The word Orgy before it was defamed and distorted by the vested interests of the Judeo-Christian establishment meant secret ceremonial rites in honor of Dionysos or Bacchus characterized, as the dictionary definition has it, "by ecstatic" or frenzied singing and dancing and often by revelry. This definition itself is not untouched by prejudice and is more than once removed from the original sense of the Greek "orgia", related to ergon, meaning work. Others had defined orgies as the blowing off of steam, the result of a controversy or a fight.
The orgy as it is practiced even in the most sophisticated circles today, even where it is in its best taste and completely without the taint of commercialism, is not the religious ritual of the Dionysion mysteries. It lacks the unifying force of a communal tradition supported by customs and tribal consensus.
In writing about any subject connected with sexual orgies in the Western world the first task that confronts a writer is defining his terms, that is, delousing the words. The word "deviant" itself triggers many minds to form conclusions that the persons actually involved in these type of different sexual acts, are, because of their different behavior in sexual circles, anti-moral, anti-social, alcoholic ... and anti-religious. The "deviant" is different, apart, separated from accepted forms of behavior. As such, he or she is separate from society, classified as a person on the outskirts of accepted social behavior, a threat to some aspect of our society.
True, many deviant forms of sexual behavior are a direct threat to the security and peace of our society. Some directly threaten the minds and bodies of our children, our loved ones and our friends. The person who lives mentally tortured by a fetish takes another's personal property infringing upon another's rights. The person who exhibits himself to others indiscriminately infringes upon another, the viewer, and his or her right to decency and privacy from such infringement.
But what of the person who is the victim of the motivation to perform such acts? What of the person addicted to "orgies" or different forms of behavior? If there exists any social problem, the people behind that problem must be changed in order to rectify the situation to fit the terms of accepted social behavior.
Though the medical profession has made great strides in the areas of the mentally ill, there still exists the fact that each individual is so complex in nature, each person's problem is so individualistic that there is not sufficient numbers of qualified personnel who can work in the area of any social or mental problem at the deference of another problem.
Dr. M. H. Edkardt
CHAPTER ONE
The nympho is described as a female with an irresistible craving for sexual intercourse. Her ambitions rarely tempt her toward other activities, mainly because it is she whose needs must be assuaged. She is necessarily a selfish creature always in desperate need of continued copulation, with a constant itch that cannot be adequately eased.
The real nymphomaniac is a rarity, actually, but many who earn the title are no more than artful and greedy girls with an excessive sensuality.
Roz L. is twenty-one years old, a stunning brunette with an excellent figure and an excellent mind. She is tall, her hair is soft and rather long and her great dark eyes are lovely. She has a remarkable smile that makes her beautiful every time she uses it. One would hope that she is a young bride, perhaps a young mother, but this is not the case.
Roz has an excellent job as assistant buyer for an eastern department store and she has a plush apartment in the city and a small cottage at a lake in the country. She spends every weekend in the cottage with two very nice looking young men who are severely masochistic by nature. Roz is a very beautiful sadist as well as a nymphomaniac, she says. Knowledgeable people in the field of sexology will argue her claim to the title nymphomaniac. Yet, she tells you that she is one of these and it would appear that adopting such a designation does something for her. Consenting to be interviewed and quoted, she insisted that she be described as a nympho and a sadist.
"My sex life has been busy," she said. "I grew up in a tough neighborhood and you either put out or you got put out. It was like that. I lost my girlish laughter when I was twelve years old and it wasn't to one of the kids. It was an old guy who lived on our block and ran a candy store. He caught me clipping a candy bar and threatened to call the cops. I didn't want that kind of trouble so we made a deal. Oh, it took me a while to work out the details. First, he just wanted to feel my breasts a little, then I should go in the back room with him and let him lick me down there, and then I had to give him a blow job now and then. One afternoon he got it into me and that was the end of my cherry. He got scared though when I told him all the girls in my family got pregnant real easily. After that all he wanted was a blow job and I got pretty good at that. But I gave him more action than he wanted. He died of a heart attack less than a year after he started with me and I've always wondered if maybe I sort of killed the old goat. But, I didn't worry about it.
"Shortly after that, one of the guys in the neighborhood tagged me one night and then a few nights later he turned me over to a few of his buddies. I wound up the star of a gang bang. I enjoyed that and every little once in a while the guys would get hard up and they'd come looking for Roz. I got more fun out of it than they did."
Roz was being interviewed in her apartment. It was difficult to reconcile her language with the position she held and the obvious good income that had established her home. One interesting development occurred during the interview. Describing her initial experiences and her early beginnings, Roz's speech was decidedly of the gutter type. As her story progressed, her speech altered and became more in keeping with the social and economic stature she had achieved for herself.
She served coffee and then went on with her story.
"It was always the same when I was going to school and then high school. I took a course in a good business college and worked my way through. I was interested in merchandising and I wanted to become a good buyer. I think I paid with my hips for everything I'd ever gotten. But I didn't mind. So often, a guy would think that he was seducing me and it was really the other way around. As soon as I was old enough, I moved out and got an apartment of my own. For a while I shared the place with a girl named Shirley but she and I did not get along too well. I am neat and tidy by nature and she was a slob. The only way I could live in a clean place was to pick up after her and I soon got tired of that. I talked her into finding a place of her own.
"I was lucky in finding a good job that could lead into the type of future I wanted for myself, and in meeting one of the men high up in our echelon, a man who could help me get what I wanted. As a matter-of-fact, I went out on several dates with him and while he was and is a married man, we had a lot of fun together. When he wanted sex, I simply made him pay for it. Oh, not in money. I explained to him what I wanted and asked him to help me. He promised that he would and he's been living good ever since. And so have I. This apartment was one of the nice things he did for me. The cottage at the lake is something he helped me with, too.
"But I found that sex with him was a sometimes thing and that wasn't enough for me. So, I went shopping around. I found a little action here and there, but it was all a big nothing. And then I read in the paper about a club that had been raided or at least persuaded to move on. It was one of those groups where they use whips and stuff like that. I didn't think any more about it at the time, but I found that there were reams of material on such clubs, mainly in the psychiatrist's case books or files and many of them were writing about that sort of thing. I began reading up on such clubs.
"I don't know why, but the subject began to fascinate me. I was entranced by the whole spectrum of such activities and I coudn't keep my mind on my work. I read that there were many clubs that advertised discreetly for new members and I bought one of the tabloid newspapers. I found loads of ads inserted by all sorts of people. I started writing them in distant cities. I got answers, and pictures. Some of the pictures were downright disgusting. I have nothing against beautiful people, or even reasonably passable people doing perverted things and having their pictures taken while doing it, but some of these people were ugly, fat, gross and decidedly unappealing. I just stopped writing to them and let it go at that. I had rented a post office box under a phony name for the purpose, so it was easy to break off.
"I quickly got discouraged with writing to the clubs. It always appeared that I had to deal with a committee and that just didn't set too well for me. After all, I was really looking for a couple of handsome studs, maybe the clubs couldn't do me any good. I mean, maybe I was looking in the wrong place. There were a lot of individual ads inserted by both men and women. I read one that had been inserted by a handsome young man, docile and thoroughly submissive, seeking a dominant female interested in costumes and heels. That one intrigued me. I sat down and wrote a letter to the guy and asked for a photograph and more information. I was so excited by the prospect such a letter offered that I just couldn't wait for an answer.
"I got an answer in surprisingly short time. The young man was named John. He was thirty-two, a bachelor, and a successful architect. He lived in a nice town in Connecticut and had inserted the ad hoping to meet the type of girl he could enjoy. I looked at the photograph he'd sent and he was indeed very handsome. I answered his letter right away and gave him my telephone number. Two nights later he called me and asked if he could come over and take me out to dinner.
"He came over that same evening and we went to dinner. He was everything that he said he was and I liked him. After dinner I brought him up here so that we could talk. I made some drinks for us and then we sat down. He told me about his needs. He was quite virile, virtually inexhaustible, but for some strange reason, he could not function normally. He blamed a dominant mother for his condition, and he had been trying some of the clubs, seeking a girl who could do what he had to have done to him. I remember that I was extremely excited just listening to him. When he described the things he enjoyed and I tried to control myself, I just couldn't. I was sitting in my chair, my whole body on fire as I imagined myself doing the things he was talking about. I began having one orgasm after another and it was so damned delicious and precious, I just couldn't stop.
"He told me that he was unable to function as a man unless he was first humiliated and beaten by a pretty girl. After that he was insatiable, inexhaustible. He'd had a few bad experiences at the hands of amateurs in some of the clubs, so he was seeking a girl who could handle him and might want to. He liked me and thought me very beautiful. He hoped his story hadn't repelled me, but that was the way he was and there was nothing he could do about it.
"I was too excited to sit still and I was still experiencing one orgasm after another. I was sopping wet, so I got up and started walking around. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. The idea of stripping this handsome young man and using whips on him was sexually exhilarating to me. Frankly, I was wild with eagerness. Just the thought of it was doing things "to me that no amount of normal sex had been able to do. He was watching me and his eyes were pleading with me to take him on. I could feel my face burning and my mouth was dry. I was having trouble breathing. He was waiting for me to say something, sitting on a footstool, smoking a cigarette.
"'I would be a harsh mistress, John,' I told him. 'I would insist upon absolute obedience, and I would punish you severely for the slightest hesitation or disobedience. I happen to be capable of unimaginable brutalities and downright viciousness. Do you think you'd like me to take you in hand?'
"His whole face lit up and you would think I'd given him a million dollars.
"'Oh, if you only would! You are very beautiful, Roz, and I would be so very obedient, so completely submissive."
"I just didn't know what the hell to do next, so I walked close and looked down into his nice eyes and they were decidedly happy. I lifted my right hand and slapped his face with a blow so hard that it knocked him flying off the stool. He sprawled on the floor and he stayed there.
"'Get up, John!' I said. He got to his feet and stood looking at me. I could see that he was already excited and I assumed I had done the right thing.
"'Come into the bedroom, John,' I told him. 'I am going to begin your training right now, and I am going to give you your first whipping. Now come along."
"He trotted along behind me like a little puppy dog. When we got into my bedroom I had him stand close to the bed. I reached out and unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops. Then I told him to take his trousers down and he did it, all the while watching the belt in my hands with a sort of catatonic fascination. He exposed a marvelous sexual development and I almost smiled with my delight, but I didn't. I wrapped the belt around my fist and then hauled off and hit that marvelous thing with one hell of a cut and he yelped like an animal. He went down and I was glad the apartment was completely soundproofed. He scrambled around on the floor and for a moment I was sorry for him. Then I told him to get up or I would hit him there again.
"He jumped up and there were tears on his cheeks. His sexual organ was erect and considerably larger than it had been before. I was actually amazed by the metamorphosis and I knew I didn't intend to let that wonderful thing go to waste. I told him to undress completely and he did. Then I had intended to have him undress me but I was just too excited to wait. I simply sat down and told him to perform sucking immediately.
"He knelt and carefully removed my panties and then he began doing what he'd been ordered to do and he was good at it. But I could stand just so much of that. I was able to stop him and then I had him put that monstrous thing where it belonged and I almost went crazy with ecstatic pleasure. I sort of lost track of things for a while and then I became aware of myself again. I was having all kinds of orgasms. I was beating him on the back with the belt and totally unaware that I had been doing it.
"It was all over for both of us but I was just too weak to move so I ordered him to go back to what he had been doing, and he knelt and again performed cunnilingus on me. I let him go on with that for a long time, until I got my strength back. Then I knew I was going to give him one hell of a good whipping, one he'd never forget. The anticipation was doing delightful things to me. I was trembling something fierce.
"He was still kneeling on the floor because these subs are always afraid to act without a direct order. I told him to get across the footstool and when he obeyed I positioned him exactly as I wanted him. Then I went into the living room and turned up the hi-fi. It's piped into the bedroom, so I knew it would muffle the sound when I hit him with the belt. Then I started in on him and I have never enjoyed anything as much. I had another human being completely at my mercy and I could hit him wherever I chose.
"I worked him over for an hour, and all the while I was in the midst of doing it I was undergoing delicious orgasms, exquisitely distilled ecstasy. It's like electric shocks. A million volts when you've been used to house current.
"I knew John was sobbing and his rear end was a mess, but that only pleased me more. Then I felt the big one for me and that lasted a long time. When it was over, poor John had had himself a time. I told him he could get up. Then I saw that he had experienced several ejaculations while he'd been taking his lumps and I made him go get a sponge and clean it all up.
"In spite of the punishment he had taken he was happy and thoroughly delighted by what had been done to him. Just to make sure he didn't get away with anything, I had him sit down and I used the belt on his genitals until he was again erect. Then I performed fellatio on him a few times, and when I was sure that he was thoroughly drained, I let him up.
"He was awfully hairy down there and I told him I didn't like that. I told him that the next time I saw him I expected to find him shaved and completely hairless. I asked him if he understood and he nodded. I gave him back his belt and told him he could take a shower and then we would talk.
"When he was dressed I made us some coffee and we were again natural with each other. I told him that this evening had been just a sample and there were many torments I would inflict upon him if he decided he wanted to be my slave. Did he?
"He positively glowed. He told me that he had had the nicest time he'd ever known and he would be obedient and completely my devoted slave. I told him then that I would want him on Friday night and we would spend the weekend together. I would try to find some professional equipment in order to provide even greater delights for him. He said that I wouldn't need to bother. He had a whole collection and he would bring it with him. If I wanted to supplement it or buy other pieces, he would give me the money.
"He went home then and I went to bed. I knew that I had found something that was absolutely amazing and thoroughly appealing to me. I had enjoyed myself all the while I'd dominated John and the thought of future sessions with him kept me awake half the night.
"When he arrived Friday evening, he carried a long flat case in his hands. It looked like the case that musicians carry certain types of guitars in. He wanted to show it to me but I told him we were going to my cottage at the lake for the weekend and I would look at it there.
"I was all dressed up and I knew that if I started looking at the equipment he had and started thinking about what I was going to do, I'd get myself sopping wet which I didn't want to do. I didn't even want to talk about such things. I just got in the car and told him where to drive and he did it.
"We stopped off for dinner at a nice restaurant, and when we got close to the cottage, we stopped and got some groceries. Then we went on to the cottage and John started a fire in the fireplace. Next we settled down with a couple of drinks and then John took time out to bring in his equipment. He saw my look and he smiled.
"'You're not interested in costumes?' he asked.
"I didn't know whether I was or not. He opened a suitcase and brought out the costumes. They were fashioned of exquisite leather and there were two, one black and one a flaming red. There were high-heeled boots of varying heights and they were absolutely beautiful. He was watching me as I examined the garments.
"'A girl who is a whip mistress usually likes to wear such a costume,' he said. 'I'm sure you would look especially beautiful in such costumes."
"He was sort of asking me to wear them and I didn't mind. The idea sort of appealed to me. But I didn't commit myself. He opened the case and there were all sorts of whips and straps and bonds and fetters and all sorts of gear designed to make one human being totally helpless and at the mercy of another.
"Looking at the equipment got me so excited I started in with the involuntary orgasm again and I was just too sexually excited to think.
"I told him I would like him to please me right then and there and he obeyed me without a moment's hesitation. I let him do that for nearly an hour. It took that long to take the edge off for me. After he'd achieved the big one for me, I let him stop. Then I told him to make us fresh drinks. I watched him. Just seeing him so obsequious and docile thrilled me all over again. I was going to have a grand weekend and I would not have to lift a hand. I didn't even have to go to the bathroom if I didn't want to. When he came back with the drinks I asked him if he could cook. He assured me that he was an excellent cook. I told him that was just fine, he was going to do the cooking. That was fine with him.
"The cottage was in a remote section of a town close to a lake and since there was little likelihood of anyone bothering us, I had John strip down. I liked watching him walk around naked. After a while, there were some innovations I thought up for him, like a harness he wears that thrusts his genitals into prominence. This makes the whole apparatus available to the whips if I choose to discipline him that way. I noticed that he was shaved and his genital area was intensely appealing that way.
"After a while I tried on the costumes and I was amazed at what they did for me. I looked quite stunning in them. I always wear them now. I have lots of pictures to show you what I mean.
"I wore the black costume that evening and the next day. The leather garments against my skin affected me strangely. I was absolutely brutal with John and I used each of the whips, trying to pick out my favorites. Some of them were murderous instruments but John didn't mind. The meant I was to him, the fury and savagery with which I whipped him only stimulated him all the more and of course, I worked myself into a state where I automatically experienced enormous climaxes of unbelievable ecstasy.
"That whole weekend was a binge of excessive brutality and exquisite torture. John thrived on it and so did I. He performed every perversion I could think up, he did all of the work and the cooking too, and he was a good cook. By the time the weekend was over we were both too thoroughly exhausted to even talk. John dropped me at my place and then went home. He thanked me profusely for the most wonderful weekend he had ever experienced. He told me that he loved me and would await my call with impatience. I let him go and went upstairs to bed, almost asleep before I got undressed. In the morning, my benefactor at the store wanted a date that night so I had him over. But my life with him was tame now, ever since I'd found John.
"I called him during the week and told him that I would expect him again on Friday evening and we would go again to the cottage. He hesitated before agreeing and I got scared. I wondered if my slave was contemplating insubordination. It wasn't that at all. He wondered if he could bring a friend. Another submissive who was one of his dearest frineds. I imagined that they were carrying on a homosexual affair but he denied that. He explained that this sort of thing did little for either of them. I knew damned well that if I got both of them under whips they would sure as hell let me watch them go after each other. The idea of working over two stalwart males tickled me and I told him that he could bring his friend. He thanked me on behalf of his friend and I hung up.
"I met Bill that weekend. He is twenty-six, a very brilliant young attorney, I understand. We went to the cottage and I stripped both of them down and I was amused to see that Bill's genitals had been shaved and were as smooth as a young boy's. John said he had told Bill I would insist upon that. We had a wild weekend with me in my costumes and those two boys getting beaten, and delighting me in any way that appealed to my fancy. I watched them performing fellatio on each other but I didn't get much of a kick out of that. I found that I would rather do that myself. That weekend was a dilly and the beginning of a regular program of repeated pleasures for all of us. And we are still going strong.
"Once in a while, Bill will bring his girl friend up for the weekend and I will have to discipline her. Her name is Kathy and she is a very lovely blonde but she is just as depraved as any of us. Bill went through the roster of the clubs, too, and he found Kathy in one of them. She is a devoted masochist and of course I am able to provide all the pleasures she could possibly imagine.
"But Kathy's parents are quite wealthy and she can only come up once in a while, so we have actually evolved into a trio and we work very hard at our perversions. We enjoy these little pleasures and intend to go right on enjoying each other. But even with all the weekend activity, I manage to lure my benefactor into my bed two or three nights a week, depending on how often he can get out. If that doesn't make me a nympho, I don't know what a nympho is, I guess."
COMMENT:
It is very possible that Roz's statement is entirely accurate. She doesn't know what a nympho is. It is quite apparent to the psychiatrists who were asked to comment on her case that she is a bundle of neuroses and sick mentally insofar as her sexual aberrations are concerned.
One medic suggested that her affinity for whips and abusing males is an effort on her part to strike back against those who hurt her when she was very young. However, he added that it would take many, many sessions of analysis in order to make any definite assertions or evaluations insofar as she is concerned. Most of those consulted held very little hope of a cure for her, or a change in any way. She is quite happy with what she is doing and who can replace Nirvana?
She had an enormous library of pictures, as frank as her conversation. She brought them out to be examined and seemed quite proud of them. They were the type of prints made by the cameras that develop their own pictures, virtually instantly, and they were all in color. Many of them showed her in her black leather costume and this was quite impressive.
There was a group showing her in the red leather costume and she was undeniably beautiful in both of them. Each costume was designed to give her a wasp waist, and the corset-like affair pressed the attractive curves of her buttocks into fetching prominence. In one picture, she is shown with her breasts nude, the corset-like affair fitted with tiny curved shelves that fitted the contours of her body and thrust her breasts high, holding them firmly in an entrancing position. In this picture a loin cloth type of leather skirt shields her pubic area and buttocks. In another picture, the loin cloth affair has been twisted so that its panels are against her hips and her buttocks are nude and thrust into sharp prominence. The leather on the lower half of her body curves high above the pelvic area in a graceful arch, leaving the genitals and the entire pubic region thoroughly exposed. There is no pubic hair and in spite of its evil character, the garment does make her appear exceptionally beautiful. She has been photographed in this getup from all angles and the high-heeled boots she wears are quite impressive.
There seems to be more than one pair of each because in one print she is wearing form fitting boots of shiny black leather that extend all the way to her crotch, then she appears in another pair that, while also form fitting, end just below the knee. In both instances, the heels are abnormally high and look very much like needles. The red costume is equally fetching but it is cut somewhat differently and the pubic area is shielded. However, in a stance wherein her legs are spread wide, the pubic area is thoroughly exposed, suggesting a sheath like arrangement that covers her when she chooses to be covered.
There are many pictures of her abusing her victims and of course a great many depicting scenes of pornographic character. She has a great many reels of motion picture film showing her in action and these too are in color. She offered to set up a machine and show these but this offer was refused. Insisting that she was eager to contribute to clinical information on these matters Roz invited the researcher to attend a weekend session, but this offer was refused.
CHAPTER TWO
"I don't know how it really happened, come to think of it," Lee said about her first extra-marital experiences. "How does one explain it even to themselves in those non-word thoughts, let alone be able to explain it to another in words?"
I sat opposite her in the neat little white kitchen, the tape recorder between us. Lee's long blonde hair fell flowingly over her shoulders. She was a nicely shaped woman, very attractive even for a woman ten years younger. Lee is a housewife in her middle thirties, full breasted, tallish. The house robe which fell casually around her body gave no indication of what was on underneath. She leaned across the breakfast table, elbow supporting her, holding a cigarette, coffee only inches away from her right hand.
I said, fingering my coffee cup, "Can you explain why it happened?"
"That's even harder," she admitted, with a little nervous shake of her head. "I mean, well, I've been happily married for ... well, I met Ben when I was seventeen. We dated for a long time, he went into the service and when he came home on leave, we got married. Our wedding night was the first time I'd seen a man naked ... I didn't know what was ... well, between his legs, really-only what I'd heard, but seeing is believing, you know."
She looked down at her coffee, embarrassed. "Really, it's going to be hard to talk about it, I think."
I looked at her, wondered how I could break down her hesitation. She wanted to talk about her problem, but was a little shy. We really didn't know each other that well, yet. We had mutual friends and had been to several parties with one another. Once, when dancing together, she had been rather sexy, putting her hips tight against mine, later pushing her full thigh between my legs. It was obvious what she was searching for at that time. This was morning and at such hours things are a little different.
"Could I suggest something?" I asked, studying her carefully.
"What?"
"Maybe if you had something to drink." She looked up, smiled and said: "Drinking does something to me ... I don't think...."
"What does it do?" She laughed. "Makes me high!"
"Isn't that what it's supposed to do?" I countered with some humor. "Actually, I thought it would loosen you up a bit."
She gave me a strange look, as if not sure what I meant, then said, after wetting her full lips with a pink tipped tongue, "It might make me too loose. That's what happened the first time ... I was lonely, frustrated, the kids away at school, Ben off to work, and Eddy, next door stepping in for something or other and we talked, I offered him a drink and one thing led to another. Drinks affect me...."
Then suddenly before I could say anything, her eyes studied me very carefully as she said: "Maybe a drink might help a lot. I think I would like that idea."
She stood and seemed to glide across the room, her hips moving gracefully from side to side far more actively than usual. She disappeared from the room and then after some time returned, a bottle of whiskey in her hand. She got two glasses from the cupboard and then sat down opposite me, poured two amazingly stiff drinks and explained to me, "I like it straight, I hope you don't mind."
Lee said: "I want you to know that I'm a respectable woman. All my life I've loved my children, I was faithful to my husband for years-why I've suddenly changed ... I don't know-and that's bothering me. Ben has never slept out on me, I'm sure of that. It isn't jealousy-there isn't any motive other than the fact that ... well
... I just wanted you to know."
She swallowed hard on her whiskey, stared at me for a considerable time, and said: "I just don't know where to start, and I realize what you want and I just can't talk in that way until ... to be honest, until I feel bitchy enough."
She flushed at her last two words, looked down at the drink, then back up into my eyes. "I realize we're alone and that anything I tell you will be ... not identified with me-but still ... it's difficult to talk to a man who seems a total stranger to me."
"What do you suggest?" I inquired, suddenly guessing what it was and finding the idea strangely stimulating. I'd never been the kind of man to sleep with another man's wife. And to be frank I didn't have any plans on breaking that rule now, no matter what she did. I was here to listen and record her story, nothing more. She continued to look at me and then finally sighed. "You're a mature man-you know a lot about life and people. I guess nothing would startle you very much. I guess you've known all kinds of women and men and I guess there's nothing I could do or say that would embarrass or shock you. Isn't that true?"
I nodded, looked down at my drink, took a swallow, then lighted a cigarette in order to give myself something to do.
She smiled and then took another sip of her coffee. "What do you want to know?"
"Start with the first time," I said, a little self-conscious about what had happened. She had taken me like a steam-roller.
"That was with the guy next door, and I was drunk and lonely and he was a cad. Well, let's put it this way: he's married to a very nice woman and ... well, he sleeps out on her-and she knows about it and ... well, I guess I'm no better, come to think of it."
"How'd it happen?"
"Eddy saw I was drunk, in a house robe, and he just started to crowd me. That was after I'd offered him a drink-simply because it wasn't very polite to drink in front of him. He then started to push me-like standing very close, almost touching, pushing me back against the sink-in that I kept trying to keep a polite distance. Suddenly he said, 'You're a most attractive woman.' I thanked him in a very polite, formal way. Then all at once he pulled me into his arms, crushed his lips against mine. I struggled, startled and frightened, not knowing what do do. This kind of thing can happen to a woman, and it usually does happen to most women one time or another in her life.
"I was alone in the house and he knew the kids wouldn't be coming home until late. I'd noticed him many times when he worked in his backyard. Eddy was very muscular, well built as hell, exciting to watch and I'd felt guilty at watching him, wondering what he might be like in bed and knowing he slept out on his wife and ... well he killed me with the kiss. Just killed me. I was ready to go. But I fought him off, and we stood there looking at each other, panting, both excited to the point of no return, you can bet your sweet ass on that." She laughed.
"I was horney as hell. The funny thing is that I'd never had a satisfactory relation with Ben-I didn't tell you that, did I? Well, I'll tell you all about that later. Right now, let's continue with Eddy. Eddy was also ready to go. You should have seen the size of him. He looked into my eyes, said: 'Lee ... I've wanted to do that for months. You have a delicious looking mouth.' I stood there, staring at him, not able to say anything. He continued with:
"'You turn me on, really turn me on.' Finally I found it possible to speak. 'I think you better leave. He smiled, moved close, pressed his cock against me, and before I knew it he was thrusting inside me. 'I know you want that, Lee, just like I want you.' Then he pulled me into his arms, kissed my lips, stuck his tongue deep into my mouth and then started to fondle my breasts. I was so hot that I coudn't stand it. I found myself responding uncontrollably. His body was hard all over and the muscles seemed to twitch with excitement. I thought I was doing this to him, and it was my body which was driving him beyond the line of politeness. He was out of his mind with desire.
"This idea excited me, plus, of course his throbbing cock inside me. But I said: 'Please, don't ... don't ... I don't want ... ' He laughed, driving me insane with his fingers, 'How much would you be willing to bet you don't want it?'
"Well, I didn't even get a chance to really consider it. All I could think of was how good his hand felt and I'd always wondered if there was something wrong with me. I thought that sex was one of those things a woman had to put up with-but that they weren't supposed to like it. Suddenly what I was feeling was something totally different from anything I'd ever experienced before."
She paused and said: "You see, when I was married I knew nothing about sex, and Ben is ... was then and still is, a little stupid about women. I don't mean that he's dumb-he's very smart, but he doesn't know how to please a woman-he just goes at me. The night of our wedding he climbed on to me, kissed me, pulled up my night gown and proceeded to nuzzle my breasts and fondle me below. Nothing happened to me. The next second he was inside me and, like a jack rabbit, he came two seconds later-leaving me climbing the walls."
She sighed, said: "It's been that way all our married life. I never enjoyed it with him and thought there was nothing more to it. Tim came from a family which didn't talk about sex and he was pretty idealistic and he thought I was enjoying myself-and I've never told him differently. I love him too much to tell him ... so we never broke the habit-not even now. I can't talk to him the way I talk to you or men.
I've had sex with. I've tried, so help me, I've tried like hell, but I just can't. I know it would hurt his pride ... and I can't do that! So, instead, I end up balling it with some other guy for kicks and giving myself to my husband as a wife is supposed to do. Strange, isn't it?"
She was thoughtful for a moment. She lighted a cigarette and blew smoke across the table. "Eddy laid me ten places to one. I'd never experienced anything like it before. He just kept his hand on my crotch, so that I just couldn't find the will to stop him and finally I thought, to hell with it! I was now so excited I coudn't think of anything but letting him have me, if that's what he wanted. So we went into the den and he undressed me, so skillfully, so thrillingly that I almost had a come from that. When he placed his fingers in my honeypot, I flipped! I had the orgasm of the century.
"When he withdrew I was so overcome with joy and gratitude that I just had to lean down and kiss it.
"When he left me that afternoon, I got smashing drunk, sick and shocked at what had happened. I was so dazed by this new discovery that I ... well, I was ashamed, and a little mad at Eddy and even more mad and disappointed in my husband for never having given me such voluptuous pleasure as that. I decided that the next time I had it with Ben, I'd start leading the way. But the next time I started to let Ben have me, I just froze up. I began to reach for his cock, but I just froze and he was in me and it was over and I was sick at myself. I tried to start a conversation with him, but couldn't. The next day I thought I'd get Eddy to come over, but he was out of town and I had to carry on a long, boring conversation with his wife. In the afternoon it was too late to do anything else. I just was one frustrated woman. Ben called up from the office saying he would be late, very late at work. So I called up a baby sitter, claiming I would go to a movie and went to a bar, picked up a man and we went to a motel. He was surprised at my boldness. I just grabbed him and started fondling, doing all the things I wanted to do with Ben. I then got down on my knees and started really working it over with my lips and had an orgasm when he went off. We had one hell of a session. He was pretty good-not as good as Eddy, though, but a lot better than Ben. He managed to satisfy me. I never saw him again, though."
"Is that the extent of your experiences?" I asked.
"No. Every chance I get I pick up a stud. One time one left twenty dollars and I got the idea of maybe getting more money this way. That's the thing which makes me feel cheap and dirty as hell-but why not take money for what I'm giving out free? It pays for the extra booze that Ben doesn't know about and then I manage to get a few things for myself-Ben thinks I'm getting very thrifty. I ball it with some guy one time a week, at least, during the day or when Ben works late at night."
"You just can't tell your husband about what has happened? You can't suggest that your sex life with him is ... unsatisfactory?"
"No ... I've tried to tell him-but the words won't come out."
"Did you ... well, let's put it this way: you believe your husband loves you?"
"Of course. I'm sure of that. We've had a wonderful marriage. He's very romantic and will never forget a wedding anniversary or birthday or anything-even on holidays he'll bring me gifts. He'll send flowers home at least once a week. He loves me, I'm sure of that."
"Did you ever consider he might want to sexually please you? You said he never had any experience to speak of before marrying you."
"None whatsoever."
"Then, maybe he doesn't realize you are not reacting normally. Maybe if he knew this he'd be more than willing to learn how to please you? Did you ever think about that?"
"Yes ... but I can't tell him."
"Sometimes it takes an outsider to put people straight."
"Would you tell him?" she suddenly blurted out.
"I don't think that would be a very good idea-he'd punch me in the nose, probably." Lee laughed bitterly. "Yes, you're right."
"I know several people who would be able to tell him in the right way ... it's their job to help people with troubles such as you have. A professional is always ready and willing and able to help a couple adjust to one another. They can tell each one involved the problems, they can instruct each in such a manner that nobody gets hurt. They can let your husband realize the truth and the reasons you have never been able to tell him, in such a manner that he won't feel guilty or ashamed, but actually grateful that somebody could tell him, let him know the truth. Any man who loves his wife wants to give her pleasure, wants to let her know he loves her-that's the difference between a sex party and a marriage.
"In a sex party it is usually selfish-in a love affair-as a good marriage should be at all times-it is an act of giving and sharing in the total intimate way two lovers can enjoy and share one another. Love without sex is bad, and sex without love is bad. But sex with love is what marriage is partly about. You've been missing more than orgasm ... your relationship with other men are just orgasms-sexual adventures that would be far more rewarding with the man you love. Is that not right?"
She nodded to that, finished her coffee, lighted another cigarette, then looked up at me.
I suggested a man I knew who could help her, whom I felt might be the best person to handle her case, and Lee jumped at the chance.
COMMENT:
Some months ago I learned that Lee had found a satisfactory relationship with her husband-but not from her, but the man she went to. He said, upon my question about Lee, "Such information is not for the public, only between the people involved, but considering the situation I can tell you this much: Lee and her husband have adjusted beautifully. It turned out that Ben had never been sure she enjoyed sex, and he had done everything possible to make up for it. He loved her very much and was very happy to discover what had been wrong. Like she told you, he was not a fool, just inexperienced and a romantic. The last session was with Lee and she said there wasn't any reason to keep coming to me any longer, because everything was working out just swell. I'd given both of them several good books on sexology to read and they have been experimenting and gaining a good, balanced sex-life. I'm happy with the results.
CHAPTER THREE
Sandra came from an alcoholic background, which is so often the case with alcoholics. Her earliest memories of parental drunkeness and bickering were vivid. Home was a fearful place, where she never knew at what moment one or both of her parents might hit or beat her. She was just as afraid of their derogatory, verbal assaults. One of her most vivid memories was hearing her mother's slurred voice, saying: "If you want to put her up for adoption, do. I never wanted her anyway."
All in all, Sandra was convinced that she was unwanted, destined to be a miserable individual.
School became a haven for her. She was a naturally bright girl, but because of her emotional problems, found that she could not concentrate on her studies. This hurt her, since she wanted desperately to be "teacher's pet."
When she was thirteen, she discovered one means of pleasure: masturbation. She lay in bed at nights, hoping that neither of her parents would come in and start screaming at her, while her rubbing finger gave her the most thrilling sensations imaginable.
Frequent masturbation, coupled with the fact that she, unlike all the other girls in her class, had not yet begun to menstruate, heightened her feeling of inadequacy, as well as her sexual curiosity. For the first time in her life, Sandra was able to give her full concentration to the books and magazine articles which she read. This only served to make her more anxious: she yearned for the real thing-having intercourse with a boy.
Her breasts were mere puffs of protrusion from her chest. Her hips and legs were still childishly underdeveloped. And then, suddenly, when she was almost fourteen, she shot to a quick development. Menstruation started. Boys who had scarcely noticed her, whistled, ogled, made favorable comments, as she passed. The very girls who had looked down on her before, stared at her with envy.
Sandra's family was poor; Ray's family was much better off. Naturally, Sandra was thrilled when Ray took such an interest in her. But she was worried, for it was near the end of the term. With the summer vacation, she feared that she would not see much of him.
How wrong she was. They met frequently. She always met him, for she was ashamed to have him see her shabby home and her drunken parents. They went to the movies, to the beach, on a picnic, to an amusement park. Sandra liked him very much, but had learned from her reading that it was unwise for a girl to appear too aggressive. When he kissed her good night, she thought she would faint. A rush of emotion rammed its way through her.
He had rented a canoe that day. Sandra could not keep her eyes off the bulge of muscle that showed beneath his sleeve, as he paddled the boat. He seemed to be in the same erotic state, for his eyes clung to her, taking in the voluptuous swell of breasts that bulged beneath the white cotton blouse.
Twilight was approaching. The water was still. There were not too many other couples boating in the lake. And of those that were present, most had pulled to the edges of the lake and were kissing and petting, under the protection of the shadowing trees.
When he suggested that they let the boat float for a while, she was glad. She was bubbling with excitement, when he ambled over to her, put his arm around her shoulder and stared down into her eyes. Anticipation mounted, as he cupped her chin in his hand. Their lips met in a violent embrace. Tongue warred against tongue, searching, investigating familiar territory, finding arousing newness.
She did not attempt to stop him, as she had on previous occasions, when he lowered his hand to her breast. Her hand grasped his and pressured it to her quivering body. She felt as light and lilting as the water around her. The sweet fresh fragrance of the water helped to fill her with warmth and intoxication. Delicious head seemed to flood through her.
Her body was sinking down flat against the bottom of the boat and she was easing him down with her. Her hand pressuring on the back of his neck; her other hand was tracing its way up the side of his face, up into his hair.
Sandra felt his fingers slipping inside the top of her blouse, in underneath the top of her bra. Raw, biting emotion surged through her. The pressure of his fingers lightened, then hardened, lightened again, as he came to the nipple. The intoxication of the nipple caress was too much for her. She wanted to holler, she wanted to kick. Something had cut clear through her-something frightening and delightful. Their young bodies swayed together, hers rubbing against the floor of the boat, arching, straining, sizzling with passion.
He broke the kiss, and inched away from her, his eyes staring down at her. His motion had now caused his bulging masculinity to rub against her body and that had sent fresh, burning emotion through her.
Urgent hands tugged at her blouse, at her bra. Automatically, she arched up and helped him to tear the clothing from her. Her breasts lolled free, upthrust, heaving with passion. Her hand was pressuring on the back of his neck. His head came down and fire raged in her, as his lips took one swollen pinkened nipple. Arching, quaking, and trembling with heat, her body moved ever so slightly. It rocked along with the regular lilt of the boat.
In her wild, almost unconscious frenzy, she then reached out. His hand took hers and guided her to his throbbing masculinity. At first, she pulled back. But then she clutched, squeezed, rubbed through the fabric of his slacks. Her hands began fumbling with his zipper and he eased up.
Firm, long masculinity was in her hands. Hers to hold, to draw on, to cherish. This feeling was more than anything she had imagined. His prick was hers.
"Honey, oh ... it's so good," he moaned softly.
She tightened her grip on him. She drew, pushed, circled, as though she could not stop herself. Indeed, she could not. She was half in a trance, burning with desire, but happy, relaxed, lolling with the motion of the boat.
The fires inside her grew hotter and hotter. She was sure that this intriguing new world of passion was hers forever. Fiercer and fiercer the fires raged, as he began to kiss the length of her body, from lips to below her waist. His hands tugged at her skirt and in seconds it was raised above her thighs. Anxious, moist hands tackled her panties. They were off in seconds.
There was a moment's pause and the exquisite feel of his lips. She could stand no more. She gasped, she moaned, she thought she screamed, not caring who heard, who saw the marvelous feeling that was now hers. From her reading, from her masturbation, she somehow knew that the emotion which now choked her was nothing in comparison to what she would feel once their bodies had merged.
"Oh, Ray, Ray, Ray...." Her hand was fumbling for him. That hand became more anxious, as it found his cock.
"Please, please," she murmured, hardly able to get the words out.
"Are you ... are you sure?"
She didn't know whether she answered. All she knew was that she arched, drew her knees up and felt the nervous, excited contraction of muscles.
Her thighs were trembling, as he hunched up over her, tilting the boat to one side. For a second, she feared that the boat would overturn, but she did not care. What did it matter if they drowned, as long as they were together, wrought with passion?
The muscles of her legs and thighs tightened, as he descended to her. Her whole being was raging passion. At the moment of entry, a gasp, and then a cry came from her. Not a cry of pain, but a cry of deep, all-piercing passion. Her knees pressured in on him. Her legs straightened, her heels kicked up into the air, hitting against the ears, the sides of his head. In her wild frenzy, she clung, she drew, she smacked her body against his. It was not like anything she had read about. There was no pain, only this chilling, burning wonder zipping through her, raising, reaching the bursting point.
He was as aroused and desperate as she. He fought her, stabbed at her, causing the boat to tilt violently. Water splashed up into her face, up on her legs and arms. She clutched feverishly, for she was attaining the heights. Something sharp and dizzying knifed through her. Every inch of her was winding its way into a spasmodic jerking pitch.
She cried out, she clung violently for her icy-sizzling body felt a sharp thud, and then cold, shocking water. The shock must have caused him to pull out. Water stormed into her. And then the long, hard thud of him. Her muscles continued their strained, spasmodic, pulling and jerking, until she burst to an explosive fulfillment. Much later, she was still throbbing and pulsating, when she realized that she was holding onto Ray, who in turn was holding firmly to the edge of the canoe. As her emotions drifted back down to normalcy, she saw that she was using the still waters as a bed.
They managed to get back into the boat and back to shore. There, Sandra found that she was again anxious for him. He begged off, saying that there was no suitable place for them to be together again.
After that first experience, Sandra found that she yearned for sexual contact constantly. She and Ray copulated almost daily.
He complained that she was too much for him. By the time the new school semester began, Sandra desired not only Ray, but other boys. In a way, she was annoyed with Ray, for he kept accusing her of being oversexed.
His words seemed to be true. She could never get enough. There were days when Sandra wished that she had never discovered sex. There were other days, when she wished that her father had not noticed her newly developed figure. It was frightening, the way the fires of passion whipped into her, when her drunken father looked at her in a certain way, when he made foul accusations. Once, she had to run out of the house to get away from him, from her own incestuous desires.
It was on that occasion, when she ran out of her house, that she telephoned Lou, one of her new lovers. Lou said that she could come over to his place. She hurried over, her body burning with nagging desire. Once she was with him, she'd be all right-for a while, she knew.
Lou was alone in the three room walk-up apartment. He said that he should have warned her over the telephone that he was not up to having sex with her. He reminded her of how she had been with him last time. In his words, she had been a wild vicious maniac, demanding more of him than he could possibly give. Then, he lowered his gaze to the level of her heaving breasts, and said: "Don't get me wrong. In a way, I never had it so good, but man, I have to be in the right mood for something like that." He sat down beside her on the couch, put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him, planting a kiss on her cheek. "I know what could get me in the mood."
He suggested that they both have a few drinks.
"Drinks?"
"Yeah. Where you been? Don't you know alcohol makes it better?"
"No. It ... it can't."
"What do you know? You ought to have a few yourself. It'll calm you down. You're trembling all over, you know."
Lou had to convince her that a few shots from his parents' bottle of bourbon would not turn her into an alcoholic. Gingerly, she took a sip from the glass that he extended to her. How bitter, how cuttingly hot it felt as it went down her throat.
With his encouragement, with his insinuations that a non-drinking girl was square, she finished the first shot, and accepted the second.
"Hey, that's more like it. You feeling it?"
He had eased closer to her, and was resting his empty glass down on the table in front of them. He grabbed her roughly. His lips crushed in on hers.
That first contact with him sent hot sparks of emotion into her. But it was a different, lighter kind of sensation than she generally felt. She noticed that though sensation was tearing her apart, she was calm and felt more euphoric than usual.
She could feel his fingers playing on her throat, down on her chest, down beneath the V-neckline of her sweater. When his hand made contact with her bare flesh, she gasped, savagely threw her arms around him and backed down on the couch. The alcohol made her feel that she had to clutch onto him for her very life.
Her head was beginning to ache and feel heavy. Her head felt as though it were separated from the rest of her body. Desire was more fierce and delicious than usual.
She struggled with him, tearing off his clothes, giggling, kicking off her shoes. "Undress me," she ordered. Sandra liked this new feeling, this new assurance that all was well, that she was going to have such thundering fulfillment that she wouldn't want another man or a week at least.
She took over. She struggled more violently. She arched, turned, pulled, so that he could undress her. For some reason, everything he did struck her as funny. She could not stop the joyful giggles from coming out of her. And she wondered how she could be this giggling and happy, when her head was aching so.
When they were both undressed, she laughed again, at the sight of his nude, slender body, at the sight of the lengthy firm protrusion. She took hold of him and jerked viciously, without caring whether or not she would hurt him. He returned her savagery with gentleness, his fingertips playing lightly on her heaving breasts.
Quite unexpectedly, he grabbed her, flipped her down, so that her back was flat on the couch, and nudged her legs apart. He was hunching over her, when she said: "You simpleton. You want me? You want me so much? Go ahead, take me. But, I'll fight you all the way."
Lou stared at her with puzzlement in his eyes, his hand unconsciously trailing along the side of her left thigh.
Sandra could not stop herself: "You know you're not supposed to have me."
Again, he stared. He paused. His hand reached out to the table for her half empty glass. He put his hand under her back and raised her until her lips met the glass. "Drink agrees with you. Here."
By now, she had become somewhat more accustomed to the taste. The hot liquid dribbled down from her mouth, to her tits. She laughed, propped up, took a larger gulp, then set the glass down hard on the table.
"You rotten pig," she said, as she grabbed him by the neck. "Come on, take me. That's what you've been wanting."
Without hesitation, he started to descend on her. His lips came down on her nipples, his torso came down on hers, his masculinity fumbled unknowlingly, before it jabbed its way into her. Every particle of her seemed to shoot up from the couch. She jerked her body savagely against his. She gyrated, she kissed, she bit.
Smelling the stale alcohol on his breath made her more vicious. "You...." She pushed him. She then punched. "You filthy bastard."
The pace increased and Sandra was more abandoned than ever. She cursed, she kicked, she moaned. "I knew you'd be good," she let out. "Nothing like an older man, you ... how do you like it? How do you like having your own daughter?"
Lou must have been stunned by her words, for he stopped all movement. She laughed loudly, tightened her grip around his back and bounced her hips up off the couch. "Don't ... don't stop."
All the pent-up hatred came to the surface. She arched, smacked and gyrated with full force, knowing that he would have to come up to a quick conclusion. That's what she wanted. What she needed.
They both exploded, but she went right on, moving on him, giving herself a series of fire-cracking, star-bursting orgasms.
When she was recovered, the full impact of the whiskey took hold of her. And the full impact of what she had done crashed in on her. Though their bodies were still locked together, she threw him off and reached out frantically for the glass. She had to have something which would make her forget.
"More, more," she demanded, gesturing with the glass. Lou looked very surprised, but he got up and poured her another drink. She drained the glass in two large gulps. The pain in her head was getting worse, but the horrible, dirty feeling was leaving her.
Lou poured himself another drink and before another hour had passed, they had emptied the bottle. Sandra felt dizzy and aching, but content within herself.
That night, she had a hangover which lasted into the next morning. She was ashamed of herself, hardly believing that she had been stupid enough to have got drunk. She determined never again to drink.
But, that very evening, she found herself sizzling with desire for sex, for alcohol. She reasoned that the alcohol, though it gave her a headache, calmed her.
That was the beginning. Gradually, Sandra needed more and more alcohol. Instead of quieting the nymphomaniacal desires, drink made her crave more. Her promiscuity increased, as did her self-contempt. The worst part was that she was no longer able to achieve sexual release.
Naturally, her marks suffered. In time, she left home and school. Luckily, she found a man who liked her and who let her live with him. But, he soon tired of her, when he saw how unfaithful she was.
She managed to stay sober long enough to get a job as a waitress, but very soon after finding employment she went on a binge and was fired. Sandra always managed to stay sober long enough to find another job and get another room in a boarding house or cheap hotel. She knew that she could have prostituted herself, but she refused to do anything so degrading.
While working as a waitress, she met a man to whom she was greatly attracted. So anxious was she to hold him, that she did stop drinking for two weeks. But, when she went back to the bottle, when he lost patience with her, she went on a binge to end all binges. In her alcoholic state, she even attempted suicide.
This is how she ended up in the hospital. That is why she came to the attention of a psychiatrist. When talking to the doctor, she said that all her problems stemmed from her terrible home environmnent. The doctor naturally pointed out to her that this was not completely true. He wanted to know why she had taken to alcohol and became so much like the parents that she so detested. She is still undergoing treatment.
CASE HISTORY
Marge L., was twenty-nine, but she looked much older. There were lines under her eyes which were watery looking. Once she had a good figure, but now there was a noticeable bulge of flesh around and below her waistline. Her legs were still good and she knew it. She crossed them provocatively, lighted a cigarette, took the first puff, then stared across at the psychiatrist, hostility in her eyes.
"I know you don't believe it, but I used to be pretty. You should have seen the figure I had."
"Is that why you came here? To get your figure back?" the doctor asked.
"Partly," Marge said, recrossing her legs. "I never looked like this before. I can't stand looking into a mirror. Nobody wants to look at me. My own family, they ... they don't want me.
Marge went on to say that none of her trouble would have occurred, if she had not listened to her parents. They drilled it into her head that she should stay a virgin until the day she married.
"Don't you see, if Vic had had me, he would have known what I was like from the beginning. So would I. I doubt that we would have married."
Until the age of twenty-four, when she had married, Marge's only sexual knowledge had been obtained from reading and masturbation. She never dared to discuss the facts of life with her two older sisters, and since she was a basically shy girl, she rarely asked any of the girls at school any questions pertaining to sex. Usually, she pretended that she had some experience, in order to appear as sophisticated and knowing as some of the other girls. On the rare occasions when she dated, she never permitted herself anymore than a quick good night kiss. Even then, the contact sent shivers through her, more pulsating and delicious than any feelings she had experienced while masturbating.
"I guess I should have suspected about myself.
I masturbated as much as three or four times a day. I had orgasms, but I always wanted more."
Six months after graduating from a well-known Eastern college, she met Dick. She was immediately drawn to him. It shocked her that she wanted far more than a good night kiss from him. Knowing from her past experience that unless she gave in to him sexually he was likely to tire of her, she was ready to go all the way.
But, strangely enough, Dick did not want her to. He admired her for being virginal. He said that he had always planned on marrying a virgin.
Six months later they were married, with the full approval of her family. They liked the ambitious, fast-rising young executive.
The marriage night was a catastrophe. Marge had expected pain, but not to the degree that she experienced it. But she was convinced that in time sex would be a blissful experience for her.
The honeymoon came to an end and they settled into a typical suburban existence. The months dragged by. Marge was in a state of mental and emotional torture. Not only did her body experience frequent, unfulfilled hunger, but she had to cope with Dick's remarks. She could not understand how he could say such things to her, if he loved her, as much as he claimed to.
"God, you're a cold fish. How can you be so unfeeling?" As time went on, his remarks grew more caustic: "You're a frigid bitch. How the hell can a man get any kicks with you?" He complained that she never let go. She never cursed or cried with spontaneity. He even told her that she was abnormal, that the usual pre-coital secretions were almost lacking in her.
Marge was fearful and furious. From his talk, she had a feeling that he was going to be unfaithful. Perhaps he was already. She coudn't fully understand his argument for he always reached a climax. She was the one who went only so far, then lingered in torment for the rest of the night. Was she really abnormal? Or ... was there something wrong with him? Perhaps another man would take the time and effort to satisfy her. Perhaps "one of the other ways" would be more successful.
Yet, she could not bring herself to be unfaithful. If and when Dick deceived her, then ... well, why not?
It did not happen that way. Quite by accident, Marge had a "few too many" drinks at a party. There was something light and giddy about her. She noticed it in herself and she noticed that Dick noticed it. He had not looked at her in that way in a long time. His look told her that she was sexy, that he wanted her, only her.
She wanted him. In her alcoholic fog, she kissed him, hugged him with abandon and told him that she wanted him. Her tone, her words, her entire manner was freer.
When they were getting ready for bed, Marge chided: "Must you be so slow?"
His eyebrows arched. He gave her a long, quizzical, but delighted stare. "You get high and you get wild."
"Who's high?" she asked, cocking her head back and readjusting her legs into a more provocative position, as she sat nude on the bed. "Hurry up, will you?"
He did hurry. And she was more than pleased, when she saw him advancing to her.
With a gesture of his hand, he indicated that she should remain on the bed. He was seating himself beside her and a gasp escaped him as she took his organ in her hand. "My God, why didn't I think of it before?"
"Think of what?"
"Drinking. It makes you a changed woman ... hey, take it easy."
She could not stop the pulling, rotating motion which she had started, which she was intensifying, though his hand was trying to move hers away from his flesh. At the same time, her lips came to his face, giving his a shower of kisses. How lusciously tingling it felt the way her breasts crushed in on his hairy chest. Her hand was moving lighter now, as her kissing increased. Her lips journeyed down along his throat, down and across his chest. She did something which she had wanted to do out of curiosity for a long time: she clicked one flat, masculine breast tip between her lips and rolled her tongue over it, the way he had so often done with her. "You do react," she said, feeling the tensing within him. She laughed, then let her lips come back down to him. Though his eyes still registered bewilderment, he was sinking down onto the sheet, expectant.
Marge sunk down with him and her tongue played circles all over his torso, on his hips, on his thighs. As her lips came round to his inner thigh, she felt a muscle contract within him. She too tensed.
"You going to kiss me tonight?" As he spoke, he held his phallus in his hand, as though offering it to her.
She was very, very curious, but reluctant. But if he was daring her, she would go right ahead. Once before he had begged her to do this. Then she had tried to, but she had been repulsed. Tonight, she went at it without fear.
He moaned as her lips took hold of him. It was more a moan of shock than passion. His hands came gently down on her shoulders, the tips of his fingers lightly caressing her upper back, as she kissed, drew, circled with a knowledge and a passion that she had not known she possessed.
It was wonderful. Feeling his response sent new urgency into her. Her hip and thighs were already quivering and steaming, but now the perspiration began to pop from her. Her hips swayed rhythmically with the beat which her lips had established.
Emotion was more violent than usual. It seemed that the movement of her tongue on him caused her to be more passionate.
"Care ... ful," he murmured.
How could she be careful, when he was pressuring her down to closer contact with his flesh. Not that she objected. She loved the warm heaving of his body, the smell, the moisture of perspiration.
"Not with your teeth."
I'll use my teeth if I want, she said to herself, noticing that every time she titillated him with her teeth, they both tightened with new raging sensation. Her hands were working too, in a manner which was new for her. She touched, she caressed, she seemed to study his flesh. What joy it gave her to cup and caress his testes.
His leg sprang down flat. His hands tightened around her, as he inched his body into position. "No more. No ... more." She cried out and called him a bastard, when he freed his organ from her lips. At the same moment he gently pulled her up along the length of him, nudged her legs to spreading point, and eased her lower torso up.
She knew what he meant for her to do and was more than willing to do it. He moved back and up, she moved forward and in seconds they were joined. It began slowly, but soon she took over the rhythm and increased it. How good it was to be on top this way.
Something very weird and wonderful had come over her. Muscles with which she had been unfamiliar started pulling, drawing, contracting, grasping, zooming greater and greater fire through her.
"Faster, harder," she cried, raising up, then jabbing down again to meet him. She was in control of him, but not of herself. Her movements were instinctive, teasing, demanding, slapping, gyrating. "Faster, you idiot. What kind of damned male are you?"
Much fouler language began to come from her, as her body rose to the brink of ecstasy. It was going to happen any second now. Any second she would reach the pinnacle of ecstasy and be freed of this knifing rage.
It was only another second before he exploded. His release seemed to shoot through her and fired her to greater, wilder motion.
Against his faint verbal demands, against his pressuring hands, she jerked, jabbed, rose and fell, in a supreme effort to extinguish the white-hot fires of excitement inside her. She worked for a long time until she collapsed, sobbing, exhausted, horribly wanting.
Dick had been so pleased by her changed attitude that after that, he insisted on her having drinks before they went to bed. Marge also came to feel that drinks would eventually help her.
Unfortunately, they did not. Nor did drinking change Dick. It was her contention that if he would go out of his way, a bit, she might indeed reach a climax. But, he refused to behave in a "perverted" manner.
Marge's drinking was not restricted to before bedtime. She consumed greater and greater quantities of alcohol, in an attempt to quell the raging need inside her. Dick noticed and said that he did not mind her having a few drinks for specific purposes, but he did not want her to become an alcoholic.
Not only was she becoming an alcoholic, but she was now an unfaithful wife. She had hoped that another man would prove more rewarding, but after having had three men she was convinced that the trouble rested within herself. She was abnormal, just as Dick had said. Since she was abnormal, it didn't matter what she did, how low she stooped.
She went from man to man, from drink to drink, until Dick filed for divorce, on grounds of adultery. After that, she went on a month's binge. Seeing that she was getting nowhere fast, she became determined to stop drinking. She was determined to seek psychiatric help. But, it was months after her initial decision before she finally crossed the threshold of the psychiatrist's office.
COMMENT:
Marge's drinking, which had begun as a means of "release" had progressed to the point of obvious alcoholism. Her desire for psychiatric help was a point in her favor, and I explained to Marge that as a true beginning to her "new life" she should commit herself to an institution in order to "dry herself out" and then seek psychiatric help from a professional.
She took my advice and is currently having effective sessions. A long way from a cure, she has at least made a beginning, always the roughest step.
CHAPTER FOUR
"There are some women who oughta pay for their screwing: the late middle-aged ones, the dried-up ones, and the real hefty ones with their fat sprawled all over them."
This is the statement of a young man whose work as a male model is only a "come-on" for the real work which he does, that of a male prostitute.
His employer operates a quiet-seeming establishment in the heart of a Southern California resort city, where there is much contact with wealthy women, many of whom find frequent reasons for hiring his "male models". The boss explained to me that many, if not most, of the older women came from kind of high class backgrounds. The men in their class were refined. Some women couldn't let go of their inhibitions when they were with those men.
But, when they were with someone else, someone outside of that refinement, they were able to let their hair down. That made their sex better.
When he took me to meet the head of this escort bureau, I was stunned. This girl couldn't have been more than twenty-three. Later on, when I met her boyfriend, I was even more stunned. His hair wasn't gray. It was white. But ... if he was still competent sexually, what the devil were all these older chicks so desperate about? They could have found a man their own age.
It was around that time that I met Janice. She was a young girl, about my age. Well, she cured me of young girls. Before, I hadn't realized it, but older women are much, much better. A young girl expects a fella to do all the work.
Ask a young girl to do anything out of the ordinary-what they consider ordinary-and bang, that's the end. Janice wanted to know what kind of nut I was for wantin' to kiss her all over her body and wantin' her to do the same thing to me.
Guess I'm spoiled, but I don't see anything wrong with doin' everything. When I say everything, I mean everything. A few times, even I was shocked.
The next one was Adele. She was just a bit over forty. Very pretty. A little smaller than I like, but that's neither here nor there. What happened was, we'd just finished. She said I knew exactly how to handle her and it had been excellent. I thought we were through for a few minutes. (Most of them want it more than once, loads of them expect it twice, without any break in between.)
Anyway, Adele said that she liked me so much that she wanted to do somethin' that she wouldn't usually dare to do, but she knew she could be herself with me. She wanted my reaction, she said, and she told me to do whatever came naturally to me.
"I want you to see," she said, "you're better than anyone else, including me."
She put her hand down between her thighs. Next thing I know, she's masturbatin' herself. Well, I sat up and stared. I'd heard about it, I read about it, but I'd never seen it done and I'd never expect for any woman to want me to watch her doin' it.
She started rubbing her finger up and down, very slowly and soon she worked up an incredible speed. Up and down, back and forth, sideways. I could see that her finger was touchin' her more firmly too.
Well I swear, she was changin' color. Not all over, but there. Her belly's muscles were contractin' somethin' fierce and perspiration was breakin' out all over her. Her hips inched up fron the bed. She bit her lips and her head rocked from side to side, while moans kept comin' out of her.
It sure moved me. I could feel myself gettin' hot. I reached for her breasts, but she took her free hand and pushed me away. The nipple looked like it was gonna erupt. I figured I would too. I got that dizzyin' kind of sensation. It seemed to be pumped into me.
It was all I could do not to put my hand down on myself and give myself release. But ... I couldn't ... Guess I wasn't as free as she was-sexually.
She exploded. Muscles jerked, skin lost its rigid quality. I don't know why it should have surprised me, but maybe it was seein' it that surprised me: a little bit of liquid oozed out of her.
She hadn't even opened her eyes, when she said: "See what I mean. It was better before-when you were with me."
Another woman that shocked me was Nancy. She was a remarkably good lookin' woman and she was very sexual. Knew all the tricks, but I soon found out why she was willin' to pay for sex. She not only felt maternal towards young men, but she wanted to beat me.
We had quite a fuss, when I told her nothin' doin'. It ended with me havin' to smack her. I didn't want to, but I had to. I was terribly sorry, until she said to hit her more, more. She claimed that excited her. Well, I don't think I had it in me to hit her as hard as she wanted. She never wanted me again, even though she paid the usual fee and gave me a handsome tip. I've heard about men and women like her, but I haven't come across any more like her, luckily.
I said before, not all my women pay. Anabel started out as a payin' customer, but I just couldn't take money from her, even though I knew she was well heeled. Anabel's in her thirties. She's got a good face and body. But, she's got a limp. One leg is just a little shorter that the other.
I've talked to her, I've told her that that doesn't matter, but she won't believe me. Well, at least she finally saw that I wouldn't take money from her. And, she saw that I like her. I really am very fond of Anabel. I only wish she'd stop feelin' she's so unattractive.
Guess she can't help it, though. At least, she has half a reason to think she's unattractive. But the others, I don't understand them at all. I don't think I can name one who hasn't at one point or another complained to me about some physical nonsense. Their busts are either too big or too small, or their hips are too this or that. It's not only about busts and hips, but all sorts of garbage they find wrong with themselves. Once they feel they know me well enough, which is usually after the second time with me, they start makin' these confessions. Now, I don't say I'm the world's greatest judge on female beauty, but I know there's nothin' wrong with these women. Most of them are very, very attractive. It's just that they don't believe it. Don't get me wrong. If they want to think the way they do, let them. Hell, if they didn't, I probably wouldn't be makin' an eighth of what I do.
When I'm not "working" I have my kicks with one woman-Laurie. In many ways, she reminds me of Helen. I know Helen wasn't my first girl, but I feel that she was. So Laurie has an extra special place in my heart.
She's a fortyish divorcee. She's a grandmother. That surprised me the first time I met her, because she doesn't look old enough to have a grown daughter. Her hair's red, but a little lighter than Helen's. But her body's very much like Helen's. Has Helen's strut, throws her breasts out at you, when she walks.
Laurie tells me she's always preferred younger men. She regrets that she didn't marry one, but she was concerned with following her family's dictates, she says. But, it wasn't long after she married that she started having an affair with a man ten years younger than her husband. When that ended, about a year later, she soon found another younger man. It took about six years before her hubby found out. When he did, he divorced her.
I once asked her what it is she sees in younger men. She laughed and said: "They're young, what else? Look, opposites attract, right? Well, young and old are opposites, whether you know it or not."
The more I think of it, the more I think she's right. Maybe that's the whole reason why so many mature women want us young ones.
COMMENT:
From the psychological standpoint, Vince Morann's case shows some of the reasons why older women and young men are drawn to each other.
Helen, Laurie and other women show a definite maternal craving. The way Helen hugged Vince to her breasts, practically cradling him, as though he were an infant, her aggressiveness during the act of coitus and her reluctance to have him perform cunnilingus, all point to a maternal attitude on her part.
From Helen's discussion of how she played with her infant son, it seems that she had incestuous instincts, just as Vince felt she had. Psychotherapists and other researchers agree with what, to Vince, was only conjecture: the baby does have sexual response and parents often do have unconscious incestuous desires. One writer, Wilhelm Stekel (1952) not only is in accord with this, but goes a step further, saying that in all likelihood even the unborn fetus experiences some degrees of sexual pleasure. He further claims that children have for centuries been " ... desexualized and sanctified." If we accept this premise, could it not follow that certain older women are intrigued with breaking this taboo, by giving a "son" sexuality, and at the same time stripping him of sanctity?
Another motivating force underlying the relationship between the older woman and the young man seems to be the woman's feeling that she is unattractive in some way. Psychiatrists, on the whole, believe that a person's opinion of herself, often causes her to behave in unordinary
(ways. When it comes to appearance, a woman need not be neurotic to feel that there is something wrong with her. One doctor-writer, Eric Schurf (1954) claims that our over-emphasis on beauty and perfection makes most women feel that they are somehow deficient, even though they may be very attractive.
Mature women know that with age men usually become more critical. Some women are convinced that since women and sex are relatively j new to the average young man, they stand a better chance of passing themselves off as I attractive, as long as they are good sex partners. I They feel that the young man is so wrapped up in sex, that he will not notice their looks. Some doctors feel that on the subconscious level, a woman may feel that her "son" will love her, regardless of her looks, simply because he is her son.
All of which points to maternal, incestuous motivation. Though this may be a strong motivating force in many cases, there are other cases where this does not seem to be true. As Laurie said, the relationship might be based purely on the theory that opposites attract.
CHAPTER FIVE
Judith and Shani were interviewed informally in their Doheny apartment on the balcony overlooking the pool. The mood was informal-Judith, wearing a bikini, sat in a lounge chair, her feet propped on the balcony rail, a drink dangling from her hand. Shani was bare-footed, but she still wore the dress she had worn to work that day. Both girls make the rounds of the casting offices: Judith gets an occasional "extra" call or a model assignment, making barely enough money to survive; to "get by," Shani recently went to work as a clerk in a nearby bank. The girls both stated that they had had no homosexual relations with anyone other than each other.
"And we roomed together for almost six months before anything happened between us," Shani added.
I asked if there was any emotional involvement prior to the actual "happening."
"You mean," Shani asked, "were we hung up on each other before we really got a sex thing going?"
"Yes. I suppose that's a pretty good way of putting it."
"No, you couldn't say that."
Judith interjected with a grin: "Tell the truth, baby. You had hot pants for me ever since you first saw me."
"That's terrible to say! I did no such thing. You seduced me."
Judith had just sipped her drink. She spewed a fume out, choking and laughing. Shani joined in the laughter. After they quieted Judith asked me if I felt a "put-on" coming on. I told her that a put-on was sometimes the most revealing of interviews. (She also asked me if I was queer. I replied that she could interview me when she wanted to do a book.)
"We're not man-haters, you know," Shani said. "Both of us date men. Even now. Some of them aren't too bad."
Judith set her drink on the floor and dropped her feet from the balcony rail. "I don't think you could call us Lesbians in the strict sense of the term. We're 'married' to each other in the eyes of the gay set, but neither of us are jealous, both of us go out with men-though neither of us has ever been with another woman-and we like sex with men almost as much as we like it with each other. Just not quite as much."
I asked Judith to define the difference between the two, between making love to a woman and making love to a man.
"Men run from the really terrible to the pretty good. On the one hand there's the guy who pounces on you, sticks in his joint, brings himself to a quick climax and then departs, leaving you to think about whether or not you have just been had. And in my point of view I feel like I have. On the other side there's the guy that knows all the erogenous zones-he'll even rattle them off for you, like a chapter out of a medical text-and his technique is really perfect. He's got routines that are guaranteed to produce orgasms, and they do.
"But even with this guy there's something lacking. I didn't even think of it until after Shani. I can't explain it, but it's like-like, all-over sex with a woman, compared to a sex-by-zone approach with a man. I mean it's probably just me, I don't guess anybody else feels that way, but I'm an erogenous zone all over. From the bottom of my feet to the top of my head. Some places are just more erogenous than others.
"A really sensitive man can feel things from my responses, of course-though many don't give a damn-and, like, when I respond to his tongue on my nipples-." She squirmed in the chair, and reached her hand into the bra of her bikini, setting her massive breasts more comfortably in the cups, "-he can pick that up, know to give me a little extra attention there.
I'm susceptible, you know? Vulnerable. I like being kissed around my neck, my shoulders, my breasts, down my sides. I've had some of the best. Who really knew what to do with a woman, who picked up on every little thing, but that really makes it bad, too, you know? How the hell can you put up with some of the jerk-offs after you've had somebody good?
"But still, even the best, they concentrate in the right places, they feel you feeling and they respond to it-but only there.
"I'm fumbling, I can tell by the look on your face. Look, when Shani touches me I feel it. Whenever. She might be concentrating on my navel, and that might be the most acute sensation, but with Shani there are dozens of other zones that are being stimulated. Her hair against my waist, for example, or her knee resting on the top of my thigh. A man sucks my breasts and fondles me between my legs-I feel those two points, of course, but I don't feel him through his leg that's touching my leg, through his arm that's touching mine. You know what I mean? And the reason is because the man doesn't feel it. He wants to be good to me. You know? I give him that. And he is good to me as far as it goes. But his sensations are in his penis. Mine are all over. If his were all over we could really have something going. We could have the same thing between us-and more, after all he is built right for me-that Shani and me have between us."
Shani rattled the ice around in her glass with her finger. "I should tell you what I told the last clown I had that just hopped on and hopped off," she said to Judith. "What's that?"
"I told him thanks for the plug."
"But really, Shani, don't you feel the same way?"
"That a man is built-what did you say?-right for you? Hell no! You just got through saying you're one big erogenous zone, and a man's feelings are in his balls. Or near by. That's the whole thing, a man is not built right. To be built right for a woman he'd have to be built like a woman except for the one little addition. The penis."
I asked how importantly they ranked the penis in sex relationships. Blank stares resulted. (I later discovered I had committed a faux pas.)
Judith said, "With a man it ranks high. That's all he's got, so it had better rank damned high. With a woman it doesn't matter at all. She doesn't have one so the entire ritual of love-making is on a different level."
"But you still believe that for an absolutely perfect sex relationship," I continued, "a penis is essential?"
Shani answered, "No, that's not what she means. It's essential in relations with a man. It is not essential in relations with another woman because there are compensating factors. A man....
"A man feels through his penis. A woman doesn't feel anything through it. A woman feels from having it deep in her vagina, but a dildo achieves the same purpose as far as the woman is concerned."
"Do you use a dildo in your relationship together?" I asked.
Judith got up. "I need another drink."
Shani laughed. "What you need," she said, "is a cold shower." She put her hand lovingly on Judith's hip as the girl squeezed by to mix herself another drink. To me: "No, we haven't. We've discussed it. We know several couples who do. A couple of fingers-"
Judith called out from the little bar in the living room. "Why don't we all sit around and tell voluptuous dirty jokes until we all get bombed. Then we can all go to bed together."
In a discussion of orgasms per sexual occurrence, Judith stated that she achieved orgasms in "less than half" of her experiences with men; Shani "about twenty-five percent of the time." Both girls testified that they always achieve orgasms with each other, usually multiple in number. Both girls attributed this to the "sex sensitivity" of women, the ability to feel "total sex,"
"all-over sex," which they feel is a feminine characteristic, if not a characteristic unique within themselves.
Both girls were quite eager to talk of their experiences with various men, and with each other. However, there was an extreme reticence to discuss relations, possible relations or even attractions to other women. "I make no bones about it," Shani said. "I don't worry about the men. But it bothers me to think of Judith with another woman."
"She's jealous," Judith teased.
"Yes, damn it, I'm jealous. I don't mind you dating the men in the industry-a photographer, an ad exec, an agent or even a bit player. Hell, I do it myself. I'll date a man I know will take me places that might do me some good, or even just to buy me dinner and save on the ice box money. And I'll go to bed with them and I'll have as good a time as I can and make it as good as I can for them. But there's something else about doing something with somebody strictly for sex, and in most instances, if it's another woman it's strictly for sex."
"That's her biggest hang-up," Judith said to me. "I don't see a thing wrong with sex strictly for sex."
From this point, the interview took on a more objective tone. Each girl's story is presented here separately, for clarity.
NOTE I-Judith: Judith's father was a CPA with a comfortable practice and they lived in a comfortable section in Glendale. He was quiet and austere, and throughout Judith's youth he worked late every night in his study. Judith feels that she hardly knows him. Her mother dominated the entire scene.
Her mother was a dancer in many motion pictures-chorus and bits-back in the days of the big musical extravaganzas. She wanted her daughter to be a "star." Since she was three years old Judith had been dragged from one casting agent to another, one photographer to another. Most-of the people who visited the house were "show business"-usually out-of-work actors and aging dancers. Two years ago Judith's mother still accompanied Judith to every casting session, every shooting. Judith objected, telling her mother she wanted to live her own life, not share it with somebody's else's dreams. After the argument Judith moved out on her own. She says that she hates to visit her mother because of a "has been" aura that permeates the place. "My mother still thinks it's 1937."
It was only in recent years that Judith became suspicious of her mother's relationship with other women. The intimate kisses, the doting and fondling, the raucous familiarity were all there, but many other women were the same. Judith's agent, a woman who had obviously been beautiful in her day had always been overly familiar with her mother and with Judith.
"She was always feeling me up. Every time I went to her office from the time I could remember she sat in her chair and motioned me over beside her to give her a kiss. Then she'd put her hand up inside my dress, just caressing the inside of my thigh-not too high-while I kissed her on her upturned cheek. Sometimes she'd say, 'You're gettin' some boobies on you, aren't you baby. Here, let me see how they're coming.' Then she'd stick her hand down my dress front, into my bra, and fondle around a bit while she watched my face. She always managed to keep me nervous as hell. When I first began to suspect that she was gay-really when I began to identify it as gay-I thought about changing agents. This was after I split with my mother. Here she still kept up the same thing, still fondling, still getting her jollies feeling me up. About a year ago she said something about my 'boobies' and again started to put her hand inside my dress. I was wearing a low-cut sun dress, cut straight across with the straps wide on the sides. It just wasn't my day. I'd been out late the night before and I wasn't feeling my usual chipper self.
"When she said it I just dipped my hands in and plopped them out over my dress, and stood there, my legs spread apart, my hands holding onto my breasts. You should have seen her. Her jaws dropped down to her kneecaps, and her eyeballs bugged out like a couple of glassy 'boobies' themselves. I ran my hands along the sides of them, stretching them out for her. She started to get up from the chair, and I said, 'uh uh, Myrna, sit back. The day I get a major role-that's the day you get 'em,'-and I slid my skirt up to hip level showing a thigh, 'and everything that goes with 'em.' I thought she was going to have a heart attack before I could get out of there.
"But I noticed something. Knowing that she wanted me, watching the way she looked at me, I got hot as hell. Unbelievably hot as hell. In fact, I believe if I had been a little slower getting out of there that would have been my first Lesbian experience. You won't believe this, but when I got to my car I was so nervous I couldn't drive for a minute, and then I made the mistake of touching myself, the wet of my panties, and there I was Saturday morning, in an MG with the top down, driving in second down Melrose all the way from the Paramount lot to Fairfax with my hand inside my skirt and my finger inside the leg of my panties playing with myself, too damned busy even to change gears-even at the red lights. I turned up Fairfax; thank God I had an orgasm just before Sunset, or the Strip would have had a new attraction. Nonchalant as I tried to appear, I know that somebody along the way had to have noticed what I was doing.
"From that day on, for some reason, I started looking at women. To tell you the truth I'd never really noticed them before-in terms of being attractive sexually, I mean. And I thought about, was I really attractive to other women, how many other women, was I more attractive to that group of women than I was to men, and all that? From then on I was a woman lover.
CHAPTER SIX
Lena J. came from a religious home in an Eastern suburb. Her parents were regular church goers. Her father was a deacon and her mother was head of the choir. Lena was the middle child, in between a brother who was two years her senior and a sister who was four years younger.
Sin was something that bewildered Lena. She was not positive about what was and what was not sin, but it seemed that anything nice or pleasurable was sin. God forgave, but he also punished for sins.
Lena was not a pretty child. She was lean, lanky, awkward, with long, stringy mouse-brown hair. When she was twelve and a half, her looks began to improve, with the slow development of her figure, but during this time, Lena had discovered something that gave her enormous pleasure, and took her from the drudgery of Sunday school, prayer meetings, and the dullness of the strict home. Lena had discovered masturbation.
All sorts of conflicts entered her mind, as she lay in bed rubbing, throbbing, bouncing up and down, rising higher and higher. If this pleasure was so wrong, why was the body made the way it was? Why did her body respond to this? Wasn't she entitled to any pleasure out of life? Was this so very, very much pleasure?
In vain, Lena tried to stop the excessive masturbation. She was ashamed of herself and thought that as a result of it, she was doomed to the fires of hell. There must be something wrong, something evil in her, for anyone else would have been able to stop herself.
Her most pressing fear was that someone else would know that she masturbated. There were many times, when she lay inducing pleasure, imagining that a strong, yet frail looking, bearded man was standing over her bed, shaking his head, scolding her, saying: "This I cannot forgive."
"Scold me, spank me. Strike me," Lena said in silent answer. She tried to imagine the feel of being spanked, while she masturbated, spanked into forgiveness. She should make an open confession. If she were to tell her father, he would punish her, he would make her fit for the blessed fold, once more. But, she dared not tell her father. She feared his wrath more than she feared the wrath of God.
At school, she tried to find out if any of the other girls masturbated, but she was too shy to ask them directly. She listened to their conversations, and from what she gathered, the girls were more interested in boys playing with them, than in bringing about their own pleasure. More confusion set in. Wasn't it worse to have strange boys play with you?
By the time she was almost thirteen, she still was not sure. The boys began to take notice of her developing breasts and hips, the new fullness that had come over her face, making it prettier. Her father noticed her physical development too. It was not long before both her parents sat down with her and gave her a long talking to on the dangers of being feminine and giving in to what some people called "natural desires." Her father stormed about the room, as he talked, his hands behind his back, one hand occasionally coming forward, one finger pointing to emphasize a point: "Physical desire does not exist. Not in God's kingdom. People, bad people, tell themselves that it is natural. But sex is not a natural everyday part of life. Its sole purpose is for the creation of children. When sex is used for pleasure, it is sinful and punishable by God."
Lena sat trembling, sure that her father could see that she was one who used sex for pleasure, even though she did not allow anyone else to touch her body.
How many times she felt temptation, as the weeks dragged by, as the months slipped away. Boys seemed to like her. They stared at her. They talked to her and she could tell that there was more than the usual interest in her. To her, too, there was more than the usual interest in simple conversation with the boys. Now, when she talked, she noticed the way they looked, the way they looked up to her. It was shameful, the way she imagined what it would feel like to have a boy's arms around her, to have his lips on her.
She began to shy away from the boys, as much as possible. Her sins were already grave enough. There were times, though, when she had to be in the presence of young boys. Like the time of the Sunday school picnic. Her father was busy with her mother, helping to serve food, helping to set up games. She had been left with explicit instructions to keep an eye on her younger sister, Beth.
Two boys, Jack and Mike, came up to her. They were a few years older and Lena was strangely attracted to Jack. He was a tall, dark -haired boy, with an arrogant manner. She had only seen Jack a few other times before, for he was new in town.
Before long, Lena was talking to them. Rather, the boys were talking to her, for all she said was "uh huh ... yes ... I suppose so." Her eyes could not hold a level gaze with Jack's. Yet, she knew precisely what his eyes were doing. They were staring at her, from head to toe. She felt her cheeks flush, for it appeared as though he were somehow undressing her, looking at her nude body. Shame shot through her. Why didn't she leave their presence? Why did she like what Jack was doing to her with his eyes?
Hers, she reasoned, was the sin of pride. She felt unbearably flattered. Of all the other girls present, Jack and Mike had singled her out to talk to. Though she would not look at him directly, she proudly straightened up, so that her breasts loomed forward beneath the cotton blouse. She was sitting on the grass, her back against a tree trunk, her legs extended in front of her. Trying to make it appear as though she were merely straightening her skirt, she -edged the hem of her dress up, just a trifle. Shame again shot through her.
Suddenly, a cry lurked in her throat, Jack had boldly put his finger under her chin, and lifted her face so that their eyes met. "Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?"
Pride flooded her. And doubt. She wasn't pretty. He was only saying that to make her feel good. Was she really pretty? Why couldn't she find her tongue? Why couldn't she say something that sounded grown-up? Why must her cheeks be so flush, revealing the ripples of warmth and need that had taken hold of her, when he had first touched her?
"Lena." It was her father's voice. She froze. She wanted to move her head, so that Jack's finger would not be on her, but she could not budge. "Where's Beth?"
As though jolted back into reality, Lena turned her head quickly, her eyes surveying the landscape, the picnic grounds. She turned in the other direction. Something close to panic shot into her.
When Mr. J. repeated his question, Jack rose to his feet and casually said: "She was here a few minutes ago. She must be around. Here, we'll go look for her." They were off, leaving her to face her father alone.
He was like a madman. "Where's your sister? Answer me!"
"I ... I don't know. She was here, she...." She could not finish the sentence.
Word of her sister's disappearance quickly spread over the picnicking crowd. Lena wanted to run and hide somewhere, for it seemed that all eyes were on her, as her father screamed, and slapped her, cursing her, telling her that she was evil.
"If you weren't so rotten, you'd have watched her. How dare you play with the boys, and not look after your sister."
Though a number of the men started searching for Beth, there was no sign of her. The sky had lost the sun and not yet found its nocturnal light, when they gave up their search. That is, the majority gave up their search. A small group was formed and they agreed to continue into the night, while the others went home.
Of course an impromptu prayer meeting was held. Lena never prayed so hard in her life. Please, please, let Beth be found. Let her be all right. Where could she be?
Lena felt overwhelming shame, even as she prayed, for she was not as much interested in finding her sister for the sake of finding her, as she was for absolving herself. She prayed that once the child was found, her father would be too happy to continue scolding her.
That was the longest night she ever went through. Sleep would not come. The urge to masturbate was stronger than usual, but Lena somehow managed to refrain. She was evil enough. If she had never discovered masturbation, if she had never been so interested in sex and her own body, Beth would not have wandered away. The more she tried to restrain herself, the more violently the need plunged into her. Sobbing shamefully, she finally brought her finger down under the sheet. The phantom figure of the strong, but frail, bearded man hovered over her bed, telling her that she was the most vile creature on earth. For her, there was no redemption. Though she imagined that the man was beating her violently, she could not free herself of the shame, the fear, the guilt. Though she rubbed with full force, and rubbed for a long time, no release came. Only more intense galloping sensation.
Her bedroom door flew open. She shivered.
"How can you sleep when you're to blame for this? Get up. Come downstairs. Prayers are in order. God will help us, regardless of you."
Her body aching with unspent passion, she hurried into her robe and downstairs to the prayer meeting.
During the next few days and nights, there was a continual round of prayer meetings. God did not seem to be helping. Her father grew more angry. He took to slapping her for no reason at all. Her mother tried to interfere, but she only received a vicious hand across her face.
Beth was found. Three miles from the picnic grounds. She had been ravished and-she was dead. Terror gripped Lena.
Those next few days were more than a nightmare. Her father cursed her, prayed for her, cursed her again. Again and again, he blamed her for being more interested in boys than in her own sister. It was useless to try to deny it. It was useless to try to say anything.
As time progressed, Lena decided to run away from home. She put the idea out of her mind, knowing that she must stay and receive the punishment that her father was metering out. She was not permitted to stay out after school. She was locked in her room and told to pray for her forgiveness, and for her dead sister. At the slightest opportunity, her father would lash out at her.
There was no relief, for she was no longer able to achieve a self-induced climax, when she masturbated. Why didn't her father hit her? Why didn't he beat her to death? She would be better off dead. Yes, she deserved to be dead. She was a murderess. But another part of her would not accept that as fact. It had not been her fault that Beth had wandered off. Even if she were responsible for the child's wandering, she was not responsible for the man who had attacked her, and killed her.
Gradually, these thoughts came more and more to the forefront of her mind. One night, the miracle of miracles occurred: she obtained physical release.
Soon after that, she ran into Jack at school. She tried to avoid him, but he came up to her. "Haven't seen you in ages. Where you been keeping yourself?"
"I ... I've been busy," she snapped, quickly lowering her gaze. She felt his eyes on her again. She felt once again that he was stripping her of her clothes. But she felt something else: what difference did it make? She might as well sin as much as she wanted because for her there was no forgiveness. Boldly, she raised her gaze. She stared at him, knowing that her eyes revealed all the lust that she felt for him.
"Why don't we meet for a soda, after classes?" he suggested.
"Why don't we?" She was surprised to hear her own words, the sure, bold tone.
He met her at the end of her last class. Instead of having a soda, he suggested that they take a ride on his motorcycle. Lena was hesitant. She knew that if she did not return home on the dot, her father would be livid, and her punishment would be worse than ever. So what? She wanted to be with Jack.
The motorcycle ride put her into a very daring mood. When he turned off the road and parked near some bushes, Lena felt only a few moments of confusion. She knew what he wanted, she knew that it was wrong, but she wanted it too, and she was determined to have it.
"Cigarette," he said, extending the pack. "Oh, you don't smoke?"
"Let me have one," she said.
She coughed on the first drag and felt herself flush with embarrassment.
"Put it out, before you choke to death. You don't have to impress me."
"I ... I wasn't trying to impress. I...."
"You wanted to try it, huh? Relax. Be yourself. I go for you just the way you are." With that, he eased closer to her, put his arm around her shoulder and cupped her chin in his hand. He stared at her a long time, before his lips crashed down on hers.
This wasn't at all like she had expected. It was ... disgusting. Until she dared to follow his lead and stab her tongue into his mouth. Something seemed to break loose in her. Some responsive chord drove her. Her tongue darted into her mouth, exploring, tasting. Her arms tightened around him and she hugged him close to her.
When he broke the kiss, he said: "Say, you're wilder than I thought you were. I like that." His lips came down on hers again, hard, demanding. An all-consuming warmth rose up from her thighs, up through her torso, causing her to want more and more of his tongue. His hand was on her back, but it came round and touched the side of her breast. She felt a shudder tear through her.
His other hand came up to her sweater and cupped the front of her heaving breast. He squeezed, he flattened his palm against the sweatered breast, he cupped again. Suddenly, his hand went down to the bottom rim of her sweater and he rolled it up, exposing her bare midriff. As his fingertips trailed up along her flesh and slid underneath the bottom edge of her bra, she shivered with excitement and warmth. He traced small circles on the bare flesh and with each touch, she felt her body rock a trifle closer to his.
"Sensitive, just like I like," he said, as his hand left her breast and fled up her back. She closed her eyes tightly, feeling the bra hooks give under his fingers. As the garment slid down her, her breasts bounded to freedom. She should have been ashamed, she told herself. But, she was not. She was proud, terribly proud.
He gestured for her to help him remove the sweater. As it climbed up over her head, she gasped, for his lips came down on the throbbing globes of flesh. Moistly down on the full sweep of roundness, down to the pink tip. She thought she would die, when he took the nipple between his lips, rolled it, pulled it, rolled it in reverse. This must be heaven. She knew of no earthly feeling that compared with this.
His lips shifted to the other breast. After playing with it for a few moments, he let his tongue glide back and forth, from breast to breast. Something was pounding inside of her. Something sharp and tingling, something faintly similar to what she had felt, when masturbating, but something greater, something unbelievably greater. She cried out and clutched tightly.
Fear cut into her passion, as his hand took hers and guided it to the front of his trousers. As her palm came into contact with the phallic bulge, she felt the stinging sharpness of teeth on her nipple. She wanted to pull away, but frightened as she was, she could not. She arched forward, wanting more of the frightening, but sizzling sensation.
His hand was on hers, pressuring, circling, pulling. His other hand was on her leg, working its way up to her thighs, barely touching her flesh, but flooding her with more excitement.
This wasn't her. She was not here. She could not be here. A hand was on the rim of her panties, rolling them down over the flare of her hips. This other person that was here in her place was arching up, turning slightly, aiding in the descent of the panties. This other person was being pushed down to the ground, gently, but firmly. Moans, cries, charged the atmosphere. Surely they did not come from her.
Her head, her legs, every inch of her jolted upward, as his hand touched the spot which heretofore, only her own hands had touched. A finger began a slow, up and down stroking, then a faster, up and down, circling stroke. Her heels beat against the earth, the muscles of her belly contracted. Heat overwhelmed her.
Hair was scraping down along the length of her, tickling her as it moved, adding to the already gigantic whirlpool of sensation. She cried out, as his hand came away from her. Seconds later, she cred out again, as his tongue took over where his hands had been. Desperately, her hands reached out. She clutched his shoulders, as though her existence depended on his contact. Her hips quaked and shot up to meet his kiss. From somewhere, his hand came to hers, as he moved his body against the ground. From somewhere, she heard the sound of a zipper.
Her own body was being moved, shifted. Before she realized what was happening, she found her lips brushing against smooth, hard, pulsating flesh. She was too startled to speak. A revulsion filled her, but curiosity cut in on the revulsion. Her body eased closer and he cried out for her to kiss him. Fearfully, she kissed one tiny spot of the length of firm flesh. Though he instructed her verbally, his lips occasionally rising from her body, she was not able to do what he asked.
She could not answer. The words screamed out of her, but they sounded distant, soft: "Please, please."
"What the ... are you nuts? You want me to...." He stopped. She was certain that he was staring down at her legs which had now spread apart. "I wasn't planning to...."
This time it was a scream. "Take me. Go inside of me. Go inside." Her hands reached out to him, her fingernails digging into his arms. "Okay with me," he sighed, as he moved and hunched over her. She braced herself to receive him.
Where was the pain? All she felt was a pressing, a stretching. He went very slowly. She arched to him, pressing with all her might, wanting to receive the pain, wanting to feel him full inside her. Burning, cutting sensation banged into her, as she felt the first full drive of his masculinity, as she felt the slight pain.
She pushed, she arched, she jammed, until she caught the rhythm which he had established. She gave herself up to the movement, up to the raging fires that leapt through her. But, she sensed that something was wrong. Thrusting her lower torso up, she strained to have her clitoris make contact with this fast-moving body. What titillating horror overcame her. Her rigid clitoris slapped against him, but could not hold the contact. The more this happened, the more upset she became. She cried out, she let out curses that had never before passed her lips, she clawed into his arms, his back, her heels banging against the ground, against his legs.
On and on she went, faster and faster, up and down, back and forth, circling, stabbing, making contact, losing contact as the thing inside her drove up into her with frenzy. He too was breathing heavily and letting out curses.
"Ow," he cried out.
She did not know to what he was responding. She did not care. Her feverish activity continued, driving her higher and higher to the brink of ecstasy. This was greater than anything she had ever known.
She felt something snap within him. She heard him shriek, just before his body collapsed on hers, weak, panting, pulsating slightly. It took her a while to stop moving. It took her a while to realize that it was over. It was over and she wasn't even halfway started.
Though it was all new to her, she had sense enough to insist that he give her relief by stroking her with his finger. Much to her amazement, that didn't work either. In her frenzy, she lost all sense of modesty and jammed her hands down, brushing his aside. Hers went to work savagely, as she inched up and down, threw her legs into the air, rolled and brought herself to a quick, violent conclusion.
He stared at her silently, amazement in his eyes. Just as silently, they eventually made their way back to the motorcycle, and back to town.
She had expected punishment, but this was more than she had expected. Her father screamed at her, accused her of having been with a boy, as though there were some indication on her face, and then he took her over his knee and spanked her mercilessly.
Though she cried with pain, an ecstatic feeling took hold of her. She kept remembering the events of the past hour and her whole body blazed with reawakened desire. The harder he hit her, the more excited she became. Her father seemed to tire of spanking her, and threw her away from him. She hit hard against the wall. A cruel hand came down hard on her face. Her thighs were trembling. She drew them close together, as she saw his hand coming with the next blow. Feeling the impact of his hand, she pressed her thighs tightly together, rubbing them slightly. In only a few more moments of this slapping, she would obtain release.
As luck would have it, her father did not hit her anymore. He implored God to forgive him, as he chased her to her room and locked the door. "Pray, pray!" he screamed. She fell across the bed and brought her hand up under her panties. Crying, remembering the feel of the spanking, of the slapping, she rubbed intensely, until the fires of passion shot from her, in a magnificent, bed-shaking release.
Her mother took her to school and called for her at the end of the day. For a thirteen year old girl, this can be a very humiliating experience. But Lena did not object so much to the humiliation, as to the fact that she could not see Jack or any other boys. Ever since that first experience, her desire had become uncontrollable. She masturbated more often than usual, sometimes obtaining release, more often not. She was tempted to make a complete confession, in hopes that her father would again display his wrath, in hopes that with the feel of that wrath, she could somehow obtain the ultimate in sexual release.
In time, her parents grew more lenient. Lena took advantage of this, and at the first opportunity, allowed herself to be picked up by a boy that she scarcely knew. She was even more abandoned than she had been with Jack, and when he failed to satisfy her, she punched at him, cursed him, told him to beat her to death.
Much to her surprise, the boy took her seriously and slapped her hard on the mouth. Something zoomed up into her. She rolled back, crying out to him to hit her, more and more, harder and harder. Each blow sent whirling, breath-taking sensation into her. The boy seemed to get excited from his work too. Inside of a few moments, he was descending on her once again. He bit, slapped, punched as he worked his way in her, plunging deeper, stabbing, tearing. Her body was shaking with glorious desire-a desire sweeter and more intense than she could cope with.
In a few biting moments, she zoomed up to a body-wrenching release. She seemed to linger at this pitch of ecstasy for a long long time.
After that, she arranged to meet this boy at least once a week. She could have arranged it so that she would get home late, after being with him, but for some unknown reason, she did not want her parents to know about what she was doing. In between seeing him, she masturbated furiously, often going into the bathroom, running the water at full blast, and hitting herself with a wet towel. But her self-induced sexuality was grotesquely unfulfilling, as compared to the tortured pleasure she received from her young lover.
Shortly before she graduated, the boy and his family moved away from town. Lena was beside herself. In between her masturbation sessions and prayer meetings, which by now had become laughable to her, she searched the neigborhood for a replacement.
She copulated with several boys. Most of the time, when she told them that she wanted to be hit, they laughed or looked at her with amazement, refusing to oblige. This resulted in her being more and more frustrated.
The summer after she graduated, she entered fully into church work by supervising the day camp the church had organized. There, she met a husky, older man, named Al.
From the start, she was seriously attracted to him. When she finally managed to have a private rendezvous with him in one of the abandoned rooms in the church basement, she was thrilled to find that he was just the man she had been searching for. Without her even asking for it, he slapped her, bit her, smiled and kissed her. It seemed that he chewed at her breasts and hips, while he smacked her face and belly.
Though she was with him at least every other evening, she was constantly craving more sex. She thought that this might be due to the fact that with him she had learned something new: not only did she like to be hurt, but she enjoyed hurting. Before, she had angrily attacked boys, after they failed to give her a climax. With Al, she attacked him from the very beginning, because he like it, and requested it.
Lena didn't know which she enjoyed the most: hitting or being hit. But she knew that she was unable to obtain orgasm unless she was having one or the other.
How sorry she was to see the summer come to an end, for it meant that she had to leave town, to go off to the state teacher's college of her parent's choice.
Once again, Lena found herself searching for a suitable sex partner. She had relations with fellow male students, with strangers that she picked up off-campus, with a teacher. Satisfaction was almost always denied her. As frustration mounted, it became increasingly difficult for her not to scratch, bite, and punch at her various lovers.
Though Lena took little interest in developing friendships with the girls, one girl, Marie, sought her out. She made it her business to talk to her, to be with her, as often as possible. One night she insisted on having a study session with Lena. Lena was not interested in studying, and certainly not with Marie, but she attempted to be agreeable. Marie was so strange, in the way she stared at her, the way she seemed to go out of her way to clasp her hand or cup her shoulder in a jovial way. Of course, being with Marie was better than being alone, brooding, having no companionship but her burning, hungry body.
Yet when Marie suddenly threw her arm around her shoulder, and kissed her on the cheek, Lena lashed out all the pent-up rage within her. "Get out of here. Get out. You ... you rotten Lesbian." While she spoke, her eyes darted about the room for a weapon. Spotting her hair brush, she grabbed it from the dresser and aimed it at the frightened girl who was already rushing to the door.
By the time Marie unlocked the door and fled from the room, Lena found that she was exhausted from her explosion of anger. She stood there wavering, panting, filling with anger. Her lips were moving, she could hear her voice, but she didn't understand the words she was saying. It was screaming gibberish. Another girl came down the hall, poked her head into the door and asked what was wrong. Lena tried to tell her, but her words were hopelessly indistinct, as a result of her electrifying anger.
After that episode, Lena was surprised to learn that she looked at various girls in her classes, on the streets, everywhere. She studied them, staring at their breasts, sometimes comparing her figure to theirs always wondering how a woman could be attracted to a woman.
Her search for a male bed partner did not end. If anything, it was more intense. After having unsuccessful relations with another half dozen men, she met Leon.
Leon was only seventeen, but he was well built, dark -haired, broad shouldered, with an innocence about his expression. He lived with his parents in the heart of the residential district of the college town. She had first spotted him one afternoon when she was prowling about the town. He was standing by himself, just outside the soda shop that the high school kids frequented.
She walked right up to him, withdrew a cigarette from the pack in her pocket and asked him if he had a light. Surprise registered in his eyes. He stammered: "I don't smoke."
"Oh, forgive me. I had no idea you were one of the high school boys. You looked much more mature."
That was the opening bait. He fell for it. They started talking and soon they were walking down the street together. Lena felt a strange sense of pride. She was going to seduce him. She wouldn't have to search any more, for she was going to train him to be the kind of lover that she needed.
He was more responsive than she had dreamed possible. Luckily, his parents were modern-thinking and gave him a good deal of freedom. It was also luck that he had an older cousin who maintained a studio apartment on the other side of town.
Lena trained him quickly. He turned out to be one of the best lovers she had ever had. At first, when she had asked him to beat her, he'd been fearful. He'd been more fearful, when she told him that she would hit him. She explained to him that suffering increased pleasure immeasurably.
The afternoon that he showed up with a whip, she knew that she had thoroughly converted him. She practically tore the clothes from her body. She was fearful, but her excitement outweighted her fear, as she backed up against the wall, nude, her breasts tingling with sensation.
He began gently, but inside of a short while, he was fierce. The whip cracked down on her breasts, on her hips and thighs. She thought she would die from pain, from a dizzying rippling up-surge of desire.
She staggered, she cried out, her hand went up protectively over her breasts. The whip cracked her hand and her breast and when her hand drooped down, she felt blood. Her hand went back to her breasts, lingered in the blood, and then went up to her mouth, as the whip cut her again and again, faster and faster, harder and harder. The slap-cracking of the whip, the taste of the blood propelled deeper sensation into her, though she could hardly stand up.
Painfully, she approached him. Together they fell upon the carpet. He kept bringing the whip down on her, as they fumbled to union, as they churned, stabbed, smacked, bit and cried their way to conclusion.
Her body was bloody and bruised. There was a pool of blood on the floor. Aches and a dull sharp pain trailed through her. Never, never had she been so deliriously fulfilled.
Lena and Leon continued their affair for about a year, meeting regularly and frequently, until one day, when they were entering the apartment, the police tapped them on the shoulder.
Later, Lena learned that Leon's father had seen some of the black and blue marks, the scars that lined his body. He had questioned the boy in vain. Finally, he hired a private detective and alerted the police.
Lena, though only nineteen, was charged with assault upon the person of a minor and with contributing to the delinquency of a minor.
Criminal experts believe that there are more similar cases that are not reported. Many parents do not want to face the embarrassment that can ensue when such charges are pressed. The adult male who is assaulted by a nymphomaniac also feels too embarrassed to want to press charges. Thanks to this restraint on the part of the innocent victims, fewer arrests are made than might be, fewer disturbed women are brought into psychotherapy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mae, a blonde girl in her early twenties, dated me a couple of times and then we became more or less friends once I learned the kind of woman she was. Mae liked older men, and that was it. She would tease and even have sexual intercourse with a man her own age, but didn't really enjoy it unless a lot of teasing was involved. With an older man, it was different. In time she willingly allowed me to tape the story of her experiences.
"I was eighteen when I got laid the first time," Mae announced, taking a deep drag on her cigarette. "The way it happened ... well, it might be of some interest to you. I was staying with my uncle, he's married to my aunt, my mother's sister. He was also carrying on an affair with a younger woman-not much older than myself. I was dating his son from another marriage, a young man about twenty-five, at the time. I'll call him Jon.
"After going to a movie, we came home early to discover the place empty. Jon got out a bottle of whiskey, asked if I wanted a drink. I'd had only a few drinks in the past, in secret with dates. The idea appealed to me. Jon is a handsome bull-and I was turned on by his good looks. He played football in school and I was pretty sure he had the kind of muscular build that would make any woman get hot by just looking at him. I hadn't seen him in a bathing suit, but wanted to.
"We had a drink in the living room. He turned down the lights, put the radio on, romantic music, and then sat down beside me on the sofa. He placed an arm about my shoulders as we sipped our drinks. The mood was intimate and inviting and when he turned to kiss me, I was more than willing to play the necking game. What I didn't know was that Jon wanted more than mere necking-and I wanted the same thing, but would not have admitted it to myself. The drink had made me a little flushed and when he Frenched me, I got a little excited. Then I felt his right hand reach under my sweater and up toward my breast. The tingling sensation that ripped through me was just too much. I thought it wouldn't do any harm to let him touch my breasts. We could always put up the stop signs. When his hand covered my crotch I sorta went wild, straining up against his large hand, which quickly caressed downward, thrillingly. I was already swelled up and hurting. Then suddenly his hand was under my skirt, up and above the nylon stockings, caressing my naked thighs. Then it slipped under my panties. When he ran his finger into my vagina I couldn't stand it. No guy had ever done anything like that to me before. His other hand was pulling up my sweater, above the bra. A moment later he had unlatched the bra and before I knew it I felt his lips close about one nipple. Soon he went all the way with me.
"He was making love to me for the third time when the lights went on and Uncle Sam was standing in the entrance of the living room. My aunt was out of town that week-end and he had just come home from a date with his mistress. He took one look at what was happening and then screamed at Jon at the top of his lungs. Jon leaped up and quickly ran out of the room. Uncle Sam, a large, powerful man, slammed across the floor towards the sofa, slapped out a large hand, which struck my face so hard that I was numbed. Then all at once I was lying over his lap and his hand was hitting my fanny again and again and again, stinging, hurting, but suddenly so thrilling that I sobbed, crying out, hitting the sofa with clutched fists. I must have had half a dozen orgasms before he realized what was happening and stopped. Disgusted, he left the room.
"I was pretty shocked at what had happened, ashamed like you don't know how. Jon had left me high and Uncle Sam had beaten me to orgasm. It was quite an education on sex, all at once. I ran up to the room I was staying in and cried all night."
I asked what happened after that. "Uncle Sam sent Jon away and then told me that I had to leave-but would have to see a doctor the next morning before returning home. We agreed that it would be best to keep the whole thing quiet from my parents.
"Then they never found out?"
"No. It would have blown the whole family sky high. The folks had never told me much about sex and so ... they were a little stiff about it."
"When did you have sex again?"
"Just about three months later. I was turned on by then. I was sure about how to take care of myself, because the doctor Uncle Sam had taken me to had told me much about such matters. I was out on a date with a young man and we ended up at a drive-in movie and I suddenly wanted sex but bad. I let him play with me-and I reciprocated. But I never let him get into me. He nearly blew his mind from frustration. I, however, found teasing him so groovy that I came-not once but several times."
"Why didn't you let him have sexual intercourse with you?"
"It was more fun that way. I have learned a lot about myself since then. I like a cock-but I have to get it my own way. Another guy, some months later, really got to me. He was about twenty-nine, been in the service and probably had enough girls to know the score. We went to his apartment, had drinks and then he suggested we go undress. When I hesitated at his suggestion, he said:
"'Look, baby, I don't have the time to play around ... get undressed or I'll beat the hell out of you.' When I hesitated again, he grabbed me and almost tore my blouse off. I got the idea, and fast. The roughness was different-groovy. I was soon naked and then he started to fondle one of my breasts. I squeezed hard on him and suddenly wanted desperately to hurt him, so I twisted on the stick in my hand. He let out a yell, squeezed hard on my breast and then slapped my face a stunning blow. I fell back, stumbling over a foot stool and landed on the sofa, legs spread, dangling. He leaped at me and suddenly slapped my face again, a stunning blow. The next thing I knew was he'd put the long shaft deep into me.
"Almost immediately I achieved orgasm, and as he kept ramming himself against me, faster and faster, I experienced several orgasms. It was far greater than I'd ever known it to be."
"But you said that there weren't really any sexual experiences-before this-I mean, normal, regular experiences to compare-"
"It was my first real understanding of the pleasure of pain. I connected it with the multiple orgasms. But I hadn't learned all there was to know about my need to be hit-to be hurt-in connection with sex."
"When did you learn the full extent of your need for pain during the sexual intercourse?"
"With an older man, well in his forties. I was working as his secretary and he took me to a motel one night and we stripped. He reached for me and I wanted to tease him like I'd done with other guys more my age. But I learned a total lesson that night. I guess you want me to tell you about that."
"If you wish to."
"Why not? He was strong, but a little heavy. When I reached down and grabbed his limp stick and pulled on it real hard, actually attempting to hurt him, he got very mad. I don't know what made me do it. I wanted sex with him for several reasons. I believe one reason was the fact that he was married and I liked the idea of having a married man-or proving that a married man could desire me-that I was something better than his wife. I wanted to feel the hardness of him, but it was limp in my hands, and I pulled on it and I got suddenly frightened that it wouldn't get hard and then he couldn't satisfy me. And then, I don't know ... maybe I wanted to be hit-I guess that was part of it. I wanted to be hit hard, and he was the kind of guy who hit-and so hard that I couldn't believe it. His fists slammed at my face and I fell on the bed, half conscious. What I didn't know was that he wanted to hurt women, too. So we fit, in that way. He came at me like a savage, his teeth ground on my breasts. He slapped my face again and again in a fury of rage and I felt him getting damned hard between my legs. I started doing things to him with my nails, slashing at his back, hard. The harder I slashed the harder he got and the more he hit me ... I was getting orgasms before he even put that long stick into me."
She laughed in delight. "That was real good and afterwards we both laughed and I suggested he spank me-or was it his suggestion? I don't know-but the thing is he spanked me, pulled my hips over his legs and hit my fanny again and again until I screamed out in painful joy. It felt so damned good, so wonderful-hell, I had one orgasm after another. We continued our affair for a long time and it was groovy. It's been like that with every older man I've had since. I tease and taunt them and drive them to the point where they spank me real hard and then we do the whole bit. With men at my own age I just have ... well, I'll let them have me after I've teased the hell out of them. It's the only way I can enjoy sexual relations-otherwise it's dullsville."
COMMENT:
Mae, upon my suggestion, went to get professional help and was quite anxious to do so, since she realized that her sexual habits were strangely perverse-but what happened to her after that I really don't know. It was obvious that Mae had equated young men as being unable to fully satisfy her-and the spanking her uncle had given her had created a sharp guilt concerning sexual relations with men, plus the complication of having achieved sexual satisfaction by the spanking. She was frightened by sex, felt great guilts and had to be punished for feeling excited before really achieving orgasm. There are a lot of men and women much like Mae in one extent or another, and once they learn how to understand their drives, and forget their guilts about sex, and learn to know that the sexual side of life is a normal function of the human body and emotions and not something animal and disgusting or something to feel guilty about, manage to find a normal adjustment in life and gain a normal, happy relationship with a husband or wife and live contented lives, which allow total enjoyment of sexual relations with somebody they love and who loves them.
CHAPTER EIGHT
One Way of Love
Lita is a prostitute, highly attractive, blonde -haired, classic face, with a lovely body that moves gracefully. She came to me quite by accident, through a bartender friend who introduced us. She was more than willing to tell her story, feeling that it might help other girls to understand the position of the prostitute and teach them the pitfalls that follow this profession.
"I'm what one might call," she told me in her apartment, "a Lesbian-because I found out early in life that it was impossible to enjoy a man in a sexual way-not after having become a professional prostitute. In the beginning, young enough not to know what sex was all about, I enjoyed men-but that was nothing more than a normal interest in sexual thrills-which men cannot give me. But the first time was just fine."
"Do you want to go into details about it?"
"You mean about my first experiences?"
"If you think they are meaningful," I suggested in a casual manner.
"To me they were meaningful-and I guess it would set the tone, give you a true picture of what being a prostitute can do to a girl."
"Can you remember much about the first man you ever had?"
"I can remember just about everything-as if it were last night. A lot of men have gone through my life since then, but the first was the most impressive. My family had taken me up to the mountains for our summer vacation. The place was beautiful, snow capped peaks, fleecy clouds, clear sky. It was a little cold, but one could get their hands over a roaring fire and warm up pretty quick. This place was one of those out of the way spots, where everybody ate together, sang and danced in the evenings-and got to know each other.
"I was old enough to be allowed a drink, from my parents' point of view. There weren't more than half a dozen couples there with their children. It was like one happy family, in more than one way, I learned. Before the two weeks were up, some wife swapping had taken place. I made friends with a girl-I guess she was just about one year younger than myself. Call her Minnie. She was beautiful, well developed and knew her way around men. I was surprised by that, because I'd never been had. In a way I thought of her as being a little fast. Funny, when you come to think of it, because she is married and has three children, from the last report.
"She came on fast with men-I took longer to start; she got herself pregnant-I learned the ropes fast and developed a keen interest in sex as kicks, kicks and a way to make money, because I happened to fall in with the right crowd.
"We were walking along the tree-lined brook that ran behind the main lodge where everybody gathered until the late hours, when they would disappear for a short time and then return to their own cabins.
"It was early and the sun had just set. We sat down on some rocks, watching the water and suddenly Minnie asked 'Ever have a guy before?' I shook my head and she looked at me as if I was out of my mind. 'Why? Don't you like the idea?' I considered this for a moment, then said: "I never considered it. Why did you ask?" She laughed, said: 'Well, considering you're old enough to be living on your own ... well, in any case, this is the place to get a man.' We talked generally, then she said: 'Carl screwed me last night. He has the biggest cock I've ever had. I went crazy. He had me go down on him, never done anything like that before. It was treats from the beginning. If you want to get laid, he's the guy for you."
"She went on like that for some time, but I finally said: 'But Carl's married.' She laughed at me. 'He's on the make for anything with skirts on. His wife ... she knows, but doesn't seem to mind. I haven't seen her letting the other men play bed-games with her, but she doesn't seem to mind.' I asked Minnie about her sex life and she said: 'When I was much younger, I used to tease my older brother. We would get on the bed, naked, and I'd jerk him off. It was fun. That's how I learned about a man. We never did anything more than that together-after all, we were brother and sister. One of his boy friends, at a make-out party, got me in a bedroom and made me masturbate him, like I'd done with my brother, but he wanted to take my cherry too, and I let him. What a ball that was."
"I was shocked by her conversation and bold talk about sex, but also interested to the point where I was determined to get to Carl that evening. It galled me to think that this girl, who was younger than myself, was so experienced and I'd never had a man before. The whole idea seemed right. So, after dinner, when the wine was being poured, I managed to go up to Carl, who was standing with his wife, and begin a casual conversation. He was immediately attentive to me. It was obvious that he considered my friendliness as an open pass and he played right along with it. Some time later, when my wine glass was empty, he asked if I'd like another drink, and I said, 'Yes.' He took my arm, squeezed it lightly with strong fingers, and told me to come with him. We walked into the kitchen, which was open to the guests at the lodge-the place was like family in that way-and he looked on the shelves for a bottle. He cursed, said: 'Golly be, I left it back at the cabin.' I took the hint and suggested that we might go there and get it. It was what he was waiting for. As we stepped out into the cool night air, Carl looked at me, said: 'You certainly are a beautiful young woman. I've never seen such a classic and lovely face ... and I must say that you have matured wonderfully.' His eyes swept down my figure and there was no question about what he was talking about or what he wanted.
"We walked arm in arm to his cabin and when the door had been closed behind us, he quickly went to the small kitchen-the cabins were three to four rooms-and came back with whiskey and two glasses. 'Want to drink it here or go back to the party?' he asked, standing directly in front of me, staring into my eyes. 'It's sorta fun doing it here,' I stated in such a manner that he would know exactly what I meant.
"So we sat on the sofa and he poured the drinks, handed me one. I was flushed with excitement and felt quite bold. After having part of the whiskey, I told him: 'Minnie said you were real nice to her last night.' He seemed surprised by that, but grinned, saying, 'She was a nice young lady. She was very nice to me. I enjoyed her company very much.' I laughed, asked: 'Is that all you enjoyed?' That made him laugh, too, and then he placed an arm about my shoulder, drawing me close, his voice was husky as he told me, 'A girl like Minnie is nothing next to you. I'm only surprised that she said anything about last night.' I shrugged, looked up into his eyes and explained: 'She told me just about everything that went on between the two of you-about the offer of a drink and you not finding it in the kitchen and then bringing her here and how you played coy for some time and then seduced her. She could hardly wait until you got undressed."
"I felt bold and slightly high and had made my decision to go through with this thing. He gazed seriously at me and asked: 'How do you feel about that?' I played coy with: 'About what?' He put his hand down on my right thigh, caressed it and asked: 'About me getting naked?' I boldly came right out and said: 'Isn't that what both of us are here for?' He chuckled, stood and went to the front door, latched it and turned to face me. T didn't think you were that kind of girl,' he stated, giving my body such a burning, lustful look that I already felt naked. "What kind of girl did you think I was?' I countered, standing, wanting to appear experienced. He merely shrugged, his eyes level with mine. Then he said: 'Why don't you tell me what kind of girl you are?' I merely took off my sweater, and felt excited by this act. He feasted upon my bra-covered breasts. I had large, well-developed breasts even then. 'I'm a girl who wants a man to make love to me,' I told him boldly, reaching around and unlatching my bra. 'Why don't you make love to me?' His eyes seemed to pop out of their sockets as my breasts fell free from the bra.
"He took one long look and then came at me like a charging bull, falling on his knees. His mouth was on my breasts, his hands slipped under my skirt. The next second my panties were off and he started exploring my vagina with an expert care. Then he pulled my skirt up over my waist and started spearing me with his tongue. It was driving me out of my mind, sending shivers of pleasure through my body so wildly that I couldn't stand it. Finally he stood, looked down at me and said: 'Let's ... get undressed, together.' I was so ready that I couldn't move and he had to help me undress. It was good, the way he undressed me. I came I don't know how many times. Afterwards I just fell back on the bed, unconscious."
"Did you do it again with him?"
"No. That was the end of the show. I don't think he could've done it again, anyway. He'd done wonderfully, that time."
"You seemed to like it with him, what happened the next time you were seduced-what made it different?"
"Several things. One was that the guy was a bastard; a dirty foul-assed bastard. I was in college and was working at a restaurant-one of those small places which serve the college students-working my way through, because I wanted to be totally on my own. This guy, Billy, he ran the place. He was a burly man, with a beard and a large stomach and a pair of beady eyes. From the first day he had kept his eyes on me. Then one night, when we closed late, he offered me a drink. He lived in the back, a small room. Here we sat on a dirty sofa, and he poured me a stiff drink. After we'd had one drink and I was about to leave, he offered another drink. His eyes were always looking at my figure with such open lust that I coudn't help knowing what he had in mind."
"How'd it happen?"
"I'm getting to it, don't be greedy," she said with a grim smile. "Suddenly he said, after the second drink, 'I think you're cute. And I want to lay you.' Just like that. I got up and started to leave, and he grabbed hold of my arm, said: 'Look, baby, you treat me right and I'll see to it you get along just fine here at the college.' I demanded what he meant by that. 'Just that you treat me right, or I'll say you've been laying the guys here for money.' I stared at him, unable to believe his words. 'What the hell do you mean?' I cried, hands on hips. 'I mean that a lot of the girls who work here are putting out-I got into some trouble about this one time, and if I turned you in and the other girls supported my story, you'd be in jail-you'd be in hot trouble. Just treat me right and everything will be okay."
"I was just young enough to believe his con. 'I'll give you a raise-you just have to give me a little.' He was glaring at my breasts and it was obvious what he wanted to do. I started to turn, in order to leave immediately, but he grabbed hold of my shoulder, spun me around and said: 'Baby, you're going to get it, one way or another-so why don't you just play along with the game. Either you get it or I'll fix you up real good.' Can you believe it: he was threatening me, and I was scared silly. I started to say something, but he suddenly hit me real hard. 'You get undressed, girl; or you'll be undressed and I won't be gentle about it."
"I was scared and did exactly as he said. Then he pulled down his pants, exposing himself. I was amazed by his largness. He told me to get down on my hands and knees and do him. 'You do that baby, you just do that, or else.' I started to hesitate and he slapped me again and again, from one side of the face to the other. Then his big strong hands grabbed my shoulders and forced me to my knees. I thought of screaming, but realized that the place was deserted. His coffee shop was miles from the college and in an area where little traffic passed at this time of night. Suddenly I realized that I was totally helpless. There wasn't anything I could do, so I leaned forward and did as he commanded.
"After he came he opened the back door of his small room and said: 'Okay, boys, come on in, she's ready for you.' I was convulsed on the floor and when I looked up there were two young college men, naked. One grabbed me from behind and flung me to the bed on my back as the other yanked my legs apart. They both stuck me time and time again, while I sobbed and screamed and pleaded. I felt some pleasure. Once they were finished I screamed I was going to the police. They merely laughed, my boss saying that all would swear I had offered myself for money. He finished with, 'I have several girl friends around who will also state that you have talked to them about setting yourself up as a prostitute. If I were you, I'd just let it lay there. We've made a collection for you-twenty-five dollars. That should pay for your trouble.' With that they shoved the money into my hand and said I'd better get dressed and leave. I not only left, but I also left the town, finding a job in a restaurant some fifty miles away and taking an apartment with one of the other girls. It turned out that this room-mate of mine was bi-sexual and enjoyed it with both men and girls in quite a fashion. Once she had a couple of boys up and we did a circus thing, you know what that is?"
"What kind of circus?"
"Well, this kind of thing, like one boy would go down on me and I'd go down on another guy, who was in turn going down on my roomate who did it to the guy kissing me off. I learned quite a lot of tricks during this period, one being to play for pay. My room-mate would get plenty of gifts for sessions with men and we got to talking one day and decided there wasn't any reason we couldn't pick up some cash for doing what we were doing for free."
"Didn't you feel cheap?"
"Not in the least. You have to remember that I had been raped by the guy Bill and his two friends. Nothing after that made me feel cheap.
"After as many years as I've been at it a girl gets totally cold to men in a sexual way."
"Haven't you ever wanted children?"
"I almost had a couple ... but was lucky to find a friendly doctor. No, I don't want children. I like my life. In a few years I'll be able to retire-and then a girl I know will come and live with me in some nice house I'll buy and we'll live happily forever after." Her voice hesitated, sounded thoughtful for a moment, then she added: "But I'll admit, sometimes I wish I had married some nice guy and never learned about the sordid side of life. That's the price I have to pay for being in the profession I've been in all my life. But you can't have everything. Men don't want whores as wives and that's it."
"You've never had a satisfactory relationship with a man outside of the very first time?" I asked, a little puzzled by her.
"There was one, but he's totally off the record. He was married and of great political importance. He's the only one, but he died not too long ago and ... well, I'd just as soon forget it. It was an accident and it won't happen again, for there will never be another like him." She shrugged and then said: "I think that just about lines it up, doesn't it?"
"Anything else?"
"No. Only that I'd never suggest prostitution to a girl who wants a family or a true lover. I'd change things myself, if it were possible-I guess. No, maybe I wouldn't. Some girls are just whores-I guess that's my life's story. Everything else is just repetition of what has happened to me in those first youthful experiences that led me to my profession."
She had closed the topic and didn't want to talk about it further.
I thanked her and then she left.
COMMENT:
There seemed something sad about Lita. Her hatred for men no doubt went deeper than mere sexual exhaustion-her attitude about life and her place in the world, seemed depressive. I couldn't help thinking if she could wave a magic wand and erase all that had happened to her, and find a normal relationship with a man she loved, Lita would have done so. But she had convinced herself that she was happy-as far as it went. Her warning to other girls, who might seek out the same kind of profession, seemed to suggest her own inner longing but she just barely admitted to that.
I wonder if Lita will ever find happiness, if she will ever discover there is a place for a woman like her, other than in some cheap hotel room with a "Play-for-pay" guy. She, like so many people, simply passed out of my life. I assume she continued her profession. I would assume she will end up in some home, paid for by prostituting her body, living with other women.
CHAPTER NINE
The Unusual Kip
If you met Kip on the street, you would not think there was anything unusual about her. If anything, you would simply note an attractive, trim-looking blonde and think: "Do blondes have more fun?" She looks more like a fashion model, but is a little more developed than some I have known. She wears clothing which elongates her figure. Her face is that of a classic model, with a slightly upswept nose; large green eyes that suggest she bleaches her hair-which is a fact; high cheekbones, a pouty mouth, the lower lip full and smooth; a wide forehead. Her body is always dressed in such a manner that her well-developed breasts are kept secret, and her hips accented by flaring skirts, or merely by other little fashion tricks she has picked up over the years. She will stand with her shoulder slightly forward to keep her breasts looking more flat. She is posey, having a habit of striking standard positions that accent the suggestion that she is a professional model, though she actually worked at a beauty parlor which catered both to men and women. She can take on the attitude of total sweetness, submissiveness, or frank, honest aggressiveness; depending on her immediate mood.
I met Kip through a friend who simply said she was a character for one of my books. This is a statement made loosely to almost all writers; in Kip's case it proved more than true. The introduction was made one afternoon at my friend's apartment, but that evening Kip came to my apartment for cocktails. My friend, and his girl of the moment, was with us at first. Before going into her own personal account, it is necessary to indicate something of what happened that evening in order to give an insight to Judy as others saw her.
We had enough drinks to make everybody slightly high and by the time it was 10:00, Kip turned to my friend and quite boldly said: "Don't the two of you have some place better to go?" The statement was aggressive, demanding, though not cutting or actually cruel.
My friend simply grinned, shrugged, grabbed his girl, said something to the effect that he did have some place better to go, at that. He winked at his girl. I was horrified at first, because I'm not in the custom of chasing guests out-they come and then leave when they have exhausted the party and never that early. When making some awkward attempt to excuse the situation, I got it from both ends. Friends say: "Forget it, we know Kip." Kip, on her part, got a little miffed: "Don't you want to be alone with me?"
It was then that I got the message. Sometimes even little-old-me can be a bit thick-headed. We had talked bout my writing to some extent, because Kip was fascinated by the subject matter of many of my books. Apparently whatever she had in mind had become so pressing that it was impossible to wait longer to get on with the action she so desired.
The minute we were alone, Kip turned to me, asked: "I bet you have learned a lot about sex."
I merely shrugged.
"I think you're rather cute," she announced, coming close, pressing her hips against mine, caressing my cheek with one hand, the back of my head with the other. "Do you find me attractive?"
Her lips were almost touching mine, and I could feel the points of her breasts-or more properly the bra-against my chest. I assured her that I found her highly attractive, as any man would.
"Then, let's make love," she stated flatly. "I never did like to play around the bush. If I like a man and a man likes me, I don't see why it is necessary to play out a dating game."
"Okay. Anything to make you happy." was my classic reply to that.
Stepping away, she said: "Well, now that that is settled, let's take a shower together, first. I like to make sure my love is clean, and there is something funny about taking a shower with somebody else."
She started stripping and looked up at me in a way that would have made anybody feel like a damned fool. I undressed and by the time I could pay any attention to Kip, she was naked. Her breasts were large, rounded, the points pert, the nipples high. Her stomach and hips were beautifully shaped. She let me look at her for a moment, then taking my hand, asked where the shower was located.
The shower stall was not designed for two people, but Kip managed to make the fit seem natural. She immediately reached down and fondled my penis with expert fingers until I was stiff as hell. Her actions were quite casual. She woudn't let anything happen in the shower, but her fingers managed to keep me at a high point. Once outside she allowed me to dry her, then watched as I dried myself. Then we went into the bedroom. There she sat on the edge of the bed, grabbed hold of my hips, drew me close and used her mouth with expert care and then, once satisfied that I was ready for her, she managed to get the idea across that she wanted me to enter her in that position. This was the norm for her: something different every time. She went about it in an excited manner, directing the moves, letting me know exactly what it was she wanted and in what fashion.
Since this book is not a confession of the author's sexual experiences, there is no need to go into further detail. The picture of what Kip can be like with a man is complete-from the outside point-of-view. We saw each other several times before she finally suggested that I tape her story. I had learned some details about her early life, but nothing like that night when she-allowed me to tape the story of her sexual experiences. She was naked, sitting on the floor beside the tape-recorder, the mike in front of her.
"I never told you before, and I don't think it will shock you, but I've done it with women," was her opening remark.
"You like it that way?"
"I like it every way, as you discovered," she stated matter-of-factly. "The only thing I don't like is the idea of being trapped with one man-or to put it another way, one kind of lover. I like sex and there is no one person who can satisfy my cravings. Obviously, because there is no such creature as a male-female with both sexual organs."
"What was your first sexual experience?" I inquired.
"You know that."
"For the tape recorder."
"Oh." She covered her mouth with a delicate hand as if startled. "Oh, how silly, of course. With my stepfather."
"How did it happen?"
She fingered the glass of whiskey in her right hand, took a sip, then said: "I had to go to the John one day and stepped into the room to discover my stepfather standing in there, looking at himself in the full length wall mirror. He was totally naked and had a hard on. I didn't know him very well-since mother had married him just a few months before. But he was a very handsome man, well developed, wavy dark hair, strong, but with a sensitive face. I was old enough to know something about sex and petting. But I was fascinated by that large swollen member."
"Had you ever seen a man's penis before?"
"Oh, not really. I'd....well, quite frankly, I'd touched a date's, felt its hardness. I'd let boys use their mouths on me. I liked that a lot. But I'd never seen a man naked with a total erection. I was startled, to say the least-I mean, first, to see Kerry in there ... anybody for that matter, since the house was supposed to be empty ... and for the second thing ... him, and naked-let alone with an erection. He had been standing there, admiring himself. He saw me and his mouth dropped almost to the floor. He made no move to cover himself, though, and it was obvious from the expression in his face that, though he was possibly startled and embarrassed by the sudden intrusion, he was also excited. I was good looking and developed enough-hell, I was old enough to have been had by then and get away with it. I'd considered it for some time. I knew mother had carried on several affairs with men before marrying Kerry. I'd envied her-and Kerry ... well, he was a dream-boat. So we stood there looking at each other. Finally he managed to find his voice and said: 'What are you doing here?' I countered with: 'What comes naturally,' but my eyes found the full length of his penis and suddenly we were both laughing. Somehow that broke the ice. I said: 'You look great! No wonder Mom fell for you!' He shrugged. I asked what he had been doing in there and he shrugged again as if it was quite obvious what he had been doing. I stepped close, within reach of him. 'I've never seen a man like this before.' I stared, suddenly bold. I guess the sight of him with that big thing was rousing me. I wanted terribly to touch it. I wanted like hell to do more than touch it.
"Under the circumstances there were only a few things Kerry could do. He could bawl me out and act embarrassed or angry, he could walk out, or he could play it by ear. I learned later that he'd come home early. He's a salesman, you know-and finding mother away, on one of her long shopping sprees, he simply had some cans of beer. He wanted a woman like crazy. What people will do when they are alone!" She laughed throatily and then kind of shrugged. "Well, in any case, I knew instinctively that he would do nothing unless I made it obvious what I wanted. It was a delicate situation and I didn't think I'd get what I was after unless I made it impossible for him not to give it to me. I had to take the initiative.
"So," she said after taking a strong drink of whiskey. "I grabbed him." Kip laughed loud, then said: "He cried out, told me not to do that. I said: 'Why not?' And this time I gently fondled him. 'I've always wanted to know how it really felt, naked like this,' I announced, feeling very bold. 'I can't say I haven't wondered about you.' Somehow I knew that if I flattered his ego I could do anything I wanted with him ... he merely stood there, probably shocked at what I was doing. Sensing this natural hesitation, I said: 'This could be just between the two of us.' Then when he still seemed to hesitate, I added: 'What happens between us doesn't have to be made public' He still seemed to hesitate. What I mean is, that he just stood there, open mouthed, unable to speak. I then got real bold, said: 'Don't you want me? I prefer older men, you know, younger ones are such kids ... ' He choked, then finally said, 'You little bitchy child. Of course I want to, come here.' "
"Did you enjoy this first act?"
"Not very much, really. I got a little frightened after it happened. First the fear of blood and then I thought about what would happen if mother found out and then a lot of other fears started pressing in on me. There was a sense of let-down. When he went off I was merely numb. As Kerry said afterwards, 'Kip, let me tell you something. The first time is never very good for a woman. And because I care about you very much, I want you to totally understand this-so just put your clothes down and I'll show you." I started to protest, saying things like what if mother came back and found us that way. He merely shook his head, saying that she wouldn't be back for a couple of hours. And before I could really protest very much, he had me in his arms, one hand cupped my breast, tenderly, gently, thrillingly. He kissed me lightly on the lips and forehead and cheek, then whispered in my ear: 'Now it's your turn to know total joy.' Before I knew what he was doing he had his tongue and lips between my legs. I guess I had several orgasms because of his oral lovemaking. When I felt him lift away and realized he was about to enter me, a sense of panic settled in and I started to protest. But he whispered softly to me, reassuring my fear. This time, when he entered, it was tender, slow, careful. Then when he started movement, it was slow, easy and I could almost measure the total length of him-which was pretty long! Only later, after I'd just about gone out of my head, did he start really going after me-and I guess we both got our goodies all at once. It was pretty great and from the way he went about it I was assured that he honestly wanted to satisfy me. This was just about the only time he was so totally giving in his love making."
"You mean that it happened again?"
"Many times," she admitted, lighting a cigarette, puffing smoke nervously out between pouty lips.
"Weren't you afraid your mother would find you?"
"At first-but later I didn't much care any more. It had happened once and it was obviously impossible not to let it happen again. Mother went out on shopping sprees about once a week, and then there were her bridge parties and things like that. We automatically accepted the fact that when she was away the children would play. Nothing was said about it, but the next time she was gone, on a bridge party, I really wasn't surprised to find Kerry home, a can of beer in his hand, totally naked, sitting on the living room sofa. He looked up at me, grinned. I laughed, asked: 'Want a piece of the action?' It was enough to make the arrangement total, and there was no doubt in my mind that it would continue."
"How'd you keep this from your mother-surely living there in the same house and all that, she must have noticed something strange ... something different."
"We couldn't keep it from her. One afternoon she came home and discovered us in bed. She had purposely returned home early and found what she expected to find out. I merely laughed in her face and demanded what the hell she was going to do about it. Mother was-still is, for that matter-a very attractive woman for her age ... well, hell, she had me when she was only sixteen ... an early marriage which ended with my father being killed in an auto accident; he wasn't much older than mother. Well, anyway, there was quite a scene ... actually there wasn't anything she could do about it. But ... Kerry swore that it wouldn't happen again and she was so much in love with him and such a sucker for a good line-which Kerry really knew how to put on-that she believed him. We continued the affair, but away from home. We met on street corners and went to a motel or just out into the country. Kerry was a real bastard-still is, for that matter. He'd just love to put it to me ... but I've had it with him."
"What stopped it?"
"Nothing, really. Just that I went off to college at the end of summer and that was it. I had had a guy and wasn't afraid of sex ... and so that was the end of Kerry. I met fellows in college. And I met girls. I mean-I went to bed with girls."
"Oh, yes, you mentioned that. Want to tell me about it?"
"Why not!" she laughed, finishing off her drink and extending the glass. I got up and refilled both our drinks and then, after she had sipped hers, she said: "My roommate was a fairly attractive woman, dark hair, bouncy breasts, wide hips-and if she'd dug men she would have been popular. But she didn't give out to the boys-couldn't care less. She wanted girls ... and enjoyed every minute of it. I, for my part, enjoyed anything sexual-or rather learned that I did."
She took another swallow of her drink and then, after looking at me in a rather sensual way, which would have burned anybody up, she said: "I knew little about sex, really. Just petting, and things, then the affair with Kerry. It was during the first ... no second ... night at the dorm that Carol-my roommate-got to going on me. Some booze had been slipped in the dorm, all of us had some, and it was my first experience away from home with any liquor. I felt a bit high.
"Carol and I finally went to our room and she stripped down naked and sat on her bed, took a cigarette, offered me one, and lighted mine first, looking deep into my eyes. 'You're very attractive, Kip,' she told me after lighting her own cigarette and blowing out the match. 'I bet the boys go for you.' I casually admitted to having dated a few in my time. 'Ever done it with a boy?' she asked directly. 'Not with a boy-a man-and there's some difference.' I announced as if I'd been a woman of the world for years. 'Oh,' was her immediate comment. 'What about you?' I asked. She shrugged, said: 'One boy did it ... he was crude.' I asked if she had liked it. 'No,' was her immediate retort. I told her that I'd been lucky to have it with a man who knew girls. Carol shrugged that off. 'All this boy was interested in was his own satisfaction. I got stuck, but good. I was sick as hell afterwards.' I asked if she'd ever done it again. She said she wouldn't let a guy do it to her again. Then she added: 'You don't need a man to make it!' I laughed at that, said something to the effect that anybody could masturbate, but that it wasn't the same thing. 'I didn't mean it that way.' she announced quite casually. Then she made a switch around, asked: 'Do you like sex ... I mean, does it thrill you?' I assured her that I liked it. 'Ever do it with a girl?' The question surprised me for I had never considered the possibility. My lack of knowledge revealed itself immediately with an honest question: 'How the hell can a girl do it to you...? She doesn't have the right things."
"Carol got a kick out of that. For the first time I became conscious of her body. She had lovelier breasts than mine, much larger.
"Finally she asked: 'Want to bet a girl doesn't have the equipment to give another girl a thrill?' I was a little high and lonely, and the idea of Kerry doing things to my body sent shivers of excitement through me. I was getting hot enough to fondle with myself. The thought that Carol just might know what she was talking about intrigued me and I shrugged. 'Then get undressed and I'll show you what a woman can do to a woman. I know better than any man does what pleases another woman, because I know all those secret places that only another woman could know about.' So I undressed."
"Just like that?"
"Right. Why not? I was inexperienced enough and young enough to be interested in anything sexual." She stubbed out a cigarette and lighted another. "Carol dug my body. She said I had nice breasts and that she wanted to kiss them. Then moving to the light switch at the right of our room's door, she said: 'You just lay back and think of nothing. Just let me show you how it can be. Okay?' I merely nodded, did as told as the light went out.
"The next thing I knew was the sensation of soft lips around my breasts. My immediate reaction was that it was difficult to tell the difference between Carol's lips and tongue from that of a boy's. Remember, I'd done a lot of petting and boys had given my breasts a good working over before I met Kerry in the bathroom with that thing of his hard as a rock. Then suddenly Carol was all over me, skillfully-very skillfully, I might add. Her hand went across my stomach, lightly touched sensitive areas, then across my thighs, down over my legs, all the time her lips moving from one breast to another. I could feel the points of her breasts brushing my stomach and side every once in a while and it was far from unpleasant. I remember wondering at the time what it might be like to kiss her breast. By the time she started fondling me down below, I was really on fire. How I longed for a man at that moment. I thought of Kerry and almost cried out in the agony of not having him. I couldn't imagine what Carol could do to match him. Then suddenly I felt her tongue dip into mine and I started going wild all over. I guess I got an orgasm right off, but she went suddenly wild and I went wild, gasping, moving on the bed like some big man had taken my body. My arms hit the bed time and time again as Carol kept at me like a fiend. After she seemed to have gotten some pleasure, she sat up, and in the darkness I could just make out a smile on her lips. 'How'd you like it?' she asked. I laughed and said something like what the G-D did she think? Then she asked: 'Would you like to do that to me?' At first the idea sounded shocking, then I realized that it couldn't be any worse than doing it to a man like that, and Kerry had always liked to have me on him in that way. I said I'd do my best. She suggested that we make a 69 out of it and I sorta liked that idea. Well, we continued on like this for most of the night and I learned what a Lesbian affair could be like."
"Which did you like best?"
"Both. Both are different. It's a different kind of experience. I ... well, like both very, very much. With a girl you ... well ... get something that is quite impossible to get with a man-if nothing other than kissing her ... breasts."
"Then there have been other girls since then?" I asked.
"Naturally. I made it with Carol all that year-it was some experience."
"Any boy friends during this time?"
"Some. Usually pick-ups. When I got to the point when I absolutely had to have a man I'd pick a cat up. But I always preferred men to boys. Boys were too fast, eager to get into my pants, while men and Carol were gentle and slow, wanting to thrill me as much as I wanted to be thrilled. The boys went at it as if there was a time limit and as if I might disappear before the real goodies had been had. They weren't tender or artful like Kerry."
"When did you have a good affair with a boy, if ever?"
"Oh, next summer-at home. I dated some guy and finally when I got to the point where I couldn't stand the playing around I let him have me. He was surprisingly innocent and I had to teach him how to really satisfy a girl. I knew enough about pleasing a man, so I guess he thought I was pretty great. In the end he turned out to be very good."
"You were home at this time?"
"Yes."
"What about Kerry?"
"I turned a cold face to him. He accepted it quite casually and that was it."
"Have you ever seen this fellow-the young boy you taught that summer-since?"
"Yes."
"Had intercourse with him?"
"No. Never. Once the summer was finished I went back to school."
"Continued your affair with Carol?"
"No."
"What kind of relations did you have during this time?"
"With both boys and girls. I found it easy enough to pick out the girls who liked girls, and when there wasn't a boy around I would shack-up with the girls. Some of these girls had apartments away from school, so they could carry on wild parties ... and I found my way into these groups. When I got bored I'd go out and pick something up."
"Weren't you afraid of having a baby or catching a social disease?"
"No. Kerry had hipped me on what to do. And as you know, I now take the pills, so ... with the pills and the right shots and keeping myself clean, I can play ball as much as I wish, without any fears."
"What kind of sex do you have, now?"
"At the very moment, nothing-since I'm just sitting here talking to you," she offered with a bright laugh.
"I meant, generally."
"I've picked up a pattern. Boys and girls-depending on circumstances, who is around, and how I feel."
"Then you still continue having Lesbian affairs?"
"I have a girl friend, if that's what you mean-and we do it almost every night I'm home-she lives with me, splitting expenses."
"Doesn't she get a little upset about you going off and having a man?"
"Sure, but that's the arrangement we agreed upon. She has nothing to bitch about. I keep her well satisfied."
"Don't you ever plan on getting married?"
"I guess so ... but I can't imagine some guy letting me make it with girls too. Can you?"
"No," I admitted quite honestly. "Don't you want children?"
"Yes ... I guess so. But...." She shrugged helplessly.
"Ever wondered why you seek out Lesbian affairs?"
"For kicks."
"Why do you like it so much? I mean, there really isn't anything that a Lesbian can do to you that a man can't. That's a typical homosexual rationalization-and I don't really think of you as being a homosexual-you enjoy it too much with men."
This caused her to become very thoughtful for a long time. As gently as possible I suggested that if she wanted to have children and a normal life, which seemed quite obvious considering her hesitation, that it might be a good idea to think over her problem with somebody who was qualified to offer a solution-one that would give her both sexual satisfaction through the normal relationship between a husband and wife. At first she was a little annoyed by the idea, saying that there was nothing wrong with her sexual drives. I said that there was nothing wrong with enjoying sex-and that homosexual relations, while possibly pleasant, were not the norm for mature adult people-and that a normal and healthy marriage could not allow homosexual acts.
"A man can do all the things a woman can-and if you remember that, you'll have to accept the idea that possibly you do need professional help to make you able to function in a manner which will not require a Lesbian lover. I'm certainly not qualified to help you or even advise you. Only a professional who deals with these kinds of problems every day-who has gone to school to learn his profession-could possibly qualify."
She considered this and then, as if irritated by the whole idea, announced that it was too difficult to think about it right then and that she was hot for what only I could give her. But after we had made love, she asked, quite suddenly: "Do you really think I should ... well ... do I need professional help?"
I countered with: "How do you feel about it? Do you think you are able, all alone, by yourself, to straighten things out? I'm assuming you're telling the truth about wanting a husband and children. And you could certainly get both, in time, and adjust to married life-possibly never seek Lesbian love-but you would always wonder, and you would not totally understand yourself the way a professional could give you complete understanding-and without such understanding you will never come to total peace with the problem of yourself. You have a much better chance of finding a rich life with a man who would love you and serve as the total sexual role in your living experience."
COMMENT:
The fact is that Kip did seek out good professional help, adjusting to herself and her life and learning to understand that her Lesbian need had, in part, been caused by guilts brought on by seducing her stepfather, which in turn was caused by a deep-seated hatred for her mother-the kind of hatred brought on by the fact that her mother never had time enough for her when she was growing up. And then there had been the normal jealousy of all the men in her mother's life who had taken away the affection she needed so much.
Her seduction of Kerry had partly been caused by a need to "get even," so to speak. All of which is making her problem seem far more simple than it really was. Nonetheless, Kip did get straightened out and learned to adjust to herself as a total human being and came to terms with her emotional feelings about her mother. She is now married to a man who is quite happy with her, and they have a young daughter upon whom Kip gives the affection she had lacked as a child.
Not everybody is as lucky as Kip-not everybody, even with professional help, can find a total adjustment which seems to be hers.
CHAPTER TEN
Historical Sex Life
Since the world was lightly populated thousands of years ago and people did not live long there was a valid reason to damn any sexual expression that did not result in pregnancies. Homosexuals were stoned to death and oral sex even between married couples was considered a terrible sin. Masturbations in which "the seed was cast upon the ground" was another crime. Semen was too precious to be wasted in anuses, mouths and hands. The male seed had to be cast only in the wombs of women where it could flower. According to the Biblical injunction the human race had to "go forth and multiply" itself and not use sex for pleasure.
The world has gone forth and multiplied since Biblical times until now overpopulation and not underpopulation is a major world problem. Yet the ancient injunctions against oral sex still remain. Homosexuality is still a crime in most places in the world and oral sex between married couples is still considered a "sin" by religions.
Despite the objections religions and governments had against oral sex over the centuries it still was very popular. The gradual use of lipstick amongst women in ancient times demonstrated that. Married women took to painting their lips in order to show their husbands that they, too, were willing to live them orally. The first famous woman to paint her lips red was Cleopatra, who was given to all sorts of sexual excesses.
The meeting between Cleopatra and Julius Caesar has been written about many times, in which she had herself rolled out of a rug at the Roman dictator's feet. Cleopatra wanted to seduce the mighty Caesar into setting her up as the head of Egypt over her brother. Before meeting Caesar she applied bright red lipstick to her mouth so that the Roman would know exactly how far she was willing to go in getting him on her side.
When Julius Caesar first pushed into Egypt he was a man in his fifties, which was old for those days. His sexual tastes were mainly oral and he performed both cunnilingus and fellatio with equal gusto. As a dictator he could indulge in bi-sexual love when he wanted to because there was no one to condemn him. In his declining years he tended more towards handsome young men and filled the ranks of his bodyguards with well built males who would willingly engage in homosexual practices both on an active and passive basis. This Cleopatra knew through Marc Anthony who had already become her lover.
Since Cleopatra enjoyed oral sex herself she literally threw herself at the dictator's feet as soon as she rolled out of the blanket and lifted her red lips to the mighty Caesar. The invader knew in an instant what she was willing to do to save herself if not her country.
Cleopatra performed fellatio so well that Caesar fell in love with her and brought her back to Rome where he could enjoy her oral arts. History relates how Cleopatra's "glib tongue" saved her when she first met Julius Caesar but it does not go into the real explanation.
Ancient Romans were given to oral sex especially among the upper classes who had more time for vice.. Sex orgies concluded nearly every party. To prime the guests for sex a generous host would have hand-picked slaves perform a variety of sexual acts. At one such gathering a huge, black male slave went from table to table naked and in a state of erection offering his body. The middle-aged wife of an important political figure amused herself and her friends by taking the black into her mouth and bringing him to a climax.
Young blonde girls were also set naked amongst the guests. These were children caught in the northern countries like England and brought to Rome for the express purpose of delighting the sexually jaded. The ages of these sex slaves were usually between ten and twelve and they were forced to walk around naked with their bared and virginal bodies on display. Drunken Romans liked to pour wine into their vaginas and then suck the liquor out. These girls were also given as gifts and many a tired Roman businessman found a renewed interest in sex when he took a pretty, pink-skinned, golden-haired young girl to bed with him. These children were also expected to perform fellatio and they had to do this or wind up in the arena.
Homosexuality was so common in Rome at the height of its power that it was all but accepted as normal. Boy prostitutes filled the streets. These youngsters walked about naked except for a short, loose robe. They hung around the parks of Rome and lifted their robes when any passing man showed an interest in them. When one did the boy would simply bring him behind the bushes and allow the man to mouth his sex organ. These boys also performed fellatio on their clients as well as indulged in anal intercourse.
Anal intercourse was called "Greek love" even in those days. The ancient Greeks went in for homosexuality to such an extent that boy-girl relations were looked upon as unusual. Aristotle, Socrates and Plato were all homosexual and Socrates was condemned to death for "corrupting the youth of Athens."
With so many boys finding male lovers in Greece the lonely girls turned to one another for comfort. It was here that the Isle of Lesbos became popular with sex hungry Greek girls who found delight in mouthing each others' bodies. While girls had been performing cunnilingus for centuries before Lesbos the term of "Lesbian" found its birth on the little island off the coast of Greece.
Oral sex was common in all the royal courts of Europe. During the reign of King Louis the Fourteenth fellatio and cunnilingus were considered parlor games around the palace. King Louis himself devised oral sex shows by having the men strip themselves and then stand in front of a long sheet so that only the lower halves of their bodies could be seen. The wives of the men would try to pick out their mates by penis size alone. Once a woman thought she found her husband she would indicate this by taking the organ into her mouth and sucking on it. Naturally, many women used this game as a way in which to have other men. A wife who was married to a short, stocky man would "mistakenly" select a slim, muscular, large-sized male as her mate and fellate him.
The game was reversed and the women would strip themselves naked. Sometimes they would only show their breasts and poke them through holes in the long sheet. The men would take their time fondling, kissing and mouthing the bare breasts. They made sure that they handled each nipple and breast before they made up their minds as to which breasts belonged to his wife.
Sex shows were a favorite royal pastime. In Italy a nymphomaniacal countess enjoyed having hired performers get into various sexual positions in her bedroom. When she became excited she would join them. She liked taking on three men at once by having one engage in anal intercourse with her while she performed an act of fellatio on another while still another performed an act of cunnilingus on her.
Of all the famous nymphomaniacs who had a passion for fellatio the best known was Catherine the Great. When her husband was killed and she became the head of Russia Catherine discovered that she could have any man she wanted and in any way she wanted. Stories about her sexual excesses are legion. A young man named Boris Ivanov described his adventures in the Russian court in a diary that has recently been discovered. It seems that he was a tall, handsome boy of twenty when he first caught the eye of Catherine the Great. He was a simple foot soldier in her army but, to his surprise, he was ordered to appear before her one day. His recollection of the events and what followed went:
"I trembled when I stood in front of this Queen of all the Russians. What did she want with me, a poor, young soldier? What had I done wrong? She, the mighty Catherine, sat on her throne staring at me with a strange light in her eyes. We were alone in the large room and I could hear my heart beating.
"Come closer, Boris Ivanov," she said in a quiet, yet firm voice.
I stepped closer. I dared not look into her eyes yet I felt them on me, traveling all over my person. Again she asked me to step even closer. I went forward until I was hardly more than two feet away.
"You are very tall and very good looking, Boris Ivanov," she told me. "I want tall, handsome men in my private battalion. I want young men I can trust, who would do anything I say ... do you understand?"
"Your Majesty, I will protect you with my life!" I announced.
She smiled at me and placed her hand on my hip.
"That will be one of your duties. I would now like to see just how strong you are. Remove your uniform."
I didn't know if I heard correctly or not and did not move. Again she gave me an order to take off my uniform. Since I was to be in her private guard I assumed that she wanted to be personally sure that my body was fit for the task. While I am most modest in my affairs with women and had not showed myself naked to any one of them I still managed to remove all my clothes in front of Catherine the Great. I was afraid that I might shame myself by having my maleness swell up, but it remained limp.
"How wonderful you are," Catherine said.
She got off her throne and walked around me.
Her hands examined my body. I was surprised that she was so short. I seemed to tower over her as she walked around me. Then she stopped in front of me and placed her hand on my maleness. "Have you had much experience with women?" she asked.
I was sure that she was testing my purity. If my male organ became enlarged I would be dismissed. I told her that I was not married and therefore had not had a woman.
She stroked my manhood. "A pity," she whispered. "You could have made so many girls happy with this."
Despite myself I felt my part swell up and become stiff as she stroked it. At any moment I expected her to leave because I had failed the test by showing lustful inclinations. But Catherine the Great did not say a word. She kept pulling on my part until it reached its most elongated point which, I judged, was seven inches. She then cupped her small hand over my testes and squeezed. "You are powerful, you are strong," she said in a hushed voice. "You are very much a man."
I now assumed that, instead of wishing to see if my maleness did not swell, Catherine wanted to see it in this condition because it revealed to her that I was potent and therefore able to defend her against her enemies. I was sure that it was a terrible task on her part to subject herself to these tests.
"You will do all I say, Boris Ivanov?" she asked.
"I will, your Majesty!" I said coming to attention.
She laughed when she saw my stiff manhood seem to come to attention itself. "Then stand like that until I tell you to move," she said as I stood naked and erect in front of her Catherine sat on the throne and leaned her head forward. To my complete astonishment she opened her mouth and slid her tongue over the swollen head of my male part! It was at that moment I realized that Catherine the Great was just an ordinary woman like anyone else. She had the same lusts that the commonest Russian peasant had, the same desire for male things.
I still stood at attention as she brought her hands around to my buttocks and plunged her mouth still further along my organ. I, who had never had a woman before, was now having the famous Catherine the Great in this fashion.
Her head went as far forward as possible and I could feel the beginning of her throat at the head of my maleness. Still she pushed further until I feared that she would strangle herself on my object. Just as I felt my flesh slide down her throat she pulled her head all the way back until her lips were at the tip of my erected male part again. She did not allow it to leave her mouth and pressed into me still another time. Her head went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in fast motions. I then began to feel my inner juices demand release. Again I feared. What if I spilled into her? Surely she would not take this from me.
I tried to hold back as much as I could but the warm, moist action of her mouth on my maleness made my inner fluids boil. Soon they would boil over. I felt it my duty to warn her. "Your Majesty," I said politely, "I am about to ... to spill."
Instead of bringing her head away she clutched my buttocks even more tightly and plunged down as far as she could go with her mouth. I then released myself. She groaned and her tongue moved wildly. It was only when my manhood became limp that Catherine the Great, Mother of All the Russians, sat back on her throne once more. Her eyes were unusually bright. "You may now dress, Boris Ivanov. You may also join my guard. Keep strong and healthy as you are now and you will find that promotions will come swiftly."
Boris Ivanov goes on to describe how he regularly visited Catherine the Great in her bedroom to indulge in fornication and cunnilingus along with fellatio. He became a non-commissioned officer as she had promised and soon after Catherine became tired of him. His next duties were recruiting newer men for her personal guard. Boris saw to it that the men he sent to her were all big, strapping fellows with a good sexual development. As long as he kept Catherine happy Boris Ivanov was assured of a cushy position in the royal household. Still, it was hard keeping up with her demands because she would often want a dozen or so men at once. Boris filled in for guards who were drunk or out on the town on some of their episodes. He described how Catherine would have them all line up while she went from guard to guard groping their sexual parts and pulling them out when she found them in erected states. Then she would perform fellatio, her favorite sexual expression.
While the Victorian Age in England is considered by many to be the most sexless time in British history it was anything but that. During the reign of Queen Victoria men in the upper classes lived two lives; one, respectable and family-loving, the other, completely libertine. The writings of Frank Harris and other such Victorians reveal just how much sex went on during the supposedly puritanical reign of Queen Victoria. In an age where the legs of pianos were covered up so as not to incite males to sexual desires, fellatio, cunnilingus, child prostitution, and homosexuality were common. While laws were passed against male homosexuality, female homosexuality was thought by Victorian lawmakers an unknown crime. Today, in England as well as America, there are no laws against female homosexuality because of this strange Victorian attitude. Women can have oral sex with one another without breaking the law .
It is generally held that women are not as inclined towards homosexuality as are men but this is only because women are not as overt in their designs as men are. Women do not hang out in toilets to pick up other women and rarely go to bars that cater to their kind. Yet this does not mean that there are fewer Lesbians than male homosexuals. The Kinsey Report showed that the male and female homosexual incidents are about equal. Cunnilingus is just as common as fellatio.
One area in which cunnilingus flourished were in the harems of wealthy Arabs where hundreds of women were kept cooped up as wives of a single man. Even the most virile of men could only make one woman happy a night and this meant that the harem girls had very little sex in their lives ... heterosexuality, at any rate.
In desperation the harem wives turned to each other for sexual satisfaction. A harem girl in the early part of the last century escaped her bondage and told an English newsman about her trials in an Arab palace.
Nadia had been sold to Sheik Omar Mohammad when she was only fourteen. She was a pretty and shapely girl with firm high breasts and a saucy rear. Being sold to the sheik was considered a break for both her and her parents. Nadia would live in luxury and her parents would gain some money to make their miserable lot more bearable.
When Nadia entered the desert palace she thought that she was going to be very happy. It was a world apart from the grimy tent in which she had spent her life thus far. But when she was brought before Sheik Omar Mohammad, she received her first disappointment. He was even older than her father!
Nadia, in her interview with the British newsman, told of her first night with her husband.
The sheik told me to sit on his lap. When I did he kissed me on the cheeks and told me what a pretty little girl I was. He seemed so very old and very tired. He told me to bathe and scent myself and had a woman about his age take me to the harem. When I got there I was shocked to sec so many girls. They were his other wives. I was the newest and the youngest.
When I was brought to the place I was to bathe. About fifty of the others gathered around watching while the woman who had brought me took off my clothes. When I was naked they put their hands on my breasts, my behind, my female section and told me how beautiful I was. I thought they would be angry that I was another wife but they seemed to enjoy bathing me and scenting my flesh.
At first I thought she was going to take the hair off my head and when I put my hands there to protect it the other girls laughed. The women then started to shave the hair off my female section. "The sheik likes it this way," she explained. "Any time he wants one of us, this gets shaved off."
After I was shaved in that spot it was covered with still more scents. Then a white robe was placed on me and I was led into my lord's chamber. I lay on the bed for a whole hour before he came in. He seemed surprised. "Oh, I forgot all about you-Nadia, is it not?"
"Yes, my lord," I managed to say.
I couldn't believe it! He had hardly remembered that I was his latest bride! True, he had two hundred and seventy-one other wives in the harem but I didn't think he would forget me, his latest bride.
My lord sniffed at the air and came close to me. "Ah, perfumed!" he sighed. "I see that you have been made ready."
He opened the robe and kissed my female section that had not been touched by man. He licked on me with his big, wet tongue and his great beard scratched my legs. He thrust his tongue into me and made me tingle. I wondered when he was going to place his masculine object into this portion of my body but he just kept his mouth there, eating, licking, sucking.
Finally he stood up and smiled at me. "Your flesh excites me. I feel passion grow in my loins."
The sheik took off his garments. I beheld his nakedness which terrified me. His body was covered with hair and his masculinity seemed like a great sword. He mounted me and dug his flesh into that area his mouth had recently been. His terrible portion seemed to split me in twain and I felt something within me break. It was, I realized, my virginity. Then I felt something else inside my flesh, a spurting, a hot fountain. My lord was filling me with his seed. I hoped that it would find flower in my earth so that I would present him with a son and heir. This would, I know, make my position in the palace more secure.
As soon as he had expelled himself my lord rolled off me and breathed hard. I could see that his masculinity was now considerably limp. "But praise Allah, at least my tongue shall always remain young!"
He fell asleep immediately with his bearded face upon my breast. I could not sleep as I listened to him snore. When morning came he hardly looked at me as he dressed and went his way. Shortly after a woman entered and led me back to the harem. My friends wanted to know all about the night. I was too shy to express myself.
"Did he become hard?" one of the girls asked.
"Did he get his thing into you?" another wanted to know.
I nodded and this made them all giggle. I soon learned than some of the girls had only one or two nights with our husband even though they had been married to him for years. I was considered lucky in that I had enjoyed the fullness of my husband's love. Some girls were still virgins! My lord could not do his husbandly duty every night and some of the girls only had his tongue.
As it happened I was with child and my lord was pleased. But because of my condition, he said he would not touch me for fear of damaging the heir. With all his wives Omar Mohammad had but fourteen sons and eleven daughters.
Since I had nothing to do but wait for the birth of the child I was terribly bored. At least the others would wonder if they would be picked by the sheik that night or not. We always knew which one when the shaving woman came with her sharp knife and perfume.
Others did not wish to wait for a single night of love. I watched as my fellow wives placed their tongues into one another as our lord had done to me. At first I was disgusted that girls would do me in such fashion. I was in my sixth month and showing before I made love to a fellow wife. Her part was still quite smooth from the last shaving she had and I licked across the black stubble. I smelled her perfume and slipped my tongue deep into her flesh. I licked upwards to her belly and then her breasts. They were large and lovely and her brown nipples were stiff and pointed. I covered each with my mouth and behaved like a babe upon a breast. She held me as a mother would and, for a moment, she seemed like mother and child. I brought my wanting tongue back down again to her shaven part and my teeth closed over it hungrily.
I did not wish to make love to other girls but my loneliness was such that I had to have other flesh upon my own. When I gave birth to a baby son my fellow wives gathered about the small creature playing with his tiny object. So starved were they for the want of male flesh that they even gazed lustfully upon this baby thing. When I placed my child against my breasts to suckle I found a sexual joy in the movement of his mouth. Alas, I was not to have him long for he was sent into the keeping of others once he became old enough to learn to be a sheik.
New girls, new wives kept coming into the harem and I began to feel old and used up though I had but one night with my husband! I found myself delighting in bathing these new brides and took one for a lover after she came from the master's bed-chamber. She told me that our husband had only used his tongue on her for he had been too tired for more active love. Even with my single night I was luckier in love than many of my fellow wives. At least I had been made a woman with the thrust of his male object. How I longed for that object again! I found myself dreaming of great male things sticking me everywhere. Some wives fashioned such objects out of wood and applied them to themselves and each other. I made one myself out of leather, a round tube of nine inches! I thrust it all the way into me and slept through the night dreaming of being ravished by giants.
One day my lord became embroiled with another sheik and decided that the harem needed protection lest we be stolen. Ah, how the wives hoped that they would be taken by force! We were sure that the desert was full of men as hungry for sex as we. For protection we had two dozen armed guards. Men! They were powerful looking with wide shoulders and wicked swords. As soon as they were stationed about the harem we offered ourselves to them by lifting our dresses and showing our parts. I picked the hugest man of all and grabbed his crotch section.
"Woman why do you torment me so?" he suddenly cried. "You know I cannot please you."
"Do not be fearful of our lord," I assured him. "He knows nothing of what goes on in this harem."
"Then you do not fully understand," he said sadly. "Here ... this will explain all."
I felt my heart leap up when he opened his clothing. Then I saw his man thing. It was long but limp. And then I saw that he was without the other maleness that filled his flesh with hardness. A eunuch! All the men had this life-giving portion sliced from them! It was little wonder my lord had entrusted these men with us.
But this did not stop us. Though these men were not completely men they were still men enough. So far I had been using my mouth more than my part since I had come to the harem and I could continue to do so. I took the limp flesh of a guard into my mouth and was joyful that I had this much at least. I licked the scars where his other portion had been and wept for him ... and me. These men made love to us with their mouths, also. I had them thrust the tube of leather into me and pretended it was attached to their bodies. In this way I was able to keep my sanity through the long, lonely nights and days.
When my lord died I felt no pity, no sorrow. Nothing. He was a stranger that I had met one night and no more. The harem was then taken over by another sheik who was even older than the first! In despair at ever having a man's love again I plotted an escape. One of the eunuchs helped me at the risk of his life. While he could no longer be a man I could still be a woman. I fled to a dirty village and all but threw myself on the first man who looked able. When he shot his fountain of passion inside my flesh it was the second time in ten years I had this experience!
Yet I am marked by my life in the harem. I find girls desirable and wish to make love to them. After using my mouth for so many years to find sexual happiness I cannot break myself of the habit even though I have had many men since leaving the harem. Perhaps it is Allah's will....
Nadia's strange story can be repeated many times in countries where multiple marriages are common. Although harems have always been dear to the dreams of many men it is a nightmare for women. Today harems still exist in Arab countries. And, needless to say, so does oral love-making inside them.
