The letters which follow were received by the publisher over the course of the past year. They are a representative sample of the kind of question our readers ask about intimate and sexual matters.
Some of the letters might appear to be especially personal and revealing, and for that reason somewhat shocking.
But in the interest of providing a true picture of what American readers are thinking and doing, we've done no editing. Nor have we in any way censored the letters. In these unexpurgated inquiries we have changed, for obvious reasons, only the names of the correspondants. Otherwise, the letters have been reprinted in just the way they appeared when they crossed our editor's desk.
It is the hope of the publisher that this collection will stimulate discussion and bring light to those areas of social behavior where until recently there has been only darkness and ignorance. For it seems from the quantity and subject matter of these letters that a great many people are doing a great many things which society's public image denies as happening. Perhaps, as we realize that many of the things we consider shameful and taboo are common practice among all of us, we will give up debilitating notions of guilt and accept ourselves as we really are.
With no further ado, then, let us look to THE LUST LETTERS!
The Publisher
LETTER ONE:
January 1, 1977 Dear Sirs:
As this new year begins I think it's only fitting that I inform you I've been a reader for nearly five years now. I know you have a lot of different books out, but me and my girl friends have been enjoying your suck books the most, the ones about the various kinds of oral sex.
I guess you don't get a lot of letters from girls, but in this liberated age of American sex and love and lust, I think it's only right that we praise you, right up front, for all the good erotic action we've been getting for ourselves thanks to the things you put in print. It's not just what you write about, but what we do, too, because we read it. It's kind of like a giant turn-on. It liberates our most inner needs, our basic drives. Our senses get hot, and prickly things happen in our skin. I guess you might say we get aroused.
And once we're aroused, well, that's when the real fun begins. Honestly, me and my girlfriends are fun-lovers-out and out good-time Charlies, you might say, and when we get hot we don't see any reason in stopping ourselves. You know what I mean? Why put a good thing down when you don't have to!?!
(You might think just now that I'm just writing you this letter for the hell of it. But that's not so. I got some very particular questions to ask you, but first I have to fill you in on some of the background stuff. So hold your horses ... )
Now I was about to tell you about how it is when I read one of your sexy books. Usually I do it late at night when I don't have a date.
It used to be that I didn't plan it out. I mean, I'd be getting out of the shower after a douche or something, and I'd be standing in front of the mirror looking at my nipples and checking out to make sure there weren't any new hairs-I tend to grow a hair on my cap every now and then-and I'd get a little tingle in my crotch and not know quite what to do.
Well, one afternoon this girlfriend of mine-I guess I was fifteen or so-gave me one of your books. I poo-pooed it at first, but secretly I wanted to have a look.
I got the thing home and took it out of my purse in the privacy of my bedroom. Just reading one little paragraph, about this guy stuffing his dick inside a girl's mouth, got me so hot that I couldn't help myself. I laid down on my bed with the book in one hand and pulled my panties down with the other. I read two more sentences and had a juice flow gush going in my vagina. I tell you, it was a discovery day, one that I'll never forget.
Of course, from then on I used to wait until late at night-like I said: on nights when I didn't have a date-and I'd get out a suck book and open it to a good hot part and start fondling between my legs. Sometimes I'd get so hot so fast that I'd barely get to the end of the story and I'd be cuming. Other times, I'd have to put the book down in order to try something that I'd been reading about, like how I can use a finger in my cunt and one in my anus at the same time. Now that's one that I really have to thank you for. I get super hot like that, and my slit gushes in a jiffy.
Well, anyhow, when I moved out of the house on my own after graduation, I started getting a couple of guys I knew to buy the books for me. After all, back then, only a couple of years ago, actually, it wasn't polite for a girl to go into a porno book store and buy a magazine and her own dildo and stuff. So I had this buddy of mine and his friend do it for me. They used to come back with all sorts of goodies for making a girl happy, things like electric cocks and hard rubber peckers and greases and oozes that I'd never even heard of before. And, of course, your wonderful sexy books.
I got a couple of roommates and before long we were reading smut like it was going out of style. We couldn't get enough of it. For a while I wondered if we weren't overdoing it, but how is such a thing possible? Is it likely that I could get too turned on? That I could get too hot and horny? I mean, is it bad if my titties itch for a sucking and a rubbing twice a day? Is it awful if I gush and blush just from thinking about a boy's hard joint rubbing between my mouth and lips?
Those were the kinds of questions me and my girlfriends were asking. Mostly it was because we were getting so aroused all the time. I mean, we'd get home from work and no sooner did we finish haveing a little bite to eat then we'd fall down on the floor and strip ourselves naked and rub our cunts and get off with some orgasm chill. I mean, we were just so fucky horny all the time-and it was like us, too, after masturbating ourselves and each other, to go out and look for more.
Well, I don't have to tell you how being in that kind of a heat day and night can use up your body. So what I wanted to ask you, number one, was if you suggest any particular diet or vitamins or minerals for people who are especially active sexually? I mean, is it good to eat more yeast if I suck dick an hour every other day? Would I give better head if I were to take a lot of vitamin E all the time?
Like I said, that's just one of my questions, and, also, like I said, I'm into oral sex. Me and my roommates, we're all into suck and gush action, and I have to tell you something else about that. We like long, hard pricks in our faces. You know what I mean? We're not timid about it. We like big ones. We like to get big hot cock muscles in our hands and grind the pink mushroom tip part against our mouth muscles. Me especially. I like to go sliding my wet mouth organ up and down a good stiff joint. You hear me, editor? You paying attention to me? I like to rub my tongue up and down the stalk of a hot pecker until it squirts jism juice down my throat. I never miss swallowing a drop, either. They call me One-Gulp Sue because I can turn ten squirts into one long swallow if I have to. This is no lie. I can do it. I swear to you.
Like I was trying to tell you in the beginning: me and my girlfriends read the suck books and we get so turned-on that we just can't keep control of our physical emotions. You take the other day-this is just to give you an idea of what things are like around here, how it is with us.
Cindy and me were sitting around watching TV. There was nothing spectacular on the tube so we pulled out a good old suck novel. I mean, it wasn't one of your new fangled jobs with all sorts of technical data in it. It was just your basic tongue tease excitement book. We knew it would do the job.
Well, Cindy, you have to understand, is no ordinary girl. For one thing, when she gets turned on it cums out of her in buckets. No other girl ever gave off so much juice as Cindy. And the scene? Well, believe me, she could perfume the whole neighborhood if we let her. And she's got big boobs, too. That's the other thing about Cindy. She gives off a good clit juice and she has the biggest mammaries of all us girls. It's something-really it is-to see that girl go dancing nude around the house. She's just too fucking much.
Well, like I said, Cindy and me were sitting there getting naked and hot reading your basic suck book. Pretty soon we had our panties and everything else off, and the chills were spreading up and down our legs, over and around the shoulders, into the teats. My nipples, just to give you an idea of what was going on, were frozen stiff and upright, sticking out like little fat twigs, nubs on the branch of a winter tree. Jesus! I was super fucking hot!
And so was Cindy. I looked over at her and at that incredible chest of hers, half because I wanted to see if she was as hot as I was, half because I like to look at her breasts when she gets turned on, and all together it just sent me into paroxysms of joy. I started mashing down my clit with two fingers, rubbing it up and down with my middle digit and my index finger, and I kept looking back and forth from my wet clit-juicing vagina and fingers to Cindy's big hot bouncing mammaries. Oh, God, what a thrill!
She was reading the book out loud. She had it open to about page forty and she held the book up and out in front of her with her legs spread underneath, those big ample thighs all tanned and wet with juice, her slippery slit opened up for her rubbing fingers, and she was reading and fingerfucking herself.
The more she read, the hotter she got. The hotter she got, the bigger and the redder her tits became. And the more turned-on she was, the more turned on it made me. Call it a vicious circle-I call it ECSTASY!
Well, pretty soon we were so fucking stiff that there was no way I could keep from making a play for Cindy's breasts. I got down on my knees next to her, and she kept reading aloud from the suck book, and I kept fingering myself and rubbing one of my tits, and I asked her as nicely as I could, "Ah, Cindy, please, would you mind And before I could get the words out I gave into the hot pulse of desire-plus-need-plus-juice, minus rational thinking and clamped my hungry lips around the full red tip of Cindy's hot mammary. Mmmm! Never in my life did anything taste so good! Believe me when I tell you that licking a breast cap and sucking the tip of an excited nipple is almost as thrilling for girls like me and Cindy and my other friends as getting a hot prick in the throat.
Well, no sooner did I submit to my wanton lusty passions when Cindy threw down the book and turned to me, saying, "I love it, I-love it! Suck harder ... I love it ... mmmm, keep sucking ... Roll that tongue ... Press those lips, honey ... suck me ... suck me...."
I kept sucking her, loving up her mammoth boob until the whole two mouthfuls of the front of the thing were one giant fleshy hickey. I swear to God, Cindy's breast, at least the hefty front of the thing, looked like a swelled red target area. I'd sucked it up so good that neither one of us could believe it.
"You know," she said, "I have to get some of the real thing, honey." She pulled my puckered lips off her titty tip and sat me down on the hard wood floor. "Get that tongue of yours going between my cunt lips, babydoll. Rub it up inside me and make me gush some. Then we'll go out and get some REAL action."
Well, I guess I can tell you guys what I did. I stuffed that twat full of my tongue muscle, is what I did. I rubbed and tugged and pressed on Cindy's hot erect clit meat. I worked it up and down and sucked on it. I was on my hands and knees between her legs. My face was clamped between her fleshy thighs. She had my mouth for servicing her up good.
"Oh, honey, yeah ... YEAH!" she hollered down at me, rubbing her own two big titties with her own two big hands. "KEEP ... SUCKING ... MY ... CUNT!" Jesus! That girl was all passion-and I mean HOT!
It wasn't long after that when she pulled me up from her juicy mound by grabbing me under the armpits and said, "Let's go have some oral sex with a couple of fellers, Sue. What do you say?"
You know what I said? I said, "Yiowzer, baby. Cindy, that's for me!" And I smacked my lips and rubbed my hands together and got dressed faster than you can say lickety-split.
Well, dear Editor, sir, I want you to get all the details on this, and that's why I'm telling you it all and taking so much time to write this letter, because what happened next was not at all like the ordinary things that happen between Cindy and me and my girlfriends and the boys who we meet.
We got dressed, all hot and horny the way we were, and we thought we'd go out and find ourselves some equally hot and lusty young men. Since we're about twenty or so, and I think Cindy's maybe one year older or two, we wanted to kind of reminisce and have a couple of young boys, boys who were maybe thirteen or so because we figured it would be fun to have some dick like that to play with in our faces. We were definitely looking for oral pleasure.
And naturally, the best and most righteous place to go for such games is the beach, and we dressed accordingly. Cindy had on her big fat red bikini which wasn't fat enough to support even one of her boobs, and I had on my little blue two-piece which said all over it, "Piece me, piece me, piece...." And we were looking good, I mean S-H-A-R-P!
Now when you go to the beach around here, it's no small thing. There are rules and regulations and guesticulations that you have to make when you start crossing that sand and making your way into the desert of flesh in the sun. It's no easy thing to learn those rules, but once you got them down pat, well you never forget 'em.
So Cindy led the way, shaking her fanny as required by Sand Law, saying hello and this and that to just everybody who we all knew. There wasn't but two steps to take before she'd tell that fellow or another one that she'd certainly enjoyed the company of the night before, and that she was looking forward to a repeat performance" ... but not today, thanks."-and off we went, down that brilliant white pathway toward the ocean beyond.
We arrived at what Cindy told me was "the perfect place for just about everything" and that's where we shook out our towels and settled in. But not without Cindy taking a bow, her breasts hanging down and bulging out of her bikini top, her lover's handles flapping in the wind. This was a long, steady and purposeful bow toward the men and girls on the beach behind us. And when it was over, Cindy got herself a round of applause from the appreciative.
"Now what?" I asked her.
"Now we wait," she said. "We wait until two young boys come over here and try and hump us. Then, when they do, we take 'em back to the van with us and we show them a thing or two about mouth sex. It's simple, see?" She laid down on her back, as I did, and we both spread out legs and put our arms down at our side and proceeded to bake ourselves into a polished brown in the noonday sunshine.
I woke up in a sweat. Some awful nightmare soaked my fearful brain. My mouth watered as I squinted upward at the barking silhouette hovering and speaking and swaying in the blinding sun-white orb behind him. It was, as Cindy had called it, a young studly prince, all decked out in fresh surfer shorts. Even in those loose, baggy drawers it was plain to see that he was well-hung, ready for mouth fun.
(I tell you all of this, dear smut-man publisher, editor, whoever you are who reads this torrid note of congratulations and thanks, because I want you to know that the stories you print, the things you say about eros and the aroused, the ways you describe sex and the lurid and the happenings of bodies in passion, do come true. I write you this letter because I want you to know for a fact that you have real readers with real loves and tastes and longings, and so that you will never forget that we girls, Cindy and my other friends and me, are actually out there in the real world living up the sexual stories you write. They are TRUE, TRUE, TRU! And so, the rest of my story!)
There we were, Cindy and me, sweaty and hot and basking in the sun, the two of us desperate for something to fill our faces with, and there they were, two of the prettiest young boys two girls could ever hope to encounter anywhere, let alone in the middle of the afternoon on such short notice.
"You know," whispered Cindy out of the side of her face, "I think I'm prescient."
"Mmm, yes, Ma'am," I said, smacking my lips moist. "Let's see what these young things have to offer, eh?"
We both sat up and answered the call of those wild young men in front of us. I could tell that one of them was hot to trot. He had a big erection already-either that or he had one of the biggest dicks in the history of Beach Sex. I pressed my hand on Cindy's fleshy wet thigh as she started for the boy I took to be my own. "He's mine," I said. "I want him."
"We'll flip for it," she said, and lickety-split, she supplied me with a coin. "You toss." She flashed on the boy at her right. "Just one minute more, boys," she said, all tooth and grin. She was back at me, her fangs like polished ivory, gleaming. "Ready, cunt." When it comes to which manboy-she'll blow, Cindy is super stingy and aggressive. "Go on," she said. "Flip the coin."
I crossed the appropriate fingers on my right hand and sent the coins flying. "Header," I whispered. "Header all the way." The coin flopped down in the sand next to my knee. Cindy unburied it and looked at the gleaming silver quarter: it was all George Washington, and the boy with the big prick was all mine.
"Come on, honey," I said, standing and pulling up my towel, "let me show you the inside of my van, eh?" I slipped my free arm through his. I was a little taller than he was and it was going to be fun, I knew right then, to teach this young ster just about everything there was to learn about oral sex.
Behind me I could hear Cindy taking charge of her young man. She's no bad sport, Cindy, and just because she lost her first choice, didn't mean that she wasn't going to enjoy sucking off the second choice meat which was so obviously available.
Cindy's young man was blond and my boy had dark hair. That was how we could tell them apart when we got into the van.
"You know," said the dark-haired boy, trying to climb up and mount me before I had my bottoms off, "I think this is going to be a little fun. A lot of fun. Loads of fun!"
"Shut up until Cindy closes the back of this rabbit hutch, my little huckster, or we'll all be stew, eh?" I stroked his thigh and pressed him off of me into the side of the truck. "There, there," I said, undoing my top and showing off my big ones, "what do you think of fun now? Got some ideas?"
He reached out and when he almost had hold of the tip of my right boob, I pulled back and slapped his little fingers. "Just wait one second, little boy," I drawled, "and then you can touch Mamma, eh? Mmmm? You understand?" I slid my hand down between his legs and got hold of his balls and prick. "Just lay back. Cindy, shut the back of the van."
Cindy pulled the back doors closed and locked them. When I heard the latch click shut, tight, I went down on my young man. The gasp of rushing air jetting into his lungs was a sign of how startling it was for him to have his prick emersed in hot wet salavating flesh. I pressed along the underside of his big firming boner with my tongue.
(I got to tell you more, dear editor, about this sucking we did that day, because it was kind of like key in my realizing how truly oral me and Cindy had become.)
I used my hands to reach under his buns and take hold of his ripe cheeks. Oh, he had nice buttocks, that one did, and I loved playing with them almost as much as I liked working his dick muscle in my mouth. I mothered that dick meat of his, pressed it with my tongue and slid up and down on it until it was so juicy wet and hot and throbbing that he could have cum off without another lick. Then I stroked him with my swallowing throat and gathered up all the spurting creamy jism juice with my hungry esophagus. The wad made a sticky gob in my otherwise empty belly.
When I took that fleshy post out of my face and licked off the head of it one more time, the boy said, "Well, yeah, you really do know your biz, honey. You really do!"
"Why thank you!" I said, occasionally lapping on the shaft of his hard boner. "I appreciate that. It makes me feel good to know that a young boy like you knows a good tongue rub when he gets one." I shook his cock from side to side, fanned it with my other hand, and then I licked it wet and clean again, another time. Finally, I kissed off his naked hairy scrotum and invited him to squeeze my tender face with his strong loins. He did that, just for the chill, and we were, to his way of thinking, done.
We both looked over at blondy and Cindy at the same time. "My word!" I groaned, noting the manner in which my close friend chose to swallow up all of the blond boy's fabulous thick sword. "I'm a little surprised about him, too," I said, watching his nuts bounce on Cindy's chin. "Much larger than we'd have surmised!"
"He works out," said the boy with me, not realizing what I meant by "larger".
"Oh, yes," I agreed, nodding. "Now your turn."
"What? What, my turn?" He pointed with his thumb between his manly nipple. "My turn? What are you talking about?"
"My young friend," I said, "don't be silly. You're going to eat me now. That's what turn. Between my legs. You remember. With the mouth and the vagina. Your tongue in my cunt." I reached down, separated the ooze-coated lips leading to the insides of my already pulsing vagina, and said: "In here, where it's all happening, I want you to stick your tongue. Get it?"
He shook his head. "No, never. I wouldn't think of it," he murmured. "I don't do that kind of thing. Germs. Disease." He looked toward the back of the van. We were close to the front seats. "I want to get out of here. Open the doors."
"Oh, not so quick, my young friend," I said. "You may be only fourteen, but you're male, and if I call a cop, you'll be a male in a jail. You dig?"
"You cunt."
"Be nice, you two." Cindy was done sucking off her boy. "It's only right," she told him. "You are going to do me, aren't you?"
He nodded, her young man did, and I swore at myself saying that I never should have gone with a lad just on the basis of his organ size. Now I was stuck with an inhibited no-goodnik who wouldn't suck off my cunt.
"Please?" I begged him.
He blushed, stammered, moaned, grunted, shook his head, licked his lips, sat back and nodded: "All right, all right, but you better not tell anyone!"
I spread my heated thighs. My loins were slick and coated with juice. He dove for the flesh oven in my crotch, for those hot slippery gates to heaven, for the clit meat and the beefy slot within, and he licked and sucked like it was the most natural thing in the world for him. His slurping mouth muscle, digging into my flesh trench was everything. It was the best little oral thrill I'd ever had. I got two cums in a row and was on my way to a third when he got tired and laid off.
I finished myself with my finger, with my eyes closed so I could pretend that it was a nice boyish pair of lips and a nice flicking wet tongue muscle. It worked, and it worked well, too!
So, what I wanted to ask you, now that you know just about my whole sex history, is whether or not me and Cindy and my friends are per verts just because we like so much oral sex and because we can get off by fingering our own clit juices?
You have to let us know what you think because we're your best, most reliable readers and we collect all your books, especially the suck ones.
Quite sincerely, One-Gulp Sue Santa Monica, Calif.
P.S. Don't forget about the health food suggestions for people who are horny a lot. We need to know about yeast, Vitamin E, and if they help for a multiple cum.
LETTER TWO:
Dear Editors:
Or whoever you are, publishers, wash-outs, and especially the writer who wrote that turn-on novel of yours about beach girls. I've got a question or two for you, and I need some quick answers.
I like fucking this girl Linda. She's just about as hot a bitch as you'll ever find. She's got big tits and plenty of pzazz. And nice legs, too! And she's pretty.
Anyhow, Linda's my girl and we fuck a lot. But she's got a specialty number. You know what a specialty number is? Let me tell you, just in case. It's something a broad does that turns me on so good I can't stop. (Get that: here I am telling you guys who publish all the How To books and dirty magazines, the guys who know every damn thing there is to know about sex and lust, and I'm trying to pretend I know something more. Isn't that a kick. Of course you know what a specialty number is.)
Well, anyhow, Linda's specialty number has to do with her cunt. First she's got the thing shaved in a Mohawk you wouldn't believe. It's got like a silky curve in it, and I go ape just to see those lips purr and sweat underneath. It's like watching some sort of ruby mouth open up just a crack in a narrow moist forest of pubic hair. Ah, it drives me wild! So hot and wild you wouldn't believe it.
Well, anyhow, Linda's specialty number is this. Around sunset time she drags me down to the beach-it's really no drag at all-and she finds us a place to do it, where there aren't any people around. Just the sight of that trim little fanny of hers swaying back and forth as she makes her path to the ocean is enough to turn me on. I mean, I got a boner by the time we get there.
Well, anyhow, let me be quick about this. We get down there and she picks a place. It's kind of private like, far enough away from any of the twilight stragglers that we can get naked without being seen as such-unless someone has binoculars or something. And she strips down in front of me and lays in the sand right next to the breakwater.
Her legs look so pretty, with the water washing over them and making her thighs all wet and slippery like, and her cunt is so sparkling that it's enough to make me want to cum right then! (As you can see, I get a little carried away just thinking about it.)
Well, Linda gets down on her back, with those big ripe mams of hers all glowing with the setting sun, and she starts rubbing them both with her hands. Her eyes are closed now, and she's got one knee up a little, bent up so that her twat is opened under that Mohawk, and she's getting her tips hot.
When she's ready, Linda looks up at me and curls her finger in my direction, saying, "Come and fuck me on the beach, babe. Make me cum!"
Well, you know how hot that Mohawk and that pair of twat lips and those big excited nipples can make me. I'm already thinking about rubbing her mammaries and squeezing her thighs and getting my stinger up inside that hot little hole of hers when she invited me to come on and do her up right.
Well, that's her specialty number, see? I get down on her in the wet sand, with the ocean crashing behind us, and I punch my prick in and out of Linda's hole while the ocean washes over us. I get 'my ass flying at full speed, my back in the wind, and the feel of Linda's gushing cunt rubbing on my dick, and by the time I can think again, my dick is soaking wet in her clit juice, hot and steamy and slippery, and everything else is wet with salt-water brine. I don't know how she does it, but Linda can fuck like that until high tide goes out and low tide comes in. She's amazing.
(Just to give you an idea of how hot a bitch this chick is, she can swing her hips five inches away from your cock-you're all the way out, see? And then she comes right back to it, right down the tip and the head and wraps her twat around that tool like she was using her hands. Only her hands, see, are back behind her head where she's supporting herself, doing a kind of reverse pushup, flinging you up and down in the air with her boobs and her belly and her thighs, and her feet are grinding into the wet beach for support while she pumps and heaves and tosses you up and down on that ruby pair and in and out of that wet silky Mohawk. That's what I meant by a specialty number ... )
Anyhow, what I wanted to ask you is where I can find a book which tells the best way to do it on the beach. Can you offer me any suggestions in this regard?
Sincerely, Elton Dorn Redondo, California
LETTER THREE:
Dear Sirs, Some of us girls out here in The Big Apple were wondering if anal sex is getting to be as big a thing in L.A. as it is on the East Coast? We would also like to know if Enema is getting to be as important to genital happiness for the California girls as it is for us snow-bound ladies of New York?
Maybe you think these are strange questions for girls to be asking you, but let me tell you that anal sex is a big number here in The City, and it's not something that, if you're eighteen or nineteen, like me and my friends, you can avoid. In fact, we're still trying to learn to enjoy it.
The other day, for instance, my boyfriend Andy came over to the apartment and wanted to have a quickie. Only he didn't want a quickie in my cunt, he wanted a quick cum in my anus. Now that's a little hard to take.
"Andy," I said, shaking my boobies like pudding at him, "you just think about what you're saying for a minute. I just got out of the shower, I'm thinking about trying to get to work on time, I'm half-dressed and you not only want to screw, but you want to put it in my bunghole. That's not right."
"Right, wrong, who gives a shit?" was what he said. And he grabbed me by the arm, spun me away from the mirror, and sat me down on the edge of the tub. "Honey," he said, "when I want to screw, I don't want no lip about it. You understand?"
He pulled my chin up tight with his fingers. I nodded and then looked the other way. After all, what could I do?
"Now, undress," he said. "All the way. None of this halfway business, you understand? You get my meaning, babe?"
"I do, I do," I said.
Well, anyhow, I don't want to make a whole big thing about this, but Andy, he didn't wait for me to get nice and comfortable or anything. He just pulled my hips up close to him-as soon as I had my slip off-and he pulled down my silk panties and jammed his tool in dry. DRY! You know what that's like? I couldn't believe he did that.
Oh, sure, maybe there was a little saliva or something on his stick, but that was all. I mean, that thing rubbed into my back crevice like there was no fucking tomorrow! I felt it pierce my bowel, stick down there, and I could barely move. I wanted to die.
Next thing I knew he was letting go of a hot wad of cum, sending it down hard inside me. I was like a jello mold getting filled with fresh creamy pudding, thick and warm and hotter all the time, and Andy was gasping behind me. We were so stricken with passion that we didn't even realize we were on the bathroom floor, on our hands and knees, until it was over.
"Shit," I moaned, "you're too fucking much. I didn't know we could even do it that way, let alone that fast!"
"Oh, sure, babe," he said, "you just stick with me!" He got up and cleaned off his rod and I got dressed and went to work....
Now that's just a sample about the kind of anal play that's going on around this town. You get my meaning? There's this girlfriend of mine who told me the other day that it's like ordinary for her and her lover to have sex that way. She usually sucks off his dick and wets her asshole with some clit juice, and then he spikes her rear cave. I used to think that such things were crimes and few and far between, but the more I talk to people, the more I find ut that I've been leading some sort of sheltered anal existence.
Anyhow, that's one reason I'm writing to you, to tell you about the things that I've heard and seen going on around here, and to find out if this buttfucking thing is a new fad or what. I mean, if it's going on here in the big tough city, well, I can only imagine what's happening out there in the land of sun and lust!
But let me tell you some more about my friends. Then, if you write back, you'll have something to compare notes with. You know what I mean? You'll be able to tell me if you smut people have as good a time as we girls in New York!
Last week, Karen, a girl I've known for a couple of years since high school, suggested that I get a dildo, an electric one, and that I try stimulating myself that way when Andy was away. I told her that I'd never done it with a machine before, and that I was a little reluctant to go out and spend all that money without knowing what I was getting myself in for. So she loaned me hers to have a trail run at working myself with a vibrator.
I got the thing home and climbed up on my bed right away. I spread my legs and felt a chill before I even started in. Don't ask me why, but knowing that I was going to do something so-called "nasty", made me feel that much hotter right from the beginning.
I pulled down my panties and rubbed around with the machine between my legs. I had no idea how quickly I could get turned on. It was the thing, vibrating and humming between my comely thighs, pulling the goose bumps out of my flesh, bringing me into a state of high fever and making my body radiate the hot chill and ready flush of an orgasmic possibility.
I rolled over on my belly and replaced the electrifying penis with my own fingers and hand. I pumped a long, steady digital action in and out of the ruby lips which guard my cunt. A moment later, my clit in hand, I gave myself the steady tweasing that I needed in order to get super hot.
With my cunt well under control, every inch of the tube sweltering with fresh wet desire and the heat of passion, I used my other free hand and the dildo for rolling up and down between my buns. It was wet from the action near my steamy bush, so lubrication was no problem at all. The electric head grinded and rubbed in my cheek hollow, and before long the sphincter within contracted in a primative rhythmic sensualism which made me hot and saucy-ALL OVER!!
I had two cums in a row and stopped masturbating myself.
"Phew," I moaned. "This is something I should have discovered for myself long ago." I held the electric dick up in the air and watched the sparkle of the juices as my heated body slowed its rhythm back to normal. It had been a sensational first effort with the dildo.
Well, like I said at the outset, the real reason I'm writing this letter to you is to find out what you think is the best kind of anal sex, and to ask you if there are people there in Los Angeles doing the kinds of things me and my girlfriends are into. I know you're a pretty busy person so I guess I'll get right to the point.
We've been spreading our buns for some strange fellows and we want to know if it's normal. I mean, just because we're into anal sex doesn't mean we don't feel guilty about it or something like that. It's kind of strange, but even though Andy does me up right, and even though he convinces me that it's an o.k. thing to do, I still have my doubts. The feel of his hot muscle defiling my rear tube is so sensational sometimes, the way it rocks around and slides in there and makes me cum-I guess the cum is from his finger working my clit at the same time but I know for sure that the excitement is not all vaginal-well, it's so sensational sometimes that I wonder if maybe it's not too good to be true.
And yet, there are other times, like the occasions when he sticks it in dry and doesn't care how it feels to me, and when he stretched out my little anal eyeball with that hefty mushroom prick of his, the way he works it like a hypo under the skin of my anus, and the way he makes me feel like some sort of slut, like a tramp or something, and like he's really penetrating me because he hates me or something-that feel of heavy debauchery-well, I wonder if that's what it's all about. I don't know if I should really enjoy that debasement that he gives me or what.
You know what I mean, dear editor? I'm trying to get at something here, something that me and my girlfriends are perplexed by. Maybe I can better describe the problem for you if I tell you about how I saw Betty and Andrea and Lenny fucking recently. Andy was supposed to meet me but he didn't. Maybe he was out fucking someone else or just getting drunk or I don't know what, but he didn't show up. So, since there was the three of them, and they're groupers from way back, I was the odd girl out. I love orgasm but sometimes I just can't see the point of doing it with three of us. Well, anyhow, Lenny and Betty and Andrea went ahead without me.
I sat in the living room for a while, but then I couldn't stand being so bored and wondering what my Andy was up to. I thought that it might distract me to watch those two girlfriends of mine and Lenny fucking.
Well, I went and stood for a minute at the bedroom door. When I finally got up the courage to knock-I was afraid that from the sounds of things, the grunts and the groans and the moans, that I'd be interrupting-they were well into their screwing.
The door, it turns out, wasn't latched, and it swung open on the second knock. In front of me were Betty and Andrea and Lenny, all three on the bed.
Andrea's big breasts hung down and nearly touched the bed. She looked up a little startled at first, and then she smiled and went back to concentrating.
Lenny looked up too. He flashed me a quick grin and kept staring at me with this demented red glare in his eyes. He was slobbering down his lower lip and he was pumping at Andrea's rear. The two of them were looking awfully debauched.
Under Andrea was Betty. She was spread out and letting her chest be the subject of Andrea's suckling. Andrea was swabbing at Betty's breasts with her long wet tongue. She kept licking and sucking and looking up at me every now and then indicating that it would be alright for me to join in on the "fun". I didn't know what to do so I just stood there watching.
Pretty soon the sight of so much naked flesh, and the sight of Lenny's dick, in particular, as it turned harder and redder in its descent down down Andrea's asshole tube, had an affect on me. I had to sit down in a comfy chair across from the bed and spread my legs, pull down my panties and hike a finger into place. I worked out on my own clit and twat while the threesome, a lovely troil if ever there was one, panted and gasped for breath on the bed. It was quite a sight to behold, I guess, what with me masturbating with my finger and them pumping and huffing and puffing on the bed.
The thing is, the question I'm trying to get to is that I was enjoying myself that day. You know what I mean? The sight of his dick working up and down inside Andrea's hole was so stimulating to me, so very arousing, that I thought I was some sort of pervert. It's kind of strange to think of myself as so disgusting and all, so debased and deprayed, but that's the whole problem. Do you know what I'm getting at? There I was getting off on watching these people fuck and up the ass, too, and I don't know if it's right or not.
I guess what I'm asking, sir, is whether or not you think it's bad that me and my friends enjoy ourselves by fucking in the asshole. Please, please, let us know right away what you think about these anal activities.
Yours truely, Desperate Debby New York City, New York
LETTER FOUR:
Dear Sir (or Ms.):
Some of us guys in Kansas City have got ourselves together to write and ask you a few questions about fucking and sucking. We been reading your wonderful smut books here on the Great Plains and it occurred to us that maybe the way you do things there in California with your women is different than the way we do things with our women out here in farm country. So we've gotten together to tell you how it is here and to ask you if you've heard of the things we're into and if you got any suggestions for us.
First off, Chris Paulson wants to know if licking out a girl's vagina is the same as a suck-dick. The reason he asks is that he and his girlfriend, Linda Sue, a young heffer if ever there was one, just started in the other night, in Chris's car, and they got so carried away that she had herself an orgasm from his licking in her twat. He asked her right off, just as soon as her cum was over, if she would do the same for him, and she said no, she wouldn't lick him off because she thought it was dirty. What Chris wants to know is why she likes him to lick her and not the other way around. (I told him to dump that silly inhibited broad but she's so pretty and has got such big tits and nice thighs and all that Chris wants to try and save her.) What do you think?
Number two question for you professional sexers out there in Los Angeles is this: how is it that my girl and I can't get a good cum from masturbating each other? Oh, it's hot and saucy and all, but it's not the same as it is when I rub my penis in her vagina. I'll never forget the first time me and Carla got it on. We was up in her father's house in her bedroom which is the only room on the third floor of that old house, and we'd been petting pretty heavy for about twenty minutes. That was the first time I put my dick in her wet juicy cunt, and believe you me it was something special.
I guess I got a little carried away there, but I think you should know how it is with me and Carla. Anyhow, this is my letter and I want to tell you. That first time up there in her father's house was one of the best. Of course, I wasn't no virgin, but Carla sure was. I don't mean she had a hymen, either. She did have a tight wet hole, but she didn't have any ribbon to break. It was smooth, silky, and everything steamy that I'd ever dreamed of.
You know how it is when sometimes you get your tool going in a fresh hot cunt and it's just the way it's supposed to be? You know how it feels when you go sliding your dick into home base and you just can't get enough of that rubbing, so much so that you regret cuming because the feel of the twat flesh was so-oo good and you just wanted more of it? Well, that's how it was that first time with Carla. Don't ask my why, but after a couple of months of fucking we started in on this masturbation stuff.
What we do is this: we lay down side by side, her facing one way, me the other, on our backs. She can reach my dick and I can reach her pussy. We lay there like that and fondle each other's genitals until we're both so hot that it's almost too much too stand.
Now, the first time we did that it was to make ourselves hot enough that we could fuck and enjoy ourselves. You know what I mean? It was so that we could have plenty of foreplay and get to fucking hard with each other, hard and fast.
But something funny happened. We were rubbing each other, Carla with her fingers wrapped around my thick hard-on, me with my fingers pressing up and down in her slit, rubbing especially on her clitoris, and all of a sudden we both started cuming. I mean, I had an ejaculation in her fist and she had a cum on my finger. I guess we were so sexually excited that we couldn't keep from letting loose all the way.
Well, for that one time it was alright. You know what I mean? It was o.k. because we were just fooling around and knocking off a quickie. I got satisfied from her rubbing my hard-on and she got turned on from me finger-fucking her and flicking her clit.
But the next time we started to get it on, a couple of days later, when we tried it again, neither one of us could get hot that way. We wanted to really get going, to have some hot orgasmic action, but no matter what we did, no matter how much she squeezed my bone-on and no matter how many strokes I took in her slit, we just couldn't seem to get off all the way.
We ended up with me mounting her from behind. I don't mean I used her rear orifice to satisfy myself-just that she was in that position where the guy mounts by sliding his joint into place from the back end.
Well, I stuck my dick into her pussy, and it was hot and saucy in there even though Carla hadn't had a cum yet. Her clit was thick and silky, soft and juicy to the touch, and her inner ruby-red walls were about as tasty on the tip of my penis as could be. It was like a million little fingers reaching out and rubbing my mushroom head. I couldn't keep from diving all the way in.
I reached around and took hold of her chest, too. I held one mammary in each hand, palms flush with her breasty tips, hefty cherry-colored caps, and I stroked and massaged and kneaded and squeezed. I had the two ripest tits in the world in my hands, and there was no way that I could resist going all the way with such a chesty pair! Mmmmm, just thinking back about that precious feel of Carla's mammaries makes me want to go out and fuck ten girls in a row.
Well, anyhow, I had my joint stuck up the throat of her slippery vagina, and the head of my meat was pressing into the back of her cunt, into that satin-soft back wall which undulated and rolled against and massaged my prick tip and shaft like it was a big cotton hand milking my boner. Oh, fuck, it was nice!
Now that was a feel I'll never really forget. The massaging we did by hand, every time after that, was not so good as the fucking itself. Yet we still wonder why masturbating isn't as successful as fucking.
In order to make our manual action as good as the intercourse we've tried a number of items. The other night, for instance, Carla came to me in the living room where I was watching TV.
"Darling," she said, "look what I've found." Naturally-my girl is a rather buxom blonde with irresistible thighs, and on this evening she wore only shorts and a t-shirt, her best assets easily pressing on my mind whether she was present in the room or not-I looked up. "What, little one?"
She held in her hand a tube of rose-colored grease, and she had the cap off. She stood there with a happy smile on her adorable tanned face saying softly, "It's slippery and it smells nice, too. Want to try some?"
I climbed slowly up from my chair in front of the hockey match. "Let me see that stuff." She squeezed a precious drop of the goo into my palm. I pressed my two hands together and worked the oily salve into the calluses of fingers and palms. "Mm, that is nice," I murmured, thinking already of all sorts of devilish ways with which to apply the new lubricant. "Where did you get this stuff?"
"At a health food store? It's a Vitamin E cream."
I glanced for some obscure and for some obvious reasons at Carla's lovely ample thighs.
"Yes," she said, before I could even give voice to my question, "I have been using it on my legs. It works."
"I'll say," I agreed. Her thighs had been so smooth and so lovely to the touch that I knew she'd been using something special to make them that way. "I want to try some of that oily stuff. Let's go into the bedroom."
"I thought you'd never ask," she said.
I had a boner the size of Mt. Vesuvius by the tie we undressed.
"Good God, look at that thing," moaned Carla, also nude now.
"Me? Those breasts of yours, darling, are the softest pillows in the world. Come here." She shook her fabulous tanned boobies as she made her way to my side, still in one hand carrying the fabulous juice.
"You want to do something with my mams, honey?"she asked.
"I want to see them up close," I said. I reached and she backed off in a quick tease.
"Beg," she whispered. "Beg me and I'll show you both of them at once."
"Mmmm, yes, indeed," I said, faking it for an instant, and then I lept at her and landed, with both hands, on her chest. I shoved, pressed forward, and ended up on top of her giggling soft mass on the bed. She spread her legs instantly.
"You're too much," she laughed when she caught her breath. "Just too fucking much." Her mouth opened and into that luscious flesh hollow I pressed my tongue. A quick tour revealed all sorts of desire on fire and we began to hump.
"Don't forget the hot ooze," she whispered when our mouthes came temporarily unglued.
"Hot? Where is it? I know it's slippery, but it's not hot. Unless you've been boiling it somewhere."
She smiled and reached under her creamy buns. She pulled out the tube of E oil. "On the back burner," she whispered with her most sultry voice. "Just for you."
I took the tube of oil from her. "Shall I use some of this on your tits?" I fully intended to hear her moan and groan and say Yes. Instead, young Carla, forever the sensualist, inquired: "Won't you use your tongue first, darling?" I nodded and answered quickly, "Of course."
A moment later I had popped between my lips one of her bite-sized caps and nipple tips. It was a luscious rubbing for both of us. I used my tongue to enjoy the shape and taste of her hot little red bud, and I used my lips to suck up her mammary flesh until it was nice and tender. When I thought she was ready, I used her other boob and stimulated and enjoyed it in the same manner.
"You're making me so hot, darling," she cooed, and then I knew it was time to apply the oil.
I reached down between her legs and used a healthy quantity of ooze for preparing the inside of Carla's thighs. I worked the juice with my palms up and down between her legs, rubbing and kneading the chilled flesh of her perfectly sculpted and slick loins. It wasn't long before I crowded her mound with all ten of my fingers, and I went to work in that wooly bush of hers with a good glistening coating of the oily salve. It took all together, maybe ten minutes to cover her with the lubricating fluid.
"Now me," she said at the end. "You did save some for yourself, didn't you?"
I held out the tube which was now half-empty. "Sure I did," I said and I gave her the whole thing.
Before I knew it, Carla had her hands working up and down my chest, her palms pressing on my manly tips, her fingers massaging on my ribs. She knew how to tantalize me and when she got down close to my genitals, all ten fingers working slowly to fondle me delicately, I had no fears, just pleasure, titalating and exciting.
I looked down and saw her lovely slender fingers at work on my tool. Not only did my penis, hard as a rock, stick out and shine with the sparkling oil, but so did Carla's hands, coated as they were with juice. "You're very special," I told her. "You know how to do me, Carla."
I noticed just then that she'd neglected to coat the tip of my dick and about three inches of shaft below the head. "Is there some reason, darling," I asked her quietly, "that you've ignored the head of my dick? I mean, do you know that you've left the tip and a few inches of meaty stalk completely dry? Is there some reason for that, Carla darling?"
No sooner had I asked this foolish question when, without so much as one word, young Carla sank mouth first deep in my crotch, there to suck up the entire head and at least three inches of bone-hard stalk. Watching that mouth of hers suck and lick on my disappearing flesh rod was almost as much of an aesthetic treat as the sensual feel I was getting from her hot wet lips on the galvanized penis itself.
A moment later and her hands were slipped under and in place on my buttocks. She squeezed and pressed and worked the flesh of my rear end with as much fever as she used also on my dick and balls. The oily stuff she'd spread on my crotch was nothing compared to the work she did with her tongue and hands.
An instant later, and Carla was up on top of the thick muscle she wanted in her twat. She rolled he hips from side to side, and in a jiffy she was pressing the meaty prick she loved into the hot rear chamber of her wet vaginal channel. It wasn't long before she finished sliding and started pumping. Now, working her hips, rubbing her pussy up and down, she squeezed, and long tender muscles took hold and milked at the throbbing prick she loved.
I reached upwards and grabbed hold of her full ripe chest. Her tanned boobies have long been the object of my internal craves, and getting a good hold on the tips of those fabulous things is like having a pair of extremely valuable diamonds to play with. "Mmmmm, darling, good," I said, remarking on her incredible ability to rub my penis with her tender twat while providing my hands and sometimes my mouth with the thrill of her smooth chest, "this is as it should be!"
She rolled her precious pussy from side to side and thus set into motion that extremely delightful pressing sensation, the one which comes when a woman's twat shifts and rubs and squeezes in ten million directions all at once, all in an effort to make your penis more excited and more aroused and more her own. Jesus, it really is something!
Well, anyhow, my question to you, sir, has to do with the difference between the hand jobs we were giving each other and the wonderful sensations we got from fucking. I mean, it seems to me that we ought to be able to get as much plea sure from rubbing our genitals with our hands and fingers as from screwing. And I also would like to know why it is that not all girls have such soft cunts as Carla's.
Now, that takes care of my question.
There is one more, from Jim. He's my football buddy and he wants to ask you some questions about anal sex. The other night he was fucking his girlfriend, Sharon, and I can tell you that when Jim says Sharon has big breasts, he means BIG BREASTS! Those two mammaries on Sharon's chest are like the largest mountains in the world, twin peaks if anything. Anyhow, he was fucking this girl Sharon and he had his dick up her cunt and his mouth on one of her titties and he was sucking up the nipple when the idea occurred to him that he might enjoy sticking his finger up her asshole.
"Honey," he said, "I'd like to put my finger around back." Well, he was rather surprised when, like a heffer giving milk, she just lifted up her fanny and said, "Alright, darling, just go ahead." He stuck his finger into the slot between her buns and rubbed around until he'd filled up that space and started on her anus. "I'm coming in," he warned her, and sure enough, he stuck his finger up her asshole. She creamed around on it, and she grunted and groaned, and then she leaned up and whispered in his ear. He couldn't believe his ears. "You want what?" he asked her. "You heard me," she said. "Right now would be the right time to try it. What do you say?"
Well, she'd asked him if he would rub his penis in there. He didn't know if he should do it or not, but he kept pressing in and out of there with his finger, and he considered it. "Do you think it's o.k.?" he asked.
"It's o.k. with me," she said. "I don't think there's anyone around who'll stop us."
"But it's so small," said Jim. "I mean, Jesus, I don't know if I should do that or not." He was consciously measuring it with his finger. He crammed enough digit up inside the tube that he could tell the entrance, though narrow, would accommodate his hard dick.
"Please, good, yes," moaned big breasted Sharon. "Harder! HARDER!"
So he started grinding. I mean, he was working that finger up and down inside her asshole, really rubbing and pressing, and he was grinding with his cock, too, making sure that Sharon's vagina was never empty for more than the time it takes to stroke in and out, and then he pulled out all the way, and he said simply, "O.K. already, but you just remember that you asked for it, you hear? You fucking asked for it."
"Oh, yes, good," said Sharon, eyeing the stiff meat about to penetrate her asshole. "I asked for it and I wanted it and now I'm going to finally get it. Mmmmmm. Good!"
She smiled and reached out and rubbed her finger up and down the length of his thick slippery shaft. "Come on and put it in me, honey. I need it and I know it's going to be good. Right now!"
She showed him her backside. Those big moons glowed for him. Those big slices of soft cheese were going to make up a sandwich for him. He couldn't resist the hot little brown hole between. "O.K.," he said, spreading some of Sharon's lovely clit juice up and down his stick, "let me have some of this-" He took a good oily supply, "-and I'll be in a jiffy."
A moment later, with his two hands cupping her soft white cheeks apart, he entered Sharon's asshole. He pressed his boner all the way into her sphincter, and when he realized that Sharon was screaming and crying for more, begging him to impale her and screw her down tight to the mattress, even though he couldn't quite believe it, he did it. He went zooming into her, harder and faster than before, and his throbbing dick filled up her back bowel.
It was then that he realized that she could take no more. But it was also at that moment, with his girlfriend's ripe cheeks pressing into his crotch and rubbing on his balls, her groove tight around his dick, that he realized he couldn't stop himself. He was like the midnight train which rolls across the plains not far from here-it just keeps going no matter what's happening!
He fucked her full of jism juice and pretty soon he was satisfied. When he climbed off, Sharon was delirious. But when she came around, she asked: "I told you I was hurting-why didn't you stop?"
"You asked for it," he said right away quick. "Don't try and make me feel bad about it. Go get some kleenex and a wash rag and you can clean my dick."
Now that was the way he commanded her around that night. But later, when he told me this story and formulated his question, Jim was not so confident. For one thing, he wants you to tell him if it's bad or not that he likes to fuck girls in the ass. It was the first time for him, granted, but he knows for a fact that he wants to do it as many times and as often as possible. He wants to fuck all the girls he ever meets up the asshole, and he wants you to tell him if it's normal. He doesn't have any objections to putting his prick in the pussy, but he's worried that he's too anal. What do you say?
Well, those are the questions from the Kansas City people. I sure do hope you can help us out with some quick hot answers.
Sincerely, "The Farmers In The Dell"
LETTER FIVE:
January 12, 1976 Dear Mr. Editor, I sure do hope that I can trust you. I'm taking a big chance in writing this letter. But I have to ask you some personal things, and I don't know who else would have the right answers. If I asked my Mom or my Dad, I'm sure I'd get a licking and a strap across my rear end that I'd never forget. And there isn't anyone else. So you're it.
I'm sixteen years old, as of last Friday, and everything seems to be getting mixed up. I'm pretty enough, so don't think that I'm writing you because I don't have any dates or anything. It's not that at all. The fact is, if you really want to know, that I'm TOO pretty. You know what I mean? Not only the handsome guys like me, but the ugly ones get pretty forward too. And I like all boys so it's a problem, sort of, being pretty is. And I have a big chest, too, and nice legs, and blonde hair and a tan. And blue eyes. Gee, you can tell just from reading this letter that my problems are to do with sex, eh?
When I say that everything's getting mixed up, what I really mean is that things have been mixed up for a long time already and I'm only just beginning to get around to realizing it. I guess it started way back two or three years ago when I was just thirteen going on fourteen. Because that's when I first discovered about SEX.
(Now you know why I'm writing to you, the editor of a sex book company-because you'll know everything I need to know about this particular problem.)
When I say that it started just a couple of years ago, I mean that, well, ah, I guess I can tell you: I started masturbating then. There, I've written it down, I've told somebody, and it's out. I feel better already and it's a big load off my chest. I've felt guilty about that for two years. You just wouldn't believe it.
It happened one night when I was feeling this strange crave between my legs. I knew that it was in an area of my body that you'd call my erogenous zone, and there was really no stopping myself. I was half-asleep and everyone else was already in bed with the lights out. I figured that since no one would know, I could reach down there and find out what was happening in my little bush.
I stuck a finger into it and found that there was this oily wetness in the hairy part and that between the lips of my young vagina everything was especially juicy. It had never been wet like that before, steamy and hot-not that I'd tested it that many times before that night, you must understand-and I wondered what had caused me to feel that way.
Well, I thought back about what I'd done that day, and sure enough I was able to associate my getting hot between the thighs with this boy I knew at school, Tim. He was in the grade ahead of me, and he'd come up to me that day in school and he said that he liked the girls in seventh grade better than the ones in eight. He put his arm around me and while we walked around he felt up my fanny. I guess it's kind of romantic now that I think back about it, but when it happened I was really afraid. No boy had ever touched my tender cheeks.
But that night, as I lay in bed thinking about Tim and his hand on my rear end, with one finger touching my little clit and slippery lips-though I didn't know it was my clit-I couldn't help but get a fresh new chill along with a sensation of something melting in my pussy. It was like someone had stuck a piece of candy inside me and now that it was melted everything had become sticky. I wanted to stop playing that way, to stop fingering my clit and my inner vagina, but I just could not. It was like something terribly important lay ahead of me and the only way to get there was to keep stroking.
A moment later I reached down under my rear end. I know you've probably heard this before in your line of work, but things were much better now that I was using two hands instead of one. I had one hand in just the place where Tim had put his that afternoon, and I had my other one on my fresh virgin mound.
I wasn't virgin for long. A moment later, just when things were getting especially hot and juicy, I stuck myself a little too hard in the cunt and went right on through my twat strap. I ripped it open.
I promised myself right then and there that I would never finger-fuck again, on account of the pain it caused me. I was alarmed, the next morning, when I discovered blood on my sheets. I didn't know what to do. I wondered if I should tell Mom and Dad, for fear that I was going to die from something I'd done, or if I should just secretly change the sheets on my own and burn the old ones, too.
Well, I did the latter. I got rid of the sheets and put on clean ones and prayed that my vagina would heal. You see, I didn't know back then that I had a hymen and that it was natural, if I masturbated hard, to bleed when it broke. So there are, you know, some things I've learned on my own.
A few nights after that first one with my fingers, I gave in to the temptation to go back to work on my clit and vagina, despite the fears I had about bleeding and all. I guess already the desire for pleasure had become much stronger in me than is usual.
Whatever the reason, I waited for everthing to get quiet in the house-which took some considerable length of time-and then I went to work, pulling down the sheets, spreading my handsome little thighs, working a finger up into the space between my labia. It was such fun this time that I could hardly keep from stopping. I wanted to do it all night. And I would have, too, but a sudden gush, accompanied by some intense feeling of desire and chill, finished me off. I didn't know it, but that was my first orgasm, my first little cum.
About six months later I was having orgasms left and right-I was even getting an occasional multiple-climax, the kind of steady rush of wild juices that makes for a constant ecstasy. Some times, just because those oceanic feelings would drive me so crazy, I'd fear that it would never stop, that my heart would beat too fast, that my legs would chill too much, that I was going to freeze and die of orgasmic pressure of some sort. Little did I know. Today I wish that such things happened. What better way to go!
Anyhow, I got into the multiple-cum, as I've learned it's called, even before my breasts were fully developed. I soon found ways of making myself hot faster than a lizzard can blink. I could rub my breasts and my tips especially and that would make me hot like burning coals. I could press a single digit up my hot little anal tube with a free hand and that would get me super-charged, too. And I could use a couple of fingers to pinch off that mysterious little piece of juicy flesh, that hot button of buttery clit meat until the final climax came upon me, and that would send me into the land of my dreams.
Well, I don't know how well you know young girls, but by the time I was fifteen, I couldn't do it alone anymore. I knew that I had to have myself a man to make it good for me. I knew that there were such things as dicks and balls, as muscle and brawn, as brain and hearts. Romance was what I started looking for.
Some people say that adolescents can't understand what love is. I say just the opposite: they don't have to understand anything; they just love it.
Well, I went looking for a man, or a boy, in that spirit.
And that's when my sex troubles really started.
The first man I ever fell in love with, naturally, was my father. He was big and strong, and even as recently as last week I had a dream that he took me away with him and we left Mom behind. Now I know that it's silly, but last year, when I started to have sex, I couldn't help but go out and look for someone who looked like Dad.
I found him in my English teacher at school. He was a handsome fellow with a strong jaw and a good large nose. He had deep-set eyes, just the way Dad does, and he has long dark hair, all of it curly, which is something else just like my father. And he was very kind and considerate to me.
I used to sit at the front of the classroom with my legs crossed in front of him, my thighs one over the other, and my feet dangling. "Young lady," he said when he didn't know my name, "you should keep from tapping your foot during class." Just those few words made me blush.
I determined to seduce him. Now, it's no easy thing to seduce a teacher in a high school. For one thing, they don't want to get into trouble with the school boards. For another, they don't quite believe that someone as young as myself can give them what they're looking for. Lastly, most teachers believe that you're still a child and that they'd be abusing you if they took you in their arms and fucked. None of these things are true. I had my work cut out for me.
I went home that very day and made my Mom sew a new dress for me, one with a low-cut front and a short hem, one which fell only to my knees or a little above. Now you must know that my mother sensed that I was in love, and it was in that spirit which she put together my dress and in short order, too. But had she known for a second that it was my forty year old English teacher I was after, she'd have never sewn me anything.
When it was ready, I tried the dress on in front of the mirror upstairs. I'd already worn it downstairs for Mom to see. She liked it. But just then I wanted to see it on in front of a mirror alone, so that I could judge if the dress was what I needed in order to make the proper impression on my first love, my English teacher.
I paraded to and fro. The dress was just right. It showed off my legs the way I knew they would most appeal. As for my breasts, I'd worn no bra for this fitting, and I was particularly impressed that I could lean down, ever so slightly, and have my boobs hang forward in plain sight. My teacher didn't have a chance. He'd be hot and on my tail in no time at all.
Mr. Jenkins, as I will call him in this letter-for I want to keep all of this secret and special, you know-Mr. Jenkins caught sight of me wearing the new dress the minute I walked into the class room. His eyebrows raised, his eyeballs bulged, and he looked like he was going to have some spittle hanging from his demented lower lip in a second. You might wonder how I could have found such a man attractive, but never mind that. It was a year ago, and as I mentioned before, he had the physical features of a spitting image of my father.
I sat down in my chair at the front of the classroom and crossed my legs in such a way that I knew Mr. Jenkins would find them attractive. In fact, he couldn't keep his eyes off them. I was sure that like myself he couldn't wait for class to be over.
Sure enough, when the bell finally rang, he caught me by the arm and said that he had to talk to me, that there was something incredibly important that we needed to speak about. Well, you know that right then and there I was ready to call it quits, ready to tell him the truth, that I was up to no good and that I half-loved him and half-needed him, for his dong. But I didn't. I took a deep breath, smiled and followed him to his office.
Though I sat opposite him on one side of his desk, I could see over the thing and into his crotch. From time-to time as he spoke, telling me sweet nothings and slowly but surely leading up to exactly the topic I wanted to hear mentioned, I could see a buldge building into an erection in his trousers. There was no doubt about it-I was going to have my first man...." so you see," he was saying, "how important it is that you and I get things, well, as straight, yes, that's the word, straight ... and when we have our little understanding, and when we agree on things, then we'll know for sure...."
He went on and on, and, finally, just as he was about to burst forth with it, to tease him some, I leaned forward, made sure he got a good look at my tits, and then stood up and said quite abruptly, "I think, Mr. Jenkins, sir, I do know what you're about to say, and I'm not sure that I should let you defile me, even verbally, if what you're about to say is what I think it is." I started to leave the room.
He pulled me by the shoulder, having been up and out of his seat just as quick as I was, and turned me around in his arms. I felt his face near my own and liked the heat from it. He came closer. We were alone in his office and he was big and strong and older and I was young and virginal. He pressed his mouth muscle into my face and French kissed me.
His hands, naturally, were everywhere at once, feeling up my behind, rubbing around my hips, playing with my boobs as best they could through the material of my dress. He reached in, under my dress, and came up between my legs, one finger sliding into place in my cunt and making me super hot before I could even think about it. (I just assume that you know I never wear panties.)
He worked my clit up and down and he fingered at the insides of my twat for what seemed like the most wonderful eternity ever. We were standing up for all of this, and I can't tell you how hot it made me having him stroking me the way he was. Finally, when he had one hand on my buns and the other in my hole, I said, "I think we better lay down, Mr. Jenkins. You know?"
"Ah, yes, my sweet," he said, "I think that would be good, let us go over here."
He pointed to his sofa. As quick as you can blink-I regret it still-I bared myself and showed him my twat and my rear end and my heavy breasts and my big red caps. He liked what he saw.
"Now," he said, "let me show you a little something, my dear." He unzipped and out came the biggest dick I've ever seen. Of course, I haven't seen all. that many, but this one was large and fat. Mr. Jenkins, I could tell right then, was going to make one of his pupils especially happy.
"May I hold that thing for a second?" I asked. "I mean, after all, one reason I'm here is for LEARNING, eh?" I reached for Mr. Jenkins' hot tool. It felt good in my fingers, rubbing it as I was, and it quickly grew to even larger proportions as I inspected it up and down. I found my way between his legs and cupped his balls. It was the first time ever I'd had the priviledge of a man's genitals.
"You know," he said, "you might like to put it in your mouth."
"In my mouth?" I questioned him. You must remember that I was very naive at that time. "I never thought of that."
"Try it," he suggested. "I'll just sit down here and you can take my prick and play with your tongue on it."
He sat on the couch. He spread his legs and pointed to where I should kneel in front of him.
"I don't know," I said. "I think I'm in over my head already."
"Nonsense," said Mr. Jenkins.
I crouched in front of him. He pulled me forward between his muscular thighs and I took hold of his hot dick. I put it up to my moist lips and, tentatively at first, I tongued the tip of his beefy prick. I want you to know that I never felt so guilty in all my life. It was like I was murdering someone or destroying myself. I didn't know what was happening. My head swam and I fell over between his feet.
A moment later I woke up and looked at the weight on my body. Mr. Jenkins was on me and pumping his organ into my cunt. He hadn't bothered with trying to revive me, or, if he did, he did not care to follow through. He was much more interested in getting his hot grinding organ working in my slit.
"Oh, God, Mr. Jenkins," I moaned, "I feel so faint. I don't know what happened."
He took his mouth off my breast. "You fainted. It's common in young girls the first time they do some particular sex act. You never blew a man before, is that it?"
"I never even screwed a man, let alone suck or ... "
"What?" He laughed and pumped at my twat harder. "No ribbon, though, honey. Jacking it some?"
He knew me like a open book. He worked his prick into the back and remote folds of my hot pussy. The juices flooding the inside of that chamber were hot and plentiful. It was as if someone had opened a fawcet on the hot water side. I was all rushing and gushing.
"You're making me ... c-c-cum," I mumbled at the right moment, and sure enough, I juiced in a quick climax on my first pecker piece. "Oh, Mr. Jenkins," I moaned, "you really are some thing. That meat of yours is so large and firm and-Oh, God, what's-what's-what's that?"
It was, I later learned, the throb of his ejaculaing muscle as he spent his hefty wad, cum after cum after cum, inside of my young vagina.
When we got up off the floor there was a healthy splotch the size of a shirt cardborard where I'd had my rear end. It was some of it clit juice and the rest semen. It had been a hell of a good first lay.
Soon enough Mr. Jenkins and I were meeting on a regular basis. Sometimes we'd go to his place and ball our brains out, and other times when my parents were away on vacation, we'd go there, to my house, and we'd play like married people. Of course, in the back of my mind, as usual, there was always the feeling that he was my father and I was his lovely daughter. I think there was more of that than husband and wife.
Later, when we knew each other better, I told him what I'd been thinking that first time. "I was hoping that you'd screw me up so good that I'd never want it again from anyone. I was hoping that the feel of your hot meat stuffed into my hole, rubbing around inside me, making me cum and cum and juice and gush, would be enough of a fuck that I'd never want anyone else. But Mr. Jenkins-" I always called him that even through all of our bedroom conversations-"it's not like that and we both know that it has to end. You're a grown man and I'm just a fifteen year old girl. We have to stop seeing each other and do what's right for both of us. You understand?"
"I know only this," he said in quick response, "that I love you. I love fucking you and I love your body, your big soft breasts, your sweet thighs and the wonderful feel of your bottom in my hands, I like to press my dick into your pussy and get off in there, and I like to stick a finger up your asshole to make you wiggle on my meaty tip. And like to let you suck on my manly nips. That's what I know."
Well, we went round and round deciding one thing and doing another. It wasn't long before I thought Mr. Jenkins was just an old fool and that maybe I was a young fool for trying to make him understand. I left him.
But there were complications. He threatened to have me booted from the secondary school program for lascivious character. I threatened him back and he said it wouldn't matter. "On the other hand," he bargained with me one afternoon, "you fuck me when I want it, say once a week or so, and I'll make sure that your reputation goes unmarked." I agreed.
So there I was, fifteen and blackmailed and balling my teacher once a week. But it wasn't all that bad, really, when I got to thinking about it. I was getting the kind of sexual joy a young girl needs without any of the strings. I could go by Mr. Jenkins's office, fuck and suck with him for a half-hour, and I never had to worry about it again. It was that simple.
For a while it was that simple anyhow. What confused things, what made matters very, very thick, was that I fell in love with one of my classmates. And it wasn't a boy, either. It was a young girl like myself. Her name was Jenny.
Jenny and I had been friends for a long time, but I never knew, until late in the school year of my eleventh grade, that my attraction to her was sensual as well as friendly. Something about the shape of her face and the way her smaller breasts led out from her body, and something about her pleasant smile and smooth legs added up to something I couldn't resist, and that was Jenny.
We first did it in the high school gym, on the hard wood floor, with Jenny's rear end squeaking On the shiny slats of birch while I kept my hips floating on her belly, my hand between her legs. It was dark and damp in the gym, and we were there because we were finished decorating for Sports Night, and it was our job to lock up. We'd gotten to talking and one thing led to another until we started experimenting kissing and petting and telling each other what we liked. We jumped on the gymnasium floor on and off all night.
From then on Jenny and I were the closest of friends. We didn't like the word Lesbian, but we knew that some people might apply it. I knew we were really bisexual and only mildly that, and I also knew that we were able to give each other a very special kind of passion.
One time we were meeting at my house and I had that place for us to be alone in for the entire weekend. We were upstairs and sitting on the edge of my bed naked talking about the various people we both knew when the doorbell rang. "Who could that be?" Jenny wanted to know. "Are you expecting someone?"
"No," I said, "you?"
"No, certainly not."
We both rushed to put on our clothes and to get ready just in case. We were frightened that we'd been found out, that we were both going to be busted and humiliated. It was a constant fear.
I went downstairs wearing my bathrobe and opened the front door to find out that it was, none other, Mr. Jenkins. "Oh, shit," I said, "you really gave me a start, Mr. Jenkins. I'm home all alone and I didn't expect anyone."
"You should have expected me," he said softly, whispering like a slithering snake hissing. "You haven't been around in some time, and I was beginning to wonder."
"You rat," I said, "so that's why you're here."
He came in and shut the door behind him. He had in his eyes the look of a man beseiged with something pressing. He had business in his mind and, I expected, something bad in his heart.
I backed up. "Listen, there's no sense in starting something we can't finish. You can't stay."
He kept coming at me. "Not finish? Why not? You're alone here, it's time for the weekly, and you look a little flushed anyway. What were you dong? Upstairs jacking it some, little one? That's not necessary anymore, not when I'm around."
He smiled lecherously and I ended up with my back against the wall.
He started right in, petting me, working his hands on my chest and fondling my tips. He used my mammaries as though he was the only person involved in making the decision required for doing so. He leaned down close and opened my robe and sucked.
I gasped when I looked over his bowed shoulder and saw Jenny standing on the stairway. Mr. Jenkins was the one thing I'd not told her about. "Jenny!" I exclaimed, seeing the look of surprise and horror on her jealous face. "You have to let me explain, Jenny!"
Mr. Jenkins, surprised and shocked, came up from my chest and swung around. "Who's that? Oh, ah-ha, I see what we have here, a couple of Lezzies, is that it? Oh, ho! This is going to be rich. Let's ALL go upstairs, shall we?"
We didn't have much choice. Here was my teacher, my girlfriend who I'd been balling, and myself, all on our way upstairs thanks to a lousy blackmail deal. It was awful. It was because of sex. I wished that Jenkins were dead.
We got to the bedroom and he said: "Now, now, you girls wouldn't want me to spread the word about the kind of sex you have been having, would you? I mean, you wouldn't want me to tell your mother and father and your friends that you sleep with one another. It would probably mean that you'd be kicked out of school, for openers, and that you'd never be able to enjoy any sort of privacy and...." And so forth.
There was to be no stopping him. He would blackmail Jenny now as well as myself. And that's what he did. He insisted that we both strip, and we did that, albeit reluctantly and in a bad frame of mind, pleading that he listen to reason. He did not.
"Look at those ripe little tips," he said, fingering one of Jenny's tits. "Aren't they just the most precious little things you ever did see? Mmmm, nice."
He undid his belt as he spoke. "And you, my little retard friend," he hissed at me as he took hold of one of my super-large boobies, "isn't that an interesting cap you've sprung up for me. Mmm, nice." He was right about that. I had a big, bulging nipple, and there was no hiding it. Despite myself I was turned on.
He let loose of Jenny and took me on alone. He pressed his big hands around my boobs and squeezed. "I'm going to have some fun with you, little one." He was all drool and debauched and lascivious. There seemed to be no stopping him.
He directed Jenny to get down on her knees behind him. He let his pants drop. "Now, my little Lezzie tart, I want you to do something nice back there. Don't be nasty and don't worry about what anyone thinks. You know what to do, don't you. That's right. Oh, yes, that's the way. Don't stop."
I didn't want to look. I didn't know for sure what Jenny was doing to him, but I knew it wasn't nice. He was making her humiliate herself with some sort of perverse act between his legs.
Mr. Jenkins had a pretty stiff erection within a few short minutes and he wanted me to suck him off. Jenny got out from behind him and I went down on my hands and knees between his legs. I sucked on his tool until it was all red and about to throb off. He directed Jenny to do the final licking and she did. He ejaculated in her mouth, pumping hot sperm juice down her swallowing neck, making her practically gargle on his stiff fat tool.
"You two were very good," he said at the end. "I like what you do. I'll be back next week for the same." He pulled up his zipper and buckled his belt. "Remember," he said, cackling and backing out of the room, "I'll be back for the same next week. We're going to have it very nice together, you two. Very, very nice. Ho, ho, ho! Ha, ha, ha! Mmm, very nice indeed!"
We waited until the door downstairs closed before we started talking and trying to figure out what to do. That's when we realized that we'd better write you and ask how we can get out of this strange situation. Please help us with a little bit of kind advice as to what we can do about the lecherous Mr. Jenkins.
Sincerely, Jenny and Me
LETTER SIX
Wednesday Night September 11, 1976 8:30 P.M.
Dear Sir, I know you must get a lot of letters, and I know you're very busy. But PLEASE, PLEASE UNDERSTAND, I need your help. I am having sexual problems and I don't know what to do.
I'm forty years old and I'm in love with a young boy. Every time I see him I want him to fuck me, and he feels the same way-sometimes. Just the sight of him makes my pussy get chills, hot and cold flashes, juicy. His name is Donald and he's only sixteen. Let me tell you how we met.
I separated from my husband last year when he began to beat me with leather straps and things like, that. It wasn't so terrible as you might imagine. Actually, at first, I liked the things that Kevin did to me. He knew how to make the beatings hurt and give pleasure at the same time. But soon he got carried away, and one night he nearly bit off my nipple. I couldn't take it any more and I asked for a divorce.
I got that separation almost immediately. Kevin had been wanting to be on his own for some long time. I didn't stop him on this occasion. But being left alone was not the easiest thing for me.
I have urges. I get craves. Sometimes late at night, ever since Kevin left, I get so horny that I can't keep myself from a little fingerfucking. I go in the bedroom and undress, strip right down to the naked flesh and start playing with myself until I have a good hard clitoral erection. Once I'm a little hot in the mound, then I start using one hand on my tits. I happen to have exceptionally large boobies, and my chest is especially sensitive to stimulation. If a man rubs my tips with his tongue, or if he kisses me on the soft sides of my mams, I just go bananas. It drives me wild to have my nipple sucked off for a minute or two, or tongued a little bit.
Well, anyhow, when these urges hit me, I climb into bed and spread out and get to work. At first, just after the separation, I was a little reluctant to allow myself a masturbatory cum.
After all, it had been a long time since I'd done that to get satisfaction. My sex life with my husband was very good and having him around left me no need to fuck with my fingers.
But now that he was gone, and now that the urges were there, I had to do whatever was necessary to make myself satisfied. And that included masturbation. Eventually, I got into the swing of it, and when I spread my nice thighs and stuck a finger into my hole, it was like getting the real thing. I used to use one hand on my breasts and one in my cunt. For the sake of variety, every now and again, I stuck myself in the anus with one finger.
Well, I don't know how much time you've got, but I think I better get around to the part where I first laid eyes on my young lover, Donald. I was alone in the house on a Saturday night and I knew that I didn't want to masturbate myself into an orgasm. It had been a long time since I'd had a man, and it looked to me like it was going to be a long time more before I'd enjoy the pleasure of a real penis in my pussy. I craved sexual satisfaction and yet I had no hopes of getting any.
Instead, to distract myself from this terrible fate, I called up a liquor store which I knew was in the habit of delivering just about anything to anyone at any time of night. I ordered scotch and soda and ice and paper cups. Since I couldn't find myself a man, I figured as I hung up the phone, I'd at least drown away all thoughts about them.
In the bathroom, as I waited for the delivery, I gave myself a rather rude inspection. I went over my naked body with two hands, pressing here and there, squeezing my titties, telling myself that I was not much better than a wash-up and a sleaze. I used my fingers to go penetrating in my rubbery-lipped vagina, and I told myself in even more debasing terms, that I was a washed up dried out slut.
I don't know why I was so intent on destroying myself. For the facts of the matter are quite the opposite. I have nice smooth skin, a large chesty pair of boobs, lovely red caps and big hot tips, and my face is about as young-looking as you can imagine. Yet, for some reason, as I looked myself over that fateful Saturday night, I thought I was about to keel over from old age and ugliness. Just then the doorbell rang.
I quickly pulled my robe closed around my chest and, as women are in the habit of doing, I made sure that just the tops of my breasts could be seen. One never knows about who's going to be delivering the liquor.
At the front door I found standing there a very handsome young man. "Are you the new delivery boy?" I asked.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said respectfully. "Glad to meet you."
"Come in, come in," I said, forgeting that I was alone in my house and horny. I invited him in because I wanted to write a check for the parcel he carried under his arm.
"Alright," he said, "but just for a minute.
There aren't any deliveries now but you just never know, right?"
"Right," I said, sitting down at the table and opening up my check book which was ready. "Let's see, how much was it?"
He looked in the bag and read out the invoice. I wrote down the amount and started to hand him the check. He put the package down on the table and it was then that I looked him in the eye. He was young, alright, but he was very handsome. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Donald," he said.
"Well, well, well, Donald," I said, "why don't you have a seat for a minute. Care for a drink?"
"Well," he said, "I really ought to-"
"-Excuse me," I said, interrupting on purpose. I wrapped my bathrobe tighter around my tits, but to do so I loosened it first and displayed both of my large smooth boobs. I heard the boy gasp and pretended otherwise. "Well, if you have to go "Oh, ah, maybe just one drink," he said, and when I looked at him I saw that he was quite red in the face, heavy with blush, and his eyes were wide. "It's going to be a slow night at the store," he added. "I can tell already."
"Mm, yes," I agreed, "of course."
I pulled the bottles out of the bag, and then I pulled out the ice and got up for a couple of glasses. I could feel the young man's eyes inspecthe delivery boy from the liquor store was equipmyself had in front of the mirror a few minutes before. He was imagining himself rubbing his hands up and down my hips, his fingers sliding between my legs, and he was picturing the two of us running our tongues in and out of our mouthes, smacking our lips, and I could tell that he was enjoying himself by fantasizing all sorts of fabulous things that we could do together if only we were totally nude and in bed humping and rubbing. I wondered what he'd do with both of my big hot mams if he got the chance.
But as I returned with the cups from the cupboard for our drinks, I began to wonder if I wasn't a horny old woman for thinking about robbing the cradle this way. After all, Donald couldn't have been more than sixteen. Just looking at him I knew that it would be best to go slow with such a boy-until he was sucked in all the way, that is!
I set the cups down in front of him. His eyes lit up again when I leaned over the table and let my mams hang down. The tips of my nipples were cool and stiff, excited and ready for stimulation. I half-wished that the boy would reach out and take hold of my breast and squeeze it. I didn't want to have to wait for him to make his play. I was considering sitting down on his lap and sucking his tongue out of his face and putting it to work on my titties. I didn't want to wait for him to let his hands rove up and down my naked body. I wanted his fingers inside my pussy, his cock driving forward hard and stiff and naked and red into my cunt, and I wanted him to fuck me into a frenzy of hot passionate cum. I knew it would be a multiple orgasm if I could get him to bed. I poured the drinks.
"Where's your husband?" he asked, his blush still crimson and bright. "Away for the night?"
"For life," I said sadly, wondering if compassion was the boy's game. "We're divorced. I didn't please him sexually."
"I don't believe that," said the boy.
"He wanted strange kinds of sex, Donald," I said, spreading my legs a little so that the hem of the robe worked up over the middle of my thighs. I was naked under the housecoat, naked and horny. "He marked me one time with his strange sex and we got divorced." I put ice cubes into the scotch and soad. "Is your drink strong enough?"
He sniffed it. "I don't know. I'll taste it." He swallowed up some of the scotch and, though it might not seem possible, his face reddened even more. "Strong enough!" he exclaimed, "Mm, that's good."
"I'm glad you like it, Donald." He looked like he'd done his share of drinking.
"Nothing like a little liquor to mellow things out." He smiled and finished off in one gulp what I thought would have taken a while.
"Well," I said, "you certainly are full of surprises, my young friend."
"I like to drink, if that's what you mean." He flexed his bicept, as young men sometimes do, nervously, as if to prove to himself and me that the manly part of him was all in tact.
"Do you lift weights?" I asked, curious if all of his body was in as good a shape as his arms.
"Yes," he said, a big smile coming over him. "How did you know that?"
"Oh, just a lucky guess," I said. I wondered to myself that I'd never had children before. Looking at young Donald, realizing that he could be my son, I felt a special warmth for him. I wondered now, as I inspected him up and down across the table, if it was such a good idea to seduce him. But before I consider myself in some way moral, I felt the itch between my legs which answers all of my questions in such situtations.
"You know," he said, "if I wasn't such a sucker for liquor, I'd think the reason you wanted me around, Miss, is to have some fun with me."
"I don't see how that follows, Donald, but what do you mean by 'some fun'?" I felt obligated to play it coy. I didn't want to just give in right then and there for that would mean that he'd have his way any time he wanted. So I asked him again: "What do you mean, Donald? Did you mean something sexual?"
"Yes," he said, pouring himself another drink. "I mean exactly something sexual." He swallowed down the entire cupful of scotch and then looked at me. "Didn't you? I mean, didn't you mean something sexual the minute you undid your robe there?" He got up and came over and pulled on the lapels of my robe. I was up and tugged tight against him in his strong arms. "And didn't you mean something sexual when you poured me that drink and asked me to sit down for a while?" He kissed me hard in the mouth and I kissed him back. "I know you meant something sexual with your tongue there." He changed his tone now that he knew I was with him. "Where's the bedroom?" He was all blush again, blush and sex and ready.
In the bedroom, the room in which I'd spent so many hours alone and naked, masturbating, we both undressed quickly. I was happy to see that the delivery boy from the liquor store was equipped to deliver, if you get my meaning. His meat was as attractive a flesh sword as ever I've seen. And even had it been a small, unused thing, I'd have loved it for it's perfect shape and timing!
Needless to say, the boner was stiff and the head full of red blood for sex. "Come on," I said. "Come close here, Donald and let me play with your tool." He came over next to me and we stood at the foot of the bed kissing and embracing while I manipulated that lovely hard flesh stalk of his. I worked it with my two hands while he practiced kissing my chest.
I reached around behind him, soon enough, with my one hand and pulled him up close to me with that palm. I had the head of his dick up around my mound and was rubbing him that way for a while.
Donald, for his part, was reaching around behind me and playing with my buttocks, which were heated and ready for whatever action he wanted from them. I'm not the shy type of girl who doesn't like to give. I'll give a man whatever I have to offer. If he wants to play with my asshole then he can do that, and if he wants to lick on my clitoris for two years, that's alright, too. As for Donald, he was getting some pleasure, and giving a lot of it, by rubbing his hand up between my buns and pressing a finger into my fleshy twat. I was getting good and hot.
"Let's lay down, darling," I suggested. "That way I can be a little more specific about what I want to do with your penis, eh?"
He liked the idea. He laid down first, as I'd indicated I wanted him to. He spread his legs and lifted one knee. I went for his crotch-muscle.
The thing was large and hairy. I worked the knobby mushroom tip between the lips of my mouth. I went back and forth, stroking and sliding, and soon he was bulging even larger than when I began. My tongue I think, was largely responsible.
I picked off his two rock-hard dick balls with my mouth muscle. I licked and swabbed and when a hair or two got caught between my teeth I didn't let it stop me from continuing. I wanted the delivery boy to have the hottest rubbing he ever got from a woman.
"You're something else," I heard him moan, and he put his hands down under my chest and took hold of my tits. He slid around and around on them, and pretty soon he was able to convicne me that he was ready for me to come up and kiss him instead of his dick. I did that, climbed his body and pressed my tongue into his mouth. I worked up and down inside his face and rubbed my mound, below, on his joint at the same time.
Together we must have made quite a little show. I worked my hips in a swaying motion-even before he entered me-and grinded on his long hard dick. The head of that thing, every now and then, went pumping upward into my vagina. He used the rim to catch hold of my clit and to make my slippery tube into a hot lather of boiling juices. There seemed to be no stopping him from getting me hotter and hotter. And his hips were swaying, too. Before long my ecstasy was going full steam ahead. The two of us were entwined and grinding.
I felt his big super-heated prick slide upwards into my vagina. The long hard muscle penetrated so fast that it was in before I could even show my surprise. I smiled and pressed on the pumping tool with my hard-hearted hips. My chest rolled up and down on his while his hefty dick filled my cunt with ecstasy.
In the next instant he applied his tongue to my tit. He knew how to lick with his mouth muscle. He suckled on my breast cap with his lips and his swab device. Before long my cap was wet with his saliva and he'd started in on the other boob.
Meanwhile, I continued grinding, jockey-style, on his hot hard phallus.
"You're no virgin," I told Donald between strokes.
"Who said I was?" he asked softly. "You thought I never had no pussy? You're crazy!" He screwed up hard, into my needy hole, his young boner filling me. The mushroom head packed a whollop. It charged the back chamber of my V full of itself, like hand-packed ice cream. There was no stopping him from getting all of that hard boner into my body.
"You're something else," I said, leaning down and taking hold of his rear end. "I like this." I held on to his cheeks. They were big and strong and working hard. They pumped. They gyrated. I could feel them flex. It was a pile driving rear end capable of filling me with flexed dick meat. I loved it.
"You're going to get some cum," he told her. "Some nice hot jism juice bullets to make yourself happy with."
"What if I told you that I wanted it in the mouth?"
"Sure," he said, "Help yourself."
I climbed off his prick and swallowed on the head of it. I rubbed my uvula up and down the spongy tip of his erect red beef. A moment later it throbbed in my throat. The jism slid down my gulping neck. I didn't let any get away. It all went straight down into my belly where it felt nice and warm and sticky-good. I loved him for that.
"You want some more fuck?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "I'm super hot now."
"And before?"
"Before? Oh, I was just warming up." He reached to my chest, grabbed my mammaries and started working them with his fingers. He used his palms to massage my chest, to heat me, and soon my nipples were fully extended and ripe as could be. "Oh, you're good, honey. Fucking great!"
"Yeah, thanks," he mumbled, and once again I mounted him, taking that thick spear into my pussy as quickly as possible.
Again the rim of the mushroom head caught on my clit, only this time it flicked me so seriously that I couldn't keep from giving way with a long husky pant.
(I hope you don't think I'm a slut or a tramp for telling you about my personal sex life. After all, it's the only one I've got and you're the most likely people to help me figure it out.)
Anyhow, a minute later and I was bouncing like a wild woman on Donald's hot pecker. I was rubbing up and down on it, enjoying the ripe feel of the hot dick as it made my insides melt and begin to gush. I knew that I was going to have a super-cum, maybe a multiple climax.
"Are you getting there?" he asked.
"Where?" I moaned. "Is there some place-"
"Oh, God, you feel so good," he grunted. "I love it."
"You too," I said. "You fucking too!" This was no lie. It had been ages since I'd had the muscle I wanted in my pussy. And this young boy, at least twenty-four years younger than I, was doing me up just right.
"Roll some," he panted. "Side to side." He reached down around my hips and squeezed some. He used one long hand and arm, in fact, to go all the way around my sweating ass cheeks and there he crammed a quick finger into my asshole. "Oh, that's something, eh?" he said.
I looked down at him with what must have been a truly wild expression on my face. He could read it and he knew that I was about to give way with the ecstasy juices. I started to say something. But Donald reached a finger to my lips. "Enjoy," he said, and that was that. I came.
It was a long, rich squeeze, the kind of cum that you don't forget. I think some of it was from not having had a man, and some of it was from it's being a young boy's dick that was in me. All in all, I couldn't have had a better Saturday night.
Well, that was all fine and good. Donald went back to his work at the liquor store a little less horny and somewhat intoxicated and he was promptly fired. It wasn't my idea of a great beginning, but he came back to the house and asked if he could stay the night.
"What about your folks?" I asked, letting him in the house.
"Well, I don't think they'd care," he told me. "They're dead."
"I see," I said. "Well, sure, stay the night. But where do you usually stay?"
"With friends, with women like you, wherever. I'm kind of a waif. I don't have much of a home life. My folks died when I was young." I showed him to the sofa. "I spent most of my life trying to figure out what I was going to do when I stopped being an orphan and started doing whatever was necessary to make a living. And women have always liked me. I have a good time with them, just like with you, and I don't mind getting it on often. So here I am. Mind if I stay?"
"Of course not," I said. "Not if you just want to stay for the night, that is."
As much as I liked Donald, you see, I didn't want to have a full-time roommate, no matter how sexy or good in bed he was. It just didn't seem like the thing to do so soon after a divorce. Do you know what I mean?
Well, a week later, after about ten fucks more, Donald is still living with me. He went to school all last week, and he came home and did his homework in the living room and he said he was going to leave, but he hasn't. He's still just laying out at ten at night and snoring or something until I say, "All right, Donald, one more night."
Now I want you to know that having this young man around the house had been a real pleasure. He keeps me company, I'm not horny any more, and just the other day, in front of the mirror, I realized that I've lost a pound or two and that my tips are getting excited a little easier. I just have to think about Donald's hot dick muscle.
But that doesn't make up for the time I'm spending trying to get rid of him. I want to have him for a lover but not for a roommate and I don't know what to do about it.
Last night I sucked him off for an hour and he came in my mouth. The taste of his sperm was too good for me to follow through my original plan. I was going to get him hot and turned on and all, but then I was going to stop, before he had a cum. I figured that if he didn't get his ejaculation he'd be pissed off at me and he would want to go live somewhere else. But it didn't work because I got so hot with his boner in my face.
The night before last I cooked him a terrible meal.
"You know what," he said after gobbling it all down, "I think I could cook for you and show you some things."
He's so adorable at times like that, sitting at the kitchen table with his pants down around his ankles, his feet all curly toed and all, and eating himself silly, with his shirt off and all, and, well, I guess I have some of the matron in me and I just can't seem to find a way to boot him right out of the fucking house.
So you see, dear sir, I do have a real problem. I love to fuck and I haven't forgotten how awful it is to masturbate and to feel horny. Why just last night I pulled out some of my old dildo tools and enema bag stuff in order to remind myself of how awful it was to be living alone with no man to stuff my cunt full of hot dick, and I realized that kicking this boy out of my life is going to be no easy thing to do. I need to have someone around, someone like him, but not fulltime. And that is why I've written you all about me and Donald. I want you to tell me how I can get him to leave and still have him for a friendly, studly fuck every now and then. You know what I'm getting at? I need him to keep me satisfied and I don't want to lose him by trying to restrict his presence. I figure he'll go off with someone younger if I do that.
There is one further complication which I've not mentioned. It took me some time to get around to admitting that this is a fact. Donald is a total liar.
I found out indirectly. It started with small things. First, for instance, he told me his penis was nine inches long. I didn't bother to tell him that it didn't matter to me how big it was, but I did tell him that my pussy was very tight for a woman my age.
Well, the next night after he made that phallic brag I got out a ruler and measured. "Donald, honey," I said softly, taking the ruler away from alongside his prick, "I don't know when you last looked, but it's no nine-inch penis any more."
"Oh, nonsense," he said, and he tried to make it look, when he grabbed the ruler and measured himself, as though I'd been mistaken. But clearly there was only seven or eight inches at the most of dick meat.
Well, I started thinking about some of the other things he'd told me, like about his parents and his lousy childhood, and just for the hell of it I looked him up in the phone book. Sure enough, I called a number listed like his name and it was a grumpy father who answered. I asked if he had a son named Donald and he said yes, that they'd been looking all over the city for him for two weeks."
Well, one thing led to another and eventually all of my new lover's little stories fell apart. He was the biggest liar of all the men I'd ever had it on with. But that didn't change for one instant the satisfaction he has been giving me in my twat hole.
To feel that young man's hard dick pressing up into my slippery slot, filling me up so hard and so fast with his mushroom prick tip and sucking my mams at the same time, is just so fucking out of this world that I don't know what to do. I don't know if I should kick him out, or marry him and call myself lucky, or what. You can see what kind of problems I have for falling in love with a young man at my age. But I do have a nice tight pussy and he does have a steely dick. What do you think I should do?
Sincerely, Anna Belle Hodkiss South Alhambra, Calif.
LETTER SEVEN:
May 30, 1976
Dear Mr. Publisher, Some strange things have been going on in my life. I think you're probably the only one in the whole world who could possibly answer my questions.
We got one of your books from a friend last week. It was exactly what I needed in order to get turned on. When I was looking through the middle of the book I got goose bumps on my thighs and my cunt started to drool. It was like I was going to have a little cum just from thinking about what I was reading. And I was just looking in a book. Janet felt the same way. She read the same parts and got just as hot. Even her nipples were sticking out.
I suppose I ought to tell you who Janet is. She's this adorable little woman I've started seeing ever since I learned about the wonders of Lesbian sex. I mean, it's not every day that an eighteen-: year-old girl gets together with her best friend and has it on with her, is it?
But I was having sex with so many men and not getting any kind of a thrill from it at all. Can you imagine? I would spend hours on end trying to figure out what would make me hot. Nothing worked. One of my boyfriends, Fred, suggested that I let him finger fuck me for a half-hour before we used his dick to fuck in there, in my little hole. But it didn't work.
Another fellow, Tommy, tried working his hands on either side of my body, one for my rump and one for my mound, with a finger inside. And that got me hot but it didn't make me cum. I mean there was juice coming out of my hole and my insides were squeezing down and contracting on his digit, but it wasn't enough of the right kind of caressing in my twat to make it gush "all the way home"-as they say!
Well, Janet introduced me to Lesbian sex. She came over to my house one afternoon, and she told me she'd been thinking for a long time about what she was about to say.
Maybe first I should tell you that Janet is one of these short girls with big soft tits and perfectly shaped thighs and calves. I mean, she's got plenty of both breast and hip, and yet she's slender too.
Let's face it: Janet has a perfect body. What with her lovely dark brown hair and her almond-shaped eyes-brown, too-and her coaxing ways, there just isn't a guy-or girl-around who wouldn't find her interesting. And something else, which I found out later, is that Janet has the perfectly formed strawberry tips of a born winner! There's just no stopping her!
Well, in comparison to her body I guess mine is a lot different. I happen to be the tall seductive type, with short-cropped blonde hair and a trim Mohawk mound of curly wool. I have a tight little behind with a tan line from my bikini. I have big creamy white titties and my nipples are ruby-colored. There's nothing about me that isn't appealing to men. I even have perfectly aligned white teeth. I don't think anyone could ever say I wasn't pretty.
Well now, that's how it was that day when Janet showed up. I was sitting around the house in cotton white shorts wearing no bra and just a t-shirt and tennis shoes and socks. I love to sit around and show off my legs to myself every time I go by a mirror or something. I look especially good in sneakers and socks.
Anyhow, the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. It was Janet, like I said, and she was wearing this wonderful little pink blouse and you could see her tips sticking out at the folds and it was plain to see that something was turning her on. She had on a little skirt, too, and she looked totally adorable. I wanted to give her a big hug and tell her how proud I was that she was my friend. Together I guess we look a little like Mutt and Jeff, and that's what kept me from giving her a big warm hug.
But as I shut the door behind Janet I had a terrible inkling that something big was about to happen, that something important in my life was about to change. I didn't know that it had something to do with my own sexuality. It was a chill which climbed my spine and signaled the start of something. I couldn't help but notice, as I looked up, Janet's rear end shaking in front of me as she made her way across the living room.
"You know," she started in right off, "there are something which we probably figured would never come to mind-at least not between the two of us."
She sat down on the living room sofa and crossed her adorable sexy legs.
I sat down on the floor and stretched out in front of her. "Whatever do you mean, Janet, darling? I don't follow you at all. You seem all worked up over something, though." I was resting easy on my elbow with my legs long and supple out to the side. I was like a picture post-card for her to take in visually.
"It's like this," she said, raising one eyebrow and inspecting me from head to toe, "we've known each other for a long, long time. There are things we've said and done together that are very important and there are people we've known who other people know nothing about. Am I starting to get through to you, Ingrid?"
(Of course, Mr. Publisher, this is all an approximation of what Janet told me that night. You know what I mean? It happened and I'm trying to remember it all and write it down for you so you can get some idea of what I'm asking about.)
Well, when she asked that, about whether or not she was getting through to me, I just had to break out laughing. "Janet," I said, my breasts shaking on my chest, "I can't for the life of me figure out what you're trying to say. It's not the clearest thing in the world, you know." I reached down and started to use one hand to work on an itch between my thighs.
"Let me do that," said young Janet, no longer able to control herself. "Maybe then you'll understand what I'm trying to tell you." She sprung up from the sofa-still I didn't know what she meant-and she pushed her hand down between my legs and started rubbing. At first I was so shocked that I couldn't make any kind of sense out of what she was doing.
"Janet?" I said.
"Yes, Ingrid?" She kept rubbing my thighs.
"I mean, what the hell-?"
She put her hand over my mouth and kept rubbing. "Don't talk."
"Don't talk," I mumbled into her fingers. "But don't you understand that-" She pressed her fingers tighter and gagged me in the mouth. I looked over her hand down to where she'd begun the climb into the erogenous zone surrounding my cunt. "You're-Don't-Stop-Please?" It was a chaotic mumble, the beginnings of something, but never could I get out the words to make her stop her lecherous rubbing between my legs. And by the time she loosened up on my mouth, it was too late.
A neat chill had spread in my groin, and much of it had stayed intact long enough to make it through my smooth belly and up around my breasts. My nipples were up straight and Janet knew it. She slipped one hand under my t-shirt and began fondling with my boobs. She now had a hand on my tits and a hand between my legs. I could hardly keep from getting somewhat turned on. "Jesus, Janet," I mumbled, my mouth now free to say what it pleased, "I wish we could talk about this. I wish-Oh, God, YES! I WISH WE COULD-FUCK!!"
The feel of Janet's fingers, the sensational chill they caused in me, the arousal which had begun to mount in my vagina-all of that canceled out anything I might have had to say about Janet's strange approach to sex. You see, although one part of me totally rejected the idea of two women in physical contact, another, starved, sexually hungry part of me enjoyed every stroke, every caress.
It was only a matter of a few minutes before she had my shorts off and my t-shirt up and over my head. My bare body-I was still wearing just the tennis shoes and socks-was all hers.
"You're teaching me something I'd have never known," I ventured to whisper after a moment or two of her delightful caressing of my naked body. "It's just amazing."
"Shss, darling," she said. "There's so much more to come."
A moment later she was naked and doing me up right. As she stroked, grazing gently with her ten spread fingers, sliding around and around on my breasts, ever so lightly touching them up, peaking my nipples, and ever so lightly caressing on my belly, I realized that this was not Janet's first time with a woman.
"Have there been others?" I asked softly, between gasping for breath. "Is it just me or are there others?"
"Never mind that, Ingrid," she said. "You're the prettiest." She rolled two fingers around my sprung nipples. "These strawberry tips and mushroom caps, your full bosom, your delightful hips-" She went down there to play on the downy soft skin of my thighs and hips, "-and these loins, so smooth and slick and easy on the touch, all of this is better than any other woman ever was for me before."
She meant it. She leaned down between my legs and kissed my mound. "This, too," she whispered, "is heavenly." She kissed my vaginal lips. As though alive with a response of their own, my labia puckered and became oily wet.
"It makes me so hot," I said. "I've never felt this way."
"With other men?" she asked, continuing to kiss my crotch, spreading her little kisses in the tender hollows of my shapely loins.
"Never," I said. "Truthfully, never. I never got so hot with anyone."
"Good," she said. "That's a good sign for us."
"It is?"
"Yes. Me either." She put her face up tight between my thighs, her tongue against my lips and she entered my twat.
"Oh, God, YES!" I cried. "YES, JANET, YES-SSS!" I waved my hips on her splendid tongue. The caressing mouth muscle continued to press hard at my erect clitoris. I never in my life felt so much direct and appropriate stimulation. Certainly other lovers, men, have eaten me before, and certainly there has been mouth to cunt work that has stimulated me in my time, but this what my best friend Janet was doing with her mouth and my hole was something entirely special, totally unique. I couldn't tell her enough how much I appreciated it.
"You don't know," I said, when she came up from between my tanned thighs for a breath, "how good you're making me feel."
"Don't be so sure," she said. "I've had a young girl eat me, you know?"
"Oh, of course," I agreed. But the blush on my brow, the feel of juice gushing in my vagina, the wild and spasmodic contractions in my cuntall of this told me that there was probably no one in the world who'd ever had it so good.
A moment later she was back between my legs. Only this time-scaring me somewhat-she had my legs held up over my head. She was licking out my cunt and my asshole. I didn't believe it.
"Oh, no, Janet, I don't-think you ought to do that, I mean, really, that's just so nasty, filthy and so vile, and I really don't think that you ought to be doing that, I mean, oh, God, that's something...." She had her tongue sliding up and down between my spread cheeks. She was holding my feet up over my head, the way a mother does a child in order to change a diaper, and she was slopping up and down in there, rolling her tongue into my big flesh canyon and then into the little hole, the little brown hole. She filled it with tongue meat and made my sphincter go wild. I thought I would never stop feeling the good from her tongue in my anus. It was making me cum and gush. I thought I'd have an orgasm for an hour, whereas only a month or so before I wondered if I'd ever have a decent cum.
"Oh, Janet, darling," I begged her to listen to me, "I have to tell you how nice you've been to me, how good and how wonderful." I sat up and took her in my arms. I pressed my mouth to hers and gave her my tongue. I kissed her in the face and went for her throat. I rubbed around in there and made her tasty tongue my penis. I sucked on it until I couldn't be happy except by having her tits.
"Suck my chest," she said in the nick of time. She pulled away and pushed my face down between her boobs. I rubbed around so that my cheeks got a good feel from her tender boobies and then I went to concentrating and suckling on just one of them. I got the nipple into my mouth and rubbed it with my tongue. It was so good to have her breast to eat on. I knew exactly what to do. All I had to do was think about what I would want if she were sucking my titty, and off I went licking and sucking and rolling her nipple tip, excited and stiff, in my lips and with my tongue. She loved it and moaned and groaned until I switched breasts. "Oh, you know just what to suck," she cried out. "You know just how to make me hot, honey. I like that."
I went from there down Janet's white belly, I found my way to her hips where I couldn't help but give her a few long tongue strokes. Then I went for the tender sap-producing space between her legs, her twat hole. Never in my life had I had the privilege of sucking out another woman's pussy. It was my first time and suddenly I admitted to myself and to Janet that sucking out a nice hot twat was something I'd wanted to do for practically as long as I'd lived. I went for her hole with everything I had to offer-that being my long wet tongue and thick wet mouth lips.
A moment later I'd peeled open her slit. I had the lips back and apart and was ready to go to work on the insides.
"Don't miss the clit," she warned me. "You have to get that little beefy clit of mine if you really want to make me hot." She was holding my head with her two hands and guided me in that way to the exact location of her pussy-prick. She even reached down with one finger and put her digit on the tip of my tongue and then slipped both tongue and finger into the target area, against her clitoris. "Oh, yes, that's it. Now we're rolling. Now you got it, Ingrid. Don't stop, darling. If you suck that we'll be home free. It's the sucking on the clit that makes all the difference in the world."
While Janet rapped on about what was making her hot and how to eat her vagina, I noted that her loins were getting slippery wet. Some of the juice was sweat and some of it was saliva and some of it was clit juice. It made her crotch steamy and warm, like a baby's home before it enters the world. I was happy to be eating Janet if only to have the feel of that steamy thigh flesh all around my face. It was like being in flesh heaven.
Pretty soon I felt a paroxysm and a gush come from Janet's twat. "Are you cuming?" I asked her pussy as if that were Janet. "Are you orgasmic, Janet?"
"Oh, God, fuck," was what she responded. "Don't talk now, darling. I'm on my way to ecstasy. You can't make me talk now." She flipped up and down in my hands like a fish out of water. Her precious skin was all mine. I had my tongue tied tight to her clit, and there was no way in the world that she could convince me she'd had it better than that.
Just to be sure, I reached under her rear end and crammed a finger into her asshole. I pressed up and down and girated around some, and then, with a flash of hot rushing juices, she climbed off. "Oh, Jesus, shit, where did you learn that little trick? That was something?" She was all over me, kissing and hugging and slobbering at my breasts and my face and telling me that she'd waited years to have me in her arms that way, to press her boobs against my boobs, to use her mouth and my mouth as one, and to have us both cum.
"I've been a Lesbian, you see," she told me when things calmed somewhat, "for nearly ten years. Since I was eight years old, in fact, I knew that I could only enjoy sex with a woman. Don't ask me how or why. I never questioned it. I just wanted to be with girls, to see their pussies, to enjoy their cunts, to have fun playing with their fannies. Why, I'd venture to say that your anus is the thousandth one that I've licked. No shit. I'm into it and I'd be the first to admit it. For me, Ingrid," she continued, "it's old hat. I've been eating cunt since you can name a date. Any time you can remember. All those dates I had in high school? With good looking men and their friends? Nothing. I gave nothing. I took nothing. I wanted nothing. Just to be considered normal for a little while longer. I knew that once I got out of school I could probably do just about whatever I damn well pleased. Anyhow, I don't mind telling you about it because I can tell that you enjoyed yourself. It was fun, wasn't it?"
I had to admit that I'd enjoyed myself. It was the most sexual fun I'd had in a long, long time. It looked to me, and it turned out, at least for the time being, that I was right, that I'd found my niche in some healthy girl-girl sex.
The next evening saw Janet and myself out on the town. We went here and there arm-in-arm. courting every sort of encounter the social world allows. We danced with men and with other women, and we danced with each other-in strange clubs, in places where they knew us and laughed it off, in places where to do so was to risk arrest. Everything worked to our advantage. When we lost track of one another, a ruckus occurred for one of us and that ruckus attracted the other. It was simple as pie. When we were besieged by the hangers-on who always rat-out such intimate pairs as Janet and myself, we were able to escape by pretending to pretend that we were Lesbians. And if the assailants were themselves Lesbians, we used our well-learned heterosexual roles to keep out distance and shield out lusty love, that secret bond which only we two shared.
By the time our second night together was drawing to a close, I was super drunk and so was Janet. For transportation, we'd used her car and it was running somewhat poorly. But we made our way to the thing, climbed in, and, drunk or not, romantically embraced. We kissed on the lips, in the mouth, our first French pass for the night. "It's been wonderful so far," said Janet, the cool night air making our embrace that much more passionate. "Yes," I agreed, my own breath causing a slight mist. "We better get home now."
On the way home, while Janet drove, I masturbated myself and her. I used one hand between her legs-she pulled her panties down under her dress for me-and one under my skirt, a finger for my slit. It was super nice to be able to feel her misty twat and mine at the same time. I snuggled close and worked her clit with lots of zesty passion.
She became so turned on that we had to pull over and stop. "I can't take it any more," she said. "Let's get out and use the roadside grass to fuck."
"Of course," I said, quickly getting out on my side.
She spread a blanket and stripped down immediately. She had some strange dildo apparatus with her and I couldn't help but wonder at where she'd been carrying it. "Where'd that come from?" I asked as I quickly pulled my skirt up to reveal my glistening lips.
"In the glove compartment. It's always there in case you ever need one, eh? Don't forget. Just help yourself." She was strapping the thing on, making it secure and ready for pouncing in my pussy. I could see I was going to enjoy this new aspect of Lesbianism as much as I'd enjoyed all the others. It looked like a plastic prick was to be almost as good as Janet's cunt itself.
I laid down on the blanket and fingered myself until she was ready to climb down and start her fucking. I kept my clit hot and the juices flowing. It was only a minute and Janet mounted me. "Mmm," I said, reaching down and trying to find the head of the muscle with which she intended to screw my twat, "let me see what that thing feels like."
She took my fingers and put them around the head of the realistically sculpted mushroom phallus. "Oh, yes," I moaned, "it's rather stylish, isn't it?"
She giggled and said: "Do you want me to pump hard or to go in soft and then start grinding?"
"I like the soft approach," I said. "And maybe you could use a finger around my rear end, something in my back hole just to be sure. What do you say?"
Before I could even wink, like the nurse who gives a good quick injection without your being able to spy the needle, I felt Janet's finger within my anal tube and the plastic prick within my cunt. It was as if they'd grown from within instead of being put there from without. I rolled upward and absorbed another inch or so of the meaty plastic cock.
"That's something," I said. "It really feels good. But you know what? I prefer your cunt."
"Mmmm, me too," she said, withdrawing both phallic items, her finger from my anus, the dick from my pussy. "Let's get rid of this thing."
So she took off the plastic pecker and tossed it aside. Then she climbed back onto my long, lithe body and started sucking on my hot mams.
She worked her tongue back and forth, in a flicking motion, across the tips of my excited breasts. Soon enough, she was gobbling on the sides of my breasts, working them into a furious high, making me super excited with little hickey like kisses.
"Oh, baby, yeah, you're something," I heard her whisper in my ear between tongue strokes to my chest organs. I was so hot that I couldn't keep track of where she was going. But a moment later she was down on my belly and seeking out, like a homing pigeon, my cunt between my legs. Her tongue dove down deep and charged my vagina full of that long, sweet wet mouth muscle. I loved every inch of it.
In the next instant I pitched my body forward and maneuvered into such a position that I had additional access-to Janet's own hot cunt. "I need to lick you some, too," I volunteered. "I hope you don't mind. I need it. I want it. It makes me hotter that way."
I could tell she was pleased. Her legs parted. I fell into place, or, rather, up in place. For she was on top, her mouth burying my mound in hot tongue strokes. Sometimes she was inside me, and sometimes she was inspecting me with a rapture bound tongue from the outside. Sometimes she drilled me full of her mouth muscle, using it like a pliable wet phallus, and other times she licked, using it like a tongue. But whatever she chose to do, every caress was delicious and sensual. There was no stopping her. Her mouth was everywhere. I clamped my thighs closed around that rubbing tongue and hot face and enjoyed every lick.
As for me and my efforts on her twat, it was a cinch. She was rubbing her hips from side to side, and that made getting in and out a pleasure. I could just stick my tongue upward and that did the job. Janet moved around on me and I got her stimulated.
I don't know who came first, but it was a good thing that it happened fast because it was getting cold out there on the side of the road and there was no telling when someone might stop and think they were helping us by investigating. We got away free, though, without being seen, and drove the rest of the way home in silence.
When I say that we went "home" I mean, really, that we went to Janet's house. For by now, with the affair only two days old, we were already making the elaborate plans which lovers consider necessary and relevant to sustaining their lusty operations.
For one thing, we were going to both be living in the same place. For another, since Janet knew more about Lesbian matters than I, by virtue of her prolific, and I sometimes think it is also promiscuous, experience, she was going to be the one to initiate the bodily actions between us. Naturally, I could take it on myself, we decided, if the urge were strong enough, to make plans for a fuck, but Janet would play the masculine aggressive role until I knew the many nuances of female-female love. Now, most of these plans which we made were solidified on the third day of our affair. For it was then, once I'd moved fully into Janet's abode, that she sat me down and went over the many tools and methods made available for "people like us."
She held them up one by one and indicated how they could be used and told me that if I wanted, I could very well have any of the items for my own personal use. If I liked one or another of the things, I could suggest that we make love with it or them.
I chose, that afternoon, a double-pronged phallus, one capable of working in two cunts at once. Naturally, this appealed to me as the most romantic thing that two women could do. We could lay down on the floor and fuck each other silly, rubbing our four tits into a heat, rocking each other in ecstasy with the artificial penis between us.
Well, Janet told me that when she first started in on Lesbian sex, that was her first choice, too. "I think that shows what we have in common," she said as she undid her bra and bared her large chest. "Let's get going with it and see what happens next."
I quickly stripped down, not wanting to be the one to hold up the show, and revealed my own large chest and hips. She inspected my bushas if she'd not seen it before-and she fingerfucked a nice slippery ooze out of my twat. It wasn't long before I was melting in her luscious naked arms and begging her to eat me and lick my asshole as she had on our first afternoon together.
"I thought you wanted to use the double rubber-crammy," she said.
"Oh, yes," I agreed. "I forgot." But I was so turned-on, so heated with the notion of having sex with Janet again right then that I was willing to say or do anything that would make the two of us start fucking.
I reached aorund her backside and took to playing with her marvelous fanny. She has the kind of a rump that I love to fondle. The cheeks are so tight and large at the same time. And the slippery slot between them is so devilishly narrow and inviting. What woman wouldn't want to go rubbing in such a thing, whether it belonged to man or woman? It made no difference the sex of her asshole, just that it was so pretty to play with.
"You know," she said, "the way you play with my anus makes me think that maybe you have a big anal streak in you. Is that possible?"
I licked her boob and continued up to her mouth. "Anything's possible," I said, my finger still deep in place in her sphincter. I rolled around in there and continued fondling her cheeks and anus. It was lots of good tight fun, and I knew, when I wanted to, I could go sliding my tongue in that hole and Janet wouldn't think twice about it. In fact, she'd probably cum and enjoy herself immensely.
"You know," she said, "if you're good, I'll give you a nice little ream to please you pink."
"Oh?" I said. "That would be rather nice. I would like that." But I was really just thinking about how nice it was just now to have a finger buried in her asshole and my tongue roving her mouth every now and then. "You're very special to me, you know," I said. And then I kissed her hard and deep in her throat.
We went down flat on the floor and I invited her to sit on my face. I didn't think she was prepared for so much action all at once. In fact, she appeared very flattered.
"You want me to sit on your face? Now? Here?" She pointed at my mouth and at where I was laying down.
"That's right," I said. "Why not? You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you, Janet?"
She liked that kind of thinking and spread her legs. She put one foot on either side of my face, toes pointed toward my shoulders, and she squatted down. I had her cunt for myself, for my tongue and my lips and my mouth. It was going to be a lot of fun.
I reached up and took hold of her big boobs, and she did just about the same with my chest. She reached down and started fondling me while I ate her out.
That slippery clit of hers was well worth every stroke I gave it. The more I pressed my mouth muscle alongside that devilish little button of buttery pussy meat, the more it became aroused and excited with my Lesbian efforts. It was as if I'd discovered some new fangled secret about making Janet's pussy gush.
For in the very next instant that hot beaverish mound on my mouth began to ooze a sticky wet juice. I say sticky, but really it was very oily and slippery at first, and only as it dried on my lips and chin did it become a little tacky.
Eventually I stopped wagging my tongue in Janet's twat and took to sucking on her clit. That was all she needed to enjoy herself. I'm quite confident that from the way she swiveled her hips and rolled up and down on my mouth, squatting on my head the way she was, that she was getting all the sexual satisfaction one woman can use. I know I'd have been happy were I the one on my haunches.
Well, to make a long story just a little short, dear sirs-and I want to thank you for bearing with me-Janet and I have spent considerable time together. Like I said at the outset I never used to get an orgasm before but now I can get one at will.
I still like men, but I get off with a multiple cum whenever I do Janet. She doesn't know it, but I've been out fucking a man or two every now and then, and even a woman other than herself.
I'm confused. For after all, aren't I supposed to be ble to be sexually happy by just fucking men? Why is it that I get so aroused when I fuck my girlfriend? I know that women are not supposed to sleep together, but when I get into bed with Janet it's like being in heaven. Do you know what I mean? It's like the whole world is waiting for me. I just slip my tongue up her nice little slit, and I get my mouth to sucking off her vagina lips, and before I know it, the whole world is spinning around and around in ecstasy.
Now I know that a lot of sex is just in the mind. I'm not stupid. But there's something unique about what Janet and I have. I don't know what it is. But I need you to tell me if you've heard of other cases like mine. Are there other women, for instance, who don't get to cum with men but who can get off really well when they fuck a girlfriend? Is this sick?
Something else I want to ask you-just for the hell of it-while I'm asking strangers in publishing companies for advice-has to do with what I saw Janet doing the other day. She was tying some thread around her nipples and pulling her tits with the ends. I didn't barge in on her except by accident and she didn't hear me or catch me watching. I just never heard of such an odd thing to be doing and I wonder why she was doing that.
The last thing I want to know is this: is it possible for me to get on with women and men? I mean, is this thing with Janet maybe just a stage I'll outgrow? Is it possible that maybe sometime a few months from now I'll be done fucking her and all women and will be going out with men again and enjoying it with them the way I'm supposed to?
Well, that's about it for me. I don't have any more questions, but if you're ever out this way, feel free to stop by and talk to us in person.
Thanks in advance, Love, Ingrid
P.S. Please keep my name and Janet's strictly confidential. You never know about stuff like that-you know what I mean? Thanks again. Me.
LETTER EIGHT:
February 14, 1977
Dear Sirs, Last weekend my parents went away and left me and my girlfriend Sue Anne alone in the house. Sue Anne, just as soon as my Mom and Dad were gone, pulled out one of your books and said to me, "We're going to have some fun, Lydia. It's going to be a gas. Come on!"
We went into the living room and sat down on the carpet with our backs against the sofa. We both wore shorts and you could see, as Sue Anne started reading, that there were going to be goose bumps all over our legs and that we were getting hot and aroused.
I'm only sixteen, and though I have a fully developed body which lots of boys tell me is sexy and appealing, I've had sex only a few times-at least that's how it was at the start of last weekend!
I'm blonde and Sue Anne is a brunette. She has slightly larger titties than I do, and we both have pretty legs.
Well, anyhow, the thing I wanted to tell you about is what happened to us because we were alone at home. As soon as I started getting turned on Sue Anne noticed it. She said, "Look at your nipples! They're sticking out like little buttons or something!" She even went so far right then to put down the book and tweak my tip. "Mm," she said, "I think mine are getting hot, too. Let's see."
Before I could say a word or two to discourage her, she'd unbuttoned two or three of the buttons on her blouse. Since she wore no bra already I could see her big bulging chest. The nipples on her boobs were sticking out bright red, blushing and hot. "Sue Anne," I tried scolding her, "I don't think you should be doing that. After all, we are girls and we're alone in the house, and my parents trust us to be good."
But she just scoffed at me, "You be quiet, Lydia. I'm not doing anything wrong."
She continued undressing. She took off her blouse and I blushed to see how really big her tits were. They hung out like big brown mellons, with red points on them. The ends were stiff and chilled. I wanted to touch them, just to see what they felt like, but I didn't dare ask.
Especially not after I'd been the squeamish one.
But Sue Anne must have caught me looking. "Do you want to feel me?" she asked.
"Well, I don't know," I said, looking the other way. I nervously rubbed the carpet alongside my knee. "I don't think it would be right."
Before I knew it, she took my hand and put it on her tit. "There," she said, "right or wrong you've just touched my booby. See? That's not so bad, is it? Feel. Squeeze some."
I did as she said, still without looking. I felt so prudish. Except for the feel of that creamy thing in my fingers, I didn't know what was happening.
"Come on," she said, taking hold of my chin and turning my face so that I had to look. "You can watch what you're doing. It's fun." I saw my hand on Sue Anne's breast. I was really touching her titty. It made me super-excited and I submitted to something that was deep inside me, a crave of some sort.
"Here," she said, adjusting herself and turning around. She was on her knees and we faced each other that way. We were opposite one another on the floor and sat there like statues.
"Now, look," she said, "use both of your hands and give my chest a good squeeze. It's going to be fun, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, I suppose," I said. I reached out and with my wrists in her hands and placed my fingers around her two large boobies. They were soft and warm and the nipples were excited and extended, stiff. "It's something special," I said, beside myself with joy. "I want to squeeze them."
"Go ahead," said Sue Anne whose face was bright red, crimson with aroused physical desires. "Squeeze my tits."
I did. I started slowly. I rubbed them and rolled them in my fingers. Slowly but surely I began to do it with more enthusiasm. I became less inhibited about doing with my fingers what I wanted to. I rubbed her titties up and down and turned them this way and that. I rolled the nipples in my two fingers, too. I didn't miss a trick.
"Now use your mouth," I heard her say.
At first it didn't register. I just kept concentrating on using my fingers. Then I asked: "What did you say? Did you say that I should use my mouth? On your breasts?"
"Yes," she nodded, smiling. "Suck my titties."
I looked up, astonished at how bold my young friend was. "Did you ever do that before?" I asked.
"I've tried," she said, taking one of her boobs from my hand and trying to make it reach her mouth. She stuck out her tongue, but all she could reach was the very end of the nipple. "You see," she said, "it won't go far enough."
"Yes," I said, "I see...." I was so excited and so flushed that I didn't know what I was doing. I leaned down to her titty and took it into my mouth. I rubbed around and around on the cap and used the tip of the nipple for my tongue. I pressed that ripe thing back and forth. Soon I was swallowing on it, sucking it and making it hot and wet. "Mmm," I hummed on the nipple and the tit, "this is nice. I like this a lot."
"Good," said Sue Anne. "That's the way to suck my chest, Lydia. I knew you'd like it."
Well, a moment later and she was suggesting that we undress all together. I told her I didn't know if that was a good idea or not. After all, it was one thing to play with each other-though so far I'd been the one doing all the playing on Sue Anne's chest-and it was another to actually get naked and do whatever we wanted.
"What's the difference?" asked Sue Anne. "It's fun, isn't it? Don't be silly." And a moment later she was undressed and nude entirely in front of me.
I couldn't believe how pretty she looked. Her lovely bush was all wet with juices, and her pretty thighs were considerably tanned and supple. As for her belly and hips, they were smooth and satin-soft. I wanted to lick her all over the way I'd done her breasts.
"All right," I said, trying to be cordial, trying, more importantly, to keep the lid on my desires which were getting away from me, "I'll undress too."
In a jiffy I had my clothes off. Sue Anne said that it was only natural that she take a look at my twat. "Come on," she said, "and lay down here on the floor and let me see that little pussy bush of yours."
"Now, Sue Anne," I reprimanded her, "don't be silly. It's just like yours."
"No, it's not," she said, "let me see it."
So I laid down. I spread my legs because Sue Anne put her hands in there between my thighs and pushed me apart. She got down close with her nose and tongue and said, "Oh, my, it's a pretty one, isn't it?!"
"Do you think so really?" I asked, somewhat surprised to have heard such a pretty compliment from my friend. "I mean, do you really like my pussy?" I got up on my elbows to hear her answer.
But her response was muffled up for she spoke into my beaver. Her tongue stroked up and down on my labia and I had a feel and a chill and a thrill which I'd never known. For though I'd fucked a few times before that weekend, I'd never had anyone eat my snatch.
"Where did you learn about that?" I asked Sue Anne.
"Lydia," she said sternly, "if I keep talking to you I can't lick you out. Now lay back and relax."
She pushed me down with one arm across my lower belly, and then she dove back into my smooth crotch and rubbed with her tongue. She ate me out like that for what seemed like an eternity. One thing is for sure: about five minutes later there was a big oily wet splotch on the carpeting under where my buns had been swinging up and down in unison with Sue Anne's rhythmic, sensuous tongue.
I can't believe that I waited so long to get a perfect oral pleasure like that in my pussy. There I was, sixteen years old, and I could have been doing it that way for two or three years before. It killed me to think that the boys I'd screwed so far hadn't given me this ultimate oral-twat thrill.
"You know, Sue Anne," I told her after my first little tongue-cum, "I think you could make anyone in the whole world happy." I put my arm around her naked shoulder as we continued to lounge in front of the couch on the floor, and I kissed her on the face.
She kissed me back and whispered, "You could eat me out, too, you know," she suggested. I smiled and. said that I thought it was an excellent idea. Sue Anne was somewhat shocked at how quickly I agreed to perform oral sex on her vagina. She'd been expecting a fight from me, since before that first eat from her I'd been so prudish.
But now I was ready and willing and Sue Anne was needy and attractive. She spread out in front of me, her naked thighs shining with wet juices.
"It's going to be fun," I said, sliding my hands up and down between her thighs which were smooth and hot. "I like the feel of your legs in my hands, you know that? I really do." I went up and down, massaging and caressing Sue Anne's legs. It was just as much fun to give pleasure in the crotch, I felt, as it was to receive it.
Pretty soon I had climbed into the sap-producing hole between her legs. I found her cunt tube narrow and presious with hot wet juices. I knew that her clit was going to be hard and ripe for my sucking lips, and I could tell that getting my tongue up along side that hard little button was the thing that would make her the most happy.
I located the hot clitoral flesh between my lower lip and my tongue. I rubbed from side to side, and soon enough I had a nice vaginal erection to suck on. It was everything I could do to keep from cuming a second time myself, just from experiencing vicariously the joy that Sue Anne was having from this fabulous eat out.
When I say that Sue Anne's pleasure was considerable, I mean that her hips were sliding up and down and that her legs were wet with hot juices. Her asshole, occupied from time to time by one of my fingers, was squeezing shut and opening several times in a row, contracting and expanding enthusiastically. As for her breasts, they were hot and inflamed, especially the nipples. It only took me a second to realize, when I looked up and put all of this together, that Sue Anne was having a multiple-cum.
"I'm gushing," she panted at me at one point, and though she tried to push my head out of her crotch, tried to get me by the shoulders and insist that I cease my licking on her labia and my sucking on her clit, I did not stop. I continued to roll my tongue up and down in her slit of flesh, and before long she was crying with ecstasy. There were real tears in her eyes when she clamped onto my face one last time and gave way to the magic carpet ride of sensuality that my tongue fueled her sex engine for.
Soon she collapsed off my face and lay back exhausted. "That was a suck I'll never forget," she panted. "How did you do that?"
"I just did what you did for me," I said, looking down between my own two legs where a subliminal itch had struck up in response to her question and my answer. "You know what I mean?" I scratched the inner itch by sticking one finger inside my vagina and rubbing. It worked wonders for me.
"You're something else," she said. "One minute you're complaining that you can't do such incredible things, and the next you're the liberated woman par excellance."
"Yes, I know," I said. "I wish I could get off the way you do, though. It looked like you were cuming and cuming and cuming. You didn't seem to stop."
"I have M.O.S.," she said. "Some girls got it, some don't."
"M.O.S.? What's that?"
"Multiple Orgasm Syndrome," she smiled. "You know, multiple cums. I can keep cuming as long as there's stimulation. It's fabulous. It's like one long orgasm. Sometimes I think it's never going to stop."
I looked at the book on the floor under the coffee table, the thing which had started us in on all the sex business. "You know," I said, "it's only Friday. What are we gonna do tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" she said, as if she'd already thought it all out. "Tomorrow, natch, we call up Jack and Ben. We'll have ourselves some real fun, then. You just wait and see."
Well, that night I could hardly sleep. It seemed like I'd done something wrong. I don't know what it was. I felt like even though I'd liberated myself I was guilty of some awful crime. I didn't know what I'd done wrong.
The next morning Sue Anne and I went to the beach. We had nothing to do until the boys showed up. As I laid out in the hot sun on the sand I wondered what was going to happen that night. I had all sorts of fantasies about getting raped, about the boys cutting my tits off, about my cunt going bald because I was so brazen as to suck on a boy's dick. I dreamt, when I finally fell asleep, that Sue Anne and Jack were lovers and that Ben and I were not getting along. Finally, Sue Anne shared Jack with me and I got off on his penis.
That night at home things were much different than my dreams. Ben turned out to be boy I really wanted. There was something about his curly dark hair and his friendly smile which appealed to me. I did everything I could to attract his attention, including, at dinner, rubbing his leg with my hand under the table.
And you know what? All of that stuff worked.
When it came time for us to pair off, Sue Anne went with Jack and I had my Ben. We unfolded and disrobed in the bedroom.
"You know," he said, "when Sue Anne told me about this night, I thought she was crazy to set you up with Jack and me. I mean, it just didn't seem to me that you were into sex this way."
I watched him put his shirt on a hanger. Long smooth muscles rippled in his neck and back. Across his shoulders a flock of curly hairs grazed in waiting for my tender touch. I reached out and slid my fingers along the back of his neck, up and down his nape. Like a toy soldier he turned in my hand and turned into a man, his arms taking me around the waist and pushing me into his crotch. I could feel there, with my thigh as I pressed that leg up and down between his two legs, the golden rod of sex.
"You're erect," I said.
"Yes," he agreed, "I get hot so fast around you. I don't know why that is. Never happened before."
We kissed and that seemed to be all that was necessary. The next thing I knew I was naked in his arms, stretched out with his boner sliding into my slippery wet hole. That big mushroom head of his did all the work, pumping and grinding, filling me up until I was halfway full of only erection bone. I couldn't believe how wonderful it was to girate and grind on such a fine prick as his.
He reached under my rear end and slid his hands to the back of my body. He held on tight, squeezed, and that sent a paroxysm of joy through my tender flesh. He located my sphincter and applied his finger to the hole within.
"Oh, Jesus," I cried out, "that's something. That really is something!" He had his boner in my twat and his finger in my asshole and his tongue was testing out my throat. I thought my orifices were going to all contract at once. And suddenly they did-in a wild rush of orgasmic ecstasy which squeezed and sucked on every one of the phallic objects in my body, his tongue, his finger in my anus, his hot cock in my pussy. I rode that furious wave of passion into the land of beyond and landed in midair, delighted, pretty, all juice, steamy, floating, continuously climactic.
Later, when I came back to reality, Ben said that I'd had two or three orgasms in a row. I didn't believe it. I must have had the same kind of multiple cum which my friend Sue Anne had told me about.
The next morning, Sunday, Sue Anne and I compared notes. It turned out that we'd both had great times with our bisexual bodies, that she'd had a good cum with Jack and that I'd gotten everything I wanted from Ben.
Now the reason I've written you in detail about the events of last weekend is that I want to know if there's something unnatural about the way I've enjoyed myself recently. I mean, what I'm trying to figure out is if having sex with men and women at the same time is bad.
When I was a kid I thought all sex was evil. But now what I want to know is if the kind of sex Sue Anne and Ben and I had is bad.
Please be sure to write and tell me the answers to my questions very soon. I'm getting horny again already and I don't think I can keep from asking Sue Anne to suck my vagina much longer. Or maybe I'll get Ben to give me some more action with that hot cock muscle of his.
In any event, I need to know your opinion right away.
Yours truly
Lydia Herndale Pleasant Beach, Florida
LETTER NINE
7. 10. 76
Dear Sir, I'm writing to you because I know you'll be able to help me. And because I have no one else to turn to. Please don't think I'm just another silly girl with a complaint or a problem on her hands, and don't imagine for even an instant that I need anything more than an answer to my letter-except for secrecy. You must never tell anyone that I wrote this note to you.
Last month-it's taken me this long to finally do something about it: that's how terrible I feel about this-my older brother and I were sitting around playing gin. I had on my tank-top, the yellow one that I always use when I'm not expecting anybody to come by, and I was wearing a pair of white shorts. I had on some sweat socks, too, because I was playing tennis with Tina the other day. I guess I looked sort of "casual pretty", if you know what I mean.
Well, Timmy, that's my brother, he was looking a little on the sexy side, and just to tease him a little, I sat down on his lap between hands and tickled him under the chin and around behind his ear. "Come on," I said, "you can tell me who she is. Is it Karen?"
"Irene," he said, "I don't want you guessing about my girls. Now get down and pick up your cards." He'd finished dealing a new hand.
I swatted the cards off the table. "I don't want to play any more," I said. I gave his leg a squeeze between my thighs and started off. "Just because you're older doesn't mean that you can treat me like a little kid. You never tell me anything."
He swatted at my rear end and landed a little spanking there. It wasn't so much the pain as the insult which bothered me. I swung around and scolded him: "Don't you ever lay another hand on me again. You're awful!"
I stormed off, upstairs into my bedroom. I'd been foolish to get angry at him that way. It was because of something deep inside and it had nothing to do with Timmy.
I was just about to get up and go back down to the living room to apologize when the door opened. It was Tim, and he stood there saying softly, "Gee, sis, I'm sorry, I didn't know I'd upset you that bad and-"
"No, no," I said, getting up from the bed and wiping my eyes, "it was my fault-not yours. I started it. I don't even know why."
The next thing I knew we were in each other's arms, holding one another and apologizing.
But then, suddenly, as if it had struck both of us at once, we sort of shoved off. "I don't think," I stammered, "that I know quite what's happening. I mean, I, ah-"
"I know what you mean," muttered Tim, his proud head bowed a little. "It's kind of like we're thinking things and, ah, you know."
Before we could finish our thoughts, we'd embraced and kissed. His tongue, sliding into my mouth, was all the answer I needed for the question in my brain: would he make love to me even though he was my brother.
We French kissed, sitting on the side of the bed, for about a minute. I was the first one to use my hands. I let my one hand go between Tim's legs where a fresh hard-on was building up in his trousers, and I rubbed my palm along that bulge of sex flesh. And I used my other hand to caress his back and his nape.
Similarly, Tim used his hands to stimulate my body. He rubbed my face and stroked down to my full chest. A moment later, in a sweaty heat, I had my top off and my breasts naked in Tim's hands. "Look," I moaned, "oh, God, I don't know, Tim, oh, gee, do you think we should?"
But there was, at that point, no stopping either of us. He leaned close to my fully heated right tit and sucked on the cap. My brother's lips surrounded the nipple, and his tongue stroked to and fro, sweeping it with sensualism. I couldn't resist asking him, softly, "Would you like me to suck you?"
It only took a second for me to get down on my hands and knees between his legs. I rubbed at his thighs with my fingers spread wide and working on his thing. I used my hands to get it out of his trousers, and once it was out, I could go on sucking on it, rubbing and sliding, and the feel of it in my mouth was something super. I just could not get over the fact that I had my brother's dick in my face.
I let my hands go playing around under his rear end which was now, like my entire body, naked. I rolled the muscular cheeks of his hot anal flesh. Soon I applied a tantalizing finger to the inside of his ass folds and found in there his ready sphincter. A quick tickle and his boner began to throb in my face.
"Oh, Tim," I said, moaning and groveling around on that big hearty dick of his, "let me suck you off all the way. Let me swallow your cum and fuck you with my twat and eat out your asshole, even, if you want me to."
I took his prick and shoved it back into place in my throat. I swallowed hard for I knew that in the next instant he was going to have himself a rather large, exciting, pulsing ejaculation. Sure enough, no sooner had I placed his magnificent tool inside my neck, no sooner had I located the head of that prick at the entrance to my throat when he began to fuck off. The hot juices went sliding into my esophagus, rolling down my throat. I swallowed it all up and got up off my hands and knees only when I'd licked his boner clean.
"You're something else, sis," he said, "you really are!"
I liked hearing him say that.
"Look at that fabulous body. You're so pretty. You have big tits and nice legs. Who'd have thought I'd be so lucky as to have a good-looking horny sister? It's just great!"
"Horny is the word," I found myself saying. "You got your blow job but I'm still pretty needy, Tim."
"Sure," he said. "Climb aboard."
"Can you get stiff enough?"
"No question," he reassured me.
I looked down at his hearty cock muscle. That thing was already starting to bulge with a fresh erection. "You get hot so fast," I said, reaching for the stick of sex flesh between his legs. "And this boner of yours must be ten inches long!"
I rubbed my brother's hot tool until the tip bulged and the shaft thickened to the size of a quarter. "Come on," I said, "and stick me with that thing."
He laid down on the bed. His hefty rod stuck up and I climbed over it. Before sitting down all the way-I knew I could squat over it and use it like a dildo for a little while-I played with Timmy's manly nipples. I rubbed them with my fingers. Meanwhile, between my pussy lips, I pressed his knobby mushroom tip. I worked it around and around in there, making sure that my clitoris got good and hot. I liked getting erect that way, and it made me excited to think that in a minute I'd have his whole muscle up inside my vagina.
"Now," he said, "it's time for us to do it all the way, sis." He reached out and pressed down on my hips. I slipped into place on his big fleshy stinger. That hard nail pressed into my cunt and filled me like a sharp piston. It just cut up into me and made me want to cry out. That's how big and hard it was. I wouldn't have stopped it for anything.
Suddenly, though, and this is why I'm writing, it dawned on me that the love-stick pressing upward inside my twat belonged to my blood-brother, that the act we were committing was incestuous, that in a moment he'd be firing off on my clit and in my cunt his brotherly love juice and that I would be some sort of sexual deviate.
I tried to climb away, to get off of his tool, to make myself free of his hands and his girating prick, and I tried to get away from him all together, but there seemed to be no stopping him. He was intent on stuffing my young cunt hole with his own sperm, and then, as if it had been nothing, he let loose and I climbed off, my tits swaying and sweating, my hole crawling with satisfied desires, my heart beating a thousand times a second because I realized that I'd committed, just then, incest.
You probably think I'm just a silly little girl writing you and asking you about this. You probably think I had no business fucking my brother and sucking his cock if I was going to feel bad about it afterward.
But you have no idea how much guilt I feel about this. After all, I didn't intend to get so carried away. I didn't want to have sex with him, I only wanted to apologize.
God, I feel so awful about the whole thing that if I could I'd rip my breasts off and never let anyone defile me in any way ever again. I would never permit myself to have sex with anyone, I'd go and hide in a closet and not let people look at me.
You don't know what I've been through since that day when Timmy and I shared our familiar bodies. It's been hell. He sucks out my cunt whenever he wants and he makes me eat his prick whenever he wants. He went so far as to come into my room late at night while Mom and Dad were sleeping the other night, and he fucked me right then. I was so hot and so ashamed, but I knew I couldn't call out because that would make too much noise and everyone would know about my brother and I and the hot fucking and sucking we've been doing."
I'm beside myself with guilt and shame about fucking with my brother. Is this natural? Will it go away?
Please! I'm begging you. If you have any idea at all about how I feel, you must tell me right away. Please!
Sincerely, Disturbed and Horny
LETTER TEN:
October 12, 1976
Dear Sir, I sure do hope you can answer my sexual question. I have tried just practically everyone around these parts. We here in Kentucky must just be a little behind the times, and I say it that way because I am a kind of tactful girl about such things.
But I asked my doctor about fucking Kenny T. with my mouth, and he shooed me out of the office before I could even finish.
Now I think I'm a pretty sort of girl. I have blonde hair like the girls in the magazines, and I have big teats like them girls, too, and I don't think I'm unattractive in any way-I have a healthy attitude.
But when I ask people about this thing you might call oral sex, they get all up in arms and treat me like I was some sort of drunken child abuser or something. And really I'm just an ordinary teenager with some ideas of her own.
You take the other night, for instance. Me and my boyfriend Kenny T. were out in the hills up above his pappy's farm, parked in his pick-up which he has fixed up awful nice, and I was in the back of the truck with him, all stretched out half in the natur-el, if you know my meaning, and Kenny, he had his dick out so that you could see it from a mile away, what with the moon and all being so bright, and I was fixin' to pull on it some with my hand and my fingers, just to give it a little tug, when this devilish thought came across my mind that it might be nice to have such a pecker in my mouth, the head of it in my throat. I wondered what it might taste like and how it might feel.
"Kenny T.," I said, "would you mind lettin' me have at it-with my tongue I mean?"
He smiled, winked those baby blues at me. "Why shore as hell I would like that," he told me. "You go ahead, Ellen, and have whatever fun you can get from licking me."
I sort of started out slow, but then, when I got done kissing his rocks and started in on his dick, I realized what a lucky girl I was to have at such a big hot penis. I rubbed my tongue up and down and really let myself go. I licked the shaft and the sides and sucked up the head. I got that mushroom prick in my mouth and I didn't want to let go of it at all. I rubbed and scrubbed with my tongue until the space between my Kenny T.'s legs was so hot and fiery that you could feel the heat coming off of it.
Then I reached under his behind and got hold of his dick with one hand and my mouth. I had his buns in my fingers and his dick in my face. I licked it a lot and then sucked it some more, and finally I rubbed his penis from side to side so that the head of that tool would go sliding on my tongue muscle. That was the one he liked the most for getting hot. And the one, it turned out, he liked the most for getting off, was the one when I sucked on it and let him cum in my throat. That was the one which most appealed to me. Mmmm, that was good.
A little later, when we got done with that oral action on his prick I asked Kenny T. if he would go sucking in my vagina. I still had my panties down and I was pretty much turned on. I didn't want to have to go home feeling so excited like that, and I thought it would be nice to get off by Kenny T., he being my boyfriend and all-I knew it would be better, anyhow, then using my fingers or some such thing.
Well, at first Kenny T. was a little testy about it. He said, "I don't know if I should, Ellen. After all-"
"After all nothin'!" I blurted out. "You got a lot of nerve turning me down after the plentiful licking I gave you!"
I folded my hands across my naked chest and waited for him to say something. My titties were feeling awfully big and pretty excited.
"You listen," he said, trying to make up for it by whisperin', "it's not the same as when you suck me. It's different."
"How would you know?" I asked without looking at him. "You been doing someone else with your tongue? Kenny T? Have you been fucking and sucking with someone else? You tell me if you have. I want to know right now."
I was furious. He just sat there. "Come on," I said, "you tell me." I wanted to hear him wiggle and squirm his way out of this one. Besides, how could he, I wondered, be licking out some other girl and not me, his supposed favorite?
"Okay, okay," he said. "Just take it easy. You got to listen. When I was a lot younger, there was this maid who used to hang out around the house, and she used to get hot in the afternoons, and she'd come in and tell me she wanted to have some sex. I didn't know what it was about at first, but I sure did know that I wanted to help with the sex stuff. You know what I mean? But I didn't know what she wanted me to do. Well, it turned out that I didn't have to worry at all. She fully intended to take care of just about everything. It was kind of like she was running a school. She showed me everything to do, Ellen, and one of the things was to lick her. That's how I know about it."
"Phew," I said, rubbing between his legs again, "and I thought maybe you were trying to pull the wool over my eyes or something."
"Yeah," he said. "I know. So you just tell me this: are you clean?"
He looked at my pussy when he asked that so I could figure out what he meant. He wanted to know if my vagina was clean enough that he could get in there with his tongue. "You know I am," I said. "I showered just before I came here."
And that's when he decided that it was okay to go down there between my legs and do the lick number that I wanted in exchange for his blow job. He-did pretty good, too, rubbing his tongue in and out of my cunt, licking up my lips and making my clit into something special for his suck pleasure.
Then he went to work, while his tongue was still inside me, using his hands to rub on my rear end. Pretty soon he got a finger going in my asshole and I thought that was awfully dirty tricking of him.
"Kenny T.," I said, "get your finger out of there. What do you think you're doing? Get that finger out of my asshole. You think that's nice? Let me show you what it feels like!" I reached down and started to rub on his fanny, but he stroked out, pulled that big long digit of his out of my sphincter. "That's more like it," I said.
He continued rubbing his tongue on my twat hole, though, and that was mighty fine of him. "You know something?" I said. "That's just about the finest feel a girl could ask for. I mean it, Kenny T. That's just perfect sucking!"
Since I'd never had a tongue up my slit, it was kind of amusing to be sitting there in Kenny's pick up truck with my legs spread and with his face in my crotch. I liked the looks of that.
Pretty soon I had myself a cum. It was a whoop-dandy kind of cum, too, the kind of steady gushing a girl can't really forget all that easy. I liked that a whole bunch. It was nice.
When I was done wiggling off in his face, he looked up and said, "I think I got one more thing in me for the night."
"You mean a whole bunch more sperm, is that it?"
He smiled. "You know something, Ellen? You just got a real strange way with words, that's all. Real strange."
He grabbed me around the neck and pressed me down into his crotch. "Lick me, baby. Lick it up good."
I did that for Kenny, because I knew how much we both could enjoy it. I went rubbing my tongue up and down the thick shaft of his long, hard boner until there was practically no piece of it which was dry. The whole thing was slippery wet with my saliva, and the balls, too, were even a little steamy because of my profuse and prolific kissing. I enjoyed myself immensely, what with my tongue and Kenny's big dick, and there didn't seem to be any doubt in Kenny's mind, either, but that he was having the best darn time of his life.
"You know something, Ellen?" he said. "You keep treating me like that and you're bound to be one of the happiest girls in the state of Kentucky!"
"And why would that be?" I ventured to ask him between licks on his prick muscle.
"Because I'll be looking to have you suck me twice or three times a week, and if you do that, well then, you'll be the luckiest girl around, don't you agree? I mean, not everyone has the opportunity to have such a hard, steely thing shoved down their throat. Don't you agree?"
"Mmmm," I hummed, sucking up his thick tool. I figured it was better that I not say anything else. I finished sucking him and started getting dressed.
"I don't know why," he said as he started dressing, too, "but I feel just a little bit guilty. Maybe we done something that we should not have."
"Maybe so, maybe so," I said. "But it sure did feel good going down, didn't it? Mm, that was super fine." I couldn't help but think about that big thing of his, about how nice and hard a muscle it was and about what a lovely thing it was to have my lips wrapped tight around the base of that boner. Sometimes, I thought to myself, I'll remember that big hard tough one, and I'll get turned on by thinking of what it was like to have it next to my tongue, alongside my face, rubbing at my neck, and I won't forget how good it made me feel ever. I'll get hot that way, I told myself, and that's one thing that says suck sex is all good.
We drove home without saying a word. We had to get home before daybreak because my folks are very strict. Well, Kenny was very reluctant to kiss me good night, and I asked him about it.
"Ah, shucks," he said, "I don't know."
But I did. I kissed him on his cheek and went in without saying. I left him to go home with that thinking in his mind. The fact was that he didn't want to kiss me because his dick had been in my mouth and I'd swallowed up some of his semen. That was why.
I lay down in bed just as the roosters started crowing, and I fell asleep almost instantly. But I determined right then and there that I was going to find out what was bad about sucking, if anything, and what people had against oral sex in general. And in Kentucky that's a mighty big assignment, whether you know it or not.
So you can see that I'm not writing to you folks in Los Angeles just for the hell of it. I need to know what the big hubub against oral sex is all about. I like sixty-nine action, as they call it, and I especially like it when my boy friend uses his tongue in my vagina.
I don't see anything wrong with this stuff, but other people tell me it's bad. Is oral sex really bad? Tell me the truth now, because I hope to be doing a lot of sucking, and I also hope to be getting my clit flicked a lot of times by some fellows. So I don't want to be juicing in the wrong direction. I like to suck and I like to have my box sucked. Do you think there's anything wrong with enjoying a tongue in my vagina?
Sincerely, Ellen and Kenny T. Sweetroll, Kentucky
LETTER ELEVEN:
September 19, 1976
Dear Mr. or Ms. Publisher, I don't know about you but I'm sick and tired of the repressive attitude toward sexuality in America. I get so ill when I hear about people who can't enjoy a good sucking and fucking. Those old women who complain about a nice hot anal fuck-they're the worst.
The other day I was walking down the street feeling up my girlfriend's buns, giving her a little street rubdown-and I mean LITTLE because my baby's ass is just the tightest set of cheeks you've ever fucking seen-and low and behold this old lady sticks her head out of a window way up on the third floor of an old wooden building, and she screams down at us, "You little tramps and sluts are all alike. You see one and you know 'em all." I tell you, I wanted to go up there and push that old woman right out of the building. She was no damn good.
But there are other things which get me even more. The other day I said to Brenda-that's my girl's name-I said, "Hey, Brenda, listen, honey, I want to screw you up the rear end. What say thee, baby doll, honeybunch, hmm?"
She smiled, wiggled around the kitchen once or twice chit-chatting about mockingbirds and butterflys, and then she says, "Well, mm, I don't think so tonight. But maybe some other time. La, la, la."
More than anything it was her way of saying no that steamed me. I didn't want her to think it was all up to me, but then again I did want her to know that I, too, had feelings about the matter. "Over here, honey. Shake it up a bit."
She strutted on by and shook that pretty little rump I was telling you about in my face. "Mmm, smooth," I said, rolling a palm up one cheek and pumping the other. "That's the kind of tight levi's that makes a man want to cry or something if he can't see what's down under."
She smiled and spread her thighs. She was wearing some sort of tight top, too, so I wanted to get a feel in there just as much. I pressed her to open up that blouse and out they poured, two of the most luminescent mammiferous organs you ever did see. They were plush, a full house, as royal a pair as you'll ever find on such short notice. Mm, they looked so good I just had to lick them up some.
"You're too much," she says.
"Me? Too much? These boobs might be too much. You might get too much cum in your slit and go crazy. You might finger-fuck yourself into a tizzy some night and now know the way out. And you might think too much of fucking and sucking and shitting and pissing, honey. But me? Me? Too much? Never!" I sucked off her left nipple and then her right. "You say you love it?" I asked her between licks.
"Oh, baby, yes," she cooed, as sweet as a kitten getting her milk.
I rolled down her belly with my lips and tongue. When I arrived at the tight belt of her levi's, the locked snap hung me up for one delicious moment longer. "Let me just ply these two pieces of metal apart for you little one." I did that, and with a click, her pants opened up. Ever since she's been my baby I've instructed her not to wear panties, and you can bet she listens: which is my way of telling you that when that button came undone it was revealed to me that my honey has about the prettiest slick pelvis you ever would like to see. She was standing, remember, and I was sitting at the kitchen table. "Shake it again, baby," I suggested, and that she did. She-rolled those hips, shook that bottom, and out she came, shedding levi blues like it was the oldest, most meely skin in the world. And underneath, just like you'd expect, was the prettiest, softest, smoothest, slickest, most well-build buxom beauteous provocative she-child you could ever hope to see. Mm, I smack my lips every time I think about her!
And between those precious tanned thighs of the supple flesh for which men murder there was a mound full of the wooly stuff, all curly cued and and ready for steaming. "Come here, babe," I said, "up close where I can smell you some."
She wiggled left and right and she stepped up in front of me, so close and so beautiful that I could slip my tongue up and down her slit before it was upon my mind that all I was trying to do was say hello. That's how close she was, so close that I could lick her and speak at the same time.
"You do talk pretty," she moaned. "I like the way you have with words, my friend."
Well, she was getting a bit snotty, so I decided to put her away. "Turn around a bit, babe," I said, "and let me see what's what with your tight rear end."
"You make sure," she said, "and let me see what's what and that's all, eh?"
That woman has a mean streak in her, but I didn't let her cheap talk slow me down. "You mind your own," I said.
"I'm trying to," she retorted with lizard-like quickness. "That's all I'm trying to do, as a matter-of-fact." And she swung around with her hands on her hips and that tight rear end beaming out like the full, full moon. "Mm," she said, "I like what you do with your hands."
Truth be told, I was rubbing my palms up and down her slick ass flesh, enjoying the hell out of those two tight orbs. The globes, as my buddy calls them, were as shiny and ready for succulent work as two balls of flesh like that can be. I licked her ass cheeks for a wee bit, and then prepared her slot inside with a coating of clit juice.
"What are you fingering and why?" she wanted to know, and when she started to trot off, thinking that I would let her go, I caught hold of her around the waist and pulled her back and downward. We ended, both of us, on the floor.
"Oh, no," she complained already, "you can't do that. No, I won't let you."
It was, alas, not her choice. I worked my dick up and down her rear thighs, and soon enough, what with her frenzied efforts at escape causing an adequately pleasureable sensation in my cock head, I was erect and ready to drill her.
I pressed down and soaked my dick in clit juice. I pulled back and started the rear mounting. It took a minute to get the mushroom head properly lodged. But once I was ready to go in, that's when the fun began.
First off, there were Brenda's tight-assed screams. She was raising a ruckus and going a little bananas, and all just because I chose to ride her delectable rear hole.
Next, of course, there were the problems one has with any moving target: keeping in place, providing a sufficiently sharp arrow, working for the perfect kill.
And, finally, with my hand wrapped around her tight little waist, and with my other hand pushing her buttocks open, I was able to get my pecker into place in her sweet little asshole. Ah, it was the perfect, consummate pleasure.
That tight tube gave me the squeeze of my life. I could feel it contract from the very instant I pierced it with the head of my joint. I trolled up and down my thick penetrating stock, and just because I was halfway in didn't mean that it stopped moving, either. I kept coming, charging forward, working the tool downward, making the daring pump action which I knew would satisfy Brenda once she let it happen.
And, finally, I let loose of a certain charge of semen which filled up her rear bowel like no enema she'd ever had.
"Oh, you bastard," she grunted when it was over and I pulled out my stalk, "you really are a fucking know-it-all, aren't you?" She looked down at her pretty little brown and creamed buns and smiled. "Well, I'll be damned. You did it up my asshole, didn't you? I thought you'd never really try that but you did. You fucked me in the butt." She looked at my cock. "Maybe you'd like to try it again like that, eh? Just for fun?"
"Oh, now you're talking, Brenda. You've learned the language, eh?"
She smiled and shook her buns. "I was being sarcastic, you fool. So keep away."
Well, I'll tell you something: it was exactly that attitude which prompted me to write this letter. You see, when a girl gets so fucked up about a simple sex act, so concerned that she turns her man into a reckless maniac, the way Brenda did me by telling me to fuck off, as she did later that night, well, then it's time for her and the man and just about everyone to take stock. Why on earth should there be so much bad-mouthing about sex?
Let me tell you one more little story about me and Brenda and sex and you see if you don't get my meaning. About two weeks ago I was telling her that I thought she should douche a little more often. And I was suggesting that she use some scented stuff. It was not because Brenda has a smelly pussy-it was because I wanted to eat her that night and a few more nights afterward, and I didn't want to have to think about it, whether she was clean or not.
Now most of the time this young woman keeps her twat good and clean, right? She thought that just because I suggested she use a new douche I was telling her that sex and her and everything was dirty. She was thinking that the whole fucking world was a mess because I wanted to eat her.
Well, to solve this horrendous problem, I came up with a unique solution. I douched her myself.
That's right. I spread her out in the bathtub and told her just how to sit, just how to hold her legs open and just the way I wanted her to part those ruby lips. And she went for it, too, let me cram the rubber nozzle up into that hot little flesh box of hers, and I worked it around and around until I had a nice position and the perfect angle.
"Just sit there," I told her, "and hold that thing in place."
She reached down between her thighs and held the nozzle. "Like this?"
"Yeah," I said, "that's the way." I unclipped the rubber hose and gave the sack a good hard squeeze. She bought it full-gush and all. That thing filled her up so fast, so hard, that she didn't know what hit her. It was a good clean rinse.
A few minutes later she was thanking me for the wonderful cleaning by kissing my dick. She was on her hands and knees in the tub licking my pecker like a dog. She rubbed her tongue around and around in my crotch, working her muscle into my balls and up and down my stick. And before I knew it, she was sucking the head with her fabulous lips, making me get ready to cum.
"Hey, wait a second," I moaned, "I was supposed to be eating you into a cum. That was the whole idea of this douche action and all."
But it was too late. I shot off in her face, down her swallowing neck, all of my semen fiery hot and rolling down her esophagus into her belly. "You're great, baby Brenda," I told her. "Now let's get into bed and let me really get you going."
It was that easy. Once she'd been douched, once she'd had her fill of cum, then she was ready to become uninhibited and have the sex she craved.
She followed me into the bedroom, I should tell you, and she got up on the bed and spread her legs. "Now that I'm so lusty and so hot and turned-on and all," she told me, "it'll be easy."
I stuck my face between her legs and found her scented cunt to be perfectly to my liking. I pressed around and around and used my mouth muscle to get her clit grinded up good. I reached upward to hold onto her fabulous boobies and twisted her nipples with two pressing fingers for each. She loved it, squirmed around and around with her twat getting more and more slippery in my face. I licked and sucked and enjoyed the fresh hot juices of her fabulous little fleshy hole.
Pretty soon she was orgasmic, cuming and screaming. "Oh, fuck, piss, cunt!" she hollered. "Bitch and hell," she moaned. "I can't fucking stand it. Oh, my God. Oh, fuck. Oh, what ... WHAT? GEEZ! FUCK!"
Well, anyhow, my point is that no matter how you try, no matter who you get it on with, they all have their hang-ups and I think we ought to put an end to that kind of thing. We ought to get all of that repressive bullshit out of our systems and get started doing something else.
It just annoys me no end that a tight-assed little honey like Brenda, my baby-doll, has to spend all her days worrying about sex and about guilt when she's got a body fit to eat and lick and suck, with tits so fine and a pair of buns so smooth and soft to the touch that you could butter toast with them-and still she worries. Now that ought to go down on the record as a crime.
Anyhow, that's why I wrote, to tell you guys to keep up the good work. Because what you do brings it all out in the open. I like sucking titties and getting a good vagina in the face. I like ramming my prick down a young maiden's throat. I like getting a good header, some nice suck off on my cap. And if that's not enough to convince a girl that I'm a good fuck for whenever she needs it, I'd like to know what is.
Best regards, Frank Salsa Silver Lake, California
LETTER TWELVE:
April 10, 1976
Dear Sir, It had come to my attention that my son has been reading books and magazines published by your company. I found in his bedroom bureau, in the socks and underwear drawer, a whole stack of lurid novels and true confessions with various semen stains on them. Also, there were pictures of young women with dildos between their legs and men fucking them up the ass.
I took these materials and showed them to my husband. "Frank," I said, "what are we going to do? Little Frank Jr. has been jacking off with this stuff. I don't think it's right."
"Well," hubby said, "I don't care what he does with his dick. It's his thing, let him enjoy it."
Well, I thought about that and decided that my husband was right. Why shouldn't my boy enjoy himself?
So, the next night, while Frank Sr. was out of the hosue with the bowling team, I took little Frank aside. (Actually, he's not so little any more. After his fifteenth birthday, in fact, he looked so much like his Dad that people began to mistake them one for the other.)
Anyhow, like I was saying, I took him aside and sat him down on the living room sofa. "Little Frank," I said, "I have to tell you a thing or two. You know that? I think it's time we had a little talk."
"Ah, Jesus, Mom, do we have to talk now? I mean, really, is it necessary?"
Even though he objected I insisted. First I told him about things that I thought parents should tell their sons. Or their daughters if they have female children.
I tried to keep a cordial atmosphere while putting my arm around him and talking. He sensed that something different was happening because I very rarely talk to him this way. I had one hand on his shoulder and the other on his knee.
"You know, Mom," he said just when I was about to broach the subject of sex with him, "I think I know what you're getting at."
"Oh? What?" I smiled and made it easy for him.
"You found my books. And magazines and stuff."
"Yes, son," I said. "That's right."
Now I want to tell you that what happened next was very strange. We kind of just stared at each other, and then we held hands. And then we kissed! I'd never kissed my son on the lips, and this was very strange indeed.
His tongue was long and wet, as was mine as it floated down his throat. I liked the idea of having a passionate kiss with Frank Jr., and this was just the time for it, what with his father away and all.
"Well," I said when we pulled back, "that was really something, Frank. I never thought we could do something like that."
"No," he said, "me either."
"Really," I said. I was still somewhat astonished. I took his hand, though, and I brought him with me into the back bedroom. We went, Mother and Son, to the bed. I stripped him of his clothes in record time. To my delight, he had a big hefty boner already.
"You know that we must never tell your father," I said.
"Mom," he said, "of course I know that."
"All right," I said, and started undressing. I got all my clothes off and stood there watching him. When he saw my big chest-I'm rather well endowed-his eyes nearly popped out of his face.
"Gee," he moaned, "I haven't seen your tit ties since I was a little kid."
"But you've seen bare breasts before," I said. "Oh, sure," he agreed, "but not yours, Mom." He stood forward and pressed his hands around my boobs. He felt up my nipples. Then he stood forward even more. He took one tit and looked at me with guilty eyes. Then he stuck the breast in his mouth and sucked.
"Oh, son," I moaned, "that's nice. That's great. Oh, yes, that's good. Keep on sucking."
He did, too. He sucked and licked that titty like he was a little boy again. He put his hands around my waist and kept on licking. He used one hand to go searching between my buns, also. He used his finger. He new more than I thought he did about making love.
Then he switched breasts and sucked on my other one. He licked it some and I sat down on the bed. "Come here, Frank Jr.," I said. "Come here and lick my titty."
He climbed up on the bed and came to my second breast. He sucked on it like he was a little boy again. He worked his hand around it and pressed it in and out of his mouth. His other hand, however, worked very much in the manner of an adult, down between my ample spread thighs, down into my pussy with one finger.
"Oh, Frank, yes," I moaned. "Do it, Frank. Do me up right!" He pressed his finger into my hole and worked around and around. He found my clitoris and flicked it.
I reached down between my son's legs and found his marvelous familiar tool. I stroked it a couple of times and then went wild, pulling and tugging .
The marvelous knobby tip was just as full of hot fresh blood as it could possibly be. I rubbed it with my palm upward, pressing at the shaft and enjoying every inch of the thing. I loved having it in my fingers, playing it for every bit of chill I could get out of it.
"You know," moaned my boy, "I like that a lot, Mom. I really do like the way you pull on my muscle."
"And I like what you do to my clit, son," I told him.
"You do?"
"Oh, yes, I do," I said. We sounded like a couple of people taking marriage vows. It was awful to be there in my husband's bed, Frank's father's bed, and making love to his boy. But I had to do it. It was just too tempting. I was horribly aroused and had to have him on top of me and fucking me.
"You want me to enter you, Mom?" he asked at just the right moment.
"Oh, yes, I do," I said. "Come inside me and make me hot with that manly muscle of yours. I'm so proud to have such a fine son with all the right things between his legs-two balls and one big hard boner for his Mommy!" I let it loose and he started up onto my mound.
"Here you go, Mom," he said, straightening out and getting prepared to enter my pussy. "It's going to be good. You just wait a second and get ready!"
"Oh, sure," I said. "Take your time, son. It's going to be nice. I know it is. It's going to be surefire and nice."
"Mmm," he hummed, and pushed his muscle to the tip of my lips. He pressed forward, using his hands to guide himself into my labia. He went rocking downward, pressing long and steady. He had his tool going full-force and he was willing to use it all the way. He knew how much power there was in a good throb and he let me feel his muscle flex every now and then as he glided forward into my pussy.
I was all wet and steamy inside. I can't tell you how juicy it made me feel to hold in my arms my own flesh and blood. His rocket missile was working down into my cunt and I had his mouth for my tits. He knew a great deal about fucking and how to make me happy in that.
I reached down and held onto his buns. I worked the cheeks with my fingers. His buttocks were hairy like his father's and I couldn't help but think about that for a second.
Then I reached underneath his belly. I found my way between our two heaving, excited bodies, and I located his balls. Those hefty nuggets of hard sex flesh were all for me. I fingered them and used them for making both of us more excited.
It wasn't long before I realized that my son's pecker was even larger than his father's magnificent boner. Of course, I know that size of a prick has nothing to do with how good a lay a man is, but I'm sure glad that my son turned out be so well-endowed. It satisfied me psychologically to know that my genes hadn't let him down in a physical way.
Well, pretty soon Frank Jr. got to pumping along pretty fast. He worked that hearty tool of his up and down in my vagina in such a way that my only accurate response was a steady guttural tug and roll. I squeezed and used my inner flesh juices to make myself super hot.
It didn't take long for me to get off. I had my first cum on my son's hot meat about fifteen strokes into our actual fuck. I juiced all up and down his hefty rod, and before long I was ready to have another cum. (I'm a multiple-orgasm lady, in case you didn't know.)
Well, anyhow, the next thing I did was to invite Frank Jr. to have his orgasm. "Go on, son," I said, "and enjoy yourself. You can cum now."
"No, Mom," he said. "I can see that you want to wait just a little longer. Go ahead and enjoy yourself."
Well, I let him keep pumping and grinding in my cunt. I loved the feel of that hearty stick of his rubbing and sliding inside my hole. It didn't just make me happy, it made me ecstatic!
Soon I was juicing a second time, and for this second cum I sprayed off a double quantity of my special juices. I rolled all over his hot stick, up and down it, and soon I was just about so spent that I thought I was going to die. I didn't know what to do. I was beside myself with joy.
But young Frank was still a moment away from his final cum. Do you know what happened? He was just about to have his throb. I could feel it getting ready. I reached around and held his cheeks tight. "Oh, cum, Frank," I grunted. "Cum, darling, cum!"
He pounded his hefty steel into my slippery hanger. I roleld my hips and switched from side to side on that heavy prong. When it was time, I gave up trying and he was still pounding.
But then, just at that exact moment when I gave up, when Frank Jr. was about to have his emission in my twat, I looked over his young shoulder and there stood his father. I didn't know what to do. I started to say something to my son. "Frank, darling, please, you must-"
"Oh, Mom," he moaned passionately, and it was then, with his father standing at the bedroom door that my young man ejaculated in his mother's pussy.
Well, to make a long story short, Frank Sr. was not very pleased. He whipped the boy severely, but that didn't stop my son from coming back to me for more of the same. Which he did a few nights later.
Anyhow, I guess I just want to thank you people for the courage my son and I get from reading your books. I've booted the old man out of the house and the boy and myself are living happily together. We get a lot of hot sucking and fucking done, and I'm learning from mm and vice versa.
It's not like the old days when a mother and a son had to keep their dstance. I like the kinds of things my boy Frank Jr. and I can do. We get off all the time, and since his Dad is gone now, having left for his own apartment, well, it's just about everything my boy and I can do to keep from fucking each other silly.
Just thought you'd like to know, Thanks, A Mom and Her Son West Covina, California
