pool of our own love juices.
"God, you're great," I said, feeling limp and fully satisfied.
Warren pulled his large but softening cock out of me and lay on his side.
"Lick it clean," he said, "and I'll give you a big surprise," as he pointed to his glistening pecker.
I bent over his middle and placed my face over his shimmering cock. With cat-like motions, I licked and tongued his sticky bush and cock until he was all clean. By this time he was stiff and eager.
"What's the surprise?" I asked just before taking his hairy balls into my mouth.
With a wide grin he looked down on me and patted me on the head.
"I'm gonna stir your fudge," he said, "and you're gonna love it."
I must have had a blank look on my face as I released his balls from my mouth, for he raised himself up and began to suck on my titties, as if to assure me.
Leaving my tits, he sat up and moved me over on my stomach, spreading my cheeks with his hands and planting kisses about my crack.
"Such a sweet ass," he groaned as he tickled my asshole with a playful tongue.
As his mouth sucked around my asshole, I felt electric shocks race up and down my spine and heard chimes within my head.
"Ohhhh, baby," he said, tracing kisses up my backbone to my neck. Resting his body on my back, he covered my neck and shoulders with more kisses. Placing his hands under me, he cupped my tits in his hands and squeezed hard.
I was aware of his cock lying along the crack of my ass, hot and hard as ever.
"You plan to cornhole me?" I asked.
Pinching my nipples and puffing hot breaths into my ear, he shifted his pelvis and pressed his pecker against my puckered asshole.
"Oh, God ... no!" I shouted. The thought of that giant cock in my ass caused me to tremble uncontrollably.
"You're cunt was tight, but your ass is tighter," he explained as he pressed to enter my backdoor.
I struggled to free myself but that only excited him all the more. I could feel the head of his dick forcing an entrance into my tiny hole. It seemed as if a burning log was being pushed into my poor little shitter and my screams rocked the room.
Warren ignored the knocks at the door and the questioning voices of his friends.
"Open up, damn it," he growled, shoving his cock against me with all his might.
Slowly my hole began to give and could feel the head of his cock as it slipped into me. The shooting pain caused me to see stars, I bit my lip and spread my legs as wide as they would go.
"Stop, Warren, please," I begged between racking sobs.
"Once I get going, Zig Zag, you'll be wild."
With a violent surge, Warren shoved his cock up to the hilt and I fainted dead away. Some time later, I came to.
Warren was fucking my ass with easy strokes, in and out, slow but steady. As my consciousness increased, I began to like the feel of his cock up my asshole. The pain had been replaced with a warm, cozy feeling and I sighed with pleasure.
"You like it there, don't you, baby," he said as he violated my last virgin hole.
"Feels nice," I said as I began meeting his thrusts with my own.
My asshole muscles clutched his thrusting cock like a hot hand and he groaned pleasantly.
I could picture his rod parting my cheeks and plumbing my asshole with each surge. The heat of his penetrations warmed my bowels and the juices in my vacant cunt began to flow. I soon experienced multiple orgasms as his rod entered my ass repeatedly.
Warren's breathing became labored and his thrusts came swifter and deeper.
"I'm dropping my load," Warren said as he flooded my sore rectum with come. He withdrew his cock with a pop like a cork from a bottle of champagne.
"You're damn good at fucking both ways," he said as he slipped on his underwear.
Wearily I rose from the bed, my body sore and racked from the pursuit of pleasure.
"All I can say is that the next time I crash a party, I'm bringing a wheelchair," I said as I stumbled about the room looking for my panties.
Like Nancy, Zig Zag had emotional problems in her early childhood which were to follow her into young adulthood. Both girls had parents who were more concerned with their own happiness and well-being than with the problems of their daughters. The fathers were particularly negligent in showing affection to the children. Part of the search for sex with strangers were attempts of Nancy and Zig Zag
-on a totally unconscious level, of course-to seek out father surrogates to give them the attention which their own fathers denied them as children.
Dr. Glasser helps to explain the identity problems facing these young women:
Many popular books that attempted to explain to people how to obtain a good sex life do not consider whether the reader has a failure identity or a success identity. These books do not help failures because a good sex life requires more than the ability to perform according to instructions. A successful identity is needed to develop a warm, involved sexual relationship....A child is most likely to develop a successful identity in a family in which the members, adult and child, love and are committed to each other, in which the mother and father hug, kiss and hold each other and their children, and in which the children are taught that a sexual relationship is part of love.
According to Dr. Glasser, a person will probably never be able to relate most successfully to his sexual partner, if he were denied warm familial relationships as a child. It is tragic, of course, that so many people in the world today are chained with emotional problems bestowed upon them by unthinking parents.
It was no accident that Nancy called Lance "Daddy." This only helps to prove that she is, indeed, looking for father figures to help create in a fanciful way the warm loving father whom she never had in reality.
On a different level, however, Zig Zag had become something of a cynic. Because of her early traumas, she had never become involved in any teenage romances with her school friends. By the time she had graduated from high school she had developed the concept that real sexual joy is attained more frequently if the emotions are not involved. In other words, she was using this philosophy as a protective device against being hurt.
Albert Ellis, in his book Sex Without Guilt, helps to explain the behavior of people like Zig Zag and their attempt to justify sex as a physical action without the need for commitment:
The notion that sex must be accompanied by love is a rather romantic notion that does not square well with modern sociological concepts of marriage, since most of the experts in the field keep writing that marriage, in order to be lastingly happy, should be somewhat de-romanticized. Both romantic love and sex satisfaction, I would say, are most easily maintained if the individual who seeks them changes his or her partners frequently.
Through continued sessions in group therapy, both Nancy and Zig Zag have made much progress in accepting themselves as individuals having worthwhile identities. During counseling sessions they report that they have been having sexual intercourse with fewer strangers as a result of self-acceptance of a new confidence in themselves.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE WAITRESSES
Before I went to work as a topless waitress at B-'s I was really lonely, you know? Sure, I'm good-looking and all that, and maybe that was part of my problem. When guys think you're really something they're kind of put off, sort of afraid you'll turn them down, so they don't ask you out. And the ones who do ask you out treat you like a lady, for chrissake, very polite and courteous and all that. They're the kind of guys who say, "Excuse me," when they accidentally touch my breast, like all they're supposed to do is hang there and look good like decorations or something. That's the way it was when I was a regular waitress at a cafe.
But when I got the job at B-'s down by the beach, it was a whole different thing, really far out, you know? My first night in the place I was in heaven. Fifteen guys asked me out that night. Can you imagine having to choose between fifteen guys? Well, I couldn't handle it at first. I mean-tall ones and short ones, slim and fat ones, old ones and young ones, rich and poor-who could choose?
I remember one older guy offered me fifty dollars to "talk" to him after I got off. It was really funny because he did it while I was serving his dinner. I was leaning across the table to put down his friend's plate, and I got so flustered that my nipple dipped right into his oyster soup. He was nice and wiped it off with his napkin and everything, but I didn't go with him after work because I didn't want him to think I was a hooker. We get a lot of whores in there. We get the customers hot and the hookers pick them up and ball them. Some of the girls who work there even hook on the side. I dig having sex with strangers, myself, so I guess I could be a hooker if I wanted.
I didn't go out with any of the guys who asked me until the second week I was there. I remember it was a Tuesday because the place was really dead. I was sitting at the end of the bar talking to Big John, one of the bartenders, when this really tall guy comes in. At first I thought he was hunchback or something because he had one of those packs on his back, you know, like those guys you see hitchhiking along 101.
My God, was he beautiful! He sat over by the fireplace. He put his rucksack on the floor under the table and his feet up on the hearth to warm them. He was wearing walking shorts, a pair of high, blue wool socks, hiking boots, and a wool logging skirt. He was really out of place in there, but it didn't seem to bother him. He just stared into the fire like he was hypnotized or something.
I walked up behind him and asked what he would like, and he was really confused and surprised when he looked around and saw my tits staring him in the eye.
"Didn't you forget something?" he asked. i couldn't figure out what he was talking about.
"Your top. You seem to have forgotten...." he started to say. But just then he saw one of the other topless girls and said, "Oh! When did this place go topless?"
"Late last year," I said.
He had to laugh at himself. He had a wonderful laugh that came in waves like the ocean. He was all blond and tanned with a bushy beard and sparkling blue eyes. And he had a bulge in his shorts like I've never seen.
He said he had stopped in B-'s once a year for the last five years for a cognac to help him weather the fog that was always around in the mornings on the beach in our town. He explained that he took off for a month each year and walked along the coastline all the way to Mexico. He said that he always camped right down the hill from B-'s when he came through our town, and that a fine cognac had a particular way of keeping the cold out of his sleeping bag.
I couldn't believe it. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. I couldn't keep my eyes off of that hugh bulge in his pants. I could feel my nipples stiffening and my mouth was hanging open with amazement. I had never wanted a man so much.
He was looking at my breasts. I followed his gaze and got sort of embarrassed when I saw how big my nipples had grown. They had never been so huge, but I had never seen anyone who attracted me so completely. He introduced himself as "Jim," and asked me to get him a drink and join him if I could.
I got us both a cognac, told Big John that I was going to take a break, and took the drinks to his table.
We talked and talked and talked. I've never met anyone so interesting. He knew a story about everything you can think of. We talked right through my break. But I couldn't let him get away, so I told Big John that I was going to take the rest of the night off, put on my clothes and went back to his table. He was on his third cognac.
We talked through two more rounds of drinks, until he turned to me and said, "How would you like to have an adventure tonight?"
I asked what kind of adventure, and he said that you could never tell about adventures. You just went out looking for them and took whichever one happened to come along.
Now how could I refuse an invitation like that?
We left B-'s and walked down the hill toward the beach. Then we went south along the sand for I don't know how many miles. Everything we saw was like magic. The Whitewater waves were phosphorescent, and the spray looked like a veil of pearls raining onto a dark surface.
It really was an adventure, every step of the way. It must have been around midnight when he suddenly turned and walked toward a lifeguard stand. It was one of those box-like buildings up on stilts. It had a sort of porch all around the building, and a three-foot-high solid fence all around the porch. Instead of stairs, it had a ramp that ran down to the beach toward the ocean so the lifeguard could get to the water fast.
It was turning into a warm night. He led me up the ramp and to a corner of the porch that was sheltered from the wind. He took off his backpack and untied a bundle from the top of it. The bundle was a down-filled sleeping bag. He unrolled it and spread it out on the porch so we could both sit on it and wrap ourselves in it at the same time while leaning against his backpack which he had placed against the wall.
"What are we going to do here?" I asked.
"I usually have my adventures on the beach," he said. "It's okay if a man alone has adventures on the beach, but when a man and woman have an adventure they should have it in a lifeguard tower, because if they have it on the beach, the sand has a way of getting into everything."
He leaned over and kissed me very softly just below my ear, and I could hear passion in his breath. I felt his hand slide around my waist and I laid my head back while he kissed my earlobe and began to lave the inside with his darting tongue. My nipples stiffened against the inside of my sweater. They felt harder, more huge than they had felt earlier at B-'s. I thrust them forward to meet his mouth as it left my flaming ear and kissed its way down the front of my sweater.
By the time his mouth reached the top of my breasts my nipples were so stiff that they ached. I wanted his hot mouth to cover them and tease them and suck them. I grabbed his hair and forced his mouth over the end of my tit. I could feel his hot breath coming through the sweater to engulf my pulsing, aching nipple, and I leaned down to tongue his ear while he worked on it.
I felt his hand move to my leg and brush gently along the inside of my thigh as my tongue darted in and out of his ear. I was breathing hard, and my hot breath in his ear seemed to spur him on. His hand moved up and entirely covered my crotch, then he slid one finger along my slit from my asshole to my clit.
I shuddered. It was like my cunt had been touched with a hot wire. I could feel it pulsating as my love juice began to ooze from between my cunt lips. I reached down and pulled my sweater up over my huge breasts so his mouth could get at my nipples. He teased and nipped them lovingly at first, than began to suck them torturously. I felt my nipple slide way back into his mouth almost to his throat, then slowly slide all the way out again on the warm sled of his saliva.
His simmering mouth soon left my breasts and began laving its way toward my navel. He was sort of laying across me by then, so I moved around parallel with him, my head toward his feet. His tongue found my navel and licked into it hotly, causing my pussy to convulse uncontrollably.
I felt his hands unsnap my Levi's and tug my zipper down. He pushed my panty waistband down and began to lick lightly around the borderline of my pubes, and my seething cunt was lunging at his mouth like a hungry animal with a mind all its own.
His fingers went inside my waistband and around my ass, and I lifted my hips so he could slide my pants down. He was very smooth. My Levi's and panties went down past my knees in one quick, fluid movement, and in another second he had them completely off. Then he began kissing and licking my legs, beginning with my knees and working his way slowly up the inside of my thighs til I thought I would die. He licked and kissed the tender meat just below my cuntlips, ignoring my gyrating pussy until I couldn't take it anymore.
I reached down and wound my fingers in his hair and forced his head upside down between my widespread legs like I wanted to shove the whole thing into my seething snatch, and I did! I was so on fire that I had not even been able to open my eyes until the moment when his warm, wet mouth enveloped my passionate pussy in sensuous heaven.
"Oh, Yessssss!" I said, my eyes and mouth popping open at once.
I had been so totally preoccupied with the adventure he was giving me that I hadn't even thought of doing him. I had even forgotten his mammoth prick, but there was no way to avoid noticing it now. There it was, right before my eyes when I opened them, the head of it peeping out the leg of his walking shorts. As he started swirling his tongue about the lips of my cunt I put my arms around his hips and grabbed fistsful of his strong buttocks. I put my hot, silky lips over the huge head of his cock and swirled my tongue around the mammoth jawbreaker. I slid down over it, licking and sucking as I went, but couldn't get very far because of his shorts.
I unbuckled and unsnapped him and slid his shorts down to his knees. He wasn't wearing underwear. When his shorts came down they entrapped his huge dong, and I had never realized how big it really was until his shorts cleared it and it flipped up and caught me under the chin. It really was a jawbreaker! It was as big around as my wrist and it must have been at least nine inches long. The crown of it flared like a cobra as I slid my mouth over it again.
I wanted to see how much of it I could take, so I eased onto it until all but three inches were inside my hot mouth. I could still move my tongue, so I swirled the length of it along the underside of his prick while I sucked the six inches in and out, in and out. I could hear him begin to moan, and I could feel the sound vibrating my clit deliciously.
As I sucked his huge cock I could feel his fingers part the soaked lips of my pussy. His tongue began fucking into my hole like a pliant little cock, and his smooth chin squirmed wetly against my erected clit and made me groan. Then he began lapping the length of my widespread pussy with his eager tongue. He pinpointed my clit at the top of my inner lips and mashed it lovingly between his lips, flicking the tip of it with his wonderful tongue.
It was like electric sparks shocking my clit. I bobbed my head faster and faster onto his cock as I gently squeezed his balls. The giant thing seemed to have grown another inch! I encircled the base of it with my free hand and let him hump it into my mouth while my hand slid up and down the lovely length of it. I've never eaten such a fantastic cock!
Then he did something to me that no one had ever done before. While he continued lapping my quivering clit he reached around my ass with both hands. He parted my hunching cheeks with one hand and slid two fingers of the other into my gaping pussy from behind.
"M-mm-mm!" I moaned, humming up and down his pistoning tool.
With the third finger of his hand he bridged the gap between my cunt and asshole, circling my anus and dipping his finger in and out of it in time with the movements of his incredible tongue on my clit. My asshole had been virgin up to then because it seemed like such a dirty thing to do, but it felt so damn good that I actually humped right back onto his probing finger until it was buried to the last knuckle in my bunghole.
He fucked my ass with his finger, my cunt with two more, and my mouth and hand with his nine-inch cock. I was really turned on. Never had I had such an adventure. I could feel my orgasm gathering, and I could feel his hugh balls rise up toward the root of his joint and knew that he was ready, too.
I slid my mouth down his shaft as far as I could, grabbed the base of it tightly in one fist and his balls tightly in the other, and let him run his cock-head deep into my throat.
At the same time, he plunged his fingers in and out of my holes with blinding speed while I humped my dripping, seething pussy into his hot, electric mouth.
"M-mm-m! M-mm-m! M-mm-mm!" I hummed as he humped into my holes.
Then he came, and I could feel his heavy load of sperm go past my fist and splat up against the back of my throat. I swallowed it hungrily and humped faster and faster into his mouth and onto his fingers until my own orgasm overcame me like the waves I could hear crashing on the shore.
We laid there awhile, listening to the waves and regaining our strength. Then he rolled over on top of me and said, "Now that we're done with the preliminaries, are you ready for the real adventure?"
I could feel his stiff tool rubbing its endless length against my cunt. I had never before been with a guy who didn't get soft after his orgasm, and it really was an adventure. I raised and parted my legs and hooked my heels over his broad shoulders. I could feel the flared head of his nine-inch prick moving between my quivering cunt lips, teasing me with its promise of absolute fulfillment.
"Oh, Jim, I need you in me. I need you to fill me with your log. Fuck me, Jim. Fuck me now!"
He pressed into me until his flared glans w-edged firmly inside my tight cunt lips, then slowly slid his cock inch-by-inch into my burning lovehole.
I grabbed fistsful of his sinewy buttocks and pushed his pole farther and farther into my snatch until I thought I would split wide open from the size of it. I reached down to feel it and couldn't believe it when I discovered that he still had three inches to go!
"Do you think we can get it all in?" I asked.
"We'll get it in," Jim said. "You have to follow an adventure through to the very end, and this is it!"
He pulled his giant lobber almost all the way out and plunged it so far into me that I screamed. I thought I could actually feel the head of it up in my throat. Again and again he drove it into me like a greased telephone pole, until I could feel it crashing into my cervix. I reached down to feel again and was amazed to find that he still had an inch to go!
He said, "Why don't you ride for a while?"
He took my shoulders and rolled over onto his back on the sleeping bag, pulling me over on top of him without breaking the grip my cunt had on his pole. He inspired me, and I probably delivered the best performance of my entire life.
I sat right up, impaled on his mammoth dong. I pulled myself up almost to the end of it, then slid down its glistening length until it again rammed my cervix. He reached up and cupped my heaving, bouncing tits in his hands and rubbed the nipples firmly with his thumbs.
I rode him like a stallion. Up and down, up and down I rode, his donkey-dick reaming me, abrading the walls of my tight, hot cunt until my juice was flowing out like a river to pool at the base of his fantastic prick. I got up on my haunches and hunched his dick like it was the last one on earth.
While he laid back and enjoyed it, I slowly fucked my way around until I was facing his feet. I leaned forward and got on my hands and knees, humping his wonderful cock for all I was worth. I reached under with one hand and took hold of his balls and squeezed them ever so gently. At the same time I felt his finger poke into my asshole. I humped his prick for all I was worth as his finger plunged in and out of my ass.
"Oh, yeah!" he cried. "Do it, baby! Do it, do it, do it, do it!"
"Oh, fuck!" I said. "O-o-o-o-h-h, Fu-u-u-uck!"
I humped and humped and his finger jabbed and plunged as I felt my second orgasm gathering in my pussy. My cunt walls began to contract spasmodically, gripping his prick like a tight fist, milking furiously on his glorious tool.
"I'm going to come!" he said, burying his finger to the knuckle in my asshole and twisting it about frenetically.
"Me, too! Me-e-e-e-e, to-o-o-o!" I said as orgasm overtook me like a train.
"Uh, uh, uh, uh," he grunted, shooting his jism against my cervix with such incredible force that I thought I could taste it.
We slept then, and when I awoke it was light and he was already packed. He rolled the sleeping bag, kissed me goodbye and said, "Maybe we'll have another great adventure next year."
I said goodbye and watched him walk away.
There have been many other men I've gone home with from B-'s but I don't think there have been any better than Jim. I've been doing a lot of walking on the beach lately. Next time he comes, maybe he'll let me just walk along with him down to Mexico. That would be a great adventure!
We have chosen to present here the very first in a long series of similar episodes described to us by the patient, Lily, over a long period of time. She has now worked at B-'s for over three years, and claims to have had at least two or three sexual involvements with strangers during each week, each of which she describes in the same romantic terms as the one set forth above.
It was not too difficult to discover that Lily's essential problem was her overwhelming sense of loneliness which resulted from her having been born the last child in an overlarge family. Her beleaguered parents had not wanted her in the first place, and so did not pay her enough attention during her formative years. Her mother seems also to have been jealous of Lily. She used to tell Lily that she was too beautiful, and warned her that her beauty would someday be the end of her.
And perhaps it may, since with this idea already in her head Lily had many bad experiences with inept, would-be seducers while in school. She took their pubescent fear and clumsiness to be the result of her beauty and too-pure image. Margaret Mead points out, in Male and Female, the effect of first experiences:
Patterns of behavior learned during dating not only prepare American boys and girls for a situational approach to personal relationships, but they are significant because this is the first occasion in the life of Americans since the blue and pink ribbon on the rattle ... in which the emotional counterpart of sex membership has been positively emphasized.
But Lily had received negative stimuli both from her parents and from her early dating experiences. She thought that what her mother had foretold was coming true-that her beauty would be the instrument of her own destruction-so she set about trying to destroy her purity and thereby her beauty.
Her first step in that direction was to apply for the job at B-'s, a description of which she has already provided. And, also as documented by her case history, her first effort at tarnishing her own image paid off handsomely. After all, fifteen perfect strangers had asked her out on the first night!
But it was the episode she describes with Jim that convinced her that her new approach was the right one. Here is a man who offers a bored, desperate, lonely, beautiful girl adventure, mystery, and abandonment. In other words, he made her an offer she could not refuse.
"Woman seek assurance that they are sexually desirable," says Vance Packard in The Sexual Wilderness. "And when driven to despair by loneliness a woman must not be considered 'promiscuous' when she seeks to soothe her pain through intimate involvements."
But the fact that Lily describes every sexual encounter in the same romantic way indicates that she is covering up, hiding the truth even from herself. The truth is that Lily, as she indicated she could do, has since become a "hooker" herself.
Initially she was fascinated by Jim's freedom, which represented to her the kind of abandonment and fulfillment she was seeking for herself. After Jim, she made constant, repeated attempts to reenact his unique, fulfilling experience. But with each consecutive attempt she found herself deeper in a rut-perhaps an exciting rut, but a rut all the same. What had been exhilarating became at first routine, finally habitual. In the end, Lily was forced to "hook" for payment in order to retarnish her image in an effort to dispel the inevitable loneliness that returned when her sex life became routine. It worked once before, and she hopes it will again.
The patient is presently preparing to change occupations, but has not yet decided what it is she wants to become.
I dig truckers. I move around to a lot of cafes, but I wouldn't work in a place that didn't cater to truckers. I never work in one place for very long, though, because after a while you get to know the truckers who come in regularly and everything gets too routine-like. Some of the best truckers will only hit a place maybe once a year, but when they do roll in, it's a real treat.
The best truckers are like anybody else who's the best. They're cocksure of themselves because they're good at what they do and they know it, and so does everybody else. You take me, for instance. I can spot a top-dog trucker over a mile away. I'll be over at a table taking an order or even back in the kitchen helping out or something, and all of a sudden I'll hear that music. It's different music every place you work. We're at the bottom of a long hill where I work now, and when a top-dog trucker hits the top of the hill and starts down you can hear him going up through the gears. He'll hit about ten gears in thirty seconds, and you can tell perfection by the music and pitch of the diesel when he shifts. Some of them go on by, but when a bull trucker is going to stop he'll start gearing down again about halfway down that long hill. And I'm telling you, the music a good trucker makes when he gears a big rig down like that almost makes me cream my drawers, but we'll get to that later.
I started working truck stops about four years ago, after I left my husband-the rat. I came home early one night and caught him balling a barmaid he had picked up somewhere.
I didn't say nuthin', just packed my bags and got the hell out of there. We lived right off the main highway, so I walked over there and sat on my bags and tried to thumb a ride. I didn't know where I was going, and I didn't care. I sat there for maybe an hour, but nobody stopped. A little way up the road a big double-axle Mac was parked off to the side. I could see the trucker working on something around to the side of it, and he kept glancing over at me. A little later he climbed into the cab and drove right up to where I was sitting, got out of the cab and walked over to me.
I must have been a terrible sight, what with bawling my head off and all, but he was really slick-looking. He was dressed like Johnny Mack Brown in a white western shirt embroidered in blue, blue pants and fancy cowboy boots. He wore a blue scarf tight around his neck and a bleached-straw cowboy hat. I felt like I was in a movie.
"I ain't supposed to take riders, ma'am. But if you're goin' my way, I'll be right happy to give you a lift," he said while I sat there starin' at him with my mouth open and my eyes red.
To make a long story short, I went for a long ride with him-his name was Billy-as far as Utah.
Billy was a top-dog trucker. He never took anything but cross-country hauls, he never carried anything but precious cargo, and he was never short of work. And trucking ain't the only fucking Billy was good at, either.
That night we pulled into a motel on top of a hill on the border between Utah and Nevada. I was almost broke and Billy didn't have much money either. Billy said it was sort of foolish for us to spend our money for two rooms when we could share one room. I had to agree with him, considering what I had in my pocketbook. We decided on a room with two beds. Billy kept the engine running while I went into the motel office to inquire.
When I came back out and told Billy they only had one room left with a double bed, he said, "Well, if it's going to worry you, I could sleep in the truck." We were both tired as all hell-I could see that. So at the last minute I decided, "Oh, what the hell, I trust you." I just couldn't see him sleeping out there in the truck while I was playing Queen Victoria.
Billy moved the rig around to a level spot and showed me all the little things that had to be done in order to make sure that the rig was safely parked. We were outside and had just finished blocking the wheels when Billy touched me for the first time. It was a strange, exciting feeling, because no man except my husband had touched me like that for a long time. I was wearing my tight blue sweater and a pair of slacks. I was standing there, staring up at the stars, when he came up behind me and slid his arms around my waist. A shiver went through my whole body.
"Cold?" he asked.
I told him yes, I was cold, but that I figured to be cold and lonely for a long time after what had happened.
"Look at it this way," he whispered into my ear. "You got a chance a lot of people never get. Way I see it, maybe your old man done you a favor." He pulled his arms tighter and I let my head fall back onto his shoulder. "Now take them stars, for instance. If your old man hadn't cheated on you, you probably never would have seen stars like that in all your borne days."
I got a little bit mad and tried to pull away. I didn't, see how that would heal the pain my old man had caused me. And I couldn't see how that would help me get even with the bastard, either. But Billy held me tight.
"Way I see it," he said, rubbing his fingertips along the underside of my breasts, "way I see it, you got a chance to make a whole new life for yourself. Why, you can just start all over again, be anybody or anything you want to be. You can write your own ticket. Not many people get that chance."
I started to cry. I had held it back for a long time, but I just couldn't hold it anymore. "Maybe I should phone and thank the bastard," I blubbered, mad as hell. I really know how to feel sorry for myself when I get going.
Billy said we should go back to the motel room and get some sleep. He put his arm around my shoulder and comforted me as we walked back to the room. Billy stayed outside while I changed into my nightgown and got under the covers. I even turned my head while he undressed, but I admit that I was curious as hell to see how he was hung.
He crawled in next to me and turned out the light. The light from the motel sign outside was filtering through the curtains into the room. We laid there for a long time before anything happened. I figured he would try something. I mean, how could he help it? But he was so still for so long that I thought he had fallen asleep, and that really did it. It felt like a slap in the face. How could he go to sleep with me right there next to him?
I stewed for a while, then decided to find out if he was really asleep. I may not be a beauty queen, but I got plenty equipment and I know how to use it to make the occasion rise, you might say. I sort of rolled over toward him. He was on his back, so I just let my tits rub up against his arm real soft-like.
He still didn't move, so I took one of my big tits into my hand and rubbed the nipple around in a circle against his arm. But he didn't show any sign of being awake.
I stopped rubbing my tittie against him and was about ready to roll over and go to sleep when I felt something tickle the hair on my pussy very softly. At first I thought it was just an itch, but when I reached down I felt his finger. He was just sort of tickling me through my nightgown.
"You're not asleep, you phony!" I cried.
"Neither are you, baby," he said, laughing out loud. "Come over here to papa and get warm."
I rolled over him and felt his arms slide around my waist. As his hands began to massage my butt and force my pussy against his stiff pecker I skittered my fingers across his back and breathed hotly in his ear.
I ran my hand down his back and discovered that he was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. I put my finger under the waistband and ran it around front, between our bodies. Little animal sounds began gurgling in his throat as he relaxed his grip on my ass so my hand could slide down and take his tool.
"Wow!" I said. "I'll bet you're a real trucker with this rig!"
He liked that. He reached down and put his hand around mine and moved them both back and forth, jacking off his amazing tool. I threw the covers off and helped him remove his drawers so I could get at it better. There was enough light so's I could see the huge thing standing at attention down there. The head of it was shaped like a heart, and it was sort of glistening in the soft light.
I took it in my hand again and began milking it like a cow's tit. He put his arms behind his head and humped his pelvis into my hand in rhythm with my strokes. The more I pumped it the fatter it seemed to get. I didn't want him to shoot his load into mid-air, so I began licking my way down toward his big fatty while I continued to milk it with my hand.
"Bring your sweet thing up here, baby, so daddy can kiss it," he said.
"Huh-uh," I whispered. "Let me do you, then you can do me. I like it better that way."
I continued licking my way down his soft skin until I reached his magnificent monster. I pursed my lips and kissed the base of it while I continued pumping with my hand. Then I stopped milking it and began licking its length with long, loving strokes. Every time his heart beat, the magnificent thing would dance a little jig. I could feel it beat with my tongue.
I licked it from bottom to top, then sucked the heart-shaped head into my mouth and teased the slit with the tip of my tongue. Then I slowly sucked my way down over the shaft, licking and swirling my tongue around it as fast as I could.
I felt his fingers grasp my hair as he humped his fat cock into my hot, wet mouth. I took his balls into the palm of my hand and pressed them gently with my fingers while my head bobbed up and down over his huge glistening prick.
"Oh, yes, baby," he said. "Suck it like that! Eat it! Eat it!"
I gobbled him for all I was worth while he thrust his hugh tool as far into my mouth as it could go. I felt his balls draw up and begin to convulse, so I slid my lips all the way down to the root of his joint and sucked as hard as I could.
"Oh, yeeesss!" he said as I felt his come shoot deliciously down my throat.
I continued sucking his prick until I had swallowed every last drop of his seed. Then I rolled over and waited for him to do me.
My feet were up by his head, but after resting for a few minutes he slid down until his head was next to my hips. He reached over and ran his fingers gently up the insides of my thighs, tickling the little hairs and giving me goose flesh. He brushed his fingers up against my cunt lips once or twice, and I could feel my pussy tingle each time. Then he parted my cunt lips with two fingers and felt around until he had my erected clit between them. He rubbed his fingers back and forth, softly massaging my tingling node.
My breath came hot and fast, my breasts were heaving and my nipples were rigid. I reached up and took my breasts in each hand and rubbed my nipples while he worked on my pulsating clit. I could feel my love juice oozing out between my lips, and it excited me so much that I grabbed handfuls of his hair and forced his head down between my legs.
He parted my pussylips with his finger and began licking the juice from my slit. He brought his other hand around and slowly worked two fingers up into my vagina as his searing tongue moved upward and attacked my throbbing clit.
He plunged his fingers in and out of my seething pussy and flicked my clit back and forth with his tongue while I ground my pussy furiously into his face. When I was ready to come I pulled my legs back and thrust my cunt straight up into the air so he could plumb me deeper with his finger. Suddenly my orgasm hit like a series of earthquakes, and I spasmed and spasmed until I fell into a wonderful sleep.
Billy woke me up a half-hour early in a delightful way. When I first opened my eyes, I was startled because I couldn't figure out where I was, but it slowly came back to me. I was on my side facing toward the window, away from Billy. I felt something thick and warm moving between my legs from the rear. I reached around and took hold of Billy's sweet cock, raised my leg and rubbed the head of it against my still-moist cunt.
I got hot very quickly. I raised my leg higher and nosed the head of his dick into my vagina. It slid in smooth as silk. I lowered my head and pulled my legs up toward it so that only my ass was touching him as he pumped his wonderful cock in and out of my pulsing cunt.
He fucked me in that position until I got good and hot, then moved me around into six or seven other positions I had never tried before. My old man was never very imaginative about anything, and when it came to sex he was really a dud.
It ended up with me on top of Billy, sitting up on his stiff rod and riding it like it was a bucking stallion. We came together, and I thought the pressure of his load shooting up inside me would blow me through the roof. I'm telling you, I don't know when I've had a better man!
It was Billy who got me my first job at a truck stop, right down at the bottom of that hill on that very morning. I worked in that place for about a year before I caught a ride out here with another trucker. The joint I work in now is the best of the three truck stops I've worked since coming west, but now the truckers are getting a little too familiar, so I'll probably be moving on soon.
Whenever I decide to move I just hitch a ride with the boys and ask for a job whenever they stop at a place that appeals to me. Sometimes on my day off I'll hitch a ride down the road a ways with one of them and hop another rig to come back. The most interesting experience I've ever had happened that way.
One day about four months ago I was feeling way down and out. Robby and Jack, two regular customers I don't know very well who honcho a big oil rig between here and L.A. came in on their way south, so I caught a ride with them.
It was really beautiful. They both said they were married, but they were really good-looking guys. We got about a hundred miles down the coast, then Jack asked if I wanted to rest with him in the bunk. Robby was driving, but he looked over and smiled at him.
"After you rest I'll spell you for a while," he joked. "I know you're going to be tired!"
They're always joking around like that. Anyways, we got into the bunk and he started feeling me all over and taking off pieces of my clothing. I unzipped him and pulled out his prick and started sucking it.
"That's it, mama! Do your thing!"
Robby was trying to watch us in the mirror, but he couldn't see very well and started cussing.
"Why don't you park this thing and join in?" Jack asked him.
I didn't know what to think about that. Oh, I had fucked a lot of truckers by then, but never more than one at a time. Not that I had any time to consider it, anyway. Before I even knew what was happening the truck was parked and Robby was climbing in bed with Jack and me.
By that time I had only my panties on, and they made short work of them. The cabin space was small, but there was enough room for what they had in mind. Jack told me to get on my hands and knees. When I did, he got on his knees behind me and teased my already-dripping pussy with his erected prick. Robby pulled his clothes off and came around in front of me on his knees. He had a long, skinny cock that wasn't quite hard yet.
I felt Jack's cock begin pressuring my cunt lips. I reached underneath between my legs and took his balls in my hand, massaging them with gentle fingers. Meanwhile, Robby's prick was growing with every heartbeat, tapping against my chin. I took it into my passionate mouth and sucked it back into my throat.
Jack put his hands on my ass, grabbing fistsful of flesh, and mercilessly rammed his meat into my seething snatch. Robby wound the fingers of both hands into my hair and jammed his long, skinny cock deep into my throat. They rammed and jammed their cocks into my holes for about ten heavenly minutes, then we changed positions so that they were both laying on their backs while I stayed on my hands and knees and fucked Robby's cock with my cunt and sucked Jack's cock with my mouth.
We changed positions a lot more times before we were done: I jacked both of them off when my holes wore out, they both ate my pussy at the same time, and I sucked both of their cocks at once. But the last thing was the best of all.
Jack rolled me over on top of him and shoved his prick into my cunt while Robby got on top of me. While I fucked Jack, Robby fingered my asshole until the muscle seemed loose enough, then slid his long, slick cock into my anus. They told me it was called a Las Vegas Sandwich, but I called it heaven.
"Keep on Trucking," I yelled as they slammed their meat into me. "Keep o-o-n-n-n f-trucki-i-n-n-n-ng!"
Linda's case is indeed a sad one in many ways. While on the surface it may seem that her husband's ultimate rejection validated her worst fears about herself-causing her to compulsively seek sexual relations with strange men-the sad truth is that Linda's marriage was not ruined by her husband's infidelity. Rather, it was ruined by Linda's leaving all the responsibility of the marriage to her husband. She expected that her husband should do everything while she did nothing. Linda had been taught all her life that her husband, if she picked the "right" man, would fulfill her every need throughout her married life. Philip Slater, in his The Temporary Society, points out this problem in the modern marriage, spouses are now asked to be lovers, friends, and mutual therapists in a society which is forcing the marriage bond to become the closest, deepest, most important, and putatively the most enduring relationship of one's life. Paradoxically then, it is increasingly likely to fall short of the emotional demands placed upon it and dissolve.
Eventually, Linda's marriage was destroyed by her own lack of understanding where her husband was concerned. It happened over a long period of time which saw her husband's love wither on the vine, so to speak. For years Linda refused to allow her husband to touch her except when in bed under the covers, and then he was only permitted to perform missionary-position coitus with he lights out. In the end, as Linda reported, her husband was driven to take another woman as he had been threatening to do for some time.
In her attempt to get even with her husband, Linda subconsciously adopted the role of the woman with whom her husband had been unfaithful. The woman was a barmaid, a waitress of sorts, and at her first opportunity Linda also took work as a waitress. Her husband's lover, according to Linda's interpretation, was a woman who slept around with strange men. And at her first opportunity, Linda also slept with a strange man. Although she could justify her initial action by pointing out that Billy was "kind" to her when she was despondent, she cannot explain away the pattern that has developed over the past years.
Considering this, it is in no way unusual that Linda is prone to be footloose, moving frequently from job to job. She feels that she must seek out strangers and do everything sexual with them that she had never done with her husband. In this way she continues to punish him for his sins. It does not seem to matter that he will never know of her transgressions, it is enough that she knows what she is doing to him.
We note that Linda now involves herself in anal activities, although she had previously thought that sort of activity to be filthy and vile. But the more "degrading" her actions, the more she feels avenged of her husband's sins.
The fact that Linda has begun to think that perhaps there is something amiss with her is a healthy sign. Her preoccupation with and glorification of truck drivers is symptomatic of an underlying emotional conflict which, if allowed to continue unchecked, may negate any future attempt on her part to establish long-term emotional ties with any man.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE DOOR-TO-DOOR SALESGIRLS
I guess some people would figure me for a whore because I sort of give away sex with the sales I make, but it's really the other way around. I sell magazines door-to-door so I can get sex with strange men. Screwing men I already know just doesn't do anything for me at all. I can't even come once with most of the men I've known for some time, but with a stranger I can have one orgasm after the other. Just going down on some man who's bought a magazine subscription from me can sometimes make me come, especially if he's a little rough about it and holds my head hard while I'm sucking him. That's another thing. I make it best with men who really force me a little.
Like the sale I made this morning-before I came in for this interview. Usually, of course, women answer the door when I ring and I seldom make a sale with them. Guess I don't put my heart and soul into it with women. Unless they're lez, I just close my eyes and make believe that a man is eating me. Sometimes I come even quicker with a lez like that than I do with a man. They know better how to lick a cunt.
Anyhow, like I was telling you, this old guy about forty opened the door when I rang. I gave him the magazine pitch and he asked me to come inside and talk about it. When they ask me in, I know that either they aren't married or their old ladies are out. Unless the guy's a fag. And even then, I've made a few fags. I guess every girl likes to feel that she can take a guy who turns on to other men and make him like it with her.
I knew this guy was no faggot right away. That bulge in his pants gave it away that he was in a horny mood.
I never wear a bra while I'm working. My tits are kind of big, and since I'm usually turned on, the nipples show good through the blouse. Most guys are tit men and it helps turn them on. Besides, a lot of guys, especially older men, know that when a girl's nipples are hard she's likely to be easy.
This older guy wasn't shy. Soon as the door closed behind me he had me by the arm and was leading me to the couch. When we sat down, he was so tight against me he was practically in my lap. I leaned against him, he put his arm around me, and the rest was automatic. He just kept putting his arm further around me until he was holding my right tit and pinching my nipple. I said, "The zipper's in back," and he had my dress off in no time flat.
His prick wasn't too long, about six inches, but it was one of the thickest I've ever seen. And give me thickness over length any time. I like pricks that stretch me.
I never play with a guy's prick unless he asks me to. A lot of guys come too quick that way and it's no fun for me. The one's who ask me to play with them or suck them generally know how to take their time.
This guy asked me to suck him. I told him straight out, "I like to fuck and I like to suck, but when I suck I like to get my cunt licked first. Too many guys get a girl to blow them then throw them out of the house. You eat me and then I'll blow you 'till you beg me to stop."
So he got down on his knees in front of me, on the floor, and I sat back on the couch with my ass on the edge and spread my legs. He didn't waste a minute. He just shoved his face in there and started licking away at my cunt and clit. Then he closed his mouth around my clit and started sucking and flicking it with his tongue. I had my first orgasm then, and they started coming about a minute or so apart.
He knew plenty about women. After I'd come a few times he worked his hand up under my ass and shoved his finger into my asshole. God! that felt good. I always go to the toilet before starting work. I'd be embarrassed as all hell if a guy shoved his finger in my ass and pulled it out all covered with shit. Besides, every once in a while you run across some guy who wants to ream you with his tongue. In case he decides to kiss me later, I want to be sure my ass is clean.
I must have come about a dozen times before this old guy's tongue got tired. Then he stopped licking me, stood up, and said, "Honey, Now you're gonna' blow me."
I could barely get my mouth around his prick, it was so fat. And it was hard as a rock. It was oozing liquid at the tip that tasted salty, but I'm used to that. Soon as I started sucking he grabbed my head and held it in place, then he started rocking his hips back and forth so that he was fucking me in my mouth. There wasn't a thing I could have done about it if I had wanted to, but I didn't want to. I nibbled on the shaft of his prick with my teeth, and I could feel his prick starting to twitch. I knew he was going to come.
Then I remembered what he had done to me while he was licking my cunt, and figured that if he liked shoving his fingers up my ass he'd probably want the same. Lots of guys do. That's why I keep the nails on my right hand clipped short. I stiffened my right middle finger, positioned it against his asshole. He knew what was coming and spread the cheeks of his ass as much as he could. Then I rammed that old finger home to the hilt.
He came so hard it spurted off the back of my throat and I nearly choked on it.
The old man was ready to quit, then, but I grabbed him around the ass and started licking his balls. It wasn't long before I had his prick as hard as ever. But this time I wanted it in my cunt. He was still pretty weak, so I pushed him down to the floor, on his back, and climbed aboard.
Since he'd already come once, I got a good ride out of him before he was finished. I just leaned forward on him, arched my back, and rocked back and forth on his prick, 'till I was coming one right after the other. Banging away at him until he couldn't take it anymore. He shot his wad again but I wouldn't stop. I was hurting him and I knew it. His prick was getting the kind of fucking he'd only dreamed about before. Finally, he threw me off and rolled over on his stomach so I couldn't get at him again.
Before I left, I signed him up for about forty dollars worth of magazine subscriptions and went out looking for another man. I was just getting warmed up for the day.
How did I get the way I am? It's hard to believe that I was a virgin until nineteen, a stupid little cock-teaser who practically fainted if a guy put his hand on her tit. Would you believe that I once actually thought that soul kissing could get you pregnant? And the first time a guy on a date tried to grope my cunt I knead him in the balls so hard I put him in the hospital. Later I gave him the best blow job of his life to try to make up for it. But that was more than a year afterward.
I learned about sex from my husband, and he turned out to be a lousy faggot. He married me because he was a mamma's boy, and mamma told him to marry me. He busted my cherry and turned me on to sex, sort of, but I'd have gotten more real pleasure out of fucking a corpse. Finally I caught him blowing his best buddy, a guy he'd been in the army with, and threw him out. His mamma came around accusing me of being a whore or something, so I told her what her little boy had been doing. She didn't believe me. Anyhow, I got the house, the car and the bank account. It was a big one, and I didn't have any more worries about income.
But I'd been turned on to sex, and I couldn't get enough. I'd go to parties and get fucked in bedrooms while the door was locked. I'd let guys pick me up in bars and restaurants and we'd fuck in their rooms or motels, or in the back seats of their cars. Word got out that I was an easy lay and every guy I knew was calling me up for dates. I fucked and sucked all of them.
I noticed one thing, though. I got a bigger bang and a stronger orgasm-sometimes two or three-the first time I was with a guy, or if I'd just met him. After I'd fucked a guy a few times he'd have to work like a dog just to get me to come once. That's when I got the idea of taking a job where I'd meet lots of men.
I worked in a few offices and behind counters, and while I was getting laid once in a while it wasn't enough. And I'd have to work after hours to let the boss fuck me, or sneak off to the storeroom with the stock boy. I was getting nothing but kids and fat old men. The kids weren't too bad, but too many of the older guys would shoot off in seconds, and there weren't enough of them, anyhow.
That's when I saw the add for magazine subscription salespeople. When it was my turn for an interview, I told the boss that I had a sure-fire sales technique that never missed. He asked me how I did it, so I leaned forward, put my hand on his thigh, and said, "Can I sell you some magazines, honey?"
He said, "Promises are no good, kid. You've got to deliver."
So I zipped his pants open, slipped to my knees in front of him, pulled out his prick and sucked him off. I got the job.
We all met in a motel room the next day, him and me and the other salesmen. I was the only girl there. He had told them all about me. We spent the rest of the day getting "introduced," so to speak, and the selling didn't start until the next day. I took the whole crew on for that "introduction," fucking and blowing every guy there at least twice. I think there was one time when I was taking one guy in the ass, another in the cunt, blowing a third and jerking off two others. I guess five guys at once must be some sort of a record, and they had a problem getting to me. It's tough getting pricks in your ass and your cunt both at the same time, and a lot tougher sucking another guy off at the same time, too. I don't even really remember the hand jobs.
Before we got down to the fucking and cornholing, I asked them to go down on me. Most of them refused (there were eight or nine of them, as I remember), but two of them said, "what the hell, let's give the broad a good time," and took turns giving my cunt a good licking. To show my appreciation I sucked them both off before I let any of the others fuck me.
Me and the rest of the crew don't do much fucking around any more, though. It takes too much time away from work, and to me, work means more new pricks and assholes. In addition to fucking, I'm an asshole freak. If I get fucked there I come real hard.
My first day on the job actually selling I hit the jackpot twice. The first was a kid about nineteen, home alone with a cold while his parents were away. He came to the door in a bathrobe, and I could see he had a hard-on before he ever opened the door. He must have been laying there in bed jerking off when I rang the door bell.
I didn't think I'd make a sale there, but magazines was not what I was interested in selling that morning. That bulge in his robe was turning me on. So I sort of stumbled as I walked through the door and let him grab me to hold me up. His hand landed on my left tit and he jumped back like he'd been burned. I was real gentle with him, though, and he was kissing me in a minute or two. I think he must have been cherry, he was so scared.
Scared or not, he was game. I had his robe and my clothes off in a minute, then pushed him flat on his back on the sofa. First I gave him a " 'round the world" job with my tongue, licking and sucking him all over. He came in my mouth as soon as I started sucking, and I thought it was all over and I'd never get my rocks off with him, but that was because I didn't know yet about kids his age. He was hard as ever in a minute, and insisting that he had to do the same thing to me.
I never say no when a guy tells me he wants to lick my cunt.
His technique was kind of sloppy, but he sure was eager. He must have eaten my pussy for an hour before he came up for air. Then we fucked. I had to put it in for him, he was shaking so hard.
He came again, fast, but kept on fucking. I'd been used to my husband, who fucked me once a week for five minutes, or the pickups, who only wanted to get their own off as fast as possible. This kid was fucking for my pleasure. He pounded it in for at least half an hour before he was really through. And then he asked if he could eat my pussy again. While he was down there licking his come off my cunt he worked his way around to my asshole and licked that out, too.
I took the rest of the morning off resting in my car. That kid had made me come at least twenty times. I've come more times in a day, but not in that short of a time, before or since.
I finished" up that day with a lesbian. Where the kid in the morning had been shy as hell, the lesbian, she must have been about thirty, was out to make me any way she could. I couldn't keep her hands off me, but I tried at first. She was my first lez, and I wasn't sure I wanted her. But she got her hands on my tits and I couldn't say no after that.
The argument started after she ate me, and wanted me to go down on her. I told her I fucked and I sucked, but I didn't lick cunts. We wound up with me strapping a dildo on and fucking her like a man. I did suck her tits, though.
I average two or three different men a day and maybe two lesbians a week, and I think I'm beginning to like the lesbians more than the men. They can't fuck me (one of them used a dildo on me and I didn't like it), but they sure know how to eat pussy. I've never met a man, including that first eager kid, who could lick a cunt like a woman can. I guess we know best how we like our cunts licked.
The men run from rotten to damn good, of course, and every once in a while I run into a stud who can fuck forever, or at least it seems that way. And there are always the duds, who try and try but can't even get it up.
And the money's good. These days, I don't put out until I've got the money and their names on the dotted line-except when some superstud-looking guy really turns me on. So long as I've got the urge, I'll probably keep on fucking strangers for as long as I can.
Perhaps, in this account of a woman whose life is devoted to sexual pleasure, we have one of the answers to the present decline in commercial prostitution. With women such as this subject roaming the streets in numbers (the following case illustrates the fact that she is not a unique phenomenon), the prostitute who sells her body overtly would face stiff competition. Of course, we must realize that the door-to-door semiprofessional whore (for that is what she is, regardless of her protests) cannot ply her trade in all neighborhoods. A certain degree of affluence is demanded of her clients.
The sexually compulsive woman (Krafft-Ebing would have called her a nymphomaniac) is an encreasingly common type, particularly since our society took the first steps toward divesting women of their sexual inhibitions. Indeed, many modern behaviorists consider feminine sexual insatiability the norm, rather than the unusual. Dr. Mary Jane Sherfey has done considerable research in female sexual capacity, and has drawn some conclusions that differ markedly from those of her earlier male compatriots. It is her opinion, based on studies of human and primate females, that the female sexual capacity and drive is inexhaustable. And she states that successful coitus reinforces the female sex drive: "The more orgasms a woman has, the stronger they become; the more orgasms she has, the more she can have. To all intents and purposes, the human female is sexually insatiable in the presence of the highest degree of sexual excitation."
If the preceding is true, then women such as our subject must be considered totally normal in their appetites. What is of note in their behavior is not their desire for virtually continuous sexual action, but their desire to engage in this action with strangers. Unfortunately, little hard research has been done in this area.
Fortunately, it can be demonstrated that whatever the subject's motivations, they are far from unique. I have had the opportunity, in the course of a sex research being conducted at the present time, to interview several hundreds of women about their sex drives, preferences and activities. Almost all of these women, whether or not they have given in to the urge, have expressed the desire to copulate with men who are strangers to them. It would seem that the urge, at least, is the norm. Only societal attitudes, reinforced by parental admonition, kept the majority of the women interviewed from embarking on sexual adventures with strangers, on the grand scale described by our interviewee.
So it is distinctly possible that, in the absence of artificial restraints, the sexual aggressors in human society would be women, not men. The urge is possed by them, and their apparent greater capacity for sex makes this urge most logical.
I guess the average man never meets the door-to-door salesgirl. She operates during daytime hours, sells principally to women, and is legitimately employed. Only the man in an unusual living situation, such as myself, is in a position where he might encounter them with any degree of regularity.
I'm a freelance writer, age thirty-five, divorced and living alone (with the exception of certain girlfriends who spend the night now and then), and at home almost every day. Also, I sell well, and can afford to live in an upper-middle-class neighborhood, the kind that is popular with door-to-door salespeople of both sexes.-I'm considered good-looking by most women, which makes the seduction of saleswomen who come knocking at my door that much easier. Not that most of them need much in the way of seduction.
I can tell whether the salesgirl is peddling her products or her body within moments after opening the door to her. If she hesitates on seeing a man open the door and seems reluctant to accept my invitation to enter, she's selling products. If she smiles on seeing a man-and grins when I tell her that there is no "lady of the house"-what comes next is practically automatic. I can figure on getting laid or blown either just because she wants it, or to help sell whatever it is she's selling.
Most people would never believe how many women go from door-to-door selling just to get laid. It's a racket that seems to attract women with itchy cunts. And they generally get a pretty piece of loot out of it. Of course, to the guy like me, with a built in hard-on, they're ideal. They are the reason I live the way I live.
I first found out about the door-to-door nymphomaniac by accident. My sister and her husband asked me to "house sit" for them while they were on vacation. (I had been living in an apartment, in one of those buildings with an armed guard at the door and no peddlers allowed.) First day at the new address, I was awakened by a ringing doorbell. It turned out to be my relatives' insurance agent, there to settle a small claim. Only the insurance agent was about twenty-five, female and stacked like a brick shithouse. I explained who I was and she asked if I could invite her in for a cup of coffee. She asked me!
This sounded like more than just a sales pitch, so I bowed her through the door and into the living room. When she staggered against me on the way past, I woke up to what she was really after-my hairy male body. I've never been the kind of guy to waste time with preliminaires.
I didn't bother to heat the coffee. All I did was ask, "How'd you like to get into something more comfortable, like my bed?"
That's when she reached out and pulled loose the belt on my robe. I had nothing on under it but an erection about eight inches long. She reached out and grabbed it, gently, and said, "You'll do." Then she dropped to her knees and slipped my prick right between her ruby lips.
I couldn't help myself. I shot my load right then and there, right in her mouth.
After she quit swallowing, she got up and told me that I had played a dirty trick on a poor unsuspecting girl who had been looking forward to hours of happy fucking that morning. So I told her that until I got hard again my tongue would take over where my prick had left off. Thirty seconds later we were both stripped and in my bed, her legs were wrapped around my head and my tongue was playing tag with her clit.
That girl had a capacity for orgasms you wouldn't believe. She must have come twenty or thirty times while I was licking her. The juice was running from her cunt like from a faucet. But I was hard as a rock again and I figured it was about time my prick got a chance at her crack.
I had to wrestle with her to get my head free of her legs, until she got the idea that I was going to put something else in there. But when she had her legs spread wide and pulled back she said, "Honey, give it to me in the ass, please." I can never resist a girl who says please.
So I spit on the head of my prick, pressed the head of it against the tender pink bud of her asshole and shoved. The way it slid in, I knew a lot of pricks had been in there before mine. An ass is too tight to get into comfortable the first few times.
I rammed my prick in to the hilt and she started coming. It seemed as though she was going to have one long orgasm. She was twitching and bucking under me, and moaning, "Fuck me! fuck me harder, harder." Then I came again and rolled off her, my prick as limp as a wet noddle.
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew she was washing my limp prick with a clean wet towel. Then she took a jar of cold cream from my sister's dresser and started rubbing it into my prick. That was the damndest sensation I'd ever had there. The stuff seemed slightly mentholated, or something, and in no time at all my prick was growing hard again. Then she washed off what was left of the cold cream and said she was going to suck me like I'd never been sucked before.
She told me to lay still, to just relax and take what was coming. Then, while I lay there flat on my back with my prick sticking straight up in the air, she lowered her head over it and gently sucked it into her mouth.
For the next half hour, she sucked on that prick and nibbled on it. She played on it with her teeth like an ear of corn, but not so hard. When I finally came, it was so strong I could feel my asshole try to make it out through my prick. It was the best blow job I'd ever had.
After she left I poured myself some coffee and collapsed into a chair. The day hadn't even begun, and I was sexually shot. I'd been planning to have a girl over for the night, but now I figured I couldn't do anything for her, so I called and cancelled our date. Told her I had the flu.
The rest of that day taught me that I was capable of a good deal more, sexually, than I had ever imagined.
The doorbell rang a few more times that morning, men selling assorted junk, religious types pushing their beliefs, nothing I couldn't easily talk my way out of. Then, right after 1:00 in the afternoon, when the kids finish lunch and go back to school, I had the surprise door-to-door salesgirl of all time.
She wasn't anything special to look at. If she hadn't been young I'd have turned her down. As it was, I was tempted to close the door on her anyhow, figuring I couldn't get it up after the insurance lady of the morning. But there was something depraved about her face that interested me. She looked like a girl who would do just about anything. I'll bet she'd have raped a German shepherd if she'd had the chance.
She was selling magazine subscriptions, she said, but she never tried to push her product. From the moment I let her into the house, she couldn't keep her eyes off my crotch. She was practically drooling while she watched it, and when my prick started to get hard and bulge out against my robe (after that morning, I would have considered another hard-on impossible) she really did drool a bit. It ran out of the corner of her mouth and trickled down her chin.
When she reached out to touch me through the robe I decided to relax, let her do all the work, and accept whatever she had in mind. I was in a reclining chair, so when she flipped open my robe I pushed back to a horizontal position.
First thing she did was suck my prick into her mouth and start working on it with her tongue. Then, with her head bobbing up and down on my prick, and without missing a stroke, she stripped herself naked, switched herself around, lay down on top of me, positioned her cunt above my mouth, lowered herself into position and wrapped her legs around my head. There was nothing I could do except eat her snatch. I nibbled and licked, she sucked and bobbed her head up and down on my prick.
After the workout I'd had that morning, I was prepared to go for hours before I came, but she didn't know what I'd already been through. She told me (later) that I had more endurance than any man she'd ever met. I must have worked on her cunt and clit for half an hour, with her coming about once a minute, before she gave up sucking on my prick and asked for a rest. She told me that I was the first man to eat her cunt long enough to wear her out.
I made coffee for both of us while we rested up for another bout. She was ready to leave, but I told her that she wasn't getting away that easy, which pleasantly surprised her. As I'm a writer, I'm always interested in what people do and why they do it, so I asked her a few questions about how she got into the door-to-door selling business, whether she did it for money or for sex, and what her general background was. I figured I could always write a story about her.
She told me that she worked for sex, not money. Said she had all the bread she could use-got it from her husband in a divorce settlement. She had been a virgin until she was married. Had no idea how much fun fucking was. Her husband turned her on to sex, but he turned out to be queer (she called him a fucking faggot). She said she caught him blowing his best friend, an old army buddie, and threw him out of her house.
Then she found herself needing regular fucking, but without a husband to give it to her. The first thing she did was go out and fuck all her husband's friends, and tell them to tell their friends that her cunt was willing and waiting. I guess she was getting back at her husband that way. She also told me that she never went back to the same man a second time, so if I was going to fuck her, I'd better get all I could.
My prick was feeling good again, which she noticed, so after I let her lick it a few times, just to get it totally hard, we went into the bedroom and got down to serious fucking. I still couldn't come though, even after I fucked her in every position I could think of for almost an hour. With her on top doing most of the work was best. Hell, it was great. But I still couldn't come.
Then I thought of something. I'd seen a vibrator, the kind shaped like a prick, in my sister's dresser. Guess she and my brother-in-law had some high old times with it. Either that or she used it to jerk herself off when he was away. No business of mine, though. Anyhow, I pushed her off and went for the vibrator.
As soon as this broad saw the thing her eyes lit up. She told me that she'd finally had enough, so she would work on really getting me off. So I lay back and she started sucking on me again, but this time she ran that vibrator up and down that part of my prick which wasn't in her mouth. It felt great, but I still couldn't come.
The next trick she tried did the job. She rubbed that vibrator with Vaseline and, while she was sucking the hell out of my prick, she shoved that greased vibrator up my ass. The vibrator tickled my prostate like it had never been tickled before. I felt that orgasm coming for five minutes before it got there. It may have been the best I've ever had in my entire life. I kept coming and coming and she kept sucking and sucking and swallowing till I was empty.
After she got dressed and left, I filled a tub with hot water and soaked for an hour. I was stiff and sore all over and hungry enough to eat a horse, raw. I got dressed and went out to a restaurant in the neighborhood for a steak. Then I went back to the house and slept until dark. I had intended to write that day, but I was just too tired.
It was dark already, about 8:00 in the evening, when the ringing of the doorbell woke me up. I dragged on my robe and staggered down to the door to see who was there. There was a little girl of about fifteen ringing that bell as though she wanted to push it through the wall. She had a big bunch of flowers in her hand. I invited her in.
It turned out that she made her living selling flowers door-to-door. It also developed that she was about five years older than I'd figured-or so she said. She may have claimed to be twenty, but I still think she lied.
When she found out that I was alone she told me that she really sold two things for a living-flowers and her pussy.
Since she was being honest about it, I told her the full story of that day, explaining that while she looked good enough to eat, including her pussy, I'd already had so much sex that I'd never be able to get it up. So she told me that she hadn't been able to get her rocks off all day, only ladies at home, and would I please be a nice guy and eat her pussy. She'd pay me off in flowers.
I figured, "what the hell," I can use this in a story, so I told her to strip and get into bed. Then I licked her cunt for a while. But through all of that licking my poor prick just hung there limp. I couldn't have gotten a hard-on for Cleopatra.
At my suggestion, she spent the night in bed with me, sleeping. When morning came, I discovered that the old prick was back in action, so I sent her off to work with a good fuck. She must have liked it, because she thanked me and didn't ask for payment.
The rest of the two weeks I spent in that house went pretty much the same way, except on weekends. At least twice a day some broad would come by looking to get laid and sell something. When my sister and her husband got back, I went looking for a house of my own to rent.
It took a few tries before I found a neighborhood being worked by women looking to get laid, but I finally found one. And the first customer I had was that magazine saleswoman from the first day. She didn't recognize me, but I did her. And she told me the same story again, almost word-for-word. This time I had the vibrator ready and waiting, and I used it on her, too. She had beautiful orgasms, one right after the other. I've never met another woman who could come so hard and fast.
There's only one thing wrong with the life I presently lead. I may get all the fucking I can handle, but I don't get enough writing done to pay the rent.
Superficially, this account would sound like something made up by a sex starved small boy, who recounts the fables created by his imagination to his equally deprived young friends, in the hope of impressing them with his manliness. Two factors militate against this possibility. The first is the subject's position in life. A well-to-do male in the writing profession, particularly when he is in the prime of life, has no need, generally, to imagine sexual companions. For verification of this, check with any successful heterosexual writer.
Secondly, there is the admittedly un-likely situation of the subject having encountered, in the course of two sexual adventures widely separated in time, the subject of our first interview. At least it seems likely that the two women were one and the same. After all, in one relatively small section of Los Angeles County (the scene of these adventures), how many female door-to-door sellers of magazine subscriptions can there be who are sexually insatiable-and divorced from a husband who was discovered fellating his best friend (male).
It may be argued that this male subject claims a sexual capacity far beyond the norm, and that therefore his descriptions of events should be taken with the proverbial grain of salt. Fortunately for his veracity, the multiorgasmic male does exist, has been documented (see Havelock Ellis for specific case histories), and may have a simple explanation for his being. Just as the female sex drive is known to have been suppressed by adverse societal attitudes, there is growing opinion to the effect that male sexual capability has also been artificially undermined by false precepts inflicted by a repressive society.
The importance of this case history is that it sheds light on an aspect of female sexuality that has largely been swept under the therapist's rug. Psychologists and psychiatrists, the professionals who generally deal with those disturbed by their own behavior, are generally well aware of the depth and intensity of the normal female sex drive. Some few still adhere to older and contradictory theories, but even the lay person generally knows enough these days to laugh at such backward theorists. It is generally assumed that they are projecting their own disabilities.
Almost every thereapist can verify, from his own cases, that many women report dreams in which they couple with many successive strange men. From Havelock Ellis and Elizabeth Blackwell, through Freud and Jung, to the most modern researchers such as Albert Ellis, Masters and Johnson, reports come not only of the desires, but of the acts themselves.
It can be safely stated, then, that the sexually complete female at least possesses the desire to couple frequently and at length with a wide variety of men. And when men are not available, if her sexual drive is sufficiently strong, she will accept women as her intimate partners.
The implications of this drive, if it is indeed as widespread as would appear, are obvious. To a greater and greater degree, we are removing societal restrictions on total sexual freedom for women, as well as for men. Thus far, the impact has been greatest on feminine sexual behavior. Women had effected greater changes in their sex lives than have men. The multiorgasmic male is a great rarity, particularly in males past their 'teens. In women, the individual with the ability to sustain a series of orgasmic releases is becoming commonplace.
Eventually, unless some cataclysmic upheaval throws us back to a new Dark Age, sexual freedom for both genders should approach totality. At that time, although we may not see men and women coupling openly in the streets, it will probably be accepted that, if sexual attraction arises, even on a momentary basis, it will be satisfied.
Mankind possesses the strongest and most constant sexual drive known in the animal kingdom. Our incredibly strong urge to mate marks us as distinct from all other species as sharply as does our superior intelligence. We have been called the "hairless ape," the "thinking primate." Perhaps the most accurate term that might be applied to us would be the "oversexed ape." Perhaps sexual insatiability is the ultimate end-product of our evolutionary line.
CONCLUSION
The sexual revolution has brought not only a change in attitudes toward promiscuity, but a widespread increase in those people who have deliberately chosen the single life, who enjoy complete sexual freedom and seek no permanent ties. Today there are more than sixty million singles in America and their lifestyle is spreading with rising popularity. Many singles, including countless divorcees, feel that they are psychologically unsuited to married life. They do not deny that the single life is not without its problems, including feelings of loneliness, but they feel that this lifestyle poses only a different set of problems from those encountered in marriage. Many observers note that loneliness is relative to the individual, whether he is married or single. In the final analysis, they argue, we are left with ourselves-single or married-and we must come to terms with ourselves.
It should be remembered that much of the analysis of promiscuity in the past and even today contains generalizations based on attitudes of an earlier repressive society. The investigations were largely confined to the clinical treatment of patients. But with the sexual revolution, with the new lifestyle of the singles who are going strong, and with the change in attitudes toward sexual variety, some revisions had to be made in the analytical approach to promiscuity. Indeed, some observers may feel that the term is an anachronism. Liberationists maintain that a variety of partners is a healthful outlet for a normal sex drive. Prominent authorities, including Dr. Sherfey and Dr. McCary, have noted that the sexually complete female, at least, possesses the desire to couple frequently and at length with a wide variety of partners.
Although we cannot make the same generalizations that were made in the past, we can still find valid observations in psychiatrists' reports on promiscuity. The liberationists' argument does not negate the fact that many people today attempt to resolve-or escape-deep-seated emotional conflicts through promiscuity. The majority of analysts would agree that the individual who is incapable of interpersonal involvement or a warm, meaningful relationship may reveal a history of personality disturbance. Most of the subjects in this volume do reveal-as many people today-deep-seated problems which they attempt to resolve or alleviate through promiscuity.
What happens to the female when she engages in continual promiscuity? Liberationists say that it depends on the emotional maturity of the individual. Conservatives argue that chronic promiscuity is a symptom of immaturity and deep-seated emotional conflicts which have not been resolved. Theodor Reik asserts that the consequences are emotionally damaging in all cases. Although such generalizations may belong to the past, some of Reik's observations, in his The Need to Be Loved, accurately describe many disturbed women today:
Whatever the deeper motives are for a woman's promiscuity, her behavior is inevitably accompanied by a loss of self-esteem and results in contempt for herself as an individual and for her sex. It corrupts her self-image when she is degraded to the position of a sexual object of the male. No woman with a high opinion of herself as a person and a member of her sex will drift into promiscuity except in utter despair or under the pressure of dire need for money. The demoralizing effect of promiscuity is akin to that of a man who sells himself into slavery.
It would be difficult to assume that all females today, particularly many of those who belong to the "swinging singles," ' are driven into sexual variety as a result of "utter despair" and the "dire need for money." These again are the generalizations of an earlier repressive society. However, Reik's observation of a "loss of self-esteem" and the corruption of the female's "self-image when she is degraded to the position of a sexual 'object" accurately describes some of the representative case studies in this volume, as well as many emotionally troubled females today. In the final case study of Chapter Two, the subject "was regarded by her many lovers not as a person, but as a sex-object...." Her loss of self-image is perpetuated as she continues to search for human relatedness through promiscuity. Lily, in Chapter Four, is suffering from a damaged sense of self, reinforced by early parental declarations and early dating experiences. Her promiscuity is not the initial cause of her degraded self-image, it merely compounds her problem. The subject uses promiscuity as a means of "self-destruction"-reflecting her own moral attitudes toward transient relationships-and finally resorts to prostitution as the ultimate means of tarnishing her image and achieving her "destruction." Gracie (Chapter Two) was afflicted with a damaged sense of self before she entered into promiscuous activity. An orphan who never experienced parental love or affection even in foster homes, Gracie was driven in utter despair to seek any kind of affection. The desperate search for affection characterized the subjects in Chapter Three, and certainly utter despair as well as a motivation for revenge compelled Linda (Chapter Four) into a life of promiscuity.
What are some of the common problems involved in chronic promiscuity? For various reasons, such females avoid, or are incapable of, interpersonal involvement. The problem may stem from feelings of inadequacy and rejection rooted in early childhood or in early dating experiences. Patterns of sexual behavior affected by early dating were demonstrated in the cases of Sandra (Chapter One) and Lily (Chapter Four). Some women enter into promiscuity and avoid involvement as the result of a traumatic marriage (Linda, Chapter Four, and the subject in Chapter Five). They fear involvement, yet they need to be wanted. M.H. Hollender notes that promiscuous females and many prostitutes were seeking "human relatedness in a physical and non-personalized form." Many of these females rationalize that they are waiting for the ideal man, or as F.C. Redlich and D.X. Freedman state it, "The promiscuous save themselves for an unobtainable 'true love.' "
The need to be involved-to identify-is the common motivation for promiscuity, according to William Glasser in his The Identity Society, as demonstrated in Chapter Three. The need to be involved in this sense may not necessarily imply involvement in a love relationship (which these subjects avoid) but a craving of lonely, uninvolved people for human relatedness.
Feelings of abandonment by parents, fear of rejection, and disappointment in the father compel many girls to search for a father image through promiscuity. In many cases promiscuity becomes the means of revenge against the injurious father or husband (Linda, Chapter Four).
Many females enter into promiscuity and prostitution as a means of overcompensation for their frigidity. Countless females need to prove their femininity in promiscuous relations to compensate for their latent or overt homosexuality, as Caprio and Brenner noted in Deviations of Sexual Behavior. In many cases, promiscuity may represent an escape from a restrictive environment-the "boredom" of a conventional marriage-or an overreaction to puritanical parents. Strangers provide security against the subject's activities being disclosed to family and friends. Psychoanalytical studies suggest that in certain cases promiscuous relations may stem from an unresolved urge to possess a penis. Promiscuity represents a displacement of the desire for the father (Oedipal stage) as well as an indirect means of obtaining a male organ and allaying anxiety associated with penis envy.
Finally, extreme loneliness and the need to be wanted are overwhelmingly demonstrated throughout the case studies. These, then, are the problems, the observations, and perhaps the predictions of things to come-of increased sexual freedom and, hopefully, of a greater understanding of human sexual needs.
Stratton Lindenmeyer, Ph.D. Los Angeles, California May, 1973
