"The first time I ever saw Brad it was at the pool, that overgrown bathtub we called a pool, anyway, and immediately I feared and suspected that I was hooked.
"Now don't go tripping out, please, and think I'm laying a love-at-first-sight bit down; I'm no fool and love is one of those grossly magnified four-letter words. I'm twenty-six (yes, I know I don't look it), hip, and I've been around enough to know exactly what I like.
"Also, all the things I don't like, which is at least as important. Heading that list is boredom--a grand and general heading that certainly includes having a husband, children, living in some jerkwater town and all the other by-products of the American Dream Scheme. I left small-town U.S.A. when I was seventeen, in the car of a total stranger who might have turned out to be a murderer, for all I cared, impulsively getting in the new car when it stopped. It turned out that the stranger was a buyer for a big antique shop in Los Angeles, on his way home, and he had this 'thing' for girls with long red hair.
"Los Angeles! Hollywood! Oh, yes, I was down-home enough to sincerely believe they were waiting for me out there. After all, I'd been the lead in a few school plays, I had lucked out with mother nature, what .with having the big green eyes, pretty pink skin, and lack of freckles that redheads are rarely lucky enough to get, and I had the kind of body that lost me my innocence before I was fifteen, all curves with the kind of tits and round little ass that just filled a man's big hands. Sure, Hollywood would be waiting open-armed, so I willingly allowed Ken whatever-his-name-was to drive me there with only the clothes on my back!
"Well, Hollywood turned out to be a little different than I'd expected, about the same as it must be for every other pretty girl who arrives full of hopes and youth. I landed there with a few bills, thanks to friend Ken, a modest wardrobe from the same source, and a cunt that ached from being fucked so often along the way that we arrived three days past schedule. Ken belatedly informed me that he had a wife and three kids nearby, deposited me in a crummy apartment-hotel in Hollywood, and split, promising to return in a few nights.
"It took me about an hour to convince the man at the desk that he should give me Ken's money, that I didn't want the lousy room. Finally I used my age to get me what I wanted. I had no intention of seeing Ken again now that I was in Hollywood--he was a link with my drab past, and burning bridges was my thing that week. As I walked along the famous Hollywood Boulevard, the small suitcase banging against my calf, I went to work on the other link--my name. I'd been saddled with May Beth all my life, and it was great fun to slowly wander through the shops and busy streets considering and rejecting new names. I finally settled on Kristi Y-, inspired by some new, hair lotion advertised in the window of a fancy drugstore I passed. I was busy trying the name on for size when I bumped straight into a tall, handsome older man.
"I was too inexperienced to realize Vern had caused the 'accident.' 'Take it easy, baby,' he cautioned, reaching out to steady me.
"Feeling damn clumsy, I apologized, and before I knew it I was walking along with Vern, attempting to follow his smooth line. When we came to his shiny new car I got in without thinking, nodding when he suggested a pizza at some little hole in the will a few blocks off the main drag. What with the pizza and the coke, it took us all of an hour and a half before we were tucked into a big bed, this time in a nice, new motel not far from the Sunset Strip.
"Feeling fine, I relaxed and let him begin to make love to me. I had eaten, I had a bed for the night, at least, and, since I was still somewhat sore between my young legs, I figured I might as well be a little more sore. It couldn't matter much at that point.
"I may as well admit it, sex was a big letdown to me then. Oh, I wasn't counting the first time, when a guy pulled the rape bit on me. He was just too hot to listen to reason, and I had been playing a heavy game of prick-teaser. Besides, I knew enough to know that the first time wasn't usually that good for a girl. So after I'd bounced down to the nearest hippie clinic and gotten The Pill, I gave it another try. This time it was the captain of our school football team. Well, what Rob didn't know about girls could have filled a book, so of course I still wasn't thrilled. But I began to worry a little when I let a few other, older guys fuck me. Not that it didn't feel sort of good, but where was that big moment? Why did they always roll off leaving me feeling like I'd taken a wrong turn somewhere? I just couldn't get with it, but since every man I'd ever met seemed convinced that it was the greatest, I soon got pretty practical about the whole thing. A quick screw could get a pretty girl a lot of things in this world. I was just sorry that ecstasy wasn't one of them.
"Still, it was no big thing, and it felt kind of nice, the way Vern was kissing and sucking my pouty little nipples. I was even mildly sorry that he was soon going to stick his big prick in me and start pumping away--his tongue felt so good on my breasts.
"But Vern didn't, seem to be in any more of a hurry than I was. He kept kissing and sucking my stiff nipples, and when finally he began to move, it was only to lower his face and begin kissing the smooth flesh of my belly and thighs. I was so dumb I had no idea what he was going for until he was there.
"Like I said, it felt good, his mouth roaming over my body. He moved lightly over the high line of my hip, then started to kiss his way up and down my legs until he had managed to wriggle between my thighs. I expected him to lift himself on to me, to mount me, but he remained as he was, between my thighs, kissing and licking higher and higher until his face was only a few inches from my wet cunt.
"That was another thing. I never had any trouble getting juicy. A few kisses and a feel or two and I'd be physically ready for some action. But it was different this time--very different. A funny heat penetrated my limbs, a crazy, gingery warmth. I found my breath catching and changing, and my thighs began to open wider, as if my little cunt needed a touch of cooling air.
"I felt positively slippery down there, too, and the feeling spread out so that I felt as if I'd been lubricated at every joint, that if I'd tried to walk I might very well move as if I'd been oiled.
"'That's beautiful, doll,' Vern's nearly forgotten voice drifted up to me. 'I always had a thing for red-headed dollies. Real redheads, with little red snatches. Now I'm going to show you how much you turn me on, Kristi, baby ... ' He moved even closer.
"I caught my breath as his tongue, wet and hot, dragged slowly across my stiffened clitoris. Then I began to moan pathetically, instantly so involved and controlled by what this stranger was doing to me that I ceased being myself at all. I was a thing of jelly, a moaning, writhing doll, a slave to a knowing, eager tongue which dug into my cunt in a way no cock had ever known it. I don't know if, given the chance, all young girls would be turned on as I was, the first time a skilled tongue went to work on them, but I felt as if I were discovering sex for the first time. There, on my back, my ass wriggling all over that bed, I finally learned about ecstasy. Pinned to the sheets which quickly dampened from my heated flesh, rough hands holding me down, spreading me open, a feverish tongue, soft lips, sharp teeth, a mouth that sucked between kisses, I dissolved into my first orgasm, only to be convulsing against his face a second and, finally, a third time before he let me go. Weak and panting, glowing and still shaking from the aftermath of his tonguing, I waited dizzily for Vern to climb on top of me and finally sink his prick into me. I didn't mind the thought--I was, in fact, happy to return in part, the pleasure I'd been given, but Vern merely rolled over and hugged me to his body, content and tired. I managed to glance down and was surprised to find that his cock was glazed with come ...
"Vern kept me at that motel nearly a month. During that time I didn't do a damn thing except wait for him to return to me from wherever he earned his daily bread. I guessed he was married since he never spent a whole night with me, but when he was with me the world was a ball of fire and flowing honey. Once he stayed between my legs a full three hours--I timed it-- and when he finally moved it wasn't at my request. With Vern I learned the subtle differences of being on a bed on my back while getting sucked as opposed to sitting on Vern's face or standing up, propped against a wall with one leg hooked over his neck. We spent every minute, almost, in sheer ecstasy. He didn't try to fuck me even once, but after the first week he did attempt to introduce a new innovation.
"I'd given up worrying about how Vern was getting his own kicks. I soon saw that his hand appeared to do the trick just fine. But he had a better idea. 'In the interest of a broader education and the sake of justice and all,' he broached one night while we were resting up, 'you're about to get a lesson in the joys of cocksucking, my love. Ever take a man's cock in your mouth, Kristi?'
"I shook my head, frowning slightly. The thought turned me off.
"'Then there's always a first time, baby ... ' His big hand snaked around my head and pulled my face to his belly.
"His dick wasn't hard, but as I bobbed helplessly, protesting and attempting to evade him, the flesh rapidly hardened until his prick was huge and flush against my cheek. It smelled faintly of perspiration and semen, but all my struggling only brought me closer, until I was lightly making my protests to the broad tip his fat cock.
"Just open your mouth, brat. That's a good girl, open your mouth and suck.' His voice was amused and condescending, but his grip was like iron.
"I relaxed suddenly, because my body was being turned by Vern's free hand. Before I knew it Vern had parted my thighs and was busily lapping at my cunt. I calmed down at once, and with his wonderful tongue doing crazy things to my cunt, I could hardly refuse to do as he asked. I opened my mouth and took the head of his dick between my lips. The mechanics were easy enough, but I nearly gagged on the reality of what I was doing. His enormous balls fell against my cheek and chin and there was something so repulsive about haying his cock in my mouth that, in spite of the thrills drumming through my own blood, I was unable to continue sucking him after a moment or two. Instead, I let his cock slip from my mouth and used my hand on him instead, jerking on his prick until, shortly after I climaxed against his hot mouth, Vern spat a boiling load of thick come all over my hand and face.
"Vern just didn't show up one day. I never did find out why. The rent was paid until the end of the month, I knew, and I had some money to last me till then if I didn't splurge. After waiting a whole day, I ventured out, and immediately got lost in the world of Hollywood dreams. I met someone who knew an agent, ended up getting more day-to-day work as an extra than anything, with a few modeling jobs thrown in, and started growing up. I had a lot of lovers, but as I found more and more men who were content to simply suck me off, I slowly stopped fucking at all, or fell back to that only as a last resort, or as a sort of payment. I was definitely finding out what I liked and didn't like ...
And having found that out, Kristi Y--, the subject of the third case in this work, a portion of which is excerpted above, was "primed" either to seek out or to be discovered by those who shared her "likes" and interests, specifically her partiality toward oral-genital lovemaking.
The central theme of this work is the cause, substance, and effect of the oral drive as it is observed in an individual, and the evolution of that drive into situations where groups are formed with the exclusive, or predominant, purpose of gratifying that drive. Much printer's ink has been utilized (and wasted) in taking sides on the morality and immorality, the legality and illegality, the normalcy and abnormalcy of both oral lovemaking and group-sex involvement. Yet such an approach to the questions of orality and plural sex appears to the author of this work to be a rather futile attempt to classify the unclassifiable, generalize On the basis of oftentimes contradictory traditional tidbits of hearsay, and to ignore the specifics of motivation, circumstance, and actual or potential effect, the only valid criteria that can be used as a barometer that will indicate the ethics in one, and only one, specific case. Consequently, the purpose of this work is not to discuss the vague and indefinable "ethics" of society in general, or even of a small community in particular, but rather to ascertain the ethics of the situations in question as they are revealed through the improvement or worsening of the central subject's life as well as the lives of those immediately involved in, or subsequently affected by, the act or acts in question.
From the point of view of our heterogeneous society as a whole, both oralism and group sex remain highly controversial. Some say that the two are natural extensions of the human sexual instinct; others believe they are rightly labeled "perversions"--unnatural deviations from the sexual norm which are harmful to the participants. The central fault with the proponents of both views is that they try to pin an intrinsic valuation on acts that cannot be thus valuated.
One can draw an analogy between oralism, group sex, or any other variation on sexual activity, and the act of ingestion, which includes both eating and drinking. For those who rebuff such an analogy by saying that there is no comparison between the two, it might be pointed out that both sexual activity and eating are indulged in because of basic drives, or hungers, and that the only reason that there are more crusading opponents against variations in sexual activity than there are opponents to eating with chopsticks or drinking through a straw is because man, primarily for reasons of natural elemental adversities (rain, snow, cold, wind, heat), was forced since prehistoric times to cover, in order to protect, as much of his body as was necessary and or Convenient, which included those organs that were not essential for immediate and unexpected utilization for survival--e.g., the hands to ward off an attack, the mouth to call for help, to converse, to eat, and to drink. No one will deny that were a time-study analysis made, the mouth would be found to be much more often used than the sexual organs in man's day-to-day living. The fact that eventually man began to look at his genital area somewhat askance can be easily understood if one accepts the following progression of events: concealment eventually begins to imply secrecy; secrecy is "naturally" interpreted by the naturally suspicious Man as an indication of threat or shame; there is usually no cause for shame unless there is something "bad" or "wrong" or "evil." There can be no doubt that had the mouth been not as essential for man's daily living, had it been concealed from view, eating, and or talking, would have been the central theme of debate amongst moralists, ethicists, psychiatrists, social scientists, and politicians, rather than sex--especially if the evolution of man had made it unnecessary for him to conceal his genital organs.
Returning then to the analogy between sexual activity and eating, one can say that it would be acceptedly absurd to maintain that eating per se is a good or a bad activity. It would be furthermore ridiculous to maintain that sipping through a straw is "a natural extension of the human survival instinct" or that it is a "perversion" or "an unnatural deviation from the eating norm which is harmful to the participant." We cannot be justified in stating that eating is wrong because we learned that a man who had ingested a can of botulin-contaminated soup promptly died, neither can we say that eating soup is bad on the basis of the preceding incident. A great number of similarly analogous cases could be presented that would underline the absurdity of generalizations and sweeping condemnations or championings.
If we attempt to analyze oralism and plural sex in vacuo, so to speak, we are forced by physiological facts to accept the irrationality of generalizations here as well.
In the term oral sex, we are discussing two acts in the main: cunnilingus--the application of the mouth and its associated suborgans (primarily the lips and tongue) to the female genitals; fellatio--the use of these oral organs on the male genitals. These two practices constitute the most important and controversial aspects of oralism, although there are other manifestations of the oral impulse, including the kissing and oral caressing of any part of the body, particularly the breasts, the ears, parts of the neck, and other erogenous zones. Finally, even that most accepted caress--the kiss--is totally oral.
It is generally accepted among sexual behavior experts that the mouth itself in an important erogenous zone There is some disagreement on whether it is equally sensitive in the male and the female, and there is a similar degree of argument whether this sensitivity is physiological or psychological. The usual explanation for the latter is that the erotic associations stem from the time the individual obtained his first nourishment by suckling on his mother's nipple, but there is little dissent to the belief that the mouth is capable of being "erotically stimulated." Tied to this factor is the ability of the mouth to stimulate erotically as well. It is a movable, muscled part of the facial anatomy and capable of sexual caresses in a number of ways.
The utilization of the mouth in sexual play is known, therefore, to be capable of giving physiological pleasure in those cases where physiological reactions are not interfered with by psychological inhibitions, which should not be considered as a negation of physiological fact but rather as a conflict between basic physiological reactions and often artificial psychological ones.
Does this imply that psychological resistance to accepting oralism and other variations on the basic sexual acts as normal invalid? The answer is negative. There can be no psychological resistance to anything unless there is an underlying cause for that psychological resistance, and it is the underlying cause that may be, or may not be, valid.
Roderic Gorney, in his extensively researched work The Human Agenda, brings up a modern philosophy of behavior which is labeled the Fun ethic. He commences with a question:
How ... in the realm of love is [the] exorbitant demand for happiness expressed? Most eloquently, in the increasingly pervasive application to eroticism of what has been called the Fun ethic. This standard places at the top of a person's list, not the worth of a human relationship, marriage or otherwise, but only the "fun" provided by an erotic experience. Through this inversion it contributes substantially to the erosion of a main support of identity, psychic intimacy with love.
The basic fallacy of such an ethic is that it must, to work, place the individual's search for diversion--sexual or otherwise--and subsequent gratification above all else and everybody else. It is the utmost extreme of Ayn Rand'a objectivist ethics. Such a development can lead only to the brink of total anarchy where concern for the happiness or pleasure of others becomes nonexistent.
Consequently, one has no choice but to discard both the puritanical ethics and the ethics of unrestrained liberalism when one deals with the basic urge of sexuality and all of its various manifestations, including orality and plural sex. One must accept the fact that neither repression nor total unbridling of the urge is the answer for all, at all times, and in all places. One must accept the fact that there can be only one valid determinant in the "rightness" or "wrongness"--or ethicality or nonethicality--of any sexual, or nonsexual, act, and that determinant, being based on motivation, circumstances, and effects of the act, has to encompass the individual and those involved in, or affected by, the said act.
In addition to the question of ethics, the matter of psychopathology, if any, has to be considered. Here the decision--one that is not easy to make--has to be arrived at as to whether oralism or group sex, for example, is a normal or abnormal pursuit Of sexuality. The difficulty that has inadvertently weighed down a valid determination in this sphere even--a sphere that should, be considered as a scientific one--has been the influence of traditional outlook, religious beliefs, and tenets of law. Of course, the whole extent of the problem becomes apparent when one realizes that the tenets or codices of law--i.e., the legality or illegality of an act-- have been, even in nations where a separation of church and state is recognized, intermeshed by history with religious proclamations, societal mores, and individualistic opinions made by those who had been too powerful politically or militarily for anyone to disagree with.
Consequently, in the five case histories that follow, no reference will be made to the legal, moral, or--except to a very slight degree--psychopathological questions or problems. Rather, the study will attempt to limit itself predominantly to the ethics of the situation, as such ethics have been defined earlier in this introduction and as reflected in the motivation, circumstances, and the aftereffects of oral and group sex acts. It is the opinion of this author that if none, of the three elements upon which the ethicality of an act are based adversely affected the happiness of the case subject or those involved with him, then the acts were ethical and beneficial to the development of the individual. If on the other hand, any one of the three elements did adversely affect the happiness (and here, again, the very real distinction between happiness and pleasure, i.e., emotions and physiological reactions, should be kept in mind) of anyone involved, then the act or acts must be defined, in that particular case, as unethical.
There is no question that there is an idealization of man as a species in such an approach to ethics--some might even insist that it is an idealization beyond reason; however, until such a time when limitations are placed on the evolution of reason, the term "beyond reason" can not be taken as a meaningful one.
Chapter One: Out Of The Mouths Of Babes ...
"Hey, quit being so fucking serious, will you? Just because this is a big deal interview, well, does that mean it can't be fun? You're acting like a sex club is something evil ... and it's not! It's a groove, a gas; shit, man, it's saving my life and my marriage. Is that anything to feel ashamed about?
"Look at it this way. Anything that turns you on, and doesn't hurt anybody else, well, hell, that's got to be great. Look, I must smoke about five packs of cigarettes a day and I must consume at least a gallon of diet colas, tea, coffee, and booze every day. Now, you figure that out and that means my mouth is constantly busy. Right? So I'll bet health nuts would be appalled at that information ... screw 'em' It's my life, and my body, and if it makes me happy to do that to my body it shouldn't be anybody's business but mine. Right? And the same goes for a sex club, or swappers, or any of that stuff. If it makes the members happy ... it's nobody else's business, right? Now we could sit here and discuss deep, meaningful, Freudian implications until we both drop dead, but that wouldn't change anything. Or we could talk about cancer scares, but that wouldn't change anything either. You gotta do what you gotta do. As I said, if it doesn't hurt anybody else, who cares?
"My first husband and I broke up after only three years of marriage. He was a nice guy and all that stuff, a good provider, yak and clack. But he was a real square in bed. He thought oral sex was a perversion! Are you ready for that? We had so goddam many arguments about it, and that constant hostility led to arguments about everything, that we finally agreed to cut it off. Nothing is worth being up tight about all the time. Nothing. Then I met Mark. Oh hey! I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me ... when I married the first time, I was a virgin. I'd read a few of the sex manuals and learned about oral sex, but I could never get my husband to cooperate with me, to even try it. But Mark was something else again.
"I met him at a party. He told me he was a lawyer, that his specialty was corporate law, and what with one thing and another, he asked me for a date on the following night He was groovy looking, sort of the James Coburn type, and I agreed. If you can't bag H doctor, a lawyer's the next best thing. Right? They're both r gone a lot and they both make a lot of money. Crazy.
"Mark picked me up at my apartment at 8:30 sharp the next evening, looking dapper in a dark blue suit with a red pinstripe and wearing a brightly colored paisley tie. Really slick. I like men who are sharp dressers. As for me, I know I'm not a raving beauty, but I've got a damned good figure and terrific legs, so I favor the mini and did the moment it hit the fashion scene. At that time, I'd already been divorced for about two years and had been sort of playing the field. Oh sure, I went to bed with a few of the guys, but I wasn't what you'd call promiscuous or anything. And dammit, every time I'd want to try out this oral sex stuff, the guy would look shocked as all hell and then I'd never hear from him again. We're living in a world of mental lepers, know that?
"Anyway, Mark took me out to dinner at a very nice roadside restaurant up the coast, we danced, drove back to a small bistro not too far from my place and had a nightcap, and then he brought me home. He walked me to the elevator, came up with me to my door, and pulled me to him to kiss me good-night. Mark wasn't like the others ... he didn't hesitate or wonder whether or not I'd let him kiss me on the first date, or even if I wanted him to or not ... he wanted to, so he did! Now that's a man! And he knew how to kiss a girl, too. He didn't fool around. That tongue of his snaked right into my mouth and washed me out real good, his hands were strong and firm on my buttocks I could feel his dong through the material that separated us, feel it hot and twitching. And the next thing I knew, Mark had his hand up under my mini, working his fingers against the flimsy pantyhose crotch, tickling, my pussy hairs. Oh wow! That did it! I managed to break the kiss long enough to suggest that we get out of the hall and into my apartment before we got arrested.
"As soon as we were inside, Mark began to kiss me again, and this time he managed to roll down the top of my pantyhose far enough to get his fingers right on my hot snatch. I could feel his strong warm fingers sliding all over my crotch, slipping in my hot juices. I was so fucking wet down there it was almost embarrassing! But the feeling he was giving me was wild and his fingers kept working my cunt, rubbing up and down, around and around, with a light but strong touch on my slimy pussy that was driving me nuts. I couldn't help shoving my hips toward his hand, grinding myself against his busy fingers, and I was about ready to go right out of my gourd if I didn't get fucked soon.
"I don't remember exactly how, but the next thing I knew Mark and I were on my bed, both of us stark naked and he kept fingering my snatch, kissing my tits, and talking dirty things like how he was gonna fuck me, how he was going to take his big hot cock and shove it all the way up my cunt until I couldn't stand it anymore things like that. Oh wow! Did he turn me on talking like that! All the time that big whang of his was poking into my flesh against my leg, and he was finger-fucking me but keeping his thumb on my clitoris, pushing at it like a doorbell, and all I could do was squirm and writhe under his artful touch. When he wasn't talking dirty to me, or kissing my tits, he was shoving his tongue deep into my mouth and I could no longer resist my need to get really layed. I took his prick in my hand, feeling how hot and hard it was, and started to massage it, to pump on it, to get him so hot he'd have to fuck me properly. He had a beauty of a hard on, and I wanted that dong of his right up inside my cunt and fucking the holy hell out of my aching, lonely vagina.
"As if I had him on a lead, I finally got Mark to get on top of me, and I guided his big cock toward the core of my passion, pressing my pelvis forward slowly so that I could feel how his cock filled my vagina, stretched that hole real nice, and gave myself up entirely to letting him fuck me. I could feel his engorged penis sliding in and out of me, in and out, almost effortlessly, feel the head of his prick, that bulbous ridge of it, edging its way inside of me, causing a wild friction on the walls and muscles of the vagina, feel how it slipped against each tiny ridge and crevice of my wet and hungry hole until the tip of his glans would gently strike against my cervix and his big balls would slap lightly against the cheeks of my ass. Mark kept nuzzling at my neck with his lips, giving me tiny bites and hundreds of tiny kisses, but never letting up on his fucking of me, his hands kneading at my breasts beneath his hairy chest.
"Almost delirious with wanting to come, pushed my pelvis at him harder, yelling at him to fuck me hauler, harder, writhing and twisting my torso to get that great big hard cock of his all the way up inside of me. I threw my legs up into the air so that he could shove it into me real good, and doing that seemed to trigger Mark's own need because he began to piston into me, slamming into me hard. I could barely stand the exquisite pain and joy of being so royally fucked, of feeling my cunt so hot and ready that I could feel my juices running down the cheeks of my ass and the way his balls made a slapping sound against me. Then Mark started grunting, gasping out that he was going to come any second, any second, and hearing that, knowing that he would be popping off soon, really sent me into orbit. My cunt seemed to bloat up, beating and pulsing-with sensation, and finally I began to spasm over and over around Mark's throbbing cock even as it had begun to shoot its come into me in wildly thrilling, hot, spurts of semen. It was a glorious fuck--for both of us, I knew.
"We rested afterward, smoking a cigarette. When I had the strength, I got up and made us both a drink. I felt very close to' Mark, like I'd known him for a very, very long time. I guess a good lay will do that for a gal ... you're grateful, sure, there's always that, but more important, you feel like a real woman, like you're fulfilled for a change.
"'You're not going to believe this,' I told Mark as we lay in the dark, his arm under my head, 'but this is the first time I've ever gone to bed with a guy on a first date.'
"'Oh, I believe it all right,' Mark said, and laughed. 'Your psyche would demand a degree of propriety under the usual circumstances.'
"I-laughed. 'What's that mean?'
"'It means, Liz, that there's a bit of the cockteaser in you ... you've got to give a guy the come-on and then stall him until you think he's suffered enough. Am I right?'
"I had to think about it. 'Yeah d never paid any attention before, but yeah, you're right.'
"Well, we started to talk. You know, the kind of talk you can only have when you're both satisfied, you've had a few drinks but aren't drunk, and it's late ... like you're the only two people in the world still awake in the night. I don't know how long we sipped' our drinks, toying with each other's bodies, and talking. But I found myself telling Mark things I'd never told anyone before, even about my first marriage and this funny business of nobody wanting to let me learn about oral sex. That last bit really cracked Mark up. He couldn't believe it. But I assured him, that it was quite true ... that in this 'day and age, strange as it might seem, I couldn't get anybody who'd go down on me or who'd let me go down on him. So Mark sat up abruptly and told me that my worries were about to be over--forever. He made me go run the tub and take a bath, then he took one after me. I suggested that we bathe together, but he said it was one of the few things that turned him off, that it was bad enough to sit in his own dirt, but to have to sit in the dirt of two people was a disgusting idea to him.
"Listen, who was I to argue? I finally found me a live one who was going to teach me what I'd been dying to try for years--who was I to argue a small point about taking a bath together!
"Anyway, scrubbed and perfumed, I impatiently lay on the bed nursing my drink until Mark joined me. His dong was still limp, and from what I'd read in the sex manuals that meant my work was cut out for me. He lay down then, stretched out on his back with his arms folded under his head.
"'There it is, Liz. It's all yours. Do your thing.'
"I leaned forward, my hair falling across his abdomen as I began to examine his cock. It lurched a little when I touched it and I realized then that Mark had one helluva good cock on him. It was damned big, maybe five and a half inches from the base to the stem, and I marveled at how it stood away from his crotch hairs like a tree growing tall from the underbrush. I took my thumb and rested it along the underside of his prick, lightly tracing along what felt like a thin muscle running from the base of his shaft right into the ridge of its head. It was so smooth! Oh, the veins were beginning to bulge a little, but the glans was like velvet. I played with his cock, watching the veins swell, and dropped my fingers down to his-scrotum to tease his balls and tickle him there. By then, Mark was beginning to have an unavoidable reaction and I could hear his breathing getting harder and heavier ... he was beginning to squirm a little as his cock was slowly aroused. I brought my hand down around the base of his penis and gathered the skin into my fist, then began slowly to bring my fist up along, the shaft, forcing the skin to precede it and then Spill over the edge of his glans. Up and down, slowly up and down, I kept that up until I saw that he was emitting a small amount of sperm from the tiny hole at the tip of his penis. That really turned me on.
"I slowly lowered my mouth toward his penis and let my tongue dart out to flick off the fluid at the tip of his ever-growing cock. I blew on it next, and saw how Mark's penis twitched and arched upward toward my mouth. And I could feel my mouth begin to salivate ... I could hardly wait to get that thing of his into my face! I took it slow and easy, though. I wanted to do a good job of it, I didn't want to blow it. Hey, that's funny. Get it? Blow it? Oh well, anyhow, I remembered the manual saying how sensitive a guy's balls are, so I brought my lips around them and sucked at them lightly, nuzzling the base of his cock, with my nose, occasionally letting my tongue flick about the shaft like a hot wet whip. That's when Mark really got hard! His dong must've been up to at least seven inches! Oh wow!
"Even I couldn't stand it anymore. I wanted that great big cock of his in my mouth, I wanted to suck on it with just as much intensity as I'd wanted his cock to fuck me earlier in the evening. How does anyone ever explain the feeling of wanting to suck cock? It's like you've gotta have it, and that's all. Like the feeling when you've gotta have a drink of water or you'll die of thirst. Well, I finally took his burning dick and shoved the head of it into my greedy mouth, keeping my lips tight around the shaft so that it would feel as if he were sticking it up into my grasping hole. And as it entered my mouth, I could feel it get even bigger, pushing up against my throat while I played with his balls and tickled his anus. I encircled the shaft with my hand and rode it up and down with my mouth at the top, sticking my tongue as deeply into the little hole as I could, and creating a sucking action around the glans, nibbling at the ridge of it with my teeth. And it was then that I felt Mark trying to get me to change my position, to get me to turn around. Stilt, man, I Only needed the hint. My cunt was burning up, I was dying to know what it would feel like to have his mouth on my snatch, to feel a tongue on it, and my only worry was that I'd get so fucking carried away I might bite his cock!
"So I turned around, never letting go of his cock, never quitting washing it with my' tongue, but now my cunt was in his face, my hot dripping cunt, and I was about ready to explode with wanting to find out what his mouth would feel like. But Mark was his own man, not to be rushed or told what to do. He began to run a wet finger up and down the crack of my ass while I was sucking on his cock, teasing my asshole with his finger and then letting his finger run down into my snatch, pretending to go up inside of my hole for a few seconds, then taking a couple of swipes at my clitoris so that even I could feel that my clit was getting a hard on of its very own. It felt wild. Mostly because I knew his face was right down there, right at my snatch! It was really wild. Mark would pinch at my clit a couple of times and nearly send me out of my skin, but I'd reciprocate by nibbling at his fiery cock.
"And then Mark stopped foolin' around and took my hips with both his hands and brought my pussy right up to his face and begin to lick at it. Lick at it! Oh man! Do you know what that feels like? I damned near passed out.
"Mark's mouth was really talented and his tongue was a work of art! He'd take long lapping strokes on my cunt, then dip into my hole and baby-fuck me with his tongue, and then come up and grab my clitoris between his lips, sucking on it, letting his tongue roll around and around the hard little clit until I thought I'd scream ... but he always knew when to quit, when to go back to lapping at my sopping snatch. What was great was that I could tell that Mark really dug sucking my cunt, that he really enjoyed sucking my hot box and swallowing all those juices that kept pouring out of me. And knowing that made me hotter, both for myself and also for his dong. Every time his tongue caressed my pussy, I sucked on his rigid cock with even greater pleasure and excitement.
"Nearly in a frenzy with the thrill Mark was giving me, I worked even more feverishly to please his engorged cock. It didn't take long and he began to hump his thick rod into my mouth right up against my throat even while I was pushing my twat into his face, rubbing myself against his nose and his tongue. We were, by then, both sweating like animals. I could no longer prevent my orgasm and I think Mark knew it. Grunting savagely, chewing and licking and sucking at each other's genitals, I felt the first spurt of his semen splash against my throat, hot and sticky, thick like syrup, and he shot and he shot, again and again, while my orgasm convulsed my entire torso, flooding me with electric thrills, my hungry pussy clutching and jerking and grabbing. I'd never had an orgasm like that ever and I'll probably never forget it. It was the most fantastic experience of my life, and, needless to say, it's changed my life completely."
Liz R------, the subject of this case history, as the first half of her narrative suggests and the balance of which confirms, is a young woman going in a number of directions at the same time. Although she can in no way be considered as the typical American housewife (she is now married to Mark R--), she does manifest some of the typical problems that the "modern liberated women"-- or the modern women thinking of "liberation"--find themselves facing or saddled with.
To begin with, Liz R-- has been married prior to her involvement with, and subsequent marriage to, Mark That first marriage had I failed. There are no specific indications as to the reasons for that failure. The marriage was childless. This suggests the possibility that the subject's oral compulsion--i.e., preference for cunnilingus and fellatio as opposed to regular coitus--has been with her for quite some time. Her outright refusal to delve into her childhood, adolescence, and postadolescence suggests that there was some early traumatic experience which precipitated her obsession with oral lovemaking. However, this preference for oral gratification is not the subject's only potential problem (the qualifying term potential is used here because Liz R--'s oral drive has not yet totally suppressed her desires for other forms of lovemaking).
There is apparent, particularly in the first portion of her narrative, an overbearing inferiority complex which the subject strains to cover up by the utilization of what might be termed as a sexually aggressive vocabulary. This utilization is, in fact, so pronounced that one is almost incited to pursue the possibility that, on top of everything else, Liz R-- is suffering from coprolalio, i.e., a mental condition in which a person obtains some sort of erotic gratification or stimulation through the use of sexually extremely frank--or "obscene"--language. The chances are, however, that this is nothing more than an attempt on the part of the subject to either appear "sophisticated" in the eyes of the analyst or to create a diversion from the problems which she is trying to conceal or suppress. In short, her rather stevedorish language is a defense mechanism.
Yet, this very defense mechanism reveals--especially in her subsequent narrative, in which she brings up Joanna and Joanna's attraction to her--still another problem in the making, the problem of homosexuality or lesbianism. And the conflict in the making here should be quite obvious. In spite of the subject's superficial attempt to appear undisturbed by her attraction toward Joanna--her justification that as long as there is no "emotional involvement" with the other woman, as long as it's purely sexual, there will be no problem--she is, in fact, frightened by the idea of being a lesbian. It is up to the analyst to point out to her that she is basically bisexual, which, in itself, was recognized to be a nonpathological condition even by Wilhelm Stekel almost half a century ago. In his work titled Bi-sexual Love, he wrote:
There are no monosexual persons! The heterosexual period stretches far into puberty. All persons are bisexual. But persons repress either the homosexual or the heterosexual components on account of certain motives or because they are compelled by particular circumstances and consequently act as if they were monosexual ...
And added:
Nature has created us bisexual beings and requires us to act as bisexual beings. The purely heterosexual is always a neurotic in a certain sense, that is, the repression of the homosexual components already creates a predisposition to neurosis, or is in itself a neurotic trait shared by every normal person ...
The subject's basic problem, however, is not lesbianism, the fear of which she tries to magnify probably, again, to divert her psychoanalyst from his search for truth, nor is it her coprolalic manifestation or oral compulsion. It is rather a complex combination of these within what might be considered to be a framework of hypersexuality that is made the more acute by the jealousy that Liz R-- experiences when she suspects Mark, her husband, to be sexually involved with one of his clients.
Her reaction to this discovery is, in fact, neither acute nor unusual. Charles Samson F'r', in his The Sexual Urge: How it Grows or Wanes, pointed out the potential of jealousy in the following manner:
Jealousy ... may manifest itself in both sexes as an anomaly of the instinct relating to sexual pursuit or attraction. Jealousy is a moral pain that may be legitimately caused by a wounded feeling, e.g., of love or anwur-propre----an attempt to touch a sacred possession; but it often appears without provocation, through a habit of suspicion, which is to some extent constitutional. "We are jealous, not because any motive exists, but because of a fault which lies within our nature." .. It is a true psychosis ... It is connected with nervous debility. It brings women more often than men into lunatic asylums; it is often, in fact, a form of insanity ...
It is, in fact, jealousy on the part of the subject that prompts her and her husband Mark to join the primarily orally oriented sex, group. This "solution" to the problem might very well appear to be somewhat ludicrous to any monogamous-minded person; yet, to a great many of the modern, sexually "liberated" members of society, for whom sexual activity does not necessarily presuppose love, or emotional involvement, participation in group sex and mate swapping is considered to be "honest," whereas any surreptitious sexual activity is considered to be if not "dishonest," then at least "not Kosher."
There can be no question that Liz R-- is neither secure nor is apt to find what she' is looking for in the arrangement into which she has been drawn with Mark. The insecurity that she feels is manifested not only through the instance of her suspecting Mark of infidelity--and it is not clear from her narrative whether Mark had had, in fact, consummated an affair with his blonde "client" or not--but through her somewhat forced sexual frankness of narrative. It is possible that she envisages herself as a disciple of the recently highly touted Women's Liberation Movement; it is not improbable that her coarseness is an attempt to appear "liberated." If such is the case, then the juvenility of such an attitude must be branded as being nothing more or less than pathetic. It is analogous to a pubescent child's mistaken notion that lighting a cigarette is a sign of adulthood.
Toward the close of her narrative, Liz R-- tries quite hard to convince herself, or perhaps the analyst, that her and her husband's venture into the group-sex circuit has been the salvation of their marriage. Undoubtedly, their sexual extroversion has afforded them a lease on their marriage, it has eliminated the boredom that had apparently entered their married life, and it has provided the subject with an outlet for her hypersexuality. It is extremely doubtful, however, that either the subject or her husband will be able to find any lasting solution to what amounts to incompatibility in their marital relations.
"Mark and I were married about eight months later. We shared several interests, our political views were close enough to avoid hate--and I don't care what the marriage experts say, you can't be a dove and be in love with a hawk!-- and we were highly compatible sexually. To anticipate your question, yes, I still like to get fucked, but only as an added bonus. There's something about getting sucked off, while you've got a rock-hard cock in your mouth, that just can not be topped.
"At first, we were blissfully happy together. Mark and I had intercourse--or more accurately, sucked each other off--at least once every night, and for the first several months, he was able to sneak home around lunchtime for a fast fuck. I was very busy making the adjustments of any new wife, plus the fact that we'd bought a condominium in a high-rise, so there were the usual problems of trying to blend his furniture with mine, of selling duplicate appliances (like who needs two refrigerators?), and in short, setting up house. Because Mark was so busy with his practice, he gave me carte blanche with our home; I could decorate it any way I wanted to, have furniture reupholatered, get the walls papered, anything that the budget would permit. Remarrying, of course, meant forfeiting my alimony, but Mark had a very comfortable income so I was not unduly hamstrung financially. There's so much to keep you busy at first. Mark was a man of many small routines. His socks had to be in the top left-hand drawer; if they weren't, it upset him. Handkerchiefs had to be folded in rectangular quarters, not squares. Dinner at six was to be served at six ... on the dot. And of course, as newlyweds with a new home, our curious friends had to be invited over for dinner so they could snoop. I tried to mix them usually, with one couple from his former life, and one couple from mine. That way, everybody had a better time, there were new faces, and nobody felt left out.
"But gradually, very casually, Mark was showing a lessening interest in our sex life. I tried very hard to be an understanding wife, but there were nights when I thought I'd go insane if he didn't suck me, when I'd lie there in the dark with a pain in my groin from desire and listening to his soft snoring. I was becoming highly dissatisfied with our diminishing sex life, though I was perfectly happy in every other way. Or at least, until I found out what was going on!
"We'd been married for a little over a year when, as was not unusual, Mark phoned me from the office one day telling me that I should go ahead and have dinner without him, that he had to meet with a client and would dine with him. He mentioned some nearby restaurant where I could reach him if anything urgent came up, as he always did, and I really didn't think anything about it. But later on, feeling rather mischievous I suppose, I decided to get all gussied up and surprise him at the restaurant--client or no client. I wouldn't stay long, just have a drink with them and then come home if they still had more business to discuss. When I got there, however, and before Mark spotted me, I saw that this 'client' was a very young blonde--too young to need a corporation attorney--and that my husband had one hand around her shoulder and the other looked suspiciously as if it were halfway up her crotch!
"Hurt, cruelly disappointed, I stumbled out of the place before Mark could possibly see me. I think I was probably in a state of great emotional shock because I don't really remember too much about that evening. I returned home, I know that, but I can't seem to recall anything more about that evening. Mark has since told me that when he got home, I was sound asleep. That seems unbelievable to me, but at this point in our marriage, he has no reason to lie. Somehow I got through the next morning, made Mark his breakfast, and sent him off to the office. He had asked me if I was feeling all right, and I do remember telling him that I felt as if I were coming down with a cold. The rest of the morning is something of- a blur in my mind. I know that I bathed luxuriously, soaking for at least an hour in the hot soothing tub, that I chose my clothes with great care and dressed painstakingly, and that I went to a beauty parlor I'd noticed quite near Mark's office. It was just a little before noon when I glided through the imitation oak doors to his suite. I marched right past his receptionist and his secretary, straight into his lair. Fortunately, for everyone, I suppose--he was alone. He glanced up at me, his face breaking into a welcoming smile until he got a closer look at my expression.
"'Don't bother to get up, Mark,' I said to him, walked straight in front of his face, then pulled up my skirt to expose my naked snatch. 'Suck it, buster. Suck it now ... before you're too tired to suck it later 'cause you've been shacking up with some teen-ager!'
'"Are you out of your mind, Liz? Do you realize what you're doing?'
"'If you're worried about anyone seeing us, Melvin Belli Jr., go lock your door, but you are going to make love to me and right now!'
"Pale and trembling slightly, Mark eased himself out of his chair and crossed the room to lock the door. 'Now, what's this all about, Liz?'
"That was a mistake. He should never have given me that opening because I told him--loud and clear. I screeched at him that I was at the restaurant the night before, saw what he was up to, and that I was damned sick and tired of leading a nun's life because he exhausted himself with other women. Oh, I made quite a scene, no doubt about it. To give you an idea of how loud I was, Mark fired the gals he had working for him about a week later--he was too embarrassed to look them in the eye. But at that instant in time, I was like a wild woman and nothing he said or did was going to stop me from getting my cunt sucked right then and there. And Mark must have sensed that it was my cunt or his practice because he stopped protesting and began soothing, placating me, telling me what a divine idea it was for me to come by the office so that we could have sex together, and he began teasing my cunt with his fingers, just the way he had on our first date; then unzipping his fly, he brought one of my hands down to caress his cock. I recall being somewhat startled to feel how hard it was, as if he meant what he was saying! He stretched out on the leather couch with his cock standing straight up into the air and guided me to come straddle his face with my enflamed cunt. The moment I felt his breath on my snatch, had his turgid cock near my lips, a kind of sexual frenzy overtook me. If I could have, I'd have clubbed him to death with his own prick, but instead, feeling his tongue begin to lave my tormented pussy, I reciprocated and began to suck his cock. He was damned lucky, I'll tell you that. One false move and I'd have broken the damn thing off for him!
"I guess Mark's instinct for survival, the challenge I'd presented, and the knowledge that he'd been caught red-handed with the blonde the night before--well, all of these things must have more or less conspired to make our sexual union one of revenge rather than love. It was fierce in its intensity, and it was quick. I ground my pussy into his face, feeling the moist steam of my cunt upon his flesh, and I was not gentle with his balls and cock. I dug my nails into the flesh of his thighs, leaving ugly red half-moons upon his skin, and for the first time, Mark was brutal with me, savage in his sucking of me. His teeth were rough, and his hands mauled me ... 'but by God! we had an orgasm that left us both panting from exhaustion.
"I must have made a rather silly picture, sprawled out on the couch with all my clothes on, and my obviously recent wash-and-set hanging damply around my face. But then, no sillier than Mark. He finally got enough, strength to pull himself out from under me and went to the bar and fixed us both drinks. We were in his office until past three in the morning, but we let it all hang out that day--every single thing that was bugging us, our needs and fears. It was as if we'd just met, as if we'd really been strangers to each other all the time we'd known each other.
"Mark explained why he was out with the blonde, and that, yes, he did sometimes 'stray,' but most of the time when he came home too tired to fuck, he really was just that--with no hanky-panky behind it. We both cried several times, revealing our true inner selves to each other, but we got it all out ... every screaming need each of us had about sex, what we could or could not do about it, and-of paramount importance--where to go from there.
"He then knew that I could not go as long as he could without sex and he had a choice--either give up his career or expect me to take on a lover. Naturally, both of these possibilities were completely out of the question. Yet we knew that we were good for each other in every possible way, that we did not want a divorce. Actually, it was Mark who first suggested-a sex club. Initially I was somewhat shocked, but we kept talking about it and the more we talked the clearer it became that a sex club was probably the best solution available to two people with our 'problem.' We agreed to try it. We had nothing to lose at that point.
"Mark came home, about a week later, and said that he'd lined up the site of our experiment, that it was a very small group all of whom enjoyed oral sex enormously, and only married couples were permitted to attend. They rotated the couples every week, so that while the membership was large enough so you might never see the same couple for at least six months. Only four couples were ever at one meeting at one time. I didn't ask him how he'd found out about it; I didn't really care. I assume that if you're interested in such things, you can find out whatever you need to know without much trouble. And, naturally, I was very nervous at that first meeting.
"It was held at a small hotel, very quiet and select sort of place, centrally located but not on a main thoroughfare. The meeting began at 9:00 P.M., and Mark and I were there promptly. I went through all the usual 'opening .night' jitters: was I wearing the right clothes? what would be expected of me? did they serve liquor and canapes? how would I react to seeing Mark with another woman? For that matter, how would he react to me with another man? and so on and so on. Quite typical, as I later learned.
"It was a nervously wet palm I extended to the people we met, that evening, though they were exceptionally friendly and cordial, going to great lengths to make us feel comfortable Drinks were served and the other three couples chatted happily with us, speaking one moment about the most intimate sexual matters and the next about their kids having the flu. After about an hour of this sort of thing, I realized that the lights had been turned down very, very low; it was as dark as a bar that caters to married' men out on the town. And that's pretty damn dark unless your 'eyes have a chance to get accustomed to it. I was beginning to loosen up a little, talking to one of the husbands--Tom was his name, I think--when I felt gentle hands working at the zipper of my dress. I didn't protest ... that's what I was there for. And then I felt another pair of hands joining in the cause, kneading at my flesh as they went along. I was already hot and I knew it. For a second, I glanced quickly to find Mark, and I barely made out his naked ass as he pumped his big whang into some faceless woman. I didn't feel jealousy. Nothing even close to it. I felt more as if I'd been freed from some terrible weight, some confining restriction. Mark's screwing another woman right there in that room gave me every right to do whatever I wanted. And I gave in to the busy hands upon my body, let myself be lowered to the divan, and spread my legs feeling the juices of my snatch seeping slowly downward. Soon I felt large masculine hands massaging my breasts, and another pair of hands, teasing my pubis, spreading my thighs even farther apart, and pulling back the folds of my dripping labia, working at my hardened clitoris. Tom knelt before me, naked and with a monstrous hard on, but I couldn't quite make out the face of the man who was massaging my breasts so soothingly.
"Then Tom leaned my torso back against the couch, and the other man was kissing me wildly, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth, still playing with my breasts, cupping them, massaging them firmly. I could feel his enormous penis pressing against my side, hot and throbbing and urgent.
"While I licked my dry lips in anticipation of that big cock in my mouth, I felt Tom insert two fingers up inside of my hole and begin to finger-fuck me gently. It was a divine moment, this knowledge that I was having two men at the same time. I almost couldn't have wished for more, but then I felt Tom's breath upon my burning vulva, and then the firmly gentle laying of my engorged clitoris with a hot wet tongue. I groaned with sensuous pleasure and incredible delight. Tom's tongue was hot, probing, as he used his talented sucking mouth on my snatch--while another man kissed and fondled me--while finger-flicking me simultaneously.
"As if in a stupor, I glanced again in Mark's general direction and dimly made out that they were then in a sixty-nine position, that his face was buried in her crotch and that she was sucking the living force out of his cock. The presence of that burning cock so near to my face, however, was just too irresistible for me' to even think about Mark. I twisted my body slightly, captured the rigid prick with my hand, and brought it to my breasts, capturing it in the warm flesh of my tits. The man gasped with pleasure and began to hump the imitation cunt I'd made with my breasts. And all this While, Tom was sucking on my cunt, nibbling at my clitoris delectably, and had by then inserted another finger into my steaming hole.
"All around me I heard the moans and groans of sexual pleasure, heard the sounds of sex, and smelled the heavy musk odor of intense physical sexual heat. It was maddening! As much as I was enjoying Tom's sucking my cunt, I wanted a hot cock in my mouth--and quickly. I slipped down a little farther on the couch and on the next upward stroke of the unknown prick, I captured the huge member with my waiting mouth, tasting the semen it had already issued, feeling the monstrous member filling my mouth, stretching my lips, and with an increasing pistonlike stroking, slamming toward the back of my mouth, against my throat.
"I heard Tom--or felt him, really--begin to moan into my cunt and I knew that he was haying his own orgasm ... hoping some woman had sucked him off I didn't want to think that he'd had to jack himself off when there were so many waiting mouths around. His groans into my snatch triggered my own release, and while I pulled on the unknown prick, sucked on it, worked it with my tongue and my lips, I began to have my own orgasm. It started around my shoulders-.--really--and the tingling, enervating sensation rushed downward to center on my clitoris and send my entire vulva into great spasms, wracking, heaving spasms of orgasm. I felt the first spurt of come hit the back of my throat with my own first groan of release.
"What's beautiful about these sex clubs, besides new faces and new genitalia to play with, is that you can get sucked or do 'the sucking many times in one evening. It isn't just a question of your own spouse being able to do it again, because there are several men, and they don't all come at the same time--at least not after the first round to take the edge off. And I've even developed a taste for cunt--though, frankly, it's not my preference.
"Well, that's not quite entirely true. There is one wife, Joanna, who really turns me on. Enough so that it worried me 'a little, and I'm glad that we rotate couples so that I don't have a chance to be with her so much that I'd risk really falling for her emotionally. I don't know. She could eventually prove a sort of problem. I'd resisted making love with Joanna for many months. You know how it is. It's one thing to know you're tucking someone just for the fun of it; but when you meet someone who just turns your guts to jelly--that can be dangerous. Then you're talking about emotional involvement. I don't know why one person should freak another more than someone else does; I don't think anybody knows for sure other than that catchall term, chemistry. I've not mentioned this to Mark, frankly. I don't know what I'd say to him anyway: 'Hey, guess what? I think I could fall in love with Joanna'? There's just something about her that makes me feel like I'm standing on hot coals, something piercing and magnetic, like being so mesmerized by a plane's propeller that you walk right into it and get sliced to ribbons. Yeah ... that's what Joanna's like. She's a threat I can't resist. Yet, I try. I do. She's married too, but they have kids. It's not as if we were all teen-agers with our first crush; we're responsible adults who are working out our marriage problems in the most practical way possible. Maybe if I'd gone down on Joanna the first time I spotted her, this whole thing wouldn't have gotten so blown out of proportion in my head. Now, my nerves are like eggshells whenever she's near me. So far, she hasn't pushed me about it ... but I can tell that she knows, she senses how attracted I am to her.
"The first time we made it together, and that was just a couple of months ago, it was almost fated--we were the only two left out of the entire four couples who were still horny and still had the strength left to do something about it. Even Mark had conked out on the couch. It was like some kind of bizarre marathon Joanna and I had going between us. We just weren't ready to quit lovemaking and there wasn't anyone left. She was lying very near to me on the thick rug, and before I really realized what was happening, she had leaned over and kissed me with such 'a dominant vigor that it was almost like a man's kiss. My entire body suddenly felt charged again, vibrant with sensations, and she continued to kiss me, running her soft hands across my abdomen, my aching breasts hungry for her mouth to kiss them. My own hands seemed to have a will of their own, wandering delightedly across the curves and valleys of her magnificently smooth body. Joanna has a body that begs to be loved; full and ample, yet not an inch of fat on her. She makes Venus look like a matronly slob!
"Finally, she broke the kiss and began to tongue my ears, my neck, her hands playing with my breasts while she licked my arms, my belly, the backs of my knees, and the insides of my thighs ... maddeningly near to my vulva. From time to time, she would draw her body back along my own, pushing her breasts against mine, and kiss me again, letting her expert tongue rove knowledgeably inside my mouth. Finally she slowly slid down my body, kissing me and touching me everywhere, down to my dripping and waiting cunt. I moved slightly, giving her greater access, and watched her as she knelt before me between my legs, running her fingers up and down my burning snatch. I was ready to be loved yet again, anxious to feel her marvelous mouth licking at my pussy. Her own slickness glistened between her legs as she brought her face downward, closer and closer to my feverish cunt, and I lay back then, closing my eyes to await the first touch of Joanna's knowing mouth upon my snatch.
"I felt her breath first, hot and rapid; then I slowly realized that her breasts were resting upon my thighs and that was an incredibly warm and cushioning feeling--though why I should have thought it was any different than any other woman's, I don't really know. I'd been made love to by women before ... but not like Joanna. Then she kissed me softly upon my twitching clitoris--sweetly, lovingly, and tenderly. And then she began to wash my sticky cunt with her tongue; beginning from my rectum she brought the flat of her tongue up slowly all the way back up to my still-sensitive clit. You'd have thought that I'd have been all sucked out, too sensitive to endure yet another sucking. But I wasn't. Her hot tongue became a scoop and she darted in and out of the folds of my cunt, sampling the drying fluids of our passion, occasionally moaning into my fat vaginal lips. I was unable to suppress a sharp intake of breath at the divine sensation she was providing, and she reached up both of her hands and began to caress my breasts again as she lovingly washed my cunt with her tongue.
"Unable to just lie there, doing nothing with my greedy mouth, I finally maneuvered myself into a sixty-nine position with Joanna and avidly thrust my face right into her sopping cunt. I suppose there's something rather narcissistic about two women going down on each other, but I. felt that every time I licked at her clit, or darted my tongue up into her vagina, she was doing the same thing to me.
"I really don't know how long we made love to each other--it seemed gloriously endless. Sucking slowly, calmly, and finger-fucking each other, I had a great sense of euphoria and knew that with the orgasm Joanna would give me, I would become sated; I relished her cunt almost as much as a cock, and in a strange, curious way, perhaps even more--but in a different sort of way. What helped, of course, was that Joanna perfumed the insides of her thighs and that was terribly stimulating; and I don't know what kind of a douche she uses, but her cunt is the sweetest-tasting thing I've ever had in my mouth! It's kissy and sucky, not just hot pulsing flesh. There is something terribly desirable about her snatch, something that just makes me feel that I'd like to leave my face there forever and suck away my life. It's hard to explain, but whatever it is, Joanna's got it. Every little indentation and fold of flesh was a heady delight to nibble at, to lick or suck. She kept her crotch closely cropped, and that helped, too--you didn't have to keep pushing pubic hairs out of the way to get to her cunt, and it's nice to know that you won't have those stubborn curly hairs caught between your teeth when it's over.
"One of the guys must've gotten all hot watching us 'cause the next thing I knew, my hips, were being pulled upward and I was on my knees. I still had my face buried in Joanna's snatch, and I could feel her tongue still on my clitoris, but now there was the added bonus of feeling a big cock trying to work its way up into my snatch. Why the hell he picked my cunt instead of Joanna's, I don't know. Maybe he could tell that I wouldn't let go of her pussy no matter what anybody did!
"But it was the wildest fucking yet! To know that you're getting sucked by a thrilling woman's lips, and you've got a great big hard cock up your vagina, while a)J- the tune you've got your mouth wrapped around a delicious pussy ... oh wow! I began finger-fucking Joanna in rhythm to how I was getting fucked, and we all squirmed together in unison, humping and grinding together like one organism. I don't know how the hell Joanna was able to continue sucking me with that huge dick up my cunt, but she did. That big tool was sliding in and out of my sopping snatch like a precision instrument, spreading the walls of my vagina and filling up my hole to perfection even as I could feel Joanna's mouth working on me. I dimly realized that she was licking at the guy's cock and balls at the same time and that when her hands weren't caressing my tits, they were cupping his balls or kneading his ass. I could feel her hole expanding with her passion and I slipped another finger up inside of her; finally I had four fingers up her vagina and I could feel her slick juices beginning to form a sort of crust around my knuckles, sort of like how a facial mask makes your skin all taut.. It was the most divine screwing and sucking imaginable, and while I finger-lucked her, sucking on her cunt, I also spread the cheeks of her ass and with my other hand gently stuck my index finger up her rectum. She was so hot I could've fallen in. Her ass was almost as hot and ready as her vagina! And I could tell by the way she humped and writhed beneath me that she was really grooving with getting it in her ass at the same time. Like I had every one of her holes plugged, getting it fucked or sucked or both.
"Of course, it couldn't last forever. As I felt her rectum begin to pucker at my finger, felt her vaginal ring begin to grab at my fingers, I knew she was coming ... and that was enough for me. I began to push against the cock to let him know it was now or forget it. I felt his hot sperm gushing into my cunt even as I spasmed around his dong, a great big pulsing creature, my clitoris leaping within Joanna's mouth, and her cunt and ass clutching and gripping at my fingers, her clitoris bobbing against my lips and tongue.
"And that was it for me for that night. I let myself just fall in a heap and almost instantly fell into a deep, satisfied sleep.
"Mark and I have been very pleased with our lives since we joined the club. He gets new girls to luck whenever he wishes, and doesn't have to worry about telling me lies, or getting caught, or a divorce ... and I never have to worry about getting enough sex just because Mark's tired. In fact, if anything, since we joined the club, Mark has tuned into a regular stud--it's as if eating creates an appetite for more.
"Yes, of course, Joanna might prove to be a delicate matter for me, but I'm sure that I'll be able to handle that when and if it ever really becomes a problem.
"Sex clubs may not be everyone's cup of tea, but they've worked miracles for Mark and me. I don't think we could've stayed married without our little group sessions!"
Liz R---- is absolutely right in her last statement; she and her husband couldn't have stayed married without their involvement with what she refers to as their "little group sessions." The latter, however, cannot be considered as anything more than temporarily supporting crutches that will let both the subject and her husband down once these same Sessions become commonplace and unfulfilling.
Chapter Two: The Motto
"Have you ever gotten to the point where you get sick and tired of sticking your cock into the same goddamned cunt?
"Well, that's the way I was feeling along about last March. It wasn't as though I didn't love Susie. Hell, love means a lot more than just wanting to luck somebody. At least to me it does.
"But Susie sort of had this idea that since I wasn't as interested in fucking as I had been on our honeymoon, that I didn't love her anymore. And she got to be sort of a bitch on the subject. So bad, that at times, I just didn't feel like going home anymore. But when you've got three kids that you love, and a wife that you love, and a house that needs to be paid for, you try to work problems out instead of just rebelling against them.
"We were in bed one night--Susie and I--when she moved over against me. To tell you the truth, I'd had a lousy day at work, and I was bone tired. I just didn't feel like fucking around. But I half-heartedly responded to her feeling around on me. But then the thought came into my mind: I was faking being excited, and why in the hell should I have to fake anything at all with my wife. Why not talk over what I was, or better wasn't, feeling?
"Susie sensed my preoccupation and she moved back to her side of the bed. 'You're just not interested anymore, are you?' she asked. And her voice sounded so goddamned sad that she made me feel like a heel.
"But here was my chance to bring our problem out into the open. I turned to her.
"'Susie,' I asked. 'Do you remember the first time we fucked?' She nodded.
"'Remember how excited we both were?' I continued. And the thought of that first screw with Susie got me all sort of excited. It had been so good, so wonderful, that I'd never had anything to compare it with. 'Well, let me tell you something,' I added. 'I love you just as much now, or more, than I did that night we first screwed around.'
"And I meant what I was saying. Susie and my first fuck hadn't been an 'in-the-sack-ten-minutes-after-we-met' luck. We'd been going together for almost ten months, and had already agreed to get married, before she let me stick my prick in that gorgeous cunt of hers. So when I said I loved her as much as I did then, it meant something.
"I think she realized that because all of a sudden the pouting look left her face. She looked at me and moved a little closer.
"'Is this all leading up to something?' she asked, and I could tell by her voice that she was willing to talk about our problem.
"'Yeah,' I answered, still a little hesitant to say what I wanted to. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt her.
"'Well, go ahead,' she said. 'Let's get it out in the open.'
"I took a deep breath and started talking. 'The truth is, Susie,' I said, 'I'm bored. Sexually bored. And that doesn't mean I don't love you. It just means that I'd like to have some different experiences, some kicks. I want both of us to have them. You must be a little bored with me by-this time, too.'
"Sure enough, she started to cry. But I got her out of that fast. And after a reasonably short time, I got her to admit that she wasn't all that excited about my fucking her either. She just had always thought that love meant wanting to screw all the time. I got her out of that idea right off.
"Eventually, though, we- got around to talking about the real problem. 'What's your solution?' she asked.
"Again I took a deep breath. 'I think,' I said, not knowing how in the hell she'd take it, 'we ought to include other people in our sex lives.'
"You would have thought I'd hit her in the face with a tire jack. She just stared at me. Then, instead of crying like I thought she'd do, she started to laugh. 'You mean "swapping",' she said matter-of-factly.
"'I don't know what I mean,' I said. 'It's just that some guys at work are all the time talking about them and their wives fucking around with other people, and they say it helps them at home. They don't fuck as often, but when they do, they want to.'
"Susie got out of bed. Marched out, as a matter of fact. For a couple of seconds I thought she was going to leave the bedroom, walk out of the house, and never be seen again. But that wasn't what she was up to.
"She went to the dresser drawer and pulled out a newspaper. Then she came back to the bed. She handed it to me. It was a copy of an underground newspaper that came out of Los Angeles, and the paper was opened to the personal ads section.
"'Look at the third ad down in the fourth column,' Susie said. I threw her a suspicious look and then looked for the ad she was talking about.
"'I bought the paper last week,' she explained before I could locate the ad. 'I just wanted to see how freaky Los Angeles was.'
"Susie's interest in Los Angeles stemmed from the fact that we were heading out there for our vacation in just three weeks. Actually, it was more of an obligation than a vacation. My mother and father had retired out there, and we were going to take the kids out to visit them.
"I found the ad. 'French Culture Club (and we don't mean paintings or cooking) has openings for broad-minded couples.' Weekly get-togethers. Visitors to the Southland welcome.' Then an address was given.
"'That means they suck,' I said to Susie. Christ, already, just from reading the ad, my cock was getting hard.
"'I know that,' Susie said. 'I thought it was interesting, but I didn't want to say anything.'
"Well, the result was we talked for another hour about whether we wanted to try the 'French Culture Club' when we were in Los Angeles. The decision was affirmative; in fact, affirmative to the degree that I had to hoist my ass out of bed and write a letter that very night.
"And then, brother, I got back in bed and fucked Susie for what seemed like four hours. We hadn't had a luck session like that in years.
"'See,' I said, when we finally were beat, 'it's working already.'
"'I'll say,' Susie said, and grinned as wide as she could. 'I think my pussy's going to be sore tomorrow.'
"I grinned hack. 'You say the nicest things, baby,' I said. We both laughed and finally went off to sleep.
"An answer from the FCC came in just ten days. It came in the form of a nice letter from a guy named Dave H--. He was, he said, the president of the club. And, he added, he would be glad to introduce both of us to the club. There was, though, a sort of initiation that new people had to go through, whether they intended being members for one week or for the rest of their lives.
"Dave concluded with the statement that if we were interested we should call him when we got to Los Angeles. And finally, a postscript said that their club was dedicated to the arts of the tongue. If we wanted to luck the standard old cock-in-the-pussy method, we had to save that for at home--or find another club.
"Susie and I talked the situation over and agreed that since we both liked to use our tongues on each other, it might be a real kick to use them on other people.
"'And,' Susie added. 'It's sort of nice reserving outright fucking for when you're alone. I mean you keep something for yourselves.'
"It was all set then. We'd call as soon as we hit Los Angeles. Mom and Dad would handle the kids white Susie and I were out licking and sucking.
"Let me tell you, the ride to California was the longest I'd ever taken in my life. Or at least it seemed to be. Or maybe I was just that anxious to get to Los Angeles. And the kids seemed extra noisy. All the time, noisy. I kept wishing I'd brought a rubber hammer along.
"But finally, we passed the border into California and I knew 'we were close. We only had the Mojave Desert and the huge sprawling suburbs of Los Angeles to get through.
"Of course, before we could get to the FCC, we had to go through the family routine. You know, the kissing and the long bull sessions about what everybody back home was doing. It was enjoyable, and it was great seeing the folks again, but if the truth be known I was anxious as hell to get on the phone and contact good old Dave.
"Finally, two days after -we arrived I managed to get off by myself and to a phone. I was sweating like hell while I was dialing Dave's number. It rang five times before it was answered. And Dave didn't answer. His wife did.
"I didn't know whether to say what I was calling about or just leave my name and tell her I'd call back. I didn't know if she knew what was going on or not.
"But the woman took care of that. After I stuttered around for a while, she laughed, 'You're calling about the FCC, aren't you?'
"'Yeah,' I answered. 'Is it all right to talk?'
"'For heaven's sake,' the woman, whose name was Katy, said, 'you act like we're doing something illegal.'
"'Isn't it?' I asked.
"Katy laughed. 'I guess it might be,' she said, 'but I don't think anybody's about to bother us.'
"Her tone of voice settled me down. I explained that I had sent the letter and Dave had invited this call.
"'I know all about it,' Katy said. 'And Dave gave me this message for you. You and Susie are to be at our house tomorrow night at eight o'clock. And be prepared to, be initiated.' Then she laughed again. She sure as hell was happy about things.
"I took the address and directions on how to get there. I was still nervous as hell when I hung up. But I wasn't alone. When I got back to the house and told Susie that everything was set, she started to shake right off. 'You sure we ought to go through with this?' she asked. She was having a case of cold feet.
"'If we don't at least try it,' I told her, 'we'll probably regret it all our lives. At least if we try it we'll have it out of our systems. And who knows, it might be great.'
"That was the front I put up, but the next night when I pulled the car in front of Dave and Katy's house, I was even more nervous than I'd been the night before.
"Susie was sitting right next to me, her arm wrapped around mine. Just as I was ready to get out of the car, she looked up at me. 'Kiss me once first, Steve,' she said.
"I don't know what I was expecting, but after we rang and the door was opened, I was glad we came. Dave and Katy turned out to be damned good-looking people. Susie and I had discussed the possibility that everybody in the club might be old and fat, and that would be a hell of a turnoff. But Katy was one damned fine-looking woman. More full-bodied than Susie, but good-looking. She was the type of woman you'd call stacked. And she had beautiful, shoulder length auburn hair. The kind you just like to run your hands through while you're running your tongue over a big set of tits and into a nice, warm, juicy cunt.
"I could tell that Susie wasn't disappointed either. Dave was more than a decent-looking guy.
"'Nobody else will be here until nine,' Dave said. 'We thought it'd be good to get you, here early so we could get acquainted. And to get a couple of drinks under both your belts.'
"Both Katy and Dave were so damned nice and easygoing that my nervousness sort of melted away. I liked both of them, and was slowly warming up to the fact that we'd be switching partners in less than an hour.
"And as I looked over at Susie, I knew from the way her conversation was getting more and more animated that she was feeling the same.
"I kept glancing at my watch while we were sitting there talking and drinking. Finally, after my fiftieth glance, Katy laughed. 'Are you nervous or just anxious" she asked.
"'Both,' I admitted. 'I feel like a kid who's never had a fuck.'
"Finally, the doorbell started ringing and people started showing up. By nine-thirty, there were twenty people in the room, including Susie and myself. And they were a pretty good-looking group of people. Course, there were a few weeds in the garden, but not enough to bother anybody.
"After everybody had been served a drink, Dave stood up and made a little speech. Susie and I were introduced. Dave told us to stand up and we did. We'd been told earlier that part of the initiation was that we had to do anything anybody told us-anybody.
"So Susie and I stood up, both feeling sort of sheepish. And then the next thing we were told to do really threw both of us.
"'You might as well get out of- those clothes,' Dave said. 'So we can get a good look at you.'
"Now I'd never stripped in front of a mixed group in my life. I mean, at least a mixed group that was assembled for only one thing: sucking. But I'd been told to do it, and if I wanted to be in the ball game, I had to obey the rules.
"I looked at Susie and knew she was feeling the same way I was. And when she saw me reach for my belt buckle, she started the long, hard trip to total nudity.
"'We'd like to see a good old-fashioned sixty-nine between you two,' Dave said when Susie and I were down to the buff. I have to admit that I had a hard on already.
"I walked over to Susie and took her in my arms. I kissed her hard, forcing my tongue into her mouth. That always loosened her up a little. Then I started to slide slowly down her body, letting my tongue run all over her neck, her breasts, down her belly, lower, until I nuzzled into her pubic hair. And then I reached up and spread her legs far enough so that I could get my tongue to her cunt lips. I ran my tongue over them, feeling the wetness. Susie was already excited.
"Then I stood up. Susie started in on me. Her tongue washed over my chest, teasing the nipples, then down my belly, into the hair, and then, wham! she took my cock into her mouth. All the way. She got a round of applause from the crowd for that. They were attentive.
"She eventually stood up and we grabbed each other once more before getting down on the floor in a sixty-nine position.
"I made the first move. I stiffened my tongue and forced it as far as I could up into Susie's cunt. She moaned and twisted on my tongue and then reached for my cock with her mouth.
"It was amazing how goddamned easy it was to give head in front of people. You weren't even aware they were there after a short time. Susie sucked on my cock, licking my balls, sucking on them gently, running her tongue down on that soft area between my balls and my asshole, and then back to the cock. All the way down the throat.
"And I wasn't any slouch either. Susie had the greatest tasting cunt in the world. I already told you she was juicy from excitement. Well, the more I licked and sucked on her cunt, the wetter and the juicier she got, and the more excited.
"I alternated on her snatch, first ramming my tongue up into her, moving it around as much as possible, then pulling out and very gently grabbing her clit with my teeth. Just a gentle bite or two, followed by a good washing of her cunt lips with my tongue. She was really enjoying it. And when I moved farther back on her and started to tease her puckered little asshole with my tongue, she just about went out of her skull. And it gave her an idea.
"The next time she was working down from my cock to my balls, to that tender little area down there, she went still farther. She rimmed my ass. Bigger. than hell she rimmed my ass. Didn't stick her tongue in or anything like that, but she licked the outside. It was a wild feeling. I think I enjoyed the idea that she'd do it to me more than the actual feel I got from the rim.
"I was just getting into the swing of things when Dave sort of pulled us apart. Let me tell you, he had trouble getting us to stop.
"The initiation so far wasn't too bad, and the fact is it never did really get rotten or anything. Just exciting.
"The next thing on the agenda was for Susie and me to give head to two of the people in the room. Total strangers. Or at least almost total. Our first venture in the game.
"Dave, as president, claimed the 'honor' for himself and Katy. That didn't bother me one bit. I'd been champing at the bit since I'd been there to start in on that beautiful body of Katy's.
"The whole group moved to the master bedroom, where there was the biggest bed I'd ever seen in my life. Honest to pete, it was huge. It made even a king-size bed look small. It had to be custom-made.
"Katy stripped down and sat on the end of the bed. 'Novice,' she said, 'lick my pussy.'
"Christ, I just about shot off when she said that. I moved toward her and got down on my knees. She was sitting there with her legs spread, her pussy wide open for my tongue.
"I didn't waste any time. I shoved my tongue right up into the neat little hole. I felt the muscles of her cunt grip at my tongue. Christ, she was talented with that cunt of hers.
"After I'd washed my tongue all over her pussy, she pushed my head away and boosted herself up on the bed. She laid flat out and with a hand gesture indicated I should get busy.
"Before I got back to licking and sucking on that full, lush body, I glanced over at Susie. She was hard at work on Dave. He, too, had stripped off his clothes and was lying on his back on the bed, his hands behind his head. Susie was leaning over him, working like hell with her tongue on his balls, on his cock, up his belly. She looked like she was having a ball.
"But I had action of my own, so I got started. I was determined that I was going to do such a good job of eating out Katy's cunt that she'd do nothing but come and then come again.
"I licked, I sucked, I kissed and bit. Everything. And Katy moaned and groaned and twisted around on that bed like she was having the time of her life.
"It took me about ten minutes of sucking to get her first rocks off. She moaned louder and I worked harder, moving as fast as I could at her cunt, with my teeth on her clit. Then sucking on the clit until she arched her back, moaning like somebody was killing her. She grabbed my head and mashed her cunt against my face. I worked my tongue furiously in her until her whole body shuddered. Wave after wave went through her body as she had a really giant come. I was so damned proud of myself I wanted to stand up and accept a medal.
"But I wasn't done with the initiation yet. And neither was Susie. Not by a long shot. We licked and sucked on so many people, and in turn got licked and sucked by so many other people, that when we headed home, we were the two most tired, but happiest, couple in the world."
Undoubtedly one of the most common expressions that one hears in the modern, helter-skelter, streamlined, rat-race times is the complaint: "I'm bored." It is often veiled in other terminology ("It's been a long week--and it's only Monday"; "What time is it?"; "It's a drag": "I wish we could go somewhere [we haven't been]"; "Yawn!"), but the meaning is unmistakably the same.
The reasons for such seemingly universal ennui and tedium can be probably honed down to no more than two in number, into which all the proffered excuses must invariably fall. The first reason is that within a system where the ethic is one of Darwinian "survival of the fittest," or "dog eat dog," the average man or woman has little time for anything other than struggling to survive; the member of such a system cannot afford to do anything other than try to make a living, and more often than not he is making a living by doing something he is totally disinterested in. The second reason is that, again, within such a system where specialization is considered to be the prime "survival weapon"--with the wages received being the "ammunition"--a man's sphere of interests is perforce limited to stringing telephone cables, digging ditches, editing material that deals with nothing other than the various functions and dysfunctions of motorcycle carburetors, selling brushes, or balancing financial statements at a pet-food factory, to list but a few "specializations." And this compartmentalization of "interests" and "knowledge" reaches even into the arts and sciences: there are art frame "specialists" who know nothing about art, there are ad copy "writers" who have never read a book in their life, there are ballet slipper designers who have never seen a ballet, there are poets, and "poets," and "limerickers"; there are optometrists, occultists, and opticians, there are ear-nose-and-throat specialists and dermatologists and proctologists. There are splinters and wedges of men galore; there are very few well-rounded, or "multi-interested," individuals who have no tithe to get imbedded in the morass of boredom, who cannot get so imbedded, because they are too busy rolling rapidly over boredom froth one interest to another, and still another.
J. C. F. von Schiller commented in his Die Jungfrau von Orleans (Joan of Arc):
Against stupidity the very gods Themselves contend in vain.
Almost a century later, Nietzche, in his The Antichrzst, paraphrased Schiller. He wrote: "Against boredom even the gods themselves struggle in vain."
Equating boredom with stupidity might be somewhat harsh--particularly in cases where boredom is concurrent with the performance of duties essential to the previously mentioned survival--however, in cases in which boredom is the state of oppressing blankness that fills one's leisure time it would be neither harsh nor false to equate boredom with ignorance.
Among the first recorded words of the subject of this case history, Steve I--, are the words "sick and tired of ... " The next case in this study finds the subject, Kristi T--, stating: "Heading that list [of things she doesn't like] is boredom ... " Neither of the two subjects appears to consider the fact that it is not so much "the run of the mill" sex with one and the same partner that is responsible for his and her boredom, but rather the absence of any individual interests and interests in common outside sex. In other words, the only meeting ground that was common to both Steve and his wife Susie was the bed, and having no avocational involvement in anything, it is not surprising that their minds turned toward the idea of breaking the boredom with which they were taken by seeking more sex and with others.
The fact that their orgiastic involvement with the West Coast "club," with which they got in contact via an ad in one of the underground papers, and which was apparently formed by Dave and Katy, did not eliminate their boredom is supported in the following portion of the subject's narrative where he states that after returning home from their "vacation" things got worse. And this, of course, prompted them again to get away from the boredom of their sexual life by seeking another form of sexual outlet, i.e., an outlet outside their marriage.
This type of reasoning for "escaping from boredom" could be compared to the reasoning of (for example) a service-station attendant who gets bored with pumping gas in a residential neighborhood, where he only comes in contact with the same old neighborhood coupes and sedans, and decides to get transferred to a downtown service station where he will have a variety of vehicles to service. Or of a man who gets tired of getting in and out of his own car whenever he feels like going for a drive and tries to solve his problem by renting a different car whenever he has the chance. Or of a commercial artist who finds drawing single-frame cartoons "a drag" and turns to creating comic strips. True, in two of the preceding examples the state of boredom is concurrent with making a living; even so, the escape is misdirected and brings the bored individual in a roundabout way back to the problem he had in the first place.
Which appears to be exactly the case with the subject of this case and his wife. It is true that during their involvement with the first "club" they experienced an escape feeling from the ritual of their daily living; it is true that physically they were pleased with the hedonistic affair. It is also true, however, that these feelings of escape and pleasure were of a temporary nature and of a nature that did neither solve the oppressiveness of their boredom with each other nor improve their state of happiness (an emotional condition as opposed to pleasure, a physical or physiological condition); if anything the first venture into group sex--limited though it was to oral copulation because of a somewhat peculiar "code of ethics" of that particular club--if anything, then, This first venture imbued them with a stronger feeling of restlessness and discontent with each other. The fact that immediately after their experiences with oral sex at Dave and Katy's house, the subject claims to have had an extraordinarily satisfying coital union with his wife suggests that they were voyeuristically and exhibitionalistically affected by the mass orgy in which they had participated, and that it was the image-memory of that orgy that had aroused them to a plateau where, for a moment, they forgot their boredom with each other.
As the last portion of Steve I------'s narrative reveals, this image-memory was of a temporary nature and before long, upon their return home, they realized that they again had to seek out a "club" to cater to their desire to become involved with strangers.
It is probably the search for the new and the novel as a means of improving the old that prompts a great many dissatisfied couples to embark into the world of specialized sex clubs; unfortunately, in spite of the subject's comment that he and his wife have found what they wanted, the new and the novel shortly becomes the old and the boring, and the search must start out anew.
"For the first couple of days after our 'suck' night, Susie's and my reactions were the same. We both were glad we had gone through it, but it seemed sort of sordid. You know, too freaky to be believed. But as time passed, and things settled back into a routine, the night we'd spent at Dave's and Katy's house became more and more an exciting memory. And by the time it was time to leave California and head back home, we were almost to the point of regretting that we didn't have one more chance to go back.
"But we didn't. We just packed our bags, tied the kids in the back, seat, kissed everybody good-bye--about a thousand times--and then headed home.
"It was funny, but every time I thought of that night of really far-out sex, I'd get a roaring hard on. It had worked. I mean, that same night, despite having come in several different broads mouths, I got hold of Susie and we fucked for what seemed like hours. It was great. I guess it was the feeling almost of frustration of having only mouth action and never being able to have that great feeling of sliding my cock into a tight, warm pussy that got me so damned hot.
"Anyway, we got back home and things settled into the same old rut. Only now it was even worse, because we were aware of exciting things happening in other places.
"It got to the point we both, Susie and I, figured we'd have to do something or else go nuts. And our solution was simply to start a suck club of our own.
"Now, knowing where we were living at the time makes the prospects of starting a suck club pretty remote, but remember, I already told you that some guys where I was working were already doing a little swapping. So I figured that if there were people around who liked to swap, there were probably just as many who'd like to suck, kiss, lick, and bite.
"We called our club SKLB, for the aforementioned 'suck, kiss, lick, and bite.' We put an ad in the local daily paper, using about the same wording as Dave's ad in Los Angeles. Would you believe that we didn't get one legitimate answer. Those that did answer thought we'd be having evenings of tea and discussion of Impressionist paintings. Holy shit!
"So that's when I snuck into the one 'dirty book store' we had in town and bought one of those 'swingers' newspapers.' Had to damned near wear a disguise to go into the place. The minister of our church lived right down the street from the place--and he's always preaching against it--so if he'd caught me, my whole family would have been dead.
"But he didn't. I got home, and Susie and I started to look through the ads. We found only one that was listed for a location that was anywhere near a reasonable driving distance away. About a hundred and fifty miles. So I dropped a letter to the address.
"We didn't get a letter back; we got a phone call back. Within three days of our mailing our letter. The guy who called gave his name as Tony and said he had a turkey ranch out in the sticks, so if Susie and I wanted to, we could visit and do just about anything we wanted without any worry about being caught.
"That sounded all right to me, but the thing that bothered me was the sound of the guy's voice. He didn't sound like the type of guy who would turn Susie on. So I made the deal with him that if Susie and I did come and that if either of the couples wanted to back out, there'd be no hard feelings. Tony agreed readily.
"We made arrangements for the following weekend. Got a baby-sitter and the whole mess. Saturday found us on the road, heading for a turkey farm. I was more than a little afraid that the whole weekend would end up being a turkey.
"Boy, was I wrong. We had a ball. Pardon the pun. But before we could start having fun, we had to drive through some of the worse terrain I'd ever seen. And the goddamned road we were on wasn't much better than a cow path. Now I understood why Tony had been so precise in his instructions on how to get to the ranch. All I could think of was how did they find the place to buy it? And how in the hell did they get their turkeys out?
"Tony and Diane's house was a seventeen-room mansion that was unbelievable. Out in the middle of nowhere. And it was beautiful. Susie couldn't even talk for about a half hour after we got there. That's how impressed she was.
"And when I asked Tony how he got his turkeys out, without any hesitation he pointed to a hangar and said, 'We fly 'em out.' A goddamned refrigerated plane!
"Diane was thin, but she still had a decent size set of tits. And a good Set of hips. Nice and lush. She was a pretty gal. I was champing at the bit to get my mouth working on her, and I could tell that Susie wasn't hesitant about attacking Tony either. Also, on the other side of the coin; I was sure there weren't going to be any refusals on their part about giving me and Susie a few jollies either.
"We didn't do anything all Saturday afternoon except talk, look around the place and drink. The sex activities were set for that night, after dinner. And then Tony dropped the bombshell. All the domestic help was gone, he said, so we would be able to start in right during the meal. Then he suggested we all come to the table bare-ass naked. It sounded like a fine idea to me.
"Susie and I held hands as we walked down the staircase and through the large hallway toward the dining room. The tiles felt cold on our bare feet, and despite knowing that nobody but Tony and Diane were around, we were a little embarrassed about walking stark naked through all that fanciness.
"But as soon as we got to the dining room, we weren't embarrassed at all. Tony was standing by the bar, mixing drinks for the four of us. When he turned around, I couldn't help but notice that he had the biggest fucking cock I'd ever seen in my life.
"I turned right off toward Susie and her eyes were as big as saucers. She was ready!
"And then my part of the suck feast walked in from the kitchen. Diane was wearing nothing but a little apron that didn't hide a thing. And she looked so damned cute I wanted to grab her right there.
"I got the biggest surprise of my life after the drinks had been served, after we'd made a toast and then sat down to the soup. As soon as I was settled I felt this body sort of move up between my legs. And before I could even react, my legs had been spread and some mouth was sucking on my cock.
"I glanced over at Susie and from the look on her face, I could tell that she was having fun, too.
"I was just about ready to pull, up the tablecloth and look under the table when Tony spoke up. 'No fair looking,' he laughed. 'That's part of the fun. Not seeing who's taking care of you all during dinner.'
"Can you believe that I went through four courses, coffee, and dessert, and all the time somebody was licking on my nuts, sucking on my cock, rimming my ass, and doing a lot of ether great things. It was the best dinner I'd ever had, and believe me, I couldn't tell you one thing I ate.
"Finally, after the dessert had disappeared, Susie's and my benefactors were brought out from under the table and introduced. They were Diane's sister, named Donna, and her husband, Rick, who was the manager of the ranch. They too were a fine-looking couple.
"After the introductions, we were all ushered into the den, where drinks were served and a couple of joints were lit. It was the first time in our lives, that Susie and I had ever had pot, but we figured, what the hell, might as well try it.
"We did, and it was great. We didn't get really stoned, just got high enough to have everything sharpened for us. Like the touch of lips on my cock just about shot me up a wall after I'd had that pot. That's how good it was.
"After about an hour we adjourned to the bedroom. The place was fantastic. Mirrored from top to bottom, and even on the ceiling. Christ, it was like the whole world was watching you.
"Like I told you, we all were already naked, so it didn't take long before the action started once we got in the bedroom.
"I saw Tony head right for Susie and kiss her hard. Then he put his hands on her shoulder and gently eased her to a kneeling position. Then as soon as her mouth was on the same level as his cock, he lifted that monster and started to shove it at her. She took as much as she could, and honest to pete, it was only half gone. That's how big it was.
"I headed for Donna. Diane was just a little thin for me, but Donna was gorgeous. She looked exactly like her sister, only her body was fuller and lusher. She was a knockout. And she'd been the one who'd sucked on me all during dinner. So I owed her a few favors.
"I spread her out on some cushions that were on the floor. Then I started in on top and went right down the line. Her neck, her tits, her belly, cunt hair, down her thighs, her calves, and even her feet. Then I turned her over and started up the back of her legs, all over her ass, with just a quick dip of the tongue into her asshole, then up her back, into her ears. Man, it was a wild around-the-world, and I could tell she was enjoying it no end.
"I stopped for a few seconds, just to get my wind before starting in on the serious sucking. Everybody in the room was pretty well occupied. Susie was still working on that cock of Tony's, and he had his finger pushed up into her cunt.
"Rick and Diane were sixty-nining like crazy on the bed. I glanced up into the ceiling and could see everybody's reflection. It was the wildest thing I'd ever seen in my life.
"But I had something of my own to occupy my time. I dove between Donna's thighs and landed with my tongue straight up in her pussy. She was wet and juicy already and my tongue slid up into her easy as pie.
"I lifted her legs up, spread them and opened up that cunt to my tongue. I leaned over and started lapping. All over the lips, straight in as far as I could push it, and then back to the clit. She was a great-tasting broad. The best I'd ever had, including Susie, but don't tell her.
"Donna wasn't having any more of the solo performance though. She reached down and pushed my head away from her, then she got hold of my cock and pulled on it until I'd moved around.
"I settled down with my cock about an inch from her mouth. She reached over and took the whole fucking thing down her throat. In one swallow. That girl was one hell of a cock-sucker.
"I stuck my face back up against her pussy and we really went to town. Oh, Jesus, it was wonderful. I felt Donna come one time after another while I was sucking on her. And she had me near the peak too, although she was such a good cocksucker that she seemed to sense just when I was about to shoot off. She'd back off then and let me settle down a little. She wasn't about to have the evening end too early.
"This sucking and licking by couples went on for a long time, but then Tony started to change the script. He got down on his back and told Susie to sit on his thee. And while he was washing out her cunt with his tongue, he called Diane, his wife, over to him.
"I glanced over when he called and saw him stretched out on his back, his big hard cock standing straight up in the air.
"Diane went over there, pulling Rick along with her, and settled her pussy right down on that cock of her husband's. Christ, I'll bet that damned thing was just about pushing against her lungs, that's how big it was.
"Rick pulled in close and stuck his cock in Diane's face. She swallowed it with no trouble at all.
"That's when Donna nudged me and with a nod of her head indicated that we should go over and join the group.
"I didn't know where to start. But I decided that I wanted to get a taste of my wife. Her cunt was busy, but her asshole wasn't. I knew with a little maneuvering I could get at it, and she'd dig that the most.
"I got down on all fours, trying my best to get my tongue at Susie's asshole. Almost immediately, somebody was sucking on my cock. I turned around just long enough to see that Donna was back in place, wrapping her lips around the full length of my cock and moving her head furiously back and forth.
"Rick pulled his cock out of Diane's mouth and moved behind Donna. He squatted down and shoved his cock against her. I about shit when I realized that he wasn't fucking his wife in the cunt; he was shoving his pecker right up her ass.
"But I had more important things to think about than seeing some guy ass-fuck his wife. I turned back and started looking for Susie's asshole again with my tongue. She must have sensed what I was after, even with her back turned to me, because she moved back as far as she could. Finally, I could feel my tongue touching that little hole. Just reaching it. Then she moved back farther, and I got the tip of my tongue inside her asshole.
"That immediately gave her a huge come. Her whole body rocked with pleasure she was having. And me too. I came. Just from seeing Susie so excited, plus the pleasure of having my cock sucked so fucking well, I felt the come shoot out of my cock and into Donna's mouth. Hell, that didn't mean the end of the evening, it was just the beginning. When you're as turned on by things as I was that night, you're good for at least three good comes.
"Everybody, almost like on cue, seemed to shoot off about the same time Susie and I did. Diane was next after me. She still was impaled on that huge dong of her husband's and pretty soon she was thrashing around like she was crazy.
"Rick was next. He pumped his come right up his wife's ass. She liked that. She came almost as soon as he was finished. In fact, the only guy who didn't come was Tony. But he had his turns later on.
"My throat was so dry from all that sucking that I got up and went to the bar they had set up in the bedroom. I made Susie and myself drinks, and ended up as bartender for the whole group.
"We all got our drinks and sat around, resting up for the next bout. Susie and I were about to be the center of attention, all by ourselves.
"I guess you noticed that with all the sucking activity, when it came to outright fucking, the guys always went with their wives. Which was the way Susie and I wanted it. And now the group wanted to gee Susie and me fucking.
"For some reason, with all those mirrors, and with that whole group just sitting around watching while I started to fuck Susie, I was really turned on. I don't remember my cock ever being harder. And Susie was really wound up, too.
"I fucked her on her back, on her side, poised on her hands and knees. Every way I could think of. And it was a wild fuck. The best. Susie shot off at least five times, and when I finally got my rocks off it was so tremendous that I Just wanted to stay in that warm, wonderful cunt for the rest of my life.
"Susie and I got a small round of applause after our performance. And then it was Tony's turn.
"He made some comment about our group being basically a 'suck' group, and then proceeded to do something I had never in my fucking life seen before. He just started bending over, and the son of a bitch started sucking his own cock. I told you it was long, but Jesus, I'd never heard of anything like that.
"As soon as it was hard, though, Diane took over. She knelt in front of him, with her arms stretched wide away from her body, and she let Tony use her mouth like a cunt. He held on to her head and fucked furiously away at her mouth. I don't know how Diane took that punishment, but she seemed to enjoy it.
"A couple of more joints and a couple of drinks later and Rick and Donna took to the fucking couch.
"When they were finished, I was feeling hot again, so I headed for Diane. She was the only one I hadn't sucked on. Her pussy was smooth and gorgeous, and with me being less than really hot, I worked nice and slow and steady on that cunt, building her up to one come after another. I was enjoying her enjoyment.
"The night finally ended with everybody really exhausted. We just plopped down where we were and went to sleep. Susie and I were cuddled like a couple of kids. But Susie did make one comment before we fell off to sleep. 'I'm glad,' she said, 'that you're the one who belongs to me.'
"I guess I don't have to tell you that Susie and I went back to that ranch every chance we got. And the group got bigger and bigger. In fact, one weekend there were thirty-four people there. You've never seen fucking and sucking like that in your life.
"In fact, that club of ours got to be such a way of life for us, that we decided to move closer to the action. Tony got me a job, better than the one I had before, and now we're only about a half hour from all that great sucking action. And Susie and I are happier with our married life than we've been since the honeymoon.
"We've had only one bit of trouble ever since the club has been going on. This one broad came with her husband, and right off she started to bad-mouth the whole scene'. She threatened to call the police--hell, it would have taken them a day and a half to get to the place--and called us all perverts and rotten things like that.
"But we got even with her. And it was just up her alley. That gal ended up sucking off every guy there. Twelve of us, if I remember right. And she didn't just suck for a couple of seconds and then move on to the next guy. She sucked each of us until we shot off down her throat. That fucking broad must have swallowed at least a quart of come. And when she was finished, she wasn't bad-mouthing anymore. In fact, she was begging for more cock.
"It's really strange the way people react to our club. She was the worst. But other people, who liked the idea at first, when it got around to performing, were so shy that they virtually had to be forced. But once they got the hang of it, everything was fine.
"I guess it's just the way everybody was brought up. To hide how they feel and the things they'd like to do. That's not Susie's and my problem anymore, and we're sure a hell of a lot better off."
The optimism of the subject's last comment cannot be shared within the context of reality except in a strictly temporary sense. An arrangement such as the subject, his wife, and members of the "turkey ranch" club have will eventually either run into legal difficulties or will feel the oppressive shadow of boredom being cast even over its strongly hedonistic atmosphere.
Chapter Three: "Apartment Seven, Please"
"The first time I ever saw Brad it was at the pool, that overgrown bathtub we caned a pool, anyway, and immediately I feared and suspected that I was hooked.
"Now don't go tripping out, please, and think I'm laying a love-at-first-sight bit down; I'm no fool and love is one of those grossly magnified four-letter words. I'm twenty-six (yes, I know I don't look it), hip, and I've been around enough to know exactly what I like.
"Also, all the things I don't like, which is at least as important. Heading that list is boredom--a grand and general heading that certainly includes having a husband, children, living in some jerkwater town and all the other by-products of the American Dream Scheme. I left small-town U.S.A. when I was seventeen, in the car of a total stranger who might have turned out to be a murderer, for all I cared, impulsively getting in the new car when it stopped. It turned out that the stranger was a buyer for a big antique shop in Los Angeles, on his way home, and he had this 'thing' for girls with long red hair.
"Los Angeles! Hollywood! Oh, yes, I was down-home enough to sincerely believe they were waiting for me out there. After all, I'd been the lead in a few school plays, I had lucked out with mother nature, what with having the big green eyes, pretty pink skin, and lack of freckles that redheads are rarely lucky enough to get, and I had the kind of body that lost me my innocence before I was fifteen, all curves with the kind of tits and round little ass that just filled a man's big hands. Sure, Hollywood would be waiting open-armed, so I willingly allowed Ken whatever-his-name-was to drive me there with only the clothes on my back!
"Well, Hollywood turned out to be a little different than I'd expected, about the same as it must be for every other pretty girl who arrives full of hopes and youth. I landed there with a few bills, thanks to friend Ken, a modest wardrobe from the same source, and a cunt that ached from being fucked so often along the way that we arrived three days past schedule. Ken belatedly informed me that he had a wife and three kids nearby, deposited me in a crummy apartment-hotel in Hollywood, and split, promising to return in a few nights.
"It took me about an hour to convince the man at the desk that he should give me Ken's money, that I didn't want the lousy room. Finally I used my age to get me what I wanted. I had no intention of seeing Ken again now that I was in Hollywood--he was a link with my drab past, and burning bridges was my thing that week. As I walked along the famous Hollywood Boulevard, the small suitcase banging against my calf, I went to work on the other link--my name. I'd been saddled with May Beth all my life, and it was great fun to slowly wander through the shops and busy streets considering and rejecting new names. I finally settled on Kristi Y--, inspired by some new hair lotion advertised in the window of a fancy drugstore I passed. I was busy trying the name on for size when I bumped straight into a tall, handsome older man.
"I was too inexperienced to realize Vern had caused the 'accident.' 'Take it easy, baby,' he cautioned, reaching out to steady me.
"Feeling damn clumsy, I apologized, and before I knew it I was walking along with Vern, attempting to follow his smooth line. When we came to his shiny new car I got in without thinking, nodding when he suggested a pizza at some little hole in the wall a few blocks off the main drag. What with the pizza and the coke, it took us all of an hour and a half before we were tucked into a big bed, this time in a. nice, new motel not far from the Sunset Strip.
"Feeling fine, I relaxed and let him begin to make love to me. I had eaten, I had a bed for the night, at least, and, since I was still somewhat sore between my young legs, I figured I might as well be a little more sore. It couldn't matter much at that point.
"I may as well admit it, sex was a big letdown to me then. Oh, I wasn't counting the first time, when a guy pulled the rape bit on me. He was just too hot to listen to reason, and I had been playing a heavy game of prick-teaser. Besides, I knew enough to know that the first time wasn't usually that good for a girl. So after I'd bounced down to the nearest hippie clinic and gotten The Pill, I gave it another try. This time it was the captain of our school football team. Well, what Rob didn't know about girls could have filled a book, so of course I still wasn't thrilled. But I began to worry a little when I let a few other, older guys fuck me. Not that it didn't feel sort of good, but where was that big moment? Why did they always roll off leaving me feeling like I'd taken a wrong turn somewhere? I just couldn't get with it, but since every man I'd ever met seemed convinced that it was the greatest, I soon got pretty practical about the whole thing. A quick screw could get a pretty girl a lot of things in this world. I was just sorry that ecstasy wasn't one of them.
"Still, it was no big thing, and it felt kind of nice, the way Vern was kissing and sucking my pouty little nipples. I was even mildly sorry that he was soon going to stick his big prick in me and start pumping away--his tongue felt so good on my breasts.
"But Vern didn't seem to be in any more of a hurry than I was. He kept kissing and sucking my stiff nipples, and when finally he began to move, it was only to lower his face and begin kissing the smooth flesh of my belly and thighs. I was so dumb I had no idea what he was going for until he was there.
"Like I said, it felt good, his mouth roaming over my body. He moved lightly over the high line of my hip, then started to kiss his way up and down my legs until he had managed to wriggle between my thighs. I expected him to lift himself on to me, to mount me, but he remained as he was, between my thighs, kissing and licking higher and higher until his face was only a few inches from my wet cunt.
"That was another thing. I never had any trouble getting juicy. A few kisses and a feel or two and I'd be physically ready for some action. But it was different this time--very different. A funny heat penetrated my limbs, a crazy, gingery warmth. I found my breath catching and changing, and my thighs began to open wider, as if my little cunt needed a touch of cooling air.
"I felt positively slippery down there, too, and the feeling spread out so that I felt as if I'd been lubricated at every joint, that if I'd tried to walk I might very well move as if I'd been oiled.
"'That's beautiful, doll,' Vern's nearly forgotten voice drifted up to me. 'I always had a thing for red-headed dollies. Real redheads, with little red snatches. Now I'm going to show you how much you turn me on, Kristi, baby ... ' He moved even closer.
"I caught my breath as his tongue, wet and hot, dragged slowly across my stiffened clitoris. Then I began to moan pathetically, instantly so involved and controlled by what this stranger was doing to me that I ceased being myself at all. I was a thing of jelly, a moaning, writhing: doll, a slave to a knowing, eager tongue which dug into my cunt in a way no cock had ever known it. I don't know if, given the chance, all young girls 'would be turned on as I was, the first time a skilled tongue went to work on them, but I felt as if I were discovering sex for the first time. There, on my back, my ass wriggling all over that bed, I finally learned about ecstasy. Pinned- to the sheets which quickly dampened from my heated flesh, rough hands holding-me down, spreading me open, a feverish tongue, soft lips, sharp teeth, a mouth that sucked between kisses, I dissolved into' my first orgasm, only to be convulsing against his face a second and, finally, a third time before he let me go. Weak and panting, glowing and still shaking from the aftermath of his tonguing, I waited dizzily for Vern to climb on top of me and finally, sink his prick into me. I didn't mind the thought--I was, in fact, happy to return in part the pleasure I'd been given, but Vern merely rolled over and hugged me to his body, content and tired. I managed to glance down and was surprised to find that his cock was glazed with come.
"Vern kept me at that motel nearly a month. During that time I didn't do a damn thing except wait for him to return to me from wherever he earned his daily bread. I guessed he was married since he never spent a whole night with me, but when he was with me the world was a ball of fire and flowing honey. Once he stayed between my legs a full three hours--I timed it--and when he finally moved it wasn't at my request. With Vern I learned the subtle differences of being on a bed on my back while getting sucked as opposed to sitting on Vern's face or standing up, propped against a wall with one leg hooked over his neck. We spent every minute, almost, in sheer ecstasy. He didn't try to fuck me even once, but after the first week he did attempt to introduce a new innovation.
"I'd given up worrying about how Vern was getting his own kicks. I soon saw that his hand appeared to do the trick just fine. But he had a better idea. 'In the interest of a broader education and the sake of justice and all,' he broached one night while we were resting up, 'you're about to get a lesson in the joys of cocksucking, my love. Ever take a man'S cock in your mouth, Kristi?'
"I shook my head, frowning slightly. The thought turned me off.
"'Then there's always a first time, baby ... ' His big hand snaked around my head and pulled my face to his belly.
"His dick wasn't hard, but as I bobbed helplessly, protesting and attempting to evade him, the flesh rapidly hardened until his prick was huge and flush against my cheek. It smelled faintly of perspiration and semen, but all my struggling only brought me closer, until I was lightly making my protests to the broad tip of his fat cock.
"'Just open your mouth, brat. That's a good girl, open your mouth and suck.' His voice was amused and condescending, but his grip was like iron.
"I relaxed suddenly, because my body was being turned by Vern's free hand. Before I knew it Vern had parted, my thighs and was busily lapping at my cunt. I calmed down at once, and with his wonderful tongue doing crazy things to my cunt, I could hardly refuse to do as he asked. I opened my mouth and took the head of his dick between my lips. The mechanics were easy enough, but I nearly gagged on the reality of what I was doing. His enormous balls fell against my cheek and chin and there was something so repulsive about having his cock in my mouth that, in spite of the thrills drumming through my own blood, I was unable to continue sucking him after a moment or two. Instead, I let his cock slip from my mouth and used my hand 'on him instead, jerking on his prick until, shortly after I climaxed against his hot mouth, Vern spat a boiling load of thick come all over my hand and face ...
"Vern just didn't show up one day. I never did find out why. The rent was paid until the end of the month, I knew, and I had some money to last me till then if I didn't splurge. After waiting a whole day, I ventured out, and immediately got lost in the world of Hollywood dreams. I met someone who knew an agent, ended up getting more day-to-day work as an extra than anything, with a few modeling jobs thrown in, and started growing up. I had a lot of lovers, but as I found more and more men who were content to simply suck me off, I slowly stopped fucking at all, or fell back to that only as a last resort, or as a sort of payment. I was definitely finding out what I liked and didn't like.
"I met Nick the night of my twenty-second birthday, at a big Hollywood party. I'd done pretty well that year, what with a TV commercial which ran and ran and ran, until even I was bored with everything about it except the residuals. In fact, that was the keynote of that year--boredom, but with style. I had a nice pad in Westwood, a great wardrobe, and the future looked pretty good. I'd long ago given up the dream of Lana Turner instant stardom, but the pennies kept dropping from heaven, and I should have been on top of the world.
"But I was, indeed, bored. The wild life no longer thrilled me. I was looking for something, but I wasn't sure I knew what that 'something' was. Which, of course, made me doubly suspicious of everything that crossed my path ... Was this it? Did that mean something special? That kind of thinking. I'm sure that's why Richie affected me as much as he did. It was that kind of a year, and, what the hell, I was bored. I'd rather be dead than bored.
"Richie was a babe in arms, a twenty-year-old kid right off the farm, all big-eyed and innocent. I'd been dating his brother Nick since that big party, and Nick, at thirty, was a whole different story By that I mean he was Mr Hollywood, in the way that every other guy I was seeing was. He worked for an agency, and I let him take me home and screw the shit out of me because I was aware of his power. One more ad and I could pretty well retire for a year or so, or indulge myself with one more shot at a real acting job. Nick liked me well enough, I got the job, and we began to see a lot of each other. Nothing heavy, and I kept the sex to a minimum, but all the time we were together I kept waiting for that 'something' to come along who would--which would--magically relieve my growing boredom.
"I met Richie a few days after he arrived in town, innocently expecting his older brother, long unseen, to put him up while he searched for his place in the Big City. Richie was terribly cute, and a hundred years too young for me. Which may have been why he turned me on so much. Or maybe it was, that corn-fed maleness ...
"He was wide-eyed over meeting me, awed by my Max-Factor loveliness, and at first I'd only meant to have a little fun with him. He'd hardly ever fucked a girl, lost, as he was, on that Iowa farm, and he'd never even considered using his tongue on one, or anything that naughty. But I 'knew he wanted me--oh, did he ever! So, because I was bored, because he turned me on and I needed a new toy, I began to play with Richie. I turned him on with every little trick I knew, then refused to let that big dick of his anywhere near me. It had to be my way or no way, and the game continued until one night, sobbing with frustration and need, Richie fell to his knees, stuck his handsome face under my skirt, ripped the crotch from my panties, and frantically began to lap my steaming cunt ...
"He liked it. I loved it. He moved in with me the very next day, amusing his brother. At first I was amused, too, but that didn't last long. All of a sudden the boredom was gone, and I was completely wrapped up in Richie, in our hot moments together. On our second night together I found myself willingly tonguing and licking his beautiful cock, and an odd hunger gripped me. The magic I'd wanted was there, and I was overwhelmingly in love with Richie, more so, I secretly suspected at the time, than he was with me. All the tables were being reversed--Richie was beginning to be-my master, and I was lost to his boyish needs and moods; Our sex was frantic and beautiful, and I wouldn't let it be marred by the so-called 'normal' sex, a terrible waste, I felt, since children were out, and I wanted to fully experience the heat of his young loins in my mouth and throat, not have it splash uselessly against my sterile womb. I was astonished to find myself sickeningly jealous when I found he's been with other girls, and, shocking even myself, I somehow or other got us before a justice of the peace, as if marriage were the only ultimate way I had of holding this boy ...
"Richie, with the help of a few friends and more than a few females who also were attracted by his outdoor charm, grew up quickly. I found myself with a cranky, demanding boy-toy, a twenty-year-old kid who didn't want to work, was simply content to live with and off me, sneaking around when the desire for a straight piece of ass hit him, further humiliating me. I was too young, too good-looking for this scene, yet I put up with it and, masochistically, encouraged it to a degree. Jealous and hurt, I gave in and let him fuck me at first, but Richie, brat that he was, went out of his way to make it miserable for me, knowing I hated every minute of it. When he pushed me a little too far he would, clever child, push me down and work his tongue into my aching, ever needing crotch, at the same time forcing his beautiful prick between my suddenly silenced lips. It was an insane year. But I wasn't bored.
"By the second year Richie was, though, and I began to get a little desperate about holding on to him. It was crazy, but I was too caught up in the game to see just how crazy it was.
"I knew about his other girls--he made sure I knew about them, perhaps as a little private revenge for what my so-called 'love' had done to that innocent farm boy with the good intentions. I don't know. But one day he told me that he had this buddy who loved giving women head, and he thought it would be a 'kick' if I'd go to bed with the buddy and let him watch. A little drunk, reading the boredom in Richie's recent actions, I finally agreed, and that night was the start of a whole new game. Richie did watch, while his buddy--'buddy'; I'm sure he paid Richie well--used a pretty skillful tongue on my cunt. In spite of myself, hating myself, I came ...
"The next time the 'buddy,' a different one, brought a girl for my Richie. But I was too drunk and too excited to stop the whole thing. The four of us shared the whole bed, and I found myself vastly excited watching Richie fuck this strange girl. Afterward I ended up with my mouth wrapped tightly around my child-husband's cock, as if to reaffirm my claim ... It was a wild year.
"Once the swapping thing got under way there was no going back, especially since a greedy, sick part of me loved the whole thing. And Richie, like some infantile ringleader, kept the merry-go-round spinning faster and faster and faster ... Things were a blur, and finally Richie left, helping himself to the very best, the choicest morsels in the house before shipping me off to the funny farm, the 'private sanitarium,' the dump where, for a bundle, they get you off the goddamn merry-go-round ...
"The divorce cost nearly as much as the retreat, but my nerves were steel instead of jelly again, and I was simply grateful. I settled down to work during the next year. Again I was pretty lucky and even landed a small but steady part in a soap opera. That and a couple of decent commercials did the trick, and my bankbook began to get healthy again. I moved to the large apartment complex with the poor excuse for a pool, and threw myself into decorating the apartment.
"Everything was fine. Until I happened one day, while tripping along with my newest treasure in tow, a small antique table for the foyer, to see Brad at the pool. He was young, handsome in that same corn-fed way, and even before I knew his name; I knew he was trouble. From the immediate wetness of my unthinking crotch as I looked at Brad I knew I was heading straight for a taste of that trouble. Didn't someone once say something about how she who refuses to learn from history is forced to repeat it? Oh, well ...
The element of pathos that underlies the case of Kristi Y-- can only be understood in the light of a physiological basis. What at first appears to be a coarseness in the attitude toward life in general and toward traditional values--marriage, family, home--in particular is, in fact, a frustration growing out of what must be, by all indications presented in a relatively subtle manner by Kristi, nothing less than the subject's physiological frigidity. Several times in the course of her narrative she stresses her disinterest in regular intercourse, her strong preference--an obsession, almost--for oral lovemaking, i.e., cunnilingus and, eventually, fellatio, and admits to an inability to attain orgasm through intromissive coitus.
Robert E. Rothenberg, in his Medical Guide to Sex & Marriage, writes:
Frigidity is defined as a lack of sexual (orgastic) response in a female ... If a female has been born with a well-formed body and a normal glandular and reproductive system, there is no physiological basis for frigidity ...
Frigidity is a variable entity ...
Frigidity may be absolute or relative. Some women are unable to feel and enjoy sex under any circumstances and with all men. This is absolute frigidity and should be recognized as a neurotic response ...
Relative frigidity requires the advice of a family physician or a marriage counselor more than that of a psychiatrist ...
Considering Kristi Y-----'s adolescent period (nothing is known of her early childhood), she is, if anything, extraordinarily well-adjusted. She manifests no signs of neurosis, in spite of the fact that the frustration which she must unquestionably feel would have under similar circumstances driven another person to acute neurosis and/or psychosis. One cannot underestimate the role that her extrasexual interests (acting, interior decorating, etc.) have played in helping her to maintain a levelheaded existence.
Contrary to her repeatedly voiced rejection of marriage, and everything that is traditionally tied with it, the subject is, in fact, with controlled desperation hoping to find love, which she superficially downgrades (except in her affair with, and short-lived "marriage" to, Richie--an affair that was doomed from the start), a husband who can satisfy her and whom she can, in turn, satisfy, and a status of wife and mother. Her tragic affair with sadistic young Richie, which terminated in divorce and a period of psychiatric treatment--totally unnecessary--at a "private sanitarium," certainly did nothing to alter Kristi's negative outlook toward marriage.
It is peculiar that during her stay at the private psychiatric clinic no attempt had been made to determine the cause of her apparent frigidity. It is possible that--embittered as anyone understandably would be under the circumstances--she had refused to cooperate with the psychoanalyst who handled her case and, of course, were her frigidity not brought up, there was no way in which the problem could have been resolved.
Her second serious involvement, which she describes in the following portion of her narrative, can be considered serious only in that it portends to end as unrewardingly to the subject as her affair with Richie had ended. Brad, the tenant of one of the apartments in the building in which the subject resides, is obviously a man--if such a term can be used loosely in reference to him--who has no scruples about his lifestyle, his means of obtaining a livelihood, or about other people's feelings. He is not using sex as a diversionary pleasure source but rather as a tool with which he can sustain his leisurely existence. He holds sex orgies in his apartment, orgies for the participation in which he charges admission.
The subject's attraction to Brad is nothing more than physical infatuation, particularly understandable because of her relatively extended period of sexual abstention (following her aborted affair and marriage to Richie and her psychiatric treatment). Perhaps the most discouraging element in her relationship with Brad, as she describes it, is the apparent inclination on her part to agree to being used, if not abused, as she had once already been by her ex-husband Richie. That there is a masochistic tendency in Kristi cannot be denied; that this tendency is closely related to her frigidity is more than likely. Her rationalization--if a subconscious process of masochism can be called rationalization--is that she is incomplete as a woman because she is incapable of being satisfied by a man through regular coital relationship. and, reciprocally, of being able to satisfy a man; in any relationship, therefore, in which she becomes emotionally involved--i.e., "falls in love with the man"--her feeling of inadequacy catalyzes a feeling of guilt and the guilt demands compensation in the form of punishment, which creates the tendency toward masochism.
May E. Romm, in Judd Marmor's Sexual Inversion: The Multiple Roots of Homosexuality, sums up the development and evolution of masochism in the following words:
It is essential to recognize that [masochism] is not an inherent biological reaction to life. We cannot, in all truth, state that an infant reaches out for pain. Masochism must therefore ... be a reaction to frustration, in which the individual repetitively reaches out for pleasure or satisfaction and is continually blocked in his goal or punished for his attempts. In desperation, he may then erotize pain in an unsuccessful attempt to cure himself through suffering ... This process may lead to psychopithology of various degrees, from neurosis to psychosis ...
One needs but listen to the narrative of Kristi to see that Romm's brief analysis is almost custom-made for the subject.
"Never in my life have I found it difficult to attract the attention of a man I might desire. Especially at a pool. I have this bathing suit that's more a strip of emerald here and another there, a wisp of color, really, and a guaranteed man-catcher. I wore it the day after I'd first spied Brad. First, though, I'd had it out with myself. Though my arguments were logical, even wise, I'd lost easily to good old desire. Since leaving the funny farm I'd indulged only moderately, and then with men who were simply good with their tongues and in no way excited me beyond the immediate physical level. But Brad was something else again.
"My interior-decorating mania forgotten, I spent most of the afternoon poolside. But he didn't appear. I finally gave it up by five, my delicate skin in desperate need of a good oiling. Later that night, after dining alone, I found myself actually in bed early, playing with myself like a teen-ager, visions of Brad, naked, erecting ghosts I couldn't exorcise without an immediate orgasm.
"He didn't show for four days, and like a hunter after a particularly vicious prey, I kept up my stake-out until he finally did appear, more magnificent than ever.
"It was a blow to my ego that he took no notice of me. Instead, he oiled that lovely body, stretched out on his back, and fell asleep.
"That gave me a chance to really eye-ball the joker, from the longish blond hair on his head to his very pink toes. His chest was covered with fine golden hairs, wiry and short, and his flat belly moved lazily. The loose pair of trunks he wore revealed enough so that it appeared that Brad was hung like a horse, too. I swear, my mouth was actually watering as I stared at the promising' bulge and imagined him coaxing that cock of his down my willing throat. As I stared at him his shapely mouth curved into a smile, and my pussy could nearly feel those lips against my reddish triangle.,.. I was on the brink of going back to my apartment and jerking off again, or calling one of the men I knew when he woke up.
"He did manage to toss me a wink as he suddenly collected himself and hurried off. I watched him make his way to Apartment Seven. The hot sun and the erotic heat in my own body somehow made me drowsy. Without realizing it, I fell asleep, fortunately under the shade of .a stringy palm tree. When I awakened an hour or so later, it was with my eyes going, as if by habit, to Apartment Seven. As I watched, a dozen or more people made their way up the stairs to Brad's apartment. Each of them looked strangely uncomfortable, and I found myself wondering just what Brad was doing up there ... Some instinct told me I should check it out.
"Fortunately we have this very hip building manager. Actually, I insist on it. Another thing I learned in my early days in Hollywood was that people out here are either very square or very, very hip. It is essential to get one of the former hags if you have to rent an apartment from anyone who lives on the grounds. I looked up Hilda the next day. She supplied more than Brad's name, the fact that he was, on the surface, an unemployed actor, and a few interesting tidbits about his past. She actually knew about the traffic--which took place once a week--at Brad's apartment.
"'It's 'the way he affords this-place, Kristi. Actually, I first found out about it by accident, you know, by answering one of those ads in the underground press l Not that I do that sort of thing all the time or anything, but I had this bet with Libby ... '
"I listened, fascinated, while Hilda prattled on. I finally got her back to the point, namely, what the hell was going on at Brad's apartment once a week?
"'Anyway, an ad for a sex club was one thing, but an ad for a "head club" was a whole different thing. Did the ad mean it was a club for dopers, you know, that kind of "head," or did it mean a sex club where everybody just liked to have sex orally?' Hilda giggled. 'Or were they talking about a club for intellectual types?'
"So, on a dare, Hilda had called the number in the ad and out-front asked what they were talking about. The husky male voice on the other end made it all quite clear--theirs was a club where only oral sex was encouraged. After hanging up Hilda was sure she had heard that voice before. It took her all of a week to realize it was Brad's voice. On impulse she looked up his number and, masking her own voice, continued her discussion of the week before, finding out that the club met once a week at his apartment, that men had to pay ten dollars a visit, but that a good-looking young-woman was welcome free. Amused, Hilda had kept her mouth shut about all this, entertaining herself by watching as the weekly club members nervously found their way to Brad's apartment. She told me the whole story only after I'd all but bribed her by promising to let her come down to the studio one day when we filmed my show, which turned out to be her favorite soap opera.
"Heart pounding away, I rushed out, bought myself a copy of the paper Hilda had mentioned, and curled up on one of my new chairs to read the ad section.
"I found his ad right away, though it didn't have his name or anything on it. After planning exactly what I would say, I picked up the phone and, amused beyond belief, I called Brad, described my looks and needs softly, and got my expected invitation to next week's meeting.
"I dressed carefully for that great moment, in a style I doubted he'd recognize at first glance. I put my long, flaming hair into the tightest bun I could imagine, and I wore a sexy but low-key dress, dark hose, and very high heels. I also wore big round eyeglasses tinted purple, a touch that made me look eighteen and ripe. I was planning on having a little fun.
"When the others started arriving hot and heavy, I slipped out of my apartment and joined the eclectic parade to Apartment Seven. In spite of my desire for a little, personal entertainment along with a chance of really meeting Brad, I was not unaware that the palms of my hands were damp and I was trembling slightly. After all, these were indeed my people, and phantoms of the fun we might all be having shortly did little to erase my own nervousness.
"Brad let us inside himself, but there was another man there taking money and welcoming everyone. The whole thing was such an obvious shuck, so clearly a money-making scheme, I'm amazed anyone went for it, but after a few words about the beauty of 'doing your own thing' sexually, a good-looking girl got to her feet (a plant? I wondered at the time, but I never found out) and suggested that she might be willing to do her own thing with a willing male right then and there.
"This was obviously the sort of thing that got the ball rolling, and of course someone--it just happened to be the man who was taking the cash--agreed to take the girl up on her kind offer. The couple withdrew to a dimly lit sofa and silently undressed--at least the girl reached up and removed her panties while the man opened his fly and lowered his shorts. The whole thing was even sexier at this point because they were partially dressed, somehow. Before long the girl had the guy's prick out and was kissing the head lightly. Unable to take much of that, the guy was soon jamming his cock down her lovely throat, and while the rest of us watched fascinated, the couple finally got into a classic sixty-nine position and began to eat each other in earnest. The guy had both of her legs wrapped around his neck shortly, while the girl was demonstrating her obvious talent as a pert little cocksucker. Every eye in the house was hotly glued to that sofa.
"I wasn't exactly immune, either. But I took advantage of the show to slowly move over toward Brad. He was sitting on the rug near the door, as caught up in the sofa scene as the rest. I got close enough to see that his pants were bulging with his hardening cock.
"Since we were sort of hidden from everyone else, and because the perversity of the thought struck me and stoked me, I suddenly bent over, pulled down Brad's zipper, and freed his swelling dick and hairy balls. Before he could react, I ran my hot tongue over his prick and quickly mouthed the tip of his cock. It was too good to resist, so Brad directed my head to take in more of his cock. Agreeably, I began to suck him off, thrill upon thrill shooting through my body as I realized it wasn't since Richie that having a cock in my mouth had excited me this much I sucked like a-pro, so excited that I actually came halfway through the act.
"Brad was worked up too, and his hand kept returning to my hair. I knew he wanted to run his fingers through the long red strands, so I reached up and began removing pins until it finally tumbled freely in his hands. Then I got back to the business of giving Brad the best cock-sucking he'd ever had.
"What with the show in front of him, and the expert sucking and licking motions of my mouth and lips and silky tongue, Brad was shooting his thick, hot come into my mouth in much too short a time. Eagerly I sucked in the creamy load, pumping his balls gently with my fingers as if to milk the last delicious drop out of him. Then I lifted my head to smile at him.
"His jaw nearly dropped to the floor. With my hair all loose around my face, he recognized me all right. At first he was just startled, then he was upset.
"'Let's take a walk into the other room, kid,' be suggested, his hand on my arm so threateningly strong I had no choice but to take his suggestion as if it were a command.
"We disappeared without disturbing the others. They were beginning to pair off anyway, in the dim outer room, and I felt sure the couple on the sofa, still going at each other's young flesh, would soon be unnoticed in the crowd. Brad led me to a bedroom, closed and locked the door, then motioned for me to sit down on one of the twin beds.
"'Now then, what's the big idea? Who are you, how did you find out about this club,' and why are you here?'
"I couldn't help smiling a little. Hollywood breeds paranoia. 'I'm here in answer to your ad, Brad. I called and talked to someone--you, probably, and I was invited over here. At first I was a little surprised to realize it was my own apartment building, but ... ' I smiled hotly up at him. 'I'd seen you by the pool and wondered if you would be good. I just couldn't resist out there. Do you really mind?' I teased.
"But Brad's paranoia didn't evaporate so quickly. His shrewd eyes looked me over carefully. 'Strip,' he ordered.
"Like Richie, he had a way of cutting me down to size that somehow turned me on. I began to undress, only to find that my hands were shaking once more: I was like a boozer out on a rare binge ... now that I'd found my thing again I wanted to revel in every minute of it.
"Brad watched me get undressed. His eyes were showing the struggle he was having to stay cool and suspicious by the time I was down to a wisp of a pair of bikini panties. I climbed back into the heels and kept the panties on long enough to walk around a little and show myself off. I liked twitching my little butt at a likely male. Finally, unable to take much more myself, my pussy throbbing so hard I could almost hear it, I slipped off the panties, walked to where Brad was crumpled on the bed, and angled my naked, oozing crotch at his face. 'Kiss it, darling, please ... ' I whispered, my closing with expectation of his kiss.
"But Brad only backed away. 'This is a swap club, Kristi,' he reminded me. 'How about if I send in someone to take care of that pretty pussy of yours?'
"The bastard! He was so like Richie I nearly creamed right then and there. Determined I could play the game as well as anyone, I nodded, my eyes expressionless tough my body cried out for him and him alone.
"He got off the bed and was out of the room in a minute. I don't think I was even all that surprised when he returned with the girl who had started the ball rolling on the sofa a short while before.
"'This is Grace,' Brad mumbled. 'Grace, Kristi has a pussy that's on fire. Look how red it is.' Laughing at his inane little joke, he slumped down on the bed.
"Grace was naked now. She wasn't quite as young as I thought she was, but her body was nice and firm, and her breasts were still high and small-nippled. Silently she urged me back on the bed. Then, falling to her knees, she brought her face to my crotch, parted the, delicate lips with her fingertips, and began to lick the thickly glazed flesh of my quivering pussy. "Grace was no novice. Soon I was moaning as she went to work on my straining clitoris. She sucked it firmly, then backed off and began to lap at it gently. I was making the bed dance as the girl's experienced tongue made me come in record time.
"Brad had left the door open, and before long my moans had attracted a few others. All of a sudden there was a huge cock, rock hard and angling toward me, over my mouth. I reached up and started sucking it. Then I felt Grace moving away from my crotch, but immediately she was replaced by someone with a less delicate tongue, a tongue which delighted in spearing my hole. In time that tongue was replaced by one that seemed intent on doing some spearing in another hole, my tight, crinkly fleshed anus. But that didn't matter, because the big tool in my mouth was spurting, and I shut my eyes tightly and pretended it was Brad ...
"Another cock soon filled my now aching throat, but this one was small and moved in and out of my mouth with short, slow movements. And a new tongue was drumming against my clitoris, and I was coming again ...
"After what seemed a few hours I finally got to my feet. The others tumbled onto the bed, working on each other in my absence. My knees were very weak, but I managed to stumble into the other room.
"The couch was filled again, this time by two women clutched together in a frantic sixty-nine while a man watched closely, his cock in his hand.
"In a corner one girl was busy with two men, sucking one while the other was buried under her crouching body. The only light in the room gave off a bluish glow, plunging the darkened room into a timeless, sizeless dream room. A woman with a rounded belly and the thickest pubic hair I'd ever seen was leaning against one wall while a man, on his knees was making love to her amazing crotch-jungle as if he would never get enough of it. Off in another corner a couple were actually fucking, and their movements were so furtive, so soundless that I nearly laughed. Oh Brave New World! A way out Of the Population Explosion, at last ...
"I didn't see Brad anywhere, and, silly as it was, I wanted him desperately. I knew that in wanting him I would have to be prepared to put up with a lot of unnecessary crap, but somehow I wanted -him all the same. I wanted that corn-fed body next to mine, wanted to feel the heat of' his loins against my face, wanted to grind my girlish cunt into his face ...
"The fucking couple finally came, and they fell away from each other, as soon as the act was completed, not even waiting for the last of his semen to fill her pit. At once a girl -appeared out of nowhere and began to catch his still spurting come with her mouth. The just-fucked girl watched, bus soon she was claimed by Grace, who, I realized, had also been watching the strangely illicit couple. Grace dropped to her knees, roughly separated the girl's thighs, and began to suck the man's seed out of her womb.
"Everywhere I looked people were locked together sexually, mouths clinging to cunts and pricks like they had been glued into position, but still I couldn't see Brad in the writhing, moaning crowd. I headed back toward the bedroom, heart whipping around-in my chest at the realization that he was off with one of the girls somewhere, removed from me. I would have left, gone home, but in spite of all the exquisite sex I'd already enjoyed this evening, - I still wanted that special something-in Brad, that nameless excitement he generated in the pit of my belly, in every drop of my racing blood.
"I studied the mob in the bedroom carefully, but Brad wasn't there, either. Feeling hollow and suddenly terribly alone, I repulsed a few dozen offers to join in the fun, and turned on my heel, first picking up my clothing from the bedroom floor, where the garments had fallen in all the uproar.
"I was on the point of dressing, definitely let down, even with the noises, scents and sights working on me to throw out my foolish-feelings and jump into the throng. Then I looked up--straight into Brad's sardonically grinning face. He had, I realized, just left the bathroom, and he was fully dressed. He took my hand, pulled me to-him, and kissed me hard.
"'It's really impossibly thick in here. I don't have any room to stretch you out and suck that beautiful little cunt of yours. What say we try your apartment?'
"Shaking all over as if I hadn't-come half a dozen times already that evening, I dumbly nodded and dressed. This time he helped with my things, but neither of us bothered doing too good a job--they would be off again in minutes.
"Feeling like a pair of kids, we escaped, leaving the apartment to the others and hurried to mine. There, in my marvelously quiet bedroom, Brad undressed me, kissing me all over. He sucked my nipples and ran his marvelous tongue over every inch of my flesh. By the time he finally used his electric tongue on my cunt I - was so hot I came at once. Then we twisted into a sixty-nine position, and I swear I came again as much from sucking him off as from his sucking at my pussy.
"We paused only for a cigarette, then Brad was ready again. - He began to tease me, using words as skillfully as his fingers and tongue, warning me that this special treatment was only for tonight, and then I would have to take my place in line at the parties. He was, he teased, a very busy man. And even as he spoke I knew that whatever his terms, I was hooked. Hooked on his tongue, his touch, his voice, his cock ... Only this time everything would be out front, with no put-ons about love. That was the only way to satisfy this craving, yet be free to live my own life as I wished.
"Brad knew a few tricks even I'd missed, somehow, and he began to play with me mischievously, touching, prodding, tickling, then leaving me to roll over and fake sudden sleep or disinterest. In spite of myself I began to respond, and we were at it again, hotly, thickly, sweetly ... so sweetly I came another, impossible time ...
"Finally Brad got up and weakly began to dress. He barely glanced my way, his handsome face concentrating on untangling his clothing. 'Listen,' he announced finally, 'I won't have time to see you this week. Not before the next meeting, anyway. You will be there, won't you?'
"I wasn't really all that astounded to find myself nodding, promising to be there. If that was the only way ... I'd be there if I had to crawl. I'm too big a girl to put myself on. I know what I want.
"'This time I might want you to start the whole thing off. You know, offer to suck someone off, dig? It's a great little icebreaker. Then, if you're a good little cunt, I may come back here with you ... '
"Sighing, I heard myself agree, excitement again slamming my heart against my rib cage. What the hell, here we go again, and what was that bit about learning from history, anyway ...
The prognosis for Kristi Y-- has to be one of simultaneous optimism and pessimism: optimism for the fact that she recognizes the path on which she is about to tread as being a thorny one; pessimism because it appears that she is nevertheless frustrated enough to go ahead and take that path. What she needs is an understanding physician---gynecologist--with whom she can have a perfectly honest discussion of her problem--the problem of frigidity.
Chapter Four: Ride 'Em, Cowboy!
"You probably won't believe this, but I come from a- place called Roundup, Montana. It's got a population that you could put in your eye and the most rugged wilderness there is. It's my hometown, and maybe that's why everybody calls me Cowboy. My real name is Clyde, so I'd much rather they call me Cowboy.
"I had seen so many movies in our one theater about Hollywood that I just had to get there and see for myself if all them stories were true. The glamour and the women and all. Every female in Hollywood was supposed to be a beauty queen from somewhere else, just waiting to be discovered and made a star.
"And them movie stars are simply everywhere. They said-the folks back home--that you could walk right down Hollywood Boulevard and see any movie star you want, from Sophia Loren to Raquel Welch. And that's exactly what I wanted. I had been told by everyone in Roundup, ever since I was in my teens, that I was gonna grow up to be a movie star. They all said that I had that certain quality--to go along with my curly black hair, crystal blue eyes, and six-foot-six hunk of muscle and bone. They all said that I could be another Rock Hudson if I had a mind to it.
"Besides, I was getting tired of the hometown females. There are really only two that are fittin' to fuck or even date. Emmylou and Tammisue. Twin sisters. The only way you could tell them apart was when they had on something that showed their shoulders. Emmylou has a big brown mole on her right shoulder and Tammisue doesn't. They used to try and trick me all the time, but I finally found out a way to tell them apart that nobody else knew about--Tammisue's right breast was bigger than her left by a full two cup sizes. She had to wear a falsie in her left bra cup to make them both look the same.
"Now, you're probably wondering how that would help me tell them girls apart--that's simple: feel 'em. I was on feeling terms with both girls ever since we was little tykes, and so, when we'd meet somewhere, I'd kind of slowly move up until I got my elbow or arm right up to that left breast. If it felt weird and phony--then it was Tammisue. If it felt all warm and nice and firm enough to make me get a hard on, then it was Emmylou.
"Once in a while I wouldn't be able to get up close to them until it was too late, like when they were both together. I couldn't very well go feeling one while the other sister looked on. That just would not have been the gentlemanly thing to do.
"If I got both of them together and I couldn't see their shoulders or feel their breasts, then I'd just wait for one of them to call the other by name. In the meantime, I'd call them 'Girls,' or 'Sweetie,' or something noncommital like that. I guess they found out that I couldn't tell them apart without some kind of clue, so once in a while the two of them would spend the whole fucking evening calling each other 'Sis!' And that used to burn me up something fierce! I would get the feeling that I'd like to break their frail, pale necks. Just 'cause they were so cute and had real long, silky straight hair that hung down to their asses was no reason for them trying to take advantage of me. I had always treated them right. I'd fucked them everytime they'd asked for it, hadn't I?
"I learned just about everything I know about sex from those two twins. There wasn't a trick they missed--or so I thought. They had showed me things I just wouldn't have believed before.
"Oh, I had had a country boy's sex education, all right--watching the animals fucking up a storm, then watching the older kids playing around with each other's things, and then hearing my old man and old lady screwing--and finally catching a glimpse of them doing it. That was the extent of my education until I discovered the Y-- twins Both those girls had the hots for me ever since I can remember.
"At first we were just kids and going to school together in that one-room school. I didn't pay them much mind except that they were different because they both looked exactly alike and even the teacher--old Miss P-- was her name--couldn't tell which was which. In fact, if one of them had done something wrong and was told on, Miss P-- would ask them which one had done it, and if they didn't confess, then they'd both get punished. That didn't seem too fair to me at the time, but I really couldn't be that bothered with girls.
"I guess I was around twelve when the twins got to me. One of them brushed against me like she hadn't meant to, and I felt my pecker growing on me. It was getting bigger and straighter and I was getting butterflies down inside my stomach. It was the weirdest feeling I had ever had. And I wanted more.
"But I didn't know what it really was that I wanted. It suddenly dawned on me that now I was one of the 'older kids' whom I had been watching before. It was my time to show and do. So, I invited both girls to follow me to our shed out back of the house where we could get better acquainted. It was nice and cool and dark in there, and the girls seemed to be in an awful hurry to get inside.
"Once we were all alone together, inside the privacy of that little shed, both girls dropped their skirts, removed their blouses and stood there--stark naked--for me to stand in awe of. I hadn't never seen a naked female before, and here were two identical beauties with titties and swollen slits that were hairless but inviting.
"I looked from one to the other and-couldn't believe my eyes or my luck. What they were up to, I didn't really care--all I knew was I had twice as much as any other guy could possibly have, and it was prize merchandise! The way their hips flared out and their waists nipped in--and those titties stood out so straight and high. And nipples so rosy and solid! I felt a little faint as I stood there with my mouth open and my pecker aching and twitching like mad.
"'Well, don't just stand there, enjoying the view,' said Emmylou--the one with the mole, I had just found out.
"'No, Clyde, get your clothes off, so we can see what you look like. Emmylou and me got a bet going that you're even bigger and better looking underneath them clothes than you are right now. So strip!'
"Tammisue had said that with such conviction that I just did what she said and started hauling my shirt out of my jeans. After I had bared my rapidly swelling, hairless chest, I slowly began to unbutton my jeans. I'll never forget the looks on those two girls' faces as I ever so slowly undid one button at a time. They were licking their lips and wiggling their hips and eyeballing my crotch like there was a pot of gold inside there.
"As it turned out-there was--a pot of gold, I mean. Those two girls nearly fell over in a dead faint when I undid that last button and hauled my britches down to my ankles and off. There, waving in the breeze was my six-incher-and I was only twelve then, remember. They cooed and oohed and stood there as breathless as I had just- moments before. I was bigger by far than they had anticipated. And I was-so bronzed and ripply of muscle that they were crazy about me from that moment on.
"Of course, I was partial to them, too. Hell, who wouldn't be? But that day, after we'd showed each other what we had, we began experimenting with our tools. I would feel of their titties and they would take turns- squeezing old hambone, as I call it, till it was ready to squirt in their young faces.
"When I stuck my fingers down into their slits, I felt a wet, oozy feeling down there like they was leaking oil or something. They smelled all strong and interesting. I liked the feel of that soft flesh down there, the moistness, and the look on their faces when I touched, them there. In fact, that's how I found out that two things really turn a girl on: playing with her titties and playing with her pussy.
"Anyway, that first day in the shed, the three of us just got acquainted with one another's bodies. We all felt around and sniffed around and pinched here and there. I was really enjoying the hell out of it. And I knew that, from the way those two girls were acting, they were going to be visiting my shed almost daily.
"It wasn't until Emmylou got sick one day that I found out what the real pleasures of sex could be like. Tammisue came with me after school. The two of us, hotter than a bull and a cow, nearly ran all the way to the shed. As soon as we entered, we stripped in two seconds flat. We stared at each other for one moment, and then we were in each other's arms. For the first time, I was actually kissing one of them. It just hadn't seemed right with the two of them in the shed at the same time.
"But here was Tammisue, naked as the day she was born, clinging, to my naked body as if nothing in the world would ever part us. She had to strain a little to get her mouth up to mine since she was so much shorter than I was, even though we were still both young--but I was a growing boy in more ways than one!
"On her tiptoes, Tammisue's lips met mine and something inside me exploded. I felt my hambone begin to come to attention, and knew that she was going to lead me into something I had never tried before. I really don't know for sure if she had done it with any of the other guys around town, but there really weren't that many other guys around--especially who were as tall and as handsome as me. And please don't get me wrong--I'm not conceited, it's just that there were only about five young guys in town who were anywhere near my age, and they were definite stand-ins for Dracula's uglier brother.
"So, Tammisue's excitement over me was nothing to be surprised about. I just held her real tight and felt those hard nipples of hers push themselves into my chest through all that curly hair. There was something good about being with her alone for the very first time. Something exciting and oddly satisfying.
"I picked her up and carried her over to the mound of old clothing we had piled in the corner years ago to lay on and play in. As I laid her down, she sighed and ran her hands over her entire body, sensuously, as if to tell me that she really wanted my hambone.
"Before I gave it to her, I felt her all over with my own hands, touching her soft but firm flesh, tingling to the heavy smell of musk in the air and the aching hardness of that old ham-bone of mine. This was gonna be one of the good times--a time to remember. And Tammisue wasn't gonna forget it too soon, either.
"Slowly, I lapped at her rigid nipples till her entire rear end was in motion. She was wriggling all around, trying to capture that hambone into her pussy. But I was saving that for later.
"I licked some more and then began sucking -hard on the larger of the two nipples. That really sent her off her nut! Her hips were flying and-her fingernails were clawing into my sweating flesh. That only made everything that much more intense! I was getting harder and stiffer--and it was getting harder to hold back.
"Really, I had only one -thing on my mind: to fuck the living hell out of Tammisue. But that foreplay, that teasing, taunting, up-to-the-edge foreplay that nearly drove me wild with passion and had already made a lustful animal out of poor Tammisue was what got me so that there was no turning back. Even if the preacher and his whole congregation were to walk into the shed at that very moment--I could not have turned back any more than I could have turned myself into a woman!
"I could smell her love juices spilling over--that fantastic heavy odor of musk--a woman in heat--that perfume of nature which was so heady that I could barely keep from raping her. I knew she was ready for me, that she could take me now and never flinch. It was now or never, so I aimed my hambone at her dripping pussy hole and let go full blast.
"She screamed at the top of her lungs as my rod rammed home. It was pain and joy and ecstasy all rolled into one passionate scream. Then- there were only soft moaning sounds of pure pleasure. My own sighs and groans blended with hers and we made a harmonic melody of fucking.
"Tammisue's educated hips were twirling. She knew what the hell she was doing--there was no doubts about that. And my hambone knew that she knew! And made the most of it!
"It was hard for me to hold back. I wanted it to last forever, but that old hambone was just about ready to go off with the biggest bang ever. I was fast approaching the point of no return. Once I had reached that point, all I could do would be to pump as hard and as fast as I possibly could until I blew my brains out through my pecker.
"When that moment came, I howled like one of the farm animals and then thrust my pecker as deep into Tammisue's sopping pussy as I could and left it there. Throbbing pulsations rushed through me as liquid fire gushed up from my balls and out into her waiting womb. Her own shrill shriek joined mine as her hips convulsed and her back arched. She was coming, too-and big. That made me feel twice as good as before.
"For a guy to be able to make a girl come is something special--the icing on the cake. To make yourself come inside a female's pussy. is fine and tough, but to feel that same female's body convulse because of your hambone's magical powers--that's really heavy stuff!
"After having had Tammisue all by herself once, I decided that there was no percentage in inviting both girls to the shed at the same time. It was much more erotic to have just one at a time. Sometimes they would both come with me, but one of them would wait outside until I was finished with the other. That way things worked out pretty good.
"But, finally, I got bored with the whole thing. Oh, sure--I had it made. But there was more to life than a pair of twins named Emmylou and Tammisue. And folks in town had kept telling me, the older I got, that I was bound to become a movie star. And I was beginning to believe them. Hell, I had everything I wanted in Roundup--it was time for me to move on. To Hollywood, of course.
"When I got off the bus at the Vine Street terminal, I truly didn't know where to go or what to do. I went up to Sunset Boulevard, and then on up to that famous Hollywood and Vine I had heard so much about--and didn't see one movie - star inside of two hours of looking and gawking like some hick tourist.
"In fact, all I saw were a bunch of dirty hippies like I had read about that were disturbing the universities, a pack of queers, and some whores all painted up like they was gonna be in the school play. Frankly, I didn't know what to make of Hollywood. I was really confused.
"But, using my head, I bought me a paper and looked through the ads for apartments for rent. There were all sorts of advertisements for single people--furnished apartments with swimming pool and billiard room and barbecue pits. It was enough to nearly blow my mind.
"I got me a taxi and headed for the first apartment on the list. It was big and gaudy and fancy as all hell. And when I walked into the opening that led to the manager's apartment according to the signs, there were all kinds of gorgeous females sunning themselves out by the pool. I don't truly know which impressed me more--those beautiful bodies or that gigantic blue swimming pool with slide and all. I had never seen either before.
"The manager took one look at me and summed me up for the hick I was.
"'This is a singles apartment for swingers, sonny,' she said in a deep whiskey voice. 'Are you sure you know what you're in for here?'
"Trying my damnedest to make like a city slicker, I grinned and nodded my head vigorously. Then I eyed the females by the pool and looked back at the manager. She wasn't too bad, herself. Her knockers must have been at least 38s. I eyed them for a long time before I made real eye contact.
"When I did, she was smiling broadly and motioning for me to come on in. She was going to show me the few vacant apartments she had left. And let me know the ground rules. It turned out that this was a sex-oriented apartment house. Just perfect for my needs. Everyone there swung--and that means fucked. They all did whatever came naturally. And there were various parties given during the week and on weekends when all the people would get together and have a mass sex orgy.
"Now, that was my idea of Hollywood, and I rented the first apartment she showed me. But before I signed that lease, she made sure that I wasn't a queer or anything perverted like that. She said she didn't allow no queens or S/Ms in the place--whatever the hell that was. I was so na've that I didn't even know what S/M meant! How about that!
"Shortly after I moved in, I had a little surprise in store for me. I found out the hard way that no one in the entire stinking joint fucked! All they did was suck! This was a sort of a sucking club and all the members lived on the premises! Man, was it embarrassing the way I found out that I had signed a two years lease on an apartment in a strictly sucking apartment building!"
The entire narrative of Clyde S- has to be viewed with calculated skepticism. Anyone who is as narcissistic as the subject of this case is, tends to have a strong inclination to exaggerate, suppress, and, generally, to distort reality. As a matter of fact, narcissism, which in a great number of cases is a defense -mechanism that attempts to conceal or suppress an inferiority complex, is a subconscious springboard for what might be termed psychopathological prevarications.
What can be accepted in the subject's narrative is that he is a country boy of a very limited education who is very much in love with himself because he is very much conscious of his inadequacies as a human being. Consequently, he tries his utmost to present himself in the image of what might be colloquially called "an irresistible stud." Even here, however, one must be cautious in discerning truth from fantasy. Thus his description of his affair with the young twins--Emmylou and Tammisue--out in the country is more than likely heavily colored. It is extremely doubtful that twelve-year-old girls, especially raised out in the country, would have carried on with the lack of aplomb natural to a city whore, which is the picture that the subject paints of the twins. It is also extremely doubtful that at such an early age either the girls or the subject had had enough background to engage in the sexual activities that he describes. Whatever the truth of that period in the life of the subject might have been, the fact remains that he found himself "bored" with the twins and decided to come out to Hollywood so that the rest of the world wouldn't miss out--in his opinion--on his existence.
It does not take an expert to recognize the fantasy world in which the subject exists, deluding himself with the grandeur of his being. The necessity of such a delusion is understandable when one accepts the fact that without it the subject must recognize himself for what he is: specifically, a male adult--physically--caught within immaturity--mentally.
In The Complete Home Medical Encyclopedia, Harold T. Hyman has the following to say on narcissism, homosexuality, and heterosexual maturation:
Together with functional and anatomic changes, processes of maturation take place in the psyche. As Freud first pointed out, the infant is wholly concerned with its own genital equipment (narcissism: from Narcissus, the lad who fell in love with his own image in a quiet pool). Arriving at school age, the interests and affections of boy or girl center on companions of the same sex (homosexuality; lesbianism or sapphism in the case of the female, uranism in the case of the male). And, while these youthful "crushes" are often nonphysical, they may include temporary experimentation with acts of overt genitalism (mutual masturbation; sodomy; fellatio; tribadism).
By high school age or before, interests and affections shift to individuals of the opposite sex (heterosexual maturation); sometimes with overwhelming intensity, as the boy becomes "girl crazy" (gynephilia) and the girl becomes "boy crazy" (anthrophilia). Finally, love interest focuses on "the one and only ..."
It is apparent that the subject of this case is caught in a conflict between maturation and reluctance to mature. He is torn between being a man and enjoying the status of a boy; there is the overwhelming egocentricity with which he is trying to conceal his fears of not being able actually to satisfy a woman. His description of his taking Tammisue sexually in the shed notwithstanding.
In addition to narcissism, Clyde S-- is constantly fearful of being taken for a homosexual. This fear is natural within the context of his narcissistic problem: he is constantly commenting on the attractiveness of his physique in general, and his genitals in particular. He must be subconsciously aware that if he finds his own male organ so precious in his own eyesight, then there is constantly the threat that a) some other male will see him as he sees himself, or that b) he will be attracted toward another male for the same reason that he is attracted to himself. This attitude, of course, underscores the fact that basically Clyde is quite ignorant of human sexuality. His attitude toward oral lovemaking is a case in point: he cringes at the idea of a woman performing fellatio on him; to him that type of sexual activity suggests homosexuality. And homosexuality as a possible end result of the subject's narcissism can not at this stage of analysis be ruled out. Particularly when one considers the situation in which Clyde S- finds himself toward the end of his narrative.
His having signed a two years' lease in an apartment building complex in which oral swapping is, so to speak, the rule of the land, is a move--whether conscious or, as the subject claims, unconscious, is irrelevant--that will more than likely do nothing other than strengthen his narcissistic tendencies and, possibly, place him in a position where his bisexual nature will be revealed to him, thereby playing an even greater havoc with his psyche since he will undoubtedly be then "convinced" of his homosexuality.
Perhaps the only encouraging statement that the subject makes, providing it is true, is that whenever he feels the urge for regular sexual intercourse he finds himself a mate outside the apartment building complex. Even here, however, if one analyzes the terminology that Clyde uses in the making of the preceding statement, which can be found in the last paragraph of his narrative, one cannot help but notice his general attitude toward the female sex. It is a derogatory one. Women, in the subject's eyes, are to be used sexually, nothing more. They are a masturbatory apparatus for the gratification of his sexual wants. At no -time in his narrative does Clyde mention emotional involvement or the possibility of such as far as he is concerned. And this omission supports the general conclusion that the subject is an immature, egotistical, and highly unstable individual.
One of the primary concomitants of emotional involvement is responsibility. Clyde S-, because of his emotional immaturity, has never considered becoming a man in the full sense of the word. He is too wrapped up with the image of his questionable studhood, with the complex of inferiority that conflicts with that image, and with the phobia of finding out what life is all about.
"I'll never forget how fast I moved into that fancy city apartment of mine. The main reason being that I was in one helluva hurry to get out to the pool so I could meet as many females as possible before the evening began. The manager had assured me that everything was very loose here and that all the tenants were exceedingly friendly.
"Naturally, I wanted to put that friendliness and looseness to the test as quickly as possible. All I had to do was to move in as rapidly as I could without calling attention to my obvious eagerness, and then I could prowl around and size up the female situation at close range.
"My plush apartment had a fancy long living room with built-in book shelves, a metal-covered fireplace, the thickest carpeting I had ever seen, and a a real, live balcony I could walk out on and look out over the pool.
"Back home, everyone had told me to be especially careful to get myself an upper apartment if there was more than one floor to the building I was gonna be living in. That way I wouldn't have to put up with anyone's tromping over my head all the time. Instead, I would be the one doing the tromping. That's how come I came to get a second-floor apartment--there were only two floors to the huge building. It must have run for miles and miles, but only along the ground, not up ... like some.
"As soon as all my gear was stowed away, I learned where everything was--from the bathroom with that huge mirror, to the bedroom with its king-size bed and matching furniture. Man, there were more closets than I could ever have filled! The kitchen didn't interest me any, since I was sure I could get all the dolls I wanted to, to make my meals for me. But I did remember the manager telling me something about what soap to use in the dishwasher and what not to put in the disposal. I can't even remember to this day what she said--only that she said something about them.
"Anyway, out to the pool I ran. I was in my swim trunks from Harvey's Food and Grain Shop that also carried a small line of clothes. Suddenly I felt a little odd. I was in real tight, woolen trunks that had no support to them and showed everything I owned. None of the other guys were dressed that way. Most of them had on bikinis, I was to find out later, and looked real sharp. I really must have looked like the hick of the year.
"But, for some reason that I didn't realize then, the girls all perked up the moment I set foot out there. I learned later that it was my huge basket--that's my hambone and balls--that had them all hot and interested. Most of them-reckoned that if my basket wasn't padded with something like the faggots do, then I must really have something worth looking into.
"To tell you the truth, I hadn't really grown that much since I was that twelve-year-old punk in the shed wit-h the twins. My six-incher had only grown into a nine-incher. I had fully expected a doubling of its length and width, since I nearly doubled in height. But, no such luck. As it was, though, the girls really went wild over what I did have.
"I strolled casually around the pool, waiting for someone to make the first move. I was really too damned scared and shy to start anything myself.
"I may have been a tiger back home--but back home is back home, and Hollywood is sophisticated as all hell. I felt about as out of place as an elephant in a bathtub. But I was going to make the most of it, so I sauntered on around the full length of the pool and back the other side.
"I could feel all eyes on me--even those that weren't even looking in my direction; my imagination made them nearly pierce me through. I was the center of-attention--my basket and me, that is--and I could sense a lump tightening up inside my stomach as I made the curve and started back toward the way I had come.
"Suddenly an absolutely gorgeous redhead who was sunning herself without benefit of bra pulled herself up high on her elbows so that her tits and nipples showed and called for me to come over to her. She asked me to oil her back for her. I did it almost mechanically, scared shitless.
"As my hambone started to swell from the contact my fingers had made with her soft, tan back, I tensed even more and tried to pull away. I wanted to get the hell out of there before everyone in the whole damned place saw my erection and laughed me right out of existence.
"Sensing something wrong, she said in a purring voice, 'Thanks, big boy. My name is Samantha. But all my. friends call me Sam. Ummmmm, that feels so good--don't stop now. Ohhhhh, that's good!'
"Totally forgetting my erection, I was dumbstruck by her name--Sam!
"'Sam?' I repeated almost to myself. 'What kind of a name is that for a beautiful girl like you?'
"'I kind of like it,' she replied, turning a little so she could look me in the eye. 'I was named after my maternal grandfather and I loved him very much. Actually, I'm very proud to be named after him--and the name is kicky, anyway.' Her eyes kind of crinkled up as she smiled a little impish smile. 'By the way, big boy, what's your name and where did it come from?'
"Well, here it comes, I gulped to myself. 'Everybody calls me Cowboy. But that isn't my real name,' I hedged. 'My real name is ... is ... well, hell! My real name is Clyde. And I was named after my father's prize-winning hog. Okay?'
"She was laughing so hard that her makeup was running from the tears. 'Oh, Cowboy, you are the funniest yet! That beats 'em all! Really, it does! You are going to be the life of the parties around here with a sense of humor like that!'
"I sat there, my heart first in my throat, then light as air, as I realized that not only had she not believed me, she had thought I was joking. It was all true, all right, but if it made a funny joke--then I'd tell everyone. They'd all think it was a joke and no one would ever know that I really had been named after Pa's prize hog.
"Samantha rolled over and her huge bronzed tits stood straight up at me. My mouth went dry and my jaw went loose. I tried to cover my shock and embarrassment of seeing a nearly naked lady out in public as best I could, but I truly couldn't! I mean, there she was with more showing than I had ever seen outside of Tammisue and Emmylou--and she was laying there in full view of everybody and the Lord up above!
"'Oh, I'm sorry,' she said quickly and grabbed for her matching halter that went with that tiny piece of material she considered the bottom of her bathing suit. 'I didn't mean to shock you right off. I forgot that you're new here--and a cowboy, at that. I bet all you've ever seen is a whole bunch of naked cows and horses--and sheep,' she said with the wickedest twinkle in her eye.
"'Hell, ma'am, it's all right. I been around in my time, but I never did see anyone naked or even bared out in public before, and that's the truth.'
"She smiled and laughed a twinkling little laugh. 'Oh, Cowboy, if you stay here, that'll all change.' Suddenly her face lit up like Christmas and New Year's all at once. 'Hey, are you going to be at the-party at Wendy's tonight? I bet that old battle-axe of a manager forgot to let you know about it.'
"'You're right, she did forget. What party and when and where?' I said too eagerly.
'"It's one of the regular parties at Wendy's-that's Apartment 238--at nine o'clock tonight. Wendy has a huge, two-bedroom affair that's really set up with all the best of everything. Wait till you see! You are coming, of course?'
"'Of coarse!'
"I could hardly wait for my first party at this 'swinging' apartment. There was going to be sex and booze and all the things that were forbidden back home. To say that I could hardly wait was the understatement of the year!
"When nine o'clock rolled around, I was ready. I had put on my fancy duds and felt really decked out. I was really going to impress those luscious females that were going to be there! I just knew it--I felt it in my bones--especially in my hambone!.
"When I got to number 238, there was no doubt in my mind that a party was going on--in fact, was in full swing already. Music was blaring and I could smell the almost-sickening odor of incense and something else that I couldn't-quite make out, but it was sweet, too.
"I didn't have to knock--the door was ajar and I just sort of pushed at it till it was open enough for me to see inside. Then, slowly, cautiously, I edged my way through the small opening and entered an entirely new scene. Bright lights were flashing in time with the music and the music was loud and bouncy and almost hypnotizing. It felt as if it were your own heartbeat that was being serenaded.
"It was several seconds before I realized that very few of the people had any clothes on. There were naked, or seminaked bodies, everywhere--on pillows, on a round waterbed in the center of the huge living room, on the thickly carpeted floor--everywhere! It was like one large mass of bodies--males tangled up with females--all entwined and doing their thing.
"As my eyes got used to the light, I saw Samantha--I mean, Sam--sitting over in a corner by herself. She was holding a little piece of metal that was holding what was left of a camel or a Lucky Strike. I didn't know that city folks smoked those brands--I always thought city people smoked only them filtered brands with the fancy names.
"As I got closer to her, Sam squinted her eyes at me and waved. She had recognized me! I felt a sudden tingle shoot through my body and head straight for my hambone. I was ready for her--and I hoped with every nerve of my body that she was ready for me. I was going to fuck the living daylights out of her and let her know what my hambone was really all about.
"Sam held out her hand as I approached. She seemed a little drunk or something. Not quite normal. It wasn't until much later that I found out that she and most of the others used marihuana. It seems that it heightened the sexual senses a great deal. But, what I never could figure out was what needed heightening? I had never had any trouble with my orgasms--and neither had Tammisue or Emmylou. So, I really could never figure out the hang-ups of these city folk who were supposed to be so much better than us country people.
"'You're too damned dressed!' Sam nearly yelled at me. The music was a bit loud. 'For Christ's sake, Cowboy, get out of those threads before the fuzz comes and busts you for decent exposure. Man, don't let everyone see how square you are--let your dick hang out or something.'
"Frankly, I truly couldn't understand half of what she was saying to me--it was a totally foreign language as far as I was concerned-- but, that last part I heard, understood, and complied. Reaching down, I unzipped my trousers, pulled back my undershorts' flap, and hauled old hambone out for all the world to see.
"Even with all the music going on, there seemed to be a hush in the room. I didn't realize what had caused it, but I would have died if I had known it was the exposing of the old hambone that had done it. I had more meat on me than any other guy in the place, and I didn't realize it then. I had always been disappointed with it. It seemed too short to do much with.
"Sam grabbed it right off and, dropping her cigarette in the nearest ashtray, she lunged at me with her mouth wide open. I was so startled that I pulled away slightly. But she ignored the motion and followed. She slipped her warm, moist lips around my quickly growing hambone and began to suck lightly on the head.
"My head began to spin and my knees nearly gave out from under me! A female was actually sucking on my hambone--and it felt fucking good! I thought only fairies sucked, but it felt too damned good! I stood there, swaying back and forth as Sam sucked and licked on the length of my shaft. I couldn't hear the music anymore, or see anything but the lights from the inside--my eyes were shut tight--and smell the sweet odor of incense and sweat and marihuana.
"As she sucked on my pecker, she started to pull my trousers down around my ankles. I felt cool air brushing against my bare flesh and shivered slightly.
"While Sam squeezed the firm shaft of my hambone and sucked and licked it, two other hands took hold of my balls and began playing with them. It was the weirdest feeling I had ever experienced! Two females were working on me at the same time, and both of them were doing perverted things that felt damned good--too damned good to be perverted!
"My whole body was shaking from the sexual excitement I was experiencing. I was taken back to that first time I had made little Tammisue come--how her entire body had shaken and writhed under mine--how she had loved every minute of it. That must have been what I was feeling right then with two females pulling and tugging, and licking and sucking. It was almost more, I thought, than I could stand.
"What really got to me was when I felt another female's hands behind me. They grasped my ass cheeks and kneaded them like my ma had used to knead dough. It felt good-awfully good, along with the rest. Then, the female in back pulled my ass cheeks apart and I could feel hot breath on my bare asshole.
"I stiffened. It was the first time and I couldn't keep myself calm. This was definitely a queer act, but it felt so fucking good along with that female on my balls and Sam on my hambone .that I just couldn't tell whoever it was to stop doing it to me, that I wasn't no queer.
"Then I felt a tongue--hot and moist--brush against my twitching asshole as brazenly as if I were a queer. I wanted to shout out that I was not a pansy--that I was a he-man, but it felt too fucking good. I just gritted my teeth and stood there while the three females licked and sucked and tugged and pulled and caressed and did everything that they possibly could to make me come.
"I finally did come when that female in back of me stiffened her tongue and plunged it right inside my asshole! It felt like electricity running through me and I just hollered bloody murder and let loose two gallons of pure cream down Sam's beautiful throat.
"Sam didn't budge, but just stayed right where she was, drinking down my cream as if it were vanilla flavored. The other two females were really going to work on me--one poking her stiffened tongue in and out of my asshole while the other yanked at my shrunk-up balls. I felt as if I had died and gone to Heaven and was being rewarded by the angels.
"When I stopped twitching and started to relax, Sam took over and shooed the other two girls away. She had me sit down next to her while she kissed my face and lips. I could taste my own cream on her lips and smell it on her breath. It was strong, like ammonia, but there was a slight musky odor there, too.
"Females in heat always give off a musky odor from their mouths when they really are hot to trot. I learned that from Tammisue and Emmylou. It works every time. If a female wants a good fucking, she starts breathing a light musky smell. Funny, ain't it?
"Anyway, after I had recovered slightly from everything that had happened, I looked Sam right in the eye in all earnest and said: 'Samantha, I am not no queer! How come all you girls treated me like one?'
"Sam laughed, that little tinkle I have since gotten so used to, and pointed around the room. For the first time I actually looked at something other than the blinding lights and the smoke. There were people--bodies I had vaguely seen-and I saw them for the first time. There's a difference between looking at something and actually seeing it.
"What I saw was couples sucking each other. Females sucking guys' peckers and guys licking out females' pussies-and some doing both at the same time. That, I found out later, was sixty-nining it. When both female and male suck each Other at the same time. And I found that it wasn't just for queers. The most masculine of guys were there, sucking away at gals, and having their balls and peckers sucked, and their aasholes reamed by some obliging tongue.
"That was how I found out that I had moved into an apartment building that housed a sex club--an oral sex club. After I got to know everyone and what was what, it suddenly dawned on me why the manager had stressed that no faggots or S/Ms were allowed. Faggots were queers and S/Ms were sadomasochistic nuts who like to hurt and be hurt. Everything started to fall into place.
"I never did find out why no fucking was allowed, but whenever I felt the need for the old hambone to rip into a fresh pussy, I'd just take me a stroll down the boulevard and pick up some fresh cunt ..."
The prognosis for Clyde S- is that eventually--unless his current attitudes are altered through contact with a mature and understanding female with whom an emotional involvement might develop--he will find himself where he fears to be: in a homosexual sphere.
Chapter Five: No One Was Drunk
"This line of questioning is ridiculous and totally unnecessary: Besides, it is exceedingly humiliating. I shall see that you pay dearly for this--invasion of my privacy. Treating me as if I were a common criminal! Do you know who I am? I am Mrs. George D-- S-- and I have a home in the most exclusive Section of the city. A mansion, really.
"This coat I'm wearing. Sable. It probably cost more than a petty tyrant like you earns in a year. I have my own Jaguar, a station wagon just for shopping, and two--yes, two Continentals. You can't subject a person like that to the offensive third degree through which you're putting me.
"So it's not a third degree. So you don't use third degree. Call it a psychiatric examination if you wish, but I consider it an impertinent and offensive invasion of my privacy. And you'll pay dearly for it.
"Do you know whose yacht that is that was raided? You'll go pale when you hear the name. It had weight in this city--in this country-- even in all of Europe. I suggest you crawl under that desk right now, before the roof falls in on you.
"So you've been threatened before? Well, I'm not threatening you. I'm just warning you. The raid on that yacht was entirely a mistake. Oh, I know who engineered it. That little pipsqueak! The very idea! Calling the coast patrol to say we were aground! Ridiculous! Well, yes. The yacht was aground. Somewhat. On a sand shelf. She'd have floated off by morning. In fact, she did.
"And that little pipsqueak, that social upstart, had the audacity to suggest that the patrol- take along a gendarme as there was a drunken orgy going on aboard.
"A drunken orgy! Absurd. No one was drunk. Oh, some of us had had a social drink or two, but no one was what you'd call drunk. Well, maybe Andy C-, but then he's permanently drunk. I don't see why anyone puts up with him, except that he's filthy rich. Certainly he's no good on a party like that. Just drinks until he passes out. And occupies a cabin sleeping it off. A cabin that could be put to far better use, at a party like that.
"A party like that? Well, it was just asocial evening, a gathering of friends with the same interests. What's any party? Are you trying to put me on the defensive? Let's just say it was a party. Aboard a yacht. Quite a magnificent yacht, beautifully fitted out. I understand it cost a fortune. I wish we could afford ... Maybe, if George lands that contract, we can get ...
"An orgy? Don't be absurd! Of course not. Just a quiet gathering of friends with the same interests ...
"I resent that! I don't care what the report says. I had just slipped off my dress so as not to wrinkle it while I took a little nap. A brief rest. Yes, that was it. Just a brief rest.
"So I didn't have any clothes on! Is that criminal? It was a warm night. So I slipped out of my clothes. What's wrong with that?
"Let me see that report! I demand ... All right. All right. The police may have seen a man in my cabin. Quite possibly. That would be Earl. Earl J--. Surely you've heard of him. He owns ... Well, he probably dropped by to see how I was. Just friendly interest.
"In the buff? What a crude expression! He may have appeared nude, but on the boat most of us wore swimsuits. His could have been quite negligible. And been mistaken for nudity. Certainly you've seen bathing trunks that.
"I deny that! The police couldn't have seen his head between my legs and his penis in my mouth ... I deny ... Oh, God, how did I ever get into a mess like this? How did I ever get involved with that horrible crowd? They're degenerates! And now I'm one of them! Whore, strumpet, cocksucker!
"Is my mascara running? I must look a mess. Please. Thank you for the handkerchief. Yes, I would like to wash my face ... There. I feel better now. Almost human.
"I can even face up to the fact of what I am, what I have become. It's not a pretty story ... Well, I suppose so. You must be used to stories that aren't so pretty. Also, telling the story might help to orient myself. Might help me get a new perspective. Perhaps, even, a new life.
"Take a good look at me. How, old would you say I am? Thirty? Thirty-five? You say you never attempt to guess a woman's age? Very smart of you. I'm twenty-six. I look thirty-five without makeup and I feel a hundred. That's what four years of 'playing games' has done to me.
"Oh, understand, I like oral sex. You might say, I'm hooked on it. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing wrong with oral sex. I like it. I have liked it for years. It's not that. It's the oral club angle that has gotten me down. Being available to any man who wants me. Being a whore at it.
"That's what I am, an oral whore. And my husband is my pimp. Oh, he doesn't do it for cash. That's too crude even for him. He does it for his clients. He's got a lot of really big accounts--now. For which he peddled my cunt. And my cocksucking mouth.
"I'm partly to blame. Maybe wholly to blame. I wanted that house on the Riviera and the Jaguar and the station wagon. The two Continentals are pure swank. But I wanted that sable coat. That represents the J-- account. And we got it because I let Earl J-- go down on me--and I sucked him off.
"'Oh, I've got no excuses. I needled George for those things--and he found the way to get them. Peddling my cunt and mouth. And I didn't mind. At first. I'd been taking my sex that way for years. Before I ever met George.
"I started on sex when I was in junior high. At about fourteen. Not that I really meant to, as it happens. But every girl is curious about sex. Boys, too, I guess. At that age. Until they've tried it. Then they're usually hooked on it. Sex is easy to get hooked on. Because it's pretty basic, I suppose.
"At fourteen I was pretty well developed, with nice legs. They had quit looking like baseball bats with knobby knees. And I had a real cute little rump. My tits were kind of new to me then and they bothered me some. I never knew quite what to do about them, you know. Hug my books up against me going home, alone at my desk so they wouldn't be noticed, or just let 'em stick out. Sometimes I tried one and sometimes the other. It didn't seem to make much difference. Inside me. I was just so conscious of 'em. And the way my nipples would get hard and stir things up.
"So I was what you might call ripe for what happened. Ellen, my best girl friend, who was also fourteen, and had had 'experiences' with boys, asked me over to her house, to help her baby-sit her kid brother, who was six. She giggled on the phone and said Jim might drop by and if I could come, she'd ask him to bring Al. She knew I sort of liked Al. In fact, I had a crush .on him, but he'd never much noticed me. He played drums with a combo and sang a little, so he had plenty of girls.
"I asked Mom if I could go--only I didn't mention the boys. After all, they might not turn up. So Mom let me go, even if I wasn't going to get paid. I made most of my own money babysitting. Not that we were really poor. There just never seemed to be enough money to go around--for things like blouses and hip-huggers and boots--the things a girl really needs, only parents don't always see it.
"Ellen met me at the door, giggling, and said the boys were already there but we couldn't make any noise because her kid brother would wake up. And he was a pest. Even asleep, he was a pest, because that meant we couldn't dance. And if you can't dance, what is there to do?
"I found out.
"Sex.
"Al was there, slumped on the couch. He looked up, sort of sullen, as if he'd been dragged to something he didn't like and hadn't any use for. He looked real sharp, though, in awning-striped pants and a black leather jacket, even if he didn't ride a motorcycle.
"Ellen grabbed Jim's arm, as if she were afraid I might snatch him-and him I wouldn't have. He was long and gawky, with a big mop of hair not long enough to be hippie, just mop. She introduced me to Al, as if we didn't see each other every day at school. He didn't get up, just patted the couch and said, 'Park it, kid. We'll get around to what for later.'
"Ellen giggled and said, 'Isn't he cute? I'm going to take Jim out and show him something. So you two just sit and chat ... '
"And I'll bet she did show him something. Everything she had. Tits, rump, cunt and all.
"That left me in an awkward spot, standing there with my bare face hanging out. What can you say? To a boy. Now, if we'd even had one dance, that would break the ice and things would have gone along naturally, just yakking. Not that I cared so much what boys yakked about, but they're boys, aren't they? And I'm talking to 'em. Maybe, during the dance, letting him feel me up a little. Just enough to get things warmed up but never letting one of 'em get to home plate. Up to then. But what can you do when there's nothing but a boy and a couch. A feeling-up then can lead to all sorts of things.
"So I sat down in the big chair opposite. A real deep chair that's not easy to get out of, and that hikes a miniskirt way up, which I honestly hadn't thought about. I knew it pretty quick, though, when I saw Al looking. And the way he looked. I realized then that I had on my skimpiest panties, meaning to show 'em to Mom as proof I needed some new ones.
"Pulling down the miniskirt would be like pulling down a cellophane window shade--just calling attention to what I knew I was showing. So I just sat there, letting him look. And, to be honest, getting a little hot in my britches because of it.
"Al patted the couch a couple of times, kind of inviting, but I didn't move, some because I was nervous and some because that chair was hard to get out of. Along about then Al grinned. A real meaningful grin. I don't know how I knew it was a meaningful grin or really what it meant, but I knew it and I could make a pretty good guess at what it meant.
"Al got up, slow and sort of stinky, and slouched across to the chair, easing himself down on the arm and grinning down at me. And looking right down my blouse, to my titties. He reached over with one hand and slid it inside my blouse, right on my breast.
"I almost leaped out of the chair then, only I couldn't. I could just give a sort of convulsive wiggle that shook my boobs. I guess it looked like I meant to ... I mean, shake them at him. Because he slid down into the chair, shoving me over, still keeping one hand on my tit.
"Oh, it was exciting, all right. And scary. I'd never let a boy actually feel them before. Heat started up in them and spread down my stomach and seemed to center down at my cunt. I tried to wiggle out but we were wedged into that chair and I couldn't. Maybe I didn't wiggle as hard as I should have. And maybe I should have yelled. Only I couldn't. My mouth felt full of hot cotton.
"Al slid his other hand down on my leg, smoothing the inside of my thigh and reaching up, just touching my pussy. I tried to push his hand away but I couldn't get any leverage. Besides, I was beginning to feel weak. And shaking. And very hot. So I stopped and lay back, just letting his hands roam.
"He slid out of the chair and fumbled with my panties until he got them off. I might even have helped some. Then, for a minute or two, he just knelt there, looking right at my cunt and breathing heavy.
"Suddenly he reached for me and draped me over the big, cushiony arm of the chair, my legs hanging over the side and my miniskirt up to my navel, with the rest of me down in the seat of the chair.
"He came around to stand by the arm, between my legs, looking. Then he started feeling me up again, running his fingers right into my cunt until I was gasping for breath. And I needed it. My chest felt so tight I could have worn a three-sizes smaller bra, if I wore a bra.
"He tugged off my miniskirt and opened my blouse, so I was as good as naked, with my tits standing up and my nipples so hard they ached. He played with them for a minute or so, kind of rough, edging in tighter on me and spreading my legs. He looked down at me, questioningly. 'You had your Pill?'
"For a moment I didn't know what he meant. Lots of kids in our school are on pills, pep pills, mostly. So I said, 'I never touch reds.' That's what we called them, 'reds.'
"Al grunted. 'I didn't mean that kind of pill. The Pill. So you won't get a baby. No, you little boobie. I guess you didn't. What did you think this was gonna be? A knitting circle?' Al scrabbled in his pockets and groaned. 'And I ain't got a condom. God damn! And I sure don't mean to fix us up with no kid. Jim's got some ... ' He glanced at the closed door of Ellen's room. 'Only I don't think he wants to be interrupted.'
"He looked back at my cunt and my boobies and sighed. 'And I ain't about to give up that nice piece of flesh! So I'll eat it. Eat it up, hair and all.' Not that I had much hair down there. Just a sort of downy fuzz.
"If I could have talked I'd have said, 'Let's quit.' At least, I think I would have. Except that right then I just wanted--well, I wasn't sure what I wanted, but I sure wanted it bad. My whole insides were on fire with the want, with most of the heat right in my cunt. I think I'd have taken on a dog about then. A big dog. Not that I ever have.
"I watched Al slide down to the floor, until his eyes just peeped over my mound. His hands went on playing with my tits but his tongue was sliding along the sides of my thighs and right into my cunt! It hit my clitoris and I really bucked in that chair. I had never felt anything so-well, both scary and exciting.
"Al played with my titties, nipping at my nipples with his fingers, while his mouth clamped down on my pussy and he started sucking. I could feel that suck way up in my stomach. And his tongue was working on my clitoris until I just humped up at him, moaning.
"It seemed to go on forever yet be over awfully quick. Some dam up inside me burst. The relief of that! It was terrific! The most! And Al went on sucking and lapping at the juices I poured down until I was nearly crazy. I was really dizzy from it, just tossing my head and murmuring, 'Please! Please! Please!' Not meaning anything, really.
"Finally Al stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning a little. 'That was very tasty pussy. Virgin cunt, too. Very nice. Verrrry nice. Next time, we'll have a real ball. We'll go all the way.'
"There never was a next time. Al broke his leg trying to ride his big brother's motorcycle and by the time he was out and circulating again, I had graduated from kids like Al. I had a real, full-grown man. And he had forgotten more about making love than Al will ever learn.
"Jerry was a Vietnam veteran, not very tall but real cute in a tough kind of way. He had a kid, a boy about three, and I did some baby-sitting for him. He didn't have a wife. Maybe they were divorced or maybe she was dead--or had run off with some other guy. He never talked about her or had any pictures of her around.
"I liked to baby-sit for him because he had a big color TV set and he'd leave nice snacks for me in the refrigerator. Also, he paid a quarter an hour better than most. With double for after twelve.
"So when he called Mom, I went there this night. Only, when I got there, he looked embarrassed. 'My date stood me up, so I don't need ... ' I guess he saw my face fall. I had been counting on his baby-sitting money. 'But it's all right, Ellie. I'll pay you just the same.' He laughed. 'But not overtime.' And reached for his wallet.
"I suppose he saw me eyeing the TV--there was a show on I really wanted to see. This singer, new. And I wanted to see what color eyes he had. You can't tell on black-and-white.
"Jerry grinned. 'And you can watch TV, if you keep it low. I'll be reading.' Which was fine by me. I went to the fridge and got a coke and settled down to watch TV.
"I guess, being alone so much when I watch TV, I settle a little careless, with my legs draped over a chair arm and sort of snuggled in. Jerry had some nice deep chairs for that. And I hadn't been expecting to see him, except as he whisked out the door, so I was dressed for comfort, in my oldest and shortest miniskirt and some very scanty panties.
"I realized it pretty quick when I felt him looking at my legs, and right up 'em, to those scanty panties. You can, you know. Feel somebody looking at you. And tell, maybe, even which part of you, without seeing their eyes. When I looked up Jerry shifted in his chair and looked down quick at his book. But I knew he had been looking at me. And seeing pretty much the whole show.
"Having a grown man look, with me knowing he had looked, made me warm inside. Little quick flashes. I liked it. So I shifted just a little in the chair, so he could have a better view. And if he didn't like the view, he didn't have to look. But he did.
"I caught him at it, and he flushed. He even gulped. 'Young lady, you are flaunting yourself, which is dangerous for you with a man in my position.'
"I grinned at him. 'You could change your position--closer.' And wiggled my rump, as if I was settling deeper in the chair, not really expecting anything. Jerry is cute and all that, but I always thought of him as kind of shy. Nice but shy. Like an older brother, maybe.
"Only he wasn't. He got up and stalked across the room, slow and menacing, looking real tough, as he might have when he was fighting in Vietnam. He caught my legs and lifted 'em.
"And gave me a sound spank on my bottom.
"It hurt. That wasn't any gentle love-tap. It really stung, because there wasn't much to my scanty panties. He dropped my legs and started back across the room. 'Gather up your things and go home.'
"The sting on my bottom brought tears to my eyes and the order to go home made me sniffle. I must have sounded pathetic because he turned back, seeing me cry. He came back to pat my shoulder. 'I'm sorry, kid. I shouldn't have done that. But I get gawddam tired of having dames flaunt their little twats at me, as if it was the most precious item on earth--with a price tag: 'Marriage.' He smoothed his hand over my shoulder. 'Just because I haven't got a wife, every female thinks she can give me--what? Comfort? Somebody to sleep with? A good cook? Most of 'em are lousy cooks. And not much better in bed. Stop that sniffling!'
"He bent down to lift me up and set me in the chair the right way around but I hung on to his neck and buried my nose in his shoulder. Not just because I was losing my best-paying babysitting job but because he had sounded so pathetic and sort of hopeless.
"He patted my shoulder and held on to my rump, saying, 'There, there, Ellie.' And I really bawled. So the first thing I knew, we were both sitting in the chair, me in his lap and he was sort of rocking me and murmuring soothing things. The way be was holding me mashed one of my titties against his chest. And he still had a hand under my rump.
"Things were getting really interesting inside me. The hot flashes were coming faster, especially when I wriggled down so his hand on my rump could get a real feel. And did. His fingers started working, sort of creeping up on my cunt. His hand on my shoulder dropped down a little and slid under my arm and right on to my tit.
"He kept talking, a sort of angry monologue against 'dames.' 'They think they know sex. They don't know a tenth of it. And especially not how I like mine. I've seen so much of it, in Vietnam and here--just lay out flat and get reamed. And when I tell 'em how I'm fed up with that, and how I like my sex, they get their precious little twats right out.'
"I was getting pretty warm and excited, feeling him touch me and I wanted him to keep it up. 'Why? How do you like your sex?'
"He sighed, not really talking to me. Just--bitter. 'Oral. Sucking and being sucked. But I haven't found a one who really ... '
"I sat up a little, looking up at him. 'But that's how I like mine.' A lot I knew, based on one experience!
"He glanced down at me, as if he realized for the first time how intimately we were sitting. 'You? You're a kid. What could you know about sex, any kind of sex?'
"I tried to sit up, indignant, but his hand was cupped around my tit. 'I know about sucking! And I like it. Try me!'
"He shivered a little. 'It can't be! It simply can't be! Not a sweet little kid like you. You don't know what you're talking about.' And he started to get up.
"I swung myself around so both tits plastered against his chest and my little rump wriggled provocatively. 'I do know. And I like it. You don't get a baby that way, but you have just as much fun. So--try me.'
"My blouse had pulled out of my miniskirt, and his hand was on my bare skin, feeling hot. I moved back, away from his chest and undid my blouse, so both titties were out, with nipples standing stiff. 'Suck on those first and see if you like it. I will.'
"Very slowly he lowered his head, his eyes watching mine as long as he could. Then his mouth fastened on a tit and his tongue went twirling around the nipple. I arched up, pushing my tit practically down his throat and moaning, it felt so good. Plus, his hand really went to work on my cunt, teasing my clitoris and opening the lips with his fingers.
"The next thing I knew, he was picking me up and carrying me to the big day bed sort of couch, with a bolster back. He set me down very gently, with my cunt almost up against the bolster and my head hanging over the edge. He knelt down by my head, leaning over to kiss my tits while his hands played with my cunt until I was moaning and shaking with want. I let my legs fall open, draping over the bolster, in a big V, so he could get to it easier.
"By that time I was naked. I don't even remember exactly when it happened or which of us did it. Not that it mattered. What did matter was that I was naked and Jerry could see and touch and feel every part of me. He could feel every inch of me, and played on me as if I were an organ, until I was ready to scream at him to start in sucking, so I could get some release. That big release.
"He really worked on me, running his fingers and his tongue all over me, working his head slowly down to my cunt. I was so tense--wonderfully tense and excited that I didn't really notice he had shed his pants and underpants. But there was this great big dong, hanging right over my face, a drop of oily juice dangling from it. He looked down my front, between us. 'Take it in your mouth, Ellie. Please do it now.'
"Then I realized what he had meant, sucking and being sucked. He wanted me to suck on his dong! That big thing! It looked big enough to choke a horse! But I had started this and I was getting a lot of mileage out of his mouth on my cunt. So I reached for it, feeling it quiver in my hand.
"I touched my tongue to the tip and felt that drop slide down my tongue. I tasted it! Sharp and acrid, but good.
"I raised my head and closed my lips around it. With that he leaned down on me, driving my head back and sending his prick deep in my throat. And all the time his tongue and lips were working on my cunt until I thought something would burst.
"He started moving his hips up and down, pumping his dick into my mouth, gradually picking up speed, while he sucked so deep on my cunt I thought he'd pull my eyeballs in.
"Suddenly he moaned and gave my cunt a really deep suck and at the same time slammed his prick so far down my throat it seemed he could lick it at his end. I felt it, that big bulb, as it went past my throat muscles, leaving me trying to gasp for breath. By then he was working it in and out until suddenly he let go. A big pulse swelled his dong, and stuff exploded in my throat, hot, salty stuff. And I pumped stuff at him. I could feel it flooding my stomach and down my cunt.
"He pulled his dong out, slowly. It was already softening up. And I was tasting all that goo he had pumped into me. And loving it. Real male taste. The best taste there is.
"Afterward we cleaned up, laughing and enjoying our being naked together, letting the shower water run over our bodies. I didn't dress until I was ready to go home, way past midnight. Jerry paid me for my 'baby-sitting time' though I felt kind of funny taking it.
"That was my real introduction to oral sex. Jerry and I had pretty regular sessions after that, pretending I was baby-sitting. That lasted until I had to go off to college. At our last session Jerry said to me, half seriously, 'When you get all educated, come back and I'll marry you.'
"I never went back. Because at college I had all the sex I could handle, oral and some regular. And I met George. Through sex, naturally. Mostly oral, but some regular. We really hit it off and got married the day we graduated. Later still, after about three years, George introduced me to the oral sex club ..."
Until man climbed the ladder of evolution to the "barterting step," his basic drives had been limited to two rational and indispensable ones: self-preservation and procreation. The subject of this case, Eleanor P--, represents a human being who has long passed that "bartering plateau," who has almost abandoned her two basic drives, supplanting them--or willing to supplant them--by the somewhat irrational pursuit of wealth. This is not to suggest that one has no need for a certain amount of cash or property to be able to fulfill one's basic drives; it is rather to show that once a person ceases to consider his needs and begins to concentrate mono-maniacally on his wants, he is more than likely going to ignore his basic drives.
Eleanor P-- is a person whose values are centered around her sable coat, her Jaguar, her station wagon, her two Continentals, and her husband's accounts that make the feeding of her greed possible. Her sexuality is a commodity which she uses by renting it out to whoever might bring more cash into her and her husband's coffers. She is, in fact, a prostitute; her husband, George, is a pimp. They are both members of the upper crust of society and are extremely, and hypocritically, proud of their status.
Sexually, they may be considered to be hedonists, although not in the usual sense of the word. They are not seekers of pleasure per se; they are rather exploiters of pleasure motivated by greed. As one reads the subject's narrative, one is convinced that the sexual orgies in which Eleanor P-- and her husband participated were, to them, a means to an end, and more work than pleasure.
It is difficult to determine without additional information on the subject whether Eleanor's preference for oral sex is a deep-seated neurotic drive or not. In the course of her narrative she brings up the matter of her barrenness. If she is indeed suffering from an inability to conceive, then there is really no reason for her not to engage in regular coital activities; if she is not, then the chances are that she simply does not want to take the risk of motherhood; although this type of reasoning on her part would be odd, considering the modern methods of birth control that are available.
If one is to believe Eleanor's narrative, she is either almost exclusively orally oriented or she is content, and nothing more, with oral sex, especially since most of the sexual activity she engages in is more in the course of business than emotional involvement It is possible that her juvenile sexual encounter with Al, an exclusively oral one, had impressed her strongly enough so that in subsequent sexual engagements she veered toward oral-genital activity and disregarded genital intercourse because she had found the first both pleasurable and void of the risks of pregnancy. Her subsequent seduction of Jerry, the man she had come to baby-sit for, reveals the acuteness of her sexual urge; her eventual marriage to George appears to have been more a marriage of convenience-the subject must have seen him from the very beginning as an instrument she could use for the material betterment of her own position--and nothing more. It is highly doubtful that "love" ever entered the picture.
There is a theory about sex and love that says the two must be intermeshed in intimate relations for those relations to be satisfactory. Passion, according to this theory, is a blend of both elements, and if passion is missing when one person "makes love" to another, then he will probably acutely feel the lack, and search elsewhere, probably with ill luck, for the thing that will fill that lack. Thus comes promiscuity, Casual sex, and a dalliance with the catalogue of sexual deviations.
One writer who agrees with this general premise is psychologist Rob May, who, in his book Love and Will, discusses sex that had no deep feeling behind it. He believes that for too many of us sex has become a mere brief escape from our fears, rather than a positive, passionate activity.
It is possible to have sexual intercourse without any particular anxiety. But in casual sex, we shut out, by definition, our eros--that is, we relinquish passion in favor of mere sensation; we shut out the imaginative, personal significance of the act. If we can have sex without love, we assume that we escape the daimonic anxiety that is an inseparable part of human love. But if, further, we use sexual activity itself as an escape from the commitments of eros, we may hope to gain an airtight defense against anxiety. Passion and sensual pleasure have been displaced by the reach for identity and security. Sex has been reduced to an anxiety-allaying strategy.
When Eleanor P-- agreed to go along with her husband in his scheme to obtain the large J-- account, she was well aware that the scheme was a sexual one. She knew that she would have to, in fact, prostitute herself, and she knew that her husband knew of this--more, he had set it up. Consequently, as far as the subject and her husband's marriage went, they were going to reduce sex to what Rollo May above calls "an anxiety-allaying strategy."
What was the anxiety that was at the bottom of it all?
In the case of the subject. it was obviously a dread at the thought of not so much losing the comforts of life--since there was no such threat--but rather a pathological fear that failure of a continuous financial growth was tantamount to a loss of status in the eyes of the other scramblers for wealth. In the case of Eleanor's husband, George, the anxiety could very well have been a double-edged one. To begin with, he had the fear of less of status as was the case with his wife; second, he had the fear of losing his wife, not so much because he felt any passionate love for her but because she-was in fact a convenient instrument that he could Count on using to maintain and constantly improve his financial and social position in the eyes of his social status-climbing competitors.
Finally, in answer to the question of why the so-called "club" in which Eleanor and George P-- found themselves involved was almost exclusively maintained on oral-genital activity, rather than on a balanced and variegated sexual activity that is more generally common in such group-sex situations, it can be postulated that it was not because everyone there was an oral deviate, i.e., was arrested at the Freudian "oral phase" of sexual maturation. It was rather because oral-genital activity was found to be both gratifying to the participants and free of potential complications--such as pregnancies, paternity suits, and inevitable subsequent scandals. The entire attitude of the club members might very well have been: use anyone you can, enjoy yourself, make the most of every situation that is presented, but take no chances. Cater, in other words, to your competitor's lower instincts and he will not get away from you.
"Until I met Jerry, I hadn't known there were men like that. Oh, Al doesn't count. He was just a kid looking for kicks. No, I mean men who really enjoy their sex orally, most of the time. For some reason, they don't want to slam a dong into a female's cunt. And get--or seem to get--just as much of a bang out of sucking and being sucked.
"The 'why' of it gets me. Oral sex is lots more trouble than lying on top of a girl and banging away. And there's more of that sort of sex available, So--why? Because Momma was a female and they don't want to 'hurt' Momma, psychologically, by going into a woman's cunt? Or are they, subconsciously, trying to humiliate every female because they hated Momma?
"Anyway, that's for headshrinkers like you to figure out. And I guess there are almost as many different reasons as there are men who go for oral sex.
"Girls I can understand. They want sex but they don't want a baby, so they take their sex orally. Some in the anus. It didn't happen to me that way. I mean, I hadn't even thought about a baby. Al showed me a way to get kicks and Jerry improved on it. I got orally oriented young. Oh, I tried 'regular' sex--at college, once in a while. And with George. But I-like oral sex better. I seem to get a double dose that way--in my-cunt and in my throat.
"Sexually George and I hit it off fine. Oh, when we first got married we tried 'regular' sex because we thought we wanted a baby. Then the doctors told me I couldn't have one. Three of 'em. I'll believe three doctors. One can be wrong, but it's not likely three are wrong in the same direction.
"So George and I gave, up on the idea of a baby, except that maybe, when we had more money, we might adopt one. Oh, we weren't dirt poor. George graduated top of his class and had his pick of accounting jobs, and they pay pretty well. But of course, our income didn't begin to match those of our clients, with whom we had to go out socially. Like, it was sometimes a bind to take four people to a really top restaurant. We might eat beans for a week afterward.
"So I urged George to set up on his own. Through some frat brothers, if he pressured a. little, he could get some nice fat accounts. Nothing tremendous but good solid accounts. We still have most of 'em. And George was making money, goad money. And I was spending it.
"When you've been on short rations most of your life--as I said, we weren't poor at home, just skimpy with money--a little taste of luxury is a heady drink. I could dress well. But the wives of some of these guys wore clothes that made me look like bargain basement, or 'did your mother really make that dress?' It was humiliating.
"So I nagged. Well, not quite that, maybe, but I certainly hinted pretty strongly that we could use more money, and there were big accounts out there for the grabbing. Really big. The multimillion-dollar accounts, on which the fees are really lush.
"George came home one evening, all excited. He 'almost' had the P-- P-- account, with possibly Old Man J--'s personal account.
"George sprawled in our Bares-Lounger and stared down at the carpet, not willing to look at me. 'There's just one snag, baby. He wants to meet you.'
"I got really huffy at that. 'Well, I'm no frump. With one good dress I might even be able to get by.'
"George waved that away, still looking at the carpet. 'That isn't it, baby. We could even run to a Schiaparelli as a gamble on this. It's big ... The trouble is--Old Man J--. He's got this club.'
"That sounded interesting, so I asked, 'Private?'
"George nodded. 'Very. In fact, it's a very special kind of club. For oral sex. He's hooked on it and he likes young women. Not just bought stuff. Hell, he could buy half the cunt in the county and not miss the money. He likes what he calls "top drawer" Very private vintage.'
"I stared at George. 'George P--, are you trying to tell me that if I let this old goat go down on me--and me on him, then we could get that account? And just because I was a little free and easy in college, you think ... How much would it be worth to us"
"George named a figure that took my breath away and then added, 'There are other men there with really big accounts.' He tried to laugh. 'With three or four of those, I'd have to hire an accountant, just to figure my income tax.' He started to heave himself out of the chair. 'Forget it, kid. Forget it. I must have been nuts even to think--but you're always talking about dresses and cars and stuff ...
"He was half out of the chair before I could speak, for thinking about that Jaguar and the Schiaparelli and ... 'George, would you-- mind? If I did it, I mean?'
"His eyes opened wide as he stared at me. 'You mean--you'd do it?' He drew a deep breath, shuddering. 'No, kid. I wouldn't mind.' He even grinned. 'Don't forget. I'd belong to the club, too, getting in my licks.'
"So we joined the club, after a flurry of buying. It's not just a Schiaparelli you buy, it's the accessories, even to perfume especially blended to your body chemistry--or so they tell you. And I went down to take another look at that Jaguar. I know a Bentley-Rolls is supposed to be swankier but there's something about that Jaguar that got me.
"It got me into this mess I'm in now.
"The first 'meeting' of the club we went to wasn't aboard that undersized ocean liner that was raided. That belongs to the really big Mister Big. This was just a yacht. Oh, it was luxurious enough.
"The salon was beautifully decorated, and there were six or seven staterooms, beside the master stateroom, which belonged to Old Man J--. Hearing him referred to that way, I expected an old man. Instead, he was tall and, except for a broken nose, good-looking. And only about forty, maybe forty-five. With streaks of gray at his temples.
"I guess I had expected something crude, like those college fraternity brawls. Grab a girl and whisk her off to a bed. Not at the club.
"It was like a movie about Monte Carlo. Very smooth and swank. Earl J-- greeted each of us as we came aboard, dressed in a white dinner jacket. We went into this salon and had cocktails, while I eyed the other females. There were six couples and all the women were just a shade older than me and very smooth.
"The talk was light, maybe a little feverish, but that could have been just my reaction. Then we went in to dinner. I don't really remember what it was because I was beginning to get nervous. Earl J-- kept shifting his eyes to me and touching his wineglass, as if that were a private signal. It wasn't, as I found out. Just a mannerism. Afterward we danced on the afterdeck, to a three-piece combo.
"Earl J-- kept coming back to dance with me, deserting a very smooth, very sophisticated number whom he seemed to be shoving off on George. Earl danced very smoothly but very close, his fingers against my bare back playing a little soundless tune. It could have been any really swank party, up to the time Earl said, very softly, 'May I show you other parts of the boat? My own stateroom is most interesting. I have some quite unique pieces there.' And almost without waiting for an answer, danced me to a companionway, helping me down.
"I had a moment of real panic, then. It was all just a little too smooth, I guess. I gave one panic-stricken look at George, but he was concentrating on the sophisticated number, maybe deliberately, so he wouldn't see me go off with Earl.
"His stateroom was unique, with a single great circular bed and the walls and ceiling all mirrors. Earl kissed my shoulder as we went in, the first real indication that this wasn't just a pleasant meeting aboard a boat. I know I shivered.
"Earl asked if the room wasn't warm enough. Actually it was a little stuffy with heat, and I said so. He grinned then and said, 'Perhaps you'd like to slip off that lovely gown and get into something lighter.' He opened a door in the mirrored wall, revealing a whole rainbow of negligees, enough to take my breath away. Only I guessed it was pretty much stage dressing.
"Earl was already working at the single shoulder strap--and from there on the action might have been back at Jerry's or in the frat house.
"I helped him with the strap and let my gown, my lovely first Schiaparelli, drop, exposing my tits. Earl bent down and kissed first one and then the other, tonguing my nipples, until I wasn't nervous anymore. Just anxious to get-things going. Kissing my tits had started me getting hot.
"I wiggled that gown over my hips and stepped out of it, naked. A good Schiaparelli doesn't need panties or bras. They're built into the gown.
"So I was naked. In front of a strange man for the first time in nearly four years, since I'd married George.
"Earl stepped back, admiring me. And I could see myself repeated a hundred times over in the mirrored walls. As if they were screaming 'Naked! Naked! Naked!' And I was liking it.
"Excitement was building in me, just seeing myself naked. And knowing a man was looking at me. There was no way of missing that. Earl was reflected hundreds of times, too. I could see him in the mirrored walls reaching for me and then feel his hands at my waist, sliding up to cup my tits, his thumbs teasing my nipples.
"It was like being made Jove to by an army, all those men reaching for me, feeling my tits and coming close, until I could feel the bulge in his trousers. Oh, I can understand the cleverness of the mirrored walls. They sort of magnified the mood, multiplied it by a hundred times or so. A girl could hardly put up a fight against hundreds of men--and her own heightened excitement. Wow, what they'd do to a timid virgin! Before she could say 'No!' she'd be pregnant. If Earl had liked his sex 'regular.'
"He knelt in front of me, running his tongue down my body, pausing to twirl it in my navel, and on down to the creases between pelvis and legs, sliding it across my mound and back, then sliding his tongue, which seemed hot and pointed, right into my slit. All the time his hands played with my tits.
"By then I was moaning and writhing, thrusting my pelvis against his mouth, feeling hot flashes dart from nipples to cunt, igniting fires deep inside. His tongue found my clitoris and teased it, sending new shock waves through me, so that my knees started to buckle.
"Earl picked me up, holding me easily, cradled in his arms, with one hand on a breast, the other sliding up and around my ass, between my legs, just barely touching my cunt.
"He swung me around and on to that big circular bed and knelt between my legs, his mouth on my cunt. I could look straight up and see my whole body reflected in the mirrored ceiling. What a gimmick!
"I could see his dark head between my legs and watch his hands creep up my body in exciting play, his fingers crooked so that his nails lightly raked my skin, delicious teasing as they neared my breasts, fastened on them and started a gentle, rhythmic squeezing. I turned a scream into a soft moan and thrust my pelvis at his mouth, feeling then. Not bothering to look.
"He gave up on my breasts after a few moments but kept his mouth on my cunt, sucking and darting that hot, pointed tongue deep inside, drawing it out and teasing my clitoris. All that time he was undressing, sliding out of his trousers and shirt.
"I could have watched him do it, but I had closed my eyes tight in ecstasy, moaning and writhing. I felt him take his mouth away and I opened my eyes. He was standing between my legs, his dong swollen and stiff. And I saw that repeated hundreds of times in the mirrors.
"He moved around the circular bed, keeping a hand on one breast until he was by my head, so that I could see that prick of his standing rigid, his balls taut in their sac. He bent down, kissing each tit, and moved on down my body, his tongue teasing as it went. Until his mouth fastened on my cunt again and his prick was stabbing toward my mouth, a drop of juice glittering on it.
"I reached up and curled a hand around that wonderful big prick of his, guiding it into my mouth, reaching up with my tongue to get that first delicious drop of man-juice. I closed my lips over his blue-purple bulb and began to suck, with the lingering taste of his man-juice in my mouth.
"With Earl bobbing his head rhythmically at my cunt and thrusting deep inside with his hot, pointed tongue, I was really going to town. He began moving his pelvis in and out, thrusting his pecker deeper and deeper into my throat, while little drops of his man-juice seeped through, trickling into my throat, tasting divine.
"Then he started some really heavy pumping with his head and faster twirling in my cunt with his tongue. I knew it meant he was about to come. I reached up and grabbed his ass, pulling my head and mouth as far up on his dong as I could, moving it in and out with little jerky nods. At the same time I was swirling my tongue around and over that big stick of his, getting the deep, satisfactory feel of it in my mouth, but waiting, anticipating the moment when, his prick would burst its juices into my mouth.
"I knew it was coming. I could feel it in the faster rhythm of his tongue and mouth and in the way he jabbed with his pelvis at my throat. Suddenly he drew his prick back, almost out of my mouth, and then seemed to drop his whole weight on my face, shaking and shuddering as his dong swelled and pulsed and shot his load. Way deep in, so that I could feel it with the muscles in my throat as his load went through his prick. And then that rich, acrid, chokey taste flooded my throat and mouth. Marvelous! Delicious.
"We lay like that for a long moment, his mouth still on my cunt and his dwindling prick still part-way in my mouth. He licked and sucked at the juices I had poured down in that marvelous moment of release and I licked at his dong for more taste of that wonderful man-juice.
"When he finally rolled off, dragging his prick from my mouth and lifting his head from my cunt, I could look up again at the mirrored ceiling. God, I was a mess! My beautiful hairdo, on which I had spent nearly forty dollars, was knocked awry. One false eyelash was gone, giving my face a lopsided look, and my mouth was smeared and slopped with his goo. My cunt was open and raw-looking and my muff wet with his slobber.
"Mirrors ought to be turned off right after a sex act. They make things exciting in the beginning but, lord, are they merciless on a girl afterward. And Earl, with his face smeared and his eyes baggy and bloated-looking, wasn't any prize, either. What's more, in that mirror-walled room, there wasn't any way I could turn to escape the images.
"Things were better when he took me into a really functional but fantastic bathroom--a 'head' he called it, the nautical term. The shower, and playing together in it, restored me somewhat. I had to forget that forty-dollar hairdo and just run a comb through it, letting my hair fall in its natural waves. It's all right, but not very sophisticated.
"Seated at the dressing table, still naked, I repaired some of the damage while Earl stood behind me, studying my breasts and just lightly touching my back. 'That was delightful, my dear. Delightful. You are a very accomplished young lady. George is a very lucky man. Now, run along. And ask Laurette to come to my cabin, will you? She's probably with George. Oh, and don't bother with clothes. We don't, while on board. In the morning I'll see that you have a sports outfit suitable for going ashore.' He patted my rump and shooed me out into the corridor, naked.
"He was right. About nobody wearing clothes. I suppose the crew did, but I didn't see any of them. There was a sort of general swap going on, people moving from cabin to cabin in a kind of sexual musical chairs. I found Laurette all right, looking just as sophisticated naked as she did with clothes on. But she wasn't with George. She was just sitting in the lounge, smoking. I told her what Earl had said. She nodded, put out her cigarette and wandered off, her buttocks swiveling.
"I didn't find George, but a tall, lanky man with a long, limp dong caught my arm, tugging me into a cabin. 'This is swap time--and look what I drew! The little new prize! You are lovely, my dear. You should never wear clothes, not even that charming number you had on earlier.' He slid a hand under my arm and pressed it against one of my tits. 'Lovely, lovely.' And his long, thin dong was already beginning to rise. Feebly at first but gaining strength.
"There were only two mirrors in that cabin, but very strategically placed, practically at right angles, so I could see several of us in reflections. And the sight of his rising dong triggered an electric response in me.
"Jake may not have been as suave as Earl but he had a longer dong that went deeper into my throat, and his mouth, seeming big and slack, could cover my whole cunt and work up a real suck. So our climax was pretty good. Really good.
"After we washed up, there was a sort of meeting in the lounge. A curiously decorous meeting, considering no one had a stitch of clothes on. Earl announced that we'd draw for partners, and passed around a cut-glass bowl with men's names in it. Each woman drew one. I know one girl looked at her slip and pouted. 'I drew my own husband!'
"Earl just laughed. 'Better luck next time. Or swap with one of the others.' Laurette offered to swap slips but the girl looked at her for a moment and then drew back her slip. 'It might be fun, at that. Novel, anyway, having my own husband.' But there was a spark of jealousy showing.
"I drew someone named 'Cass' who turned out to be executive director of a very good account, which we still have. He was a jolly, beaming man with just a shade too much stomach.
"We moved around to pair off and have a round of drinks. There was a good bit of surreptitious peering but no pawing. The 'meeting' was very proper, even with everybody in the nude. I noticed George trying to catch my eye and grinning sheepishly, but I ignored him. This wasn't the time for subtle marital signals.
"Cass led me into a cabin that had three mirrors, all very interestingly interreflecting. But Cass turned the lights down so low it was difficult to see anything in them. 'I know I'm just a pudgy little man, but I don't want to be reminded of it. Not when I'm with a beautiful woman, certainly.'
"He wasn't very adept, either. He tried too hard, compensating for his pudginess. Still, I got a real kick out of him, even though, at one point, he nearly smothered me with his stomach. It must have been nearly three o'clock when we finished up, with Cass practically gurgling over how wonderful I was and we must do it again some time.
"After that it was a sort of free-for-all. Any time a girl stepped out of a cabin, she was available for grabs. I got grabbed three more times that night and had one really wonderful time. George, however, pooped out early and was sleeping it off in Laurette's cabin.
"Six times! Sucked and sucking! That may not have beat the old fraternity record--I think one girl is supposed to have taken on ten or maybe it was twelve boys one night, but most of that was 'regular' sex, just lying on her back and letting them ream her. I understand she ate peanuts through most of it.
"It was glorious! I loved it. And don't think I didn't. I'm oriented to oral sex. I like feeling a man's mouth and tongue playing with my cunt and I enjoy the ram and ream of a prick in my throat, with the big, gooey gob of come plunging down me and the hot, acrid taste of it. Real man-taste. Somehow, it's more satisfying than being reamed in the cunt.
"That way, a girl just lies there and takes it, until tension builds. Then she maybe wraps her legs around his and kicks her heels a few times in his ass--and boom! It's over. I like my way better.
"Oh, I like oral sex. I don't really know if it's something in the way I'm built--which could be--or whether it's because of my first experiences with sex--Al and then Jerry.
"I know I don't want to be 'cured' of it. Or reoriented, or whatever you headshrinkers call it. I like it the way it is. Only I don't care too much about this oral sex club. In fact, I've had it. And once I'm out of this mess, I'm quitting. I'm through being an oral whore--and getting paid off in nice, fat accounts.
"Oh, I expect it will cost us several. Probably most of 'em, since that's how we got the bulk of them--peddling me to the top men. But I've been poor, and I can be again. Of course, rich is nicer. I'm going to hate giving up that house. And the Jaguar. And all those lovely clothes.
"In fact, I wouldn't mind going to the club once in a while--but when I want to. I don't like being on call. It's too much like being a whore. Which I am, of course.
"An oral club can be interesting. Imagine, having five or six men go down on you man evening. And sucking that many cocks. Delicious! In a way, I'll hate giving all that up. It's the way I am. The way they are. They like their sex special. And so do I. But I like giving it away --for free. Not just because some potbellied old coot owns a lush account ...
Although Eleanor P-- attempts in her last few words to convince the analyst, and herself, that she is not a "play for pay" girl, her past life-style proves her to be unconvincing.
The chances are she will continue in the same vein until she will no longer be able to sell herself, at which time she will lose both her status cum riches and her husband.
CONCLUSION
Reviewing the case histories under discussion in this study, one is struck by the presence of a unifying factor common to all--besides, that is, the subjects' common preference for a particular paraphiliac orientation.
This unifying factor is their common motivating agent--boredom--which may, perhaps, have more significance in the evaluation of any documents relating to the phenomenon of the contemporary adult "sex club" than the precise nature--oral, anal, sadomasochistic--of the sex club itself.
Within the present study, for instance, boredom motivates the sexual experimentations that "save" a marriage or two, however temporarily. It explains, to some extent, the actions of the well-to-do housewife who ostensibly prostitutes herself to help promote her husband's business. The deadly ennui of small-town sex provides, as much as anything, the motivation for the country boy's move to Hollywood; his subsequent activities are more a series of blunders than anything else. And one is tempted to call it a kind of terminal boredom which causes the sexually frigid Kristi Y-- to accept her part in a humiliating sadomasochistic relationship with the proprietor of her particular Sex club, for want of anything better to-do.
Examining the three cases involving mate-swapping--particularly in the light of recently published examinations of the "swinging" and "swapping" phenomena--one begins to suspect that many young Americans, particularly in their first marriages, tend to mate as blindly as any cat or dog in the street; the principal factor involved is a simple sexual attraction, and the principal qualitative differences that separate their random pairings from those of the quadrupeds named are such things as the absence of a true periodicity factor in our patterns of sexual activity and--more importantly--the considerable legal Complexities of the human pair-bonding process as practiced in our society.
Simple sexual attraction suffices for the cat and the dog, who--except in the rarest of cases--are exempt from the pair-bonding process due to the relatively rapid maturation of their young. Humans, however, whose young must, by contrast, be housed, fed and protected for what seems a disproportionately long time before they are able to provide for themselves, must perforce learn to live together while doing this feeding and protecting. And, in the idea, they must learn to take such comfort from each other as they can--sexually, emotionally, intellectually--in order to make the best of their pairing.
Thus, in the ideal marriage, simple sexual attraction--a predominantly esthetic consideration, in most cases--might rate rather lower on the scale of factors making this living-together process actually work than one might at first imagine. Physical beauty, for instance, fades; we are, after all, locked irrevocably into the process of dying from the moment of birth, and into decay from puberty. Moreover, even if we succeed some day in learning to control the visible effects of aging, we would still be faced, in our relatively long lives, with the problem of over-familiarity. There is no man so handsome, no woman so beautiful, that the daily contemplation of his or her physical beauty will not eventually pall; the same, of course, is true of tactile contact.
Thus our subjects' frantic search for new physical or psychological means of mutual stimulation as a means of "saving" their relationships--means such as oralism, group sex, exhibitionism--are doomed to failure if the results of these practices do not come to include a meeting of their minds on many levels other than that of the temporary titillation they think they are seeking. Moreover, there is hardly a paraphiliac excess to which we will not eventually build up such a tolerance that it no longer provides the stimulation that we are seeking.
Thus the practical use--in helping to cement a sexual partnership--of what used to be called "deviant" practices seems limited from the start. It is not in the clitoris nor the glans of the penis that the orgasm occurs, nor in any surface of the body. It occurs in the mind, and in the ideal relationship one might say' it would occur in two minds in tune with each other, as a single phenomenon.
Overconcern for the purely physical is the topic of a well-known (if apocryphal) anecdote popular with musicians. The late pianist Leopold Godowaky, a tiny man, was approached after a concert by a giddy matron who gushed interminably about Godowsky's great technical skill: "How do you ever manage to play so well with such small hands?"
"Good heavens, madam," the pianist said, "wherever did you get the idea that we play the piano with our hands?"
