Within the American home, within the American family, there are more secrets, skeletons, and hidden recesses than anywhere else in our lives.
The family is generally the root of our initial problems and in the case of the women whose interviews are recorded here it has certainly provided the source for anxieties and dilemmas.
Here are some of their stories;
Wanda Y., age 20; "It took me years to find my real mother. When I found her I never expected I would end up naked on the floor with her and her boyfriend, rolling around. . ."
Tanya U., age 17; "My brother found the magazines and he called me all sorts of disgusting names. He was ready to rape me but when I pleaded with him he paused. He wouldn't take my cherry. He would be merciful. And yet, he still had that hard-on and he wanted me to take care of it. . ."
Nancy O., age 15; "Daddy wouldn't let us associate with any of the other children in the county. I was horny and curious. So, when my brother was taking a shower I stripped down and stepped into the shower with him. It upset him, but I was on my knees and sucking him so fast he couldn't do anything else but enjoy it. . ."
Grace H., age 19; "When my aunt was left in charge of me she would let my two cousins do whatever they wanted with me. They tickled me until I wet my pants and then made me undress in front of them ..."
CASE HISTORY ONE
SUBJECT: Amy B. AGE: Twenty-three
Interview One
Amy was a very attractive young woman who seemed to have a fair amount of self-confidence.
She was tall and slender, her clothes definitely showing off her body. Her slacks and her sweater were both clinging to her and accentuating her shapely breasts and sensually formed legs.
Her hair was golden, a deep blonde color, and her complexion was smooth and white.
I noticed, however, that whenever the subject of her family would come up she would lose that air of confidence that she had. She would light a cigarette and display nervous habits with her hands. Obviously it was that subject which caused her difficulty.
Doctor, I really never expected that I would be sitting here with a shrink.
No offense. I was never one of those people who put down people who went for therapy, people who felt they needed help. It was only that I was always pretty well-balanced.
Well, I thought I was well-balanced. I thought I had my act together.
It's just that something happened recently that really shattered that.
But, I'd better explain a few things about myself first.
First, you ought to know that I make my living here in New York in a number of ways that some people might frown on. I'm not a hooker. I've never taken money for sex. I swear that.
I do, however, dance in a topless club sometimes. I mean, when I need the extra money.
Hell, I have a lot of friends here in New York who are kind of bohemian, if you get my meaning. A lot of crazy friends. And I don't think anything of that topless club. My friends don't think anything of it. They all think that it's a big goof.
Would you believe that I'm here because of something sexual that happened, because of a sexual attack, and it has nothing at all to do with that club? It has to do with. . . Oh, dear.
It's not easy for me to talk about my family. It's, in fact, a very difficult thing for me.
You see, when I was born I was sort of the princess. I was the perfect little golden girl. I was really pampered all the time I was back in my home town.
My father and mother and my older brother were always treating me in very special ways.
Of course, when I was little I was always loving it. Who wouldn't?
It was only when I started to grow a little bit more that I realized how stifling it was for me. I realized that I had to get away from their expectations. I had to.
You see, I couldn't bring myself to ever do anything that was less than perfect.
I was the best little girl in the whole wide world, and I couldn't do anything that the best little girl wouldn't do, could I? I had to always live up to what they wanted.
In all those years I don't think I ever shattered my parents' image of me, of what I was. It was when I became aware of sex that I felt the most tension on that point.
After all, how could the best little girl in the world masturbate?
I'm not making a joke, Doctor. I really mean that. I felt so damn guilty everytime I would touch myself down there, everytime I would want to fingerfuck myself, that I would burn up with perspiration and I would toss and turn until I finally did it.
Oh, it was never even a great pleasure for me. I would never actually let myself go with the pleasure.
Did you ever hear the line about the girl who was such a lady that she would even drive her car with her legs crossed? Well, that was me. Only, I was such a lady that I would even cum with my legs crossed. I would actually press my legs together, fold one leg over the other, when I was at the verge of cumming at the end of my fingerfucking sessions.
And, of course, that was always done with the door closed and the lights out late at night.
Even then, after I would masturbate, I would feel this terrible feeling all over me, this feeling that said that if my parents knew what I had done they would be awfully disappointed in me.
I know that was silly, but then again I didn't know any better at that time.
What I mean to say is that I know now that masturbation is a perfectly normal thing. But, no one ever taught me that. No one ever told me that when I was growing up.
Actually, when I think back on the way my parents were I really believe that they would have been disappointed in me if they had known that I was masturbating.
Sex was not only disapproved of it was even non-existent in our house.
I remember that when I wanted to get a bra, when I really felt I needed a bra, I was terribly embarrassed to discuss the matter with my mother. In fact, she was embarrassed also.
I remained a virgin all the way through high school.
There were a couple of boys I dated when I was in high school. I was very popular and very attractive, but all the boys knew that I was a good girl. I think I just started with that reputation as a good girl and, after that, it just remained with me.
In my senior year I was voted the most popular girl in the high school. I have a feeling I won that vote because all the girls voted for me. You see what I'm saying? I wasn't a threat to them. All the boys thought that I was very pretty, but they knew that I wouldn't put out.
When I say that I was the most popular girl in high school it was that. . . Well, I kept very busy. I was the head cheerleader and I played the lead in two different school plays, one in my junior year and one in my senior year.
By the time I was in my senior year everyone in the school already assumed that whatever play they were going to pick I would be the one who would be playing the girl's part.
At the graduation ceremonies the music teacher picked me to do a solo song.
Of course all of this went to my head. I felt that I was doing everyone a favor by being plain old me' and by granting my presence on the school and all those lowly peasants.
It's incredible to me that everyone in the town let me get away with that attitude. Not only did they let me get away with it, but they even encouraged it.
I can still remember the party after the graduation ceremonies. I can still remember the way everyone went on and on, rambling about how wonderful I was and about how my parents should let me do something with my talent. I decided I should do something with my talent.
The following fall I was going to the two year college that was driving distance from our home.
I was living at home and I had to drive over twenty miles each way to school. Since I had just gotten my license over the summer that wasn't very easy for me. I was upset about driving the car such a long time. It made me very tense.
I guess that was the reason that I didn't do so well the first semester there.
During the middle of the second semester at the college I made up all sorts of excuses about why it wasn't a good place for me to be and why I was too good for them. Actually I knew that they were just excuses. For the first time in my life I wasn't a pampered princess any longer and I really felt threatened by that. It was a different thing for me.
I don't know where I got it into my .head that I should go away to New York to become an actress, but that's just what I did. In a way, I guess, I knew what I was getting into. I knew what I was doing to myself. I knew that I had to cut myself away from the town.
You see, sex had finally come into my life. That made a difference.
Over the summer, after I had graduated from high school, I was working as a counselor in a day camp. There was a guy who was working as the head counselor for the boys, he was a college senior, or at least he was going into his senior year, and I was very impressed by him.
He asked me out and I dated him. Going out with him was really different from going out with the guys in high school. Frankly, it was a little bit threatening to me.
It was frightening for me to go out with a guy who didn't know that I was a princess and an angel and that I wasn't supposed to do anything naughty. But, at the same time it really, really turned me on. By the way, he was the first one who ever gave me marijuana to smoke.
That, by the way, wasn't very successful. I got terribly paranoid and ended up merely upset and shaken up.
The important thing, though, is that he was sexually threatening to me. He came on to me in a way that none of the high school boys ever had. He expected me to put out.
When he went too far I ended up crying and. ... Oh, it was a mess.
The furthest I ever went with him was to let him touch my pussy through my panties. He placed my hand on the front of his pants and I felt his dick, I felt the outline of it, but I never actually touched the flesh itself. When he started to take it out - of his pants that was already going too far. Toward the end of the summer he didn't want to see me anymore.
Of course the reason why he didn't want to see me was that I wasn't putting out for him. But, at that time I couldn't see that. At that time I had my confidence shattered.
So, all of that added up to my being a wreck when I started in college.
There was only one interesting thing during that year I spent in school. Actually it was less than a year since I never even finished the second semester.
There was one teacher who became quite close to me. He was the drama teacher and he was a very good looking guy. Actually, he looked a lot like my father. He had a little bit of white at the sides and his hair was sort of sandy brown on top, just like my father's.
He was about forty, but he had kept himself in good shape.
We all called him by his first name. We all called him Cal.
Looking back over the few years now I can see that he wasn't very good. He wasn't very talented. He didn't know a damn thing about what he was doing. But, that didn't stop him from trying to impress the kids, especially the girls in the school.
He seduced me. Cal knew just what he was doing. He knew just how to seduce me since he treated me like a princess. He was the only one there who did.
I know that a lot of the other kids considered me snotty and stuck up and I don't know what. Cal probably felt the same way about me, but he knew that the way to get into my panties was to treat me just the way my father had always treated me.
One day I stayed after the rest of the class had gone. He wanted to work with me on a scene that I had done for his class. He looked into my eyes and he started to babble on and on about things like "Do you know what it is to please a man?"
I felt embarrassed. "I'm terribly inexperienced. I don't know much."
"A girl as beautiful as you are, Amy," he went on, "must have had many chances. Don't tell me that you were afraid! Is it possible that you were afraid to take a chance?"
He managed to make me feel that I was in the wrong, that I had been afraid of taking a chance. Well, he got me to take a chance with him. He really knew what he was doing.
Cal locked the door and asked me, "Are you frightened now?"
I shook my head. That was a lie. I knew what he wanted and I was certainly frightened.
"How can you hope to be an actress until you're willing to shed your inhibitions?" He went on to lecture me about the exercises we did in class. There were a number of them and they all involved trust. There was one where I would be in the center of a circle and I would let myself fall with my eyes closed, trusting that I would be caught.
"You're always too tense when we do that sensitivity exercise," he said. "You don't have trust in you, Amy. You don't have a willingness to be naked in front of others."
"It's the kids in the class, Cal. They don't like me. They act like. . ."
"Do you trust me?" he interrupted. "What if I asked you to appear naked in front of me?"
"I would do it in front of you," I said, hardly realizing what I was saying. Oh, I guess I did realize just what I was saying. I'm sure I did, in fact. I knew what I was doing.
"Then do it, Amy. Show me that you're willing to let yourself go."
I paused, pretending that I didn't understand him. Then he started to unbutton his shirt. . "Go on, Amy. I'll do it with you. We'll both prove how much trust we have for each other."
And then I started to undress. I was watching him all the time. He never got too far ahead of me. I peeled off my slacks and then I was just in my bra and panties.
I still recall that particular day I was wearing these pink lace panties and this pink lace bra that matched. They both looked like things that a very young girl would wear. I mean, the color of pink was very girlish, not at all womanly.
I remember thinking that I was embarrassed about that outfit. Of course I didn't realize then that Cal was probably getting off on the fact that my outfit was girlish.
He stood in his underpants, stroking his dick through the fabric and nodding at me. "Go on."
I opened my bra and revealed my breasts. I was burning up with passion inside. That was the first time any guy had ever seen my bare tits. Then I peeled down the panties that were clinging to my flesh and stood completely naked in front of him. He peeled down his shorts.
That was when I felt terribly wicked. The reason for that feeling was that when I looked at him he looked so much like my father did. I mean, I had never seen my father naked. I had never seen him anywhere close to that except in his swimsuit in the summer.
But, there was a resemblance. I never told that to Cal and never told that to my father. But I was so aware of that. I was so very aware that he looked like my father.
His dick was standing up erect. He opened his arms and said, "Come here, Amy. Let me hug you."
And I did it. I could feel his cock pressing against my warm flesh. There was already a little . moisture at the head of it and that frightened me. It rubbed into my flesh.
Then he eased me down onto the floor. We were right there in the back of the stage of the little one-hundred seat theatre that was used for the drama class.
I was down on the hard wooden floor .and he was on top of me. He was kissing me all over. He kissed my lips and moved his lips down to my neck. Then he was licking my tits.
That was when I giggled. I guess I was too tense to let him do that.
So he got down on top of me and he positioned his cock against my pussy lips. I knew that it was going to happen. I suppose it's terribly trite for me to tell you that I told him to be gentle with me, but that's what I said to him.
I'm sure that I wasn't the first virgin he took on the floor of the drama class stage.
I can remember how it felt when his cock head was first between the supple lips of. my pussy. I felt that the lips were being stretched wide apart by the pressure of the cock head.
And I could also feel the pressure of the broad head that was pushing against the inner lips. I could feel the moist, clinging inner labia spreading apart. There was the burst of excitement that came when the cock head brushed past the ignition switch, my clit.
Then there was the moment when I knew it was going to happen. That was the moment when the head of his cock was pressed right up against my virgin sheath. I knew that the next bit of pressure was going to rip me right open. He was going to enter me.
The cock pushed forward and I felt the heat that was being spread through my cunt.
I whimpered a little and grunted, "Easy. Oh, easy. Please."
He was very sweet. He kept on going "Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. Relax."
And his dick kept on pushing forward into my body. I was all filled up.
It was when he had the entire length inside my body that he stopped. He didn't start to fuck me. He started to kiss me tenderly and he was still holding me.
He wrapped his arms around me, somehow realizing that this would make it easier for me, that this was what I needed just then. And then he started to move his dick from side to side. He was merely massaging the walls of my cunt with the head of his cock.
First he pushed a little in one direction and then in the other direction.
Cal was working his hips around and around so that his cock was working around and around inside me.
The way he was doing that he was getting more lubrication into my body. And then when he finally pulled back out of me it was able to smoothly slide against the flesh of my cunt.
He pushed into me and the broad head of it slammed against the depths of my body. Then he pulled back again and pushed forward again. He was working his dick back and forth and back and forth and soon he was moving quickly, soon there was a hot friction inside my body.
I had my legs wrapped around his ass. I had my feet pressing down against the cheeks of his ass.
He was holding me so tight and mumbling how wonderful I was, how good I was.
His body was pressed tightly against mine and only his hips were moving up and down and up and down. His hips were moving as if they were a piston engine with only one piston to push - a thick, iron-hard, furnace-hot piece of metal that spread me open.
I was soon in heaven. I could feel the walls of my cunt actually getting thicker with the juice that was oozing out of me. They were like sponges that were wrapped around the stiff poker. The quickly moving shaft was massaging the insides of my body with a hot friction.
Each time he pushed down into me I was pushing my hips up against his body so that he was thrusting even harder into me. He had no idea that in my mind right at that instant was the constant thought, "Daddy. Daddy." It was that thought that made me cum.
He cried out when he felt the walls of my cunt collapsing around his dick.
Cal really pushed into me then. He slammed forward and filled me up with his cock.
And then he was shooting into me like crazy. His dick was shooting and shooting some more. I thought it was never going to stop. And, frankly, I was hoping it would never stop.
He kept holding me even after we had both cum. He pulled out of me very slowly. He actually eased out of me. It was very nice. His body against my body really turned me on.
We didn't really talk that day. It was the next time I saw him that we talked.
He told me that he didn't want to do anything to screw me up and that he didn't want to have sex with me again. I knew that he had a wife and some kids, but we had never spoken about that. I was shattered when he told me he didn't want to fuck with me again.
First I was shattered because it was one of the first times in my life when I had ever gotten such a direct rejection. Actually, it really was the first real rejection I had gotten.
And second, I was shattered because I knew that I wanted more sex.
I had to leave the college then. The only person who had been friendly to me had gotten what he wanted and he didn't want to. . . Well, no, I shouldn't lay the blame on him. Let me put it this way - I was embarrassed to be in his class.
When I was sitting in his class all I could think of was that he knew what it was like to be inside my pussy and that embarrassed me. I didn't want to go to class anymore.
And then, I knew that I wasn't going to be able to get my sexual satisfaction back in my home town. I knew that I had to get away. What better place than New York City?
My parents had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand they were upset that I was leaving them.
But, Doctor, on the other hand, they had no realistic understanding of the problems that faced a young struggling actress in New York. It was then that I realized how naive they were.
I mean, they had a great deal of faith in me and they were certain that I would have no difficulty. They thought I was the best actress in the world.
So, of course I went to New York with that confidence in myself.
My father had given me some money and I figured that I would need a job to tide me over. Of course everything in New York was much more expensive than 1 had guessed it would be. It was terribly difficult for me to make the adjustment. Everything was so different.
I managed to find this little apartment to share with two other girls. I had no privacy and 1 was constantly exposed to the lives that the two of them were leading.
One of them was a creep and she moved out. The other one became a good friend to me.
I went through a lot of typical things. Actually, I did well compared to a lot of my friends. I've done a couple of television commercials and each time I get one of those that's really nice money for me. But, I haven't done any really good quality work.
Each summer, because of my looks, I'm always able to get some little summer stock thing. But, the amount I earn in that doesn't even pay for the voice teacher and the acting lessons that I take for the rest of the year. To pay for that I work as a waitress.
I can usually get work in a classy place where I get good tips, but sometimes things are slow.
That was why, a year ago, a friend told me about this place where you could dance topless.
Now, as I said, I have a lot of friends in New York who are zany and bohemian. I even have a friend who's a very high-priced hooker. She works through a call service and makes between eight-hundred and a thousand a week. I swear it. She's encouraged me to do that.
It's not that I had any moral compunctions about hooking. It's just that I felt I couldn't do it. I felt embarrassed about it. This is a matter I really gave some thought to.
I guess there's a certain pride in me. . . being able to say that I never got paid for sex. If I had been paid I suppose I could be proud of that also. But I'm willing to let it go as it is.
Oh, the time is almost up. I can't believe that. I didn't even get to the part about my brother.
Okay, very briefly, Doctor, my brother found out about the topless dancing. Very briefly, what I need to tell you about the next time I'm here is that my brother raped me.
That's it in a nutshell. Now I've given you all the background about it and the next time I can tell you all about the trip I just made back to my home. Oh, what a mess that was.
Of course he didn't believe me when I said that I had never been a hooker.
All I did was get up in this little cage and dance in a pair of beaded panties. I let men look at me. Actually it gave me pleasure to have them getting off on me, to know that the guys who weren't scoring that night were going home and beating off thinking about me.
But, the way my brother acted about it you would think I had killed somebody or something.
All I can say is that I'm glad I got away from that town when I did, but there's still some of that town in me, haunting me, plaguing me. That's why I felt I needed help.
I need to work out the thing that happened to me when I went back to the town, the thing that my brother did to me. And, there are probably other things in my head that I need to get out of my system as well, Doctor.
Interview Two
Last time I was here I gave you enough background, didn't I?
All I really wanted you to understand was, first of all, the attitude they had about me back at home where they thought I was a perfect angel and was always expected to act that way, and secondly, the kind of life I've been living here in New York.
I've slept with a lot of different guys since coming to New York. I have a rather full and rich sex life. I've tried a lot of different things over these few years.
But, I think that I'm a sensible girl and that I'm taking care of myself.
For instance, I have a policy at the club where I dance. I won't let any guy pick me up at the club. If a guy picks me up there he'll figure I'm a hooker and I don't want that.
So, as I've been saying, I think I've demonstrated a lot of good sense in my life.
Anyway, what I wanted to tell you about, what I needed to tell you about, was the thing that happened when I went back to visit the town just last month.
I probably should have gone to a shrink immediately after it happened. I was shaken up and I was terribly upset. But, I kept that to myself. I figured I would let it pass away. But, of course, it didn't pass away. It stayed with me.
This all started when my older brother called me in New York.
Daniel was always very protective toward me. We went through a period when he was always fighting with me, a period of sibling rivalry, but that passed pretty quickly.
He was always acting like my big brother and he was always very proud of me and proud of my good reputation and my beauty and my virtue and of all the other things he expected of me.
And I always looked up to him. I'd say that it was a good relationship.
The only problem with the relationship in the last couple of years was that it was hardly an honest relationship. I never felt that I could let Daniel, or my parents, know anything about my life in New York. Sure, I told them about my roommate and about my apartment and about the television commercials and the summer stock jobs.
But I never mentioned any of the guys I was seeing and I never mentioned any of the jobs I got, like the one at the topless place. When my mother would ask me what I was doing for money I would make her think that I had more jobs as a model or that I had gotten more money for the acting jobs I got and that that was seeing me through.
So, they didn't know that I had crazy friends and was working at wild jobs.
Honestly, when I once made reference to coming home after a show my mother expressed great worry about my travelling home so close to midnight. If she ever knew that there were nights when I worked the topless bar until it closed at four in the morning she would pass out.
So, I just kept all of that to myself. It was better that way.
Then I got this call from my brother and he told me that I had to come home right away. He said that he had to talk to me about something very serious. I assumed that something was wrong with either mother or father. I was worried. He told me that it had nothing to do with them and that I wasn't even to speak to them about his call.
Daniel wouldn't give me the first clue of why he wanted to speak to me. But, he sounded so intense and so serious I couldn't refuse him. Believe me, air fare back to Ohio was a chunk out of my bank account that I really didn't want to part with. But, I felt I had to.
I called the folks, pretending that I hadn't spoken to Daniel, and I told them that I had just earned some extra money and I was treating myself to a trip home.
That was a very convenient lie for a very inconvenient trip.
You see, Doctor, Daniel had never done anything like that before. He had never before sounded so upset. He's this calm guy, this guy who never shows his feelings. You know, that's the way our kind of family always was - at least the males in our family.
I knew that something was wrong. I really got myself sick worrying about it.
Then I went back home and I went directly to my parents' house. They still have the same house. Daniel is married and he and his wife have one child, a boy. They have an apartment that's only a few blocks from my parents' house.
Daniel is the manager of the tire store at the local Sears. He's proud of that. He's really come a long way for someone his age. By the time he's thirty he'll be managing the whole store.
Anyway, it was Saturday when I got into town. My parents had a dinner for me and Daniel and his wife were there. I asked him, when we were alone together, to tell me what . the problem was, why he had told me to come back home like that. But he wouldn't talk to me.
He said that he would come by for me the following morning and we would talk then. I told him how upset I was and how much I was bothered and didn't want him to play games. He seemed so damn unfriendly to me. He had never acted that way before that.
Then I was really upset. I knew that something was wrong that had changed Daniel's attitude toward me. I knew that he was purposely giving me the cold shoulder.
I didn't sleep at all that night. It was hard to hide my concern from my folks.
The next morning, after breakfast, Daniel came and picked me up. He put on a happy face for the folks and he told them that he was going to drive me down to the store to show me his domain. He had the key to the garage and the tire department. The whole place was closed on Sundays, of course. He acted like he was just going to show off for me.
My parents were glad to see him acting friendly toward me again and I was happy to take off with him because I really wanted to get to the root of what was troubling him.
When we were in the car going down to the store he asked me "Do you remember Erie Franklin?"
I asked what that had to do with anything. I only vaguely remembered Eric Franklin. He had been in the same high school class I was in. He was this guy who had a bad complexion and an even worse haircut. He was the captain of the audio-visual squad.
He was the sort of guy who would wear a patterned shirt with striped pants and think that he looked really cool. All the girls thought that he was the biggest creep in school.
I mean, he was someone I never even noticed and probably only remembered him because of his picture in the yearbook. I kept the yearbook with me, you know.
Anyway, 1 told my brother, "I hardly knew Eric. What are you talking about?"
"Eric Franklin went to New York a couple of weeks ago. He works in the camera department of the store and he went to New York for a convention - some kind of camera show. When he came back from New York he came to me and he told me all about his trip.
"I asked him why he was telling me about this club he went to called the Gator Club, and he told me that there was a dancer there, swinging her bare tits, that I would be interested in."
He pulled the car up right in front of the entrance to the empty garage in the store. Then he got out and opened the door. I followed him inside, feeling quite numb.
"I wanted to talk to you where nobody could hear us, Amy," my brother said.
He was staring at me. Then he pulled something out of his pocket and said, "I told Eric that if he went around spreading tales about you dancing in that club that I would cut his nuts off for him. Then he pulled out this here picture that he took in the club."
"Picture?" It's dark in the club and nobody's allowed to bring in cameras.
"He had his little special toy camera that can take pictures in the dark with super-slow film."
It was a picture of me, my legs spread in a very lewd position, one hand up at one of my tits, playing with the nipple, getting it excited. I looked at the picture.
"I should have told you about this before, Daniel," I said in a weak voice.
"Told me about this before? What is there to tell? Do you think I want to talk to you now?"
I saw then why he wanted to be in a private place. He was screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Did you tell mom and dad about this? You didn't tell them?"
"I wouldn't break their hearts this way. You want to kill our mom, don't you?"
"Daniel, I haven't done anything wrong! I haven't. It's not like I'm a prostitute."
"It's not. Then what the hell would you call it? Huh?"
"No," I was shaking my head, anxious to deny it. "I never did that. I swear."
"But you let filthy men look at your naked tits. You swing them around. . ."
"I get paid to. . ." I started to say. I was sorry each time I opened my mouth. No matter what I was saying, it always seemed that I was saying the wrong thing.
Of course the main mistake was that I was fighting with him and trying hard to defend myself.
I shouldn't have done that. I should have remained calm and I should have said that my life in New York wasn't any of his business and that I was a mature adult and then leave.
But, I felt such a need to justify myself in front of him. I couldn't help myself.
I had mentioned the word pay and he jumped on that word. "Then you are selling it."
"No. No. I just dance. I get paid to dance in that club. It's better money. . ."
"And I'll bet you can get lots, can't you?" He was snarling and backing me toward the brick wall. "My sister's tits swinging for all those filthy bastards!"
When I looked at him he really, really seemed terribly threatening. I bolted and turned toward the exit to run out, but he blocked my way and pushed me down to the floor.
"What's the matter? I'm not as good as Eric Franklin? Is that it?"
"Let me out of here, Daniel. I just want to go home now. Please."
"Home to New York? What's the matter, you slut, you can't do without it for one day?"
"Don't say those things to me, Daniel. You don't mean that. You don't know. . ."
He smacked me across the face and I was startled to silence.
"Well, don't worry, you hot little twat, I'll see that you don't have to do without it."
When he said that he pulled open the front of his pants and tugged down the front of his undershorts. His dick flopped out. It was already half-way hard and he jerked on it.
Of course I had never seen that before. I had seen dozens of cocks by that time, but I had certainly never seen my brother's cock. It frightened me. It terrified me.
The way he was hovering over me frightened me. He was jerking on his dick.
I couldn't take my eyes away from it. That was fear that did that to me.
"I know that you want it. I'll give it to you, you pig, you filthy slut."
And then he had the head of his dick right up against my lips. He pushed me back against the brick wall. I turned my head, but he grabbed me by my hair and forced my face forward.
I tried to plead with him then, but he used that opportunity to push the flared head of his cock between my lips. He pushed it into my mouth. I felt the cock head pressing down against my tongue and then I felt it sliding along my tongue.
Then I gagged. I remember gagging as he pushed the head of his dick against the back of my throat. He slammed it in hard, very hard, and then pulled back a little bit, a slight bit so that I couldn't get my face free of the impaling prong, and then slammed forward again.
Each time he pushed forward against the back of my throat he did it a little bit harder, he did it a little bit meaner, if you see what I'm saying. He was trying to hurt me.
"I heard about New York whores. They love to suck cock. They live on cum."
Everything he was saying was so mean and hurtful, I couldn't believe it.
Tears were welling up in my eyes, but he didn't seem to care. He was holding onto my head, digging his fingers into my hair, and he was slamming his dick in different directions.
"Watch those teeth. I thought you New York whores knew how to suck better than this."
I couldn't believe the fact that my loving brother, who had always been so protective of me was using my throat like that, was spouting forth such venomous and mean things as that.
He was completely ignoring the gagging sounds that I made as I choked and struggled.
But then he pulled his dick out of my throat. "Why should Eric Franklin get to see your tits and not me? Huh? I want to see your tits," he demanded.
I was pushed down onto the greasy, cold floor of the garage and then he was kneeling on top of me. He pulled open my blouse and even ripped one of the buttons off as he did so.
That day I was only wearing this very skimpy bra. It was sort of a half-bra. I was very sorry about that. It lifted me well from in front and it made me look good. Well, I was sorry .about that also. I was sorry, that one day, that I looked sexy.
It was lace and I knew that my nipples, or the pink flesh right around my nipples, showed over the cups. He pulled one each of the cups. He didn't bother to take the bra off me. He merely pulled my tits out of the cups and then squeezed each of them.
Meanwhile I was writhing on the floor, trying to pull away from him, trying to push his hands away from me. "Stop, Daniel. You don't know what you're doing. You don't know."
Oh, good grief, Doctor. You know what I meant by that. I meant that he would regret what he was doing and that he didn't know the truth about his accusations. But, of course, as I realize now, that wasn't the way Daniel took it at all.
"So, I don't know what I'm doing? Your brother isn't as good as those New York pimps that you like to suck off, is he? I'll show you that I know what I'm doing."
I was wearing a skirt that day. That's another thing that I regret. My mother and father, though, always preferred me in a skirt so, when I was visiting, I wore it to make them happy. Back in New York I always wear slacks. That's besides the point.
Since I was in a skirt it was a simple matter for my older brother to push my skirt up and then to rip my panties off. 1 squealed and he said, "Yeah. You love it."
"No." Oh, what was the use. He didn't want to hear me. He didn't want to pay attention to me.
I could feel his fingers, the way he was pulling and tugging on my pussy lips, forcing me open, spreading the wrinkled flesh apart. I was moist, just a little moist.
His dick, of course, was already hanging free. It was fully erect from the sucking I had been giving him. He had the head of his dick against my pussy lips even as I was still flailing my legs and trying to fight him off.
Then he pressed his cock into me. I could feel the stiff boner sliding right inside me.
"I'll show you that I'm just as good as those New York bastards who fuck you."
I was crying. My body was heaving. The full length of his cock pushed all the way forward.
His zipper was digging into my flesh, feeling cold. I could feel his balls hanging down against the tender flesh that was between my legs. He looked into my face and I was terrified by the contorted expression that was on my face. It was my older brother's face, but it seemed all red and puffy. His eyes seemed to be so different.
"I didn't," I cried out. "I didn't do anything bad. I swear."
"Pig!" He shouted out that word as he slammed the broad head of his cock against the depths of my pussy. "Slut! Whore!" He kept on snarling each word as he pushed the head of his cock against my insides time after time. I knew that he was trying to hurt me.
He had one of the biggest cocks I had ever taken and I could feel the way it was slamming into the depths of me, nearly hitting my ovaries each time he snarled another word.
"Tramp! Slut! Pig! Whore!" He couldn't thrust his dick forward into me without also accompanying that thrust with a nasty word. And as the thrusts became faster and faster his words started to make up a litany. He was reciting them quickly.
He dug his fingers into the flesh of my thighs. He pressed his fingers hard against the soft flesh and he pushed my thighs upward into the position that he wanted. My legs were up over his arms. He was holding me like that. He was strong enough to do it.
And his hips were moving up and down and up and down repeatedly.
He was working his dick faster and faster in and out of the depths of my cunt. I could feel the fire, the wet friction in the walls of my delicate pussy.
And he* was slamming harder and harder. He was ripping, purposely, at the flesh on the sides of my cunt. "You're hurting me," I sighed, my voice practically a whisper.
"That's what you whores in New York love, isn't it?" he hissed.
Where did he get all that hatred. I don't know. But it was there.
He was fucking me faster and faster and faster and then suddenly he stopped. When he stopped fucking me I suddenly felt like I had been in a fast-moving car that had stopped short very suddenly. I suddenly felt like I was on a roller coaster ride that had suddenly come to an abrupt end. Do you know the way it feels when you dream that you're walking and you really feel that you're walking and then you come to a hole in the sidewalk? Even though you're only dreaming it you fall downward and wake yourself up.
That's the best analogy I can make to what happened with my brother.
My whole body seemed to collapse. I don't know where it came from, but I had an orgasm then. I tried to hold it back. I didn't want to have it. I wanted to fight against it.
But I couldn't help myself. There was that tingling sensation inside me.
He pulled out of me before he even finished cumming. More of his semen splashed on my legs and on my skirt. He turned and stuffed his dick away. You better leave town," he told me.
I couldn't say anything to him. I didn't know what to say to him.
Then he said, "I won't let mom and dad know about what you're doing in New York. I don't want you to let them know either. I don't want it to kill them."
And then he told me that he would wait for me in the car. I could hardly stand after the way he had fucked me. I stumbled out to the car and he drove me back home.
"I'll make up a story about why I have to leave right away," I said to him.
"Good." That was the full extent of our conversation in the car.
Since then I've thought of a million things I should have said, a million things I wish I had said. I should have said, "You self-righteous bastard, who are you to judge the way I'm living my life? Just because you don't think I should be dancing topless in New York doesn't mean that you had a right to rape me here. You're the one who's wicked."
But, I never said anything to him. I never said anything at all.
I phoned New York and then I told my folks that there was a job that had suddenly come up and that I would have to leave on a plane that night because it meant work the following day.
They were terribly disappointed. It hurt them and it hurt me also.
I felt sick during the trip back to New York. I felt sick over the fact that I had taken so much money out of my savings, virtually all my savings, merely to give my big brother a chance to rape me on the floor of the garage.
That week, when I got back to New York I tried to go back to work at the club, but I couldn't do it. I was getting terribly upset trying to dance there.
I was really in terrible shape financially when I found this job working in this awful little Italian restaurant. I'm killing myself for practically no money at all. But, I couldn't bring myself to go back to the topless place again.
Also, since that time I haven't had sex again with any guy.
There were two guys I had been seeing just before my visit back to Ohio. One of them was a guy I saw on and off. We would have one wild weekend together a month. And the other was an actor, a guy who was a little more settled with a rather good career. He and I were seeing each other on a sort of regular basis. But, I broke off suddenly with both of them.
I didn't even have any good reasons behind my actions. I just didn't want to see them again.
No, that's not it. I didn't want to have sex then. That was it.
I know what's behind all of this. I really, deep down, believe everything that my brother said about me. I really believe that I was wicked.
Intellectually, I can sit here and tell you that I didn't do anything wrong, that I was just earning my living and not being a bad. girl. But, emotionally I still feel like I'm that best little girl in the world and I still feel terrible about the judgement of my family.
CONCLUSION Others will always be there to give opinions and to judge. This is what Amy must understand.
She chose a life that included sexual freedom and free-living acquaintances. However, her self-esteem is still too shaky. She still has too many doubts about the choices she's made and, therefore, puts a great deal of weight on the opinions of others.
Amy can never be free completely from the past, from the things her parents taught her, from the way in which she was raised. But, she must learn that these things belong in the past. She can't wallow in guilt about the disapproval of her parents and her brother.
Given the choice between being "the best little girl" and being a mature, assertive woman who will make constructive choices in her life, Amy must opt for the second course. It will take a certain amount of therapy for her to work through her feelings about this.
She is suppressing a great deal of anger toward her whole family because of the restrictions she always felt were placed upon her. She must learn that it's okay to express that anger and then be willing to express the anger and take responsibility for herself.
I suspect that when she gets to the root of all of this she might find that she purposely took this course of action, becoming a topless dancer and leading a wild life, in order to rebel against her limited upbringing. She has see-sawed between rebellion and obedience and must take a new step in order to move toward independence.
With full self-esteem she can visit her parents, not saying anything about her private life in New York and not permitting her older brother to intimidate her or threaten her. As long as she feels that she has done nothing wrong she cannot be victimized.
CASE HISTORY TWO
SUBJECT: Grace H.
AGE: Nineteen
Interview One
Grace immediately seemed like a shy girl. She was certainly on the slender side, although she kept on referring to herself as 'under-developed' rather than slim.
But, she was really quite lovely. She had a very pretty face and an attractive, girlish figure which she hid in loose-fitting clothes. It took some time before Grace would trust me enough so that she would speak to me honestly and tell me about her troubling experiences. I have, therefore, included the transcript beginning only with her first substantial revelations.
Well, Doctor, I've mentioned my two cousins to you in the past. I know that.
Ivan was two years older than I - actually, he still is two years older. Joe is the same age.
We all look alike, that is to say, we look very much like we're from the same family. Ivan has black hair just like mine. I guess he's a little on the husky side, although he's turned it into solid muscle.
Ivan was a tackle on the high school football team. Joe is a lot smaller. It's not just his age. He's built a lot smaller than his older brother is.
Anyway, it was always a strange relationship since we lived right next door. They were almost like brothers to me, but they were still only my cousins.
My mother had passed away when I was very little. My father went to work during the day, of course. But, he didn't need to hire a housekeeper to look after me. My aunt was right next door. Actually we had the same housekeeper for both houses. She only came twice a week to clean.
Anyway, my aunt was my father's sister and she never liked me.
I know that sounds like my imagination, but believe me when I say it's true. She would say terribly mean things to me. She would tell me that I was unattractive, and that I took after my mother's side of the family who were all unattractive people.
When you're a little kid and you're hearing things like this, what can you say?
I remember telling her that I looked just like her family because I had the same black hair as her sons had and the same as she had, and she told me that I was scrawny and would never amount to anything. I lacked good bone structure. I lacked good features.
When I tried to tell my father about any of this he would act annoyed.
I can't remember my father acting any way but annoyed. It seemed that, no matter what I did, he was always annoyed with me. Not only with me. He was always annoyed with the world.
He worked very hard. He worked long hours. And he had no time for me.
He would tell me that, quite clearly. He would say, "I have no time for your problems. They're children's problems and I'm a busy man." So, I was taught that nothing that happened to me was important enough to talk to my father about. As for my aunt, she always sided with her sons. Ivan and Joe could accuse me of anything. She always thought they were perfect and that I wasn't. It was as simple as that.
I remember the nights I would cry myself to sleep because of this.
As far as I could see I had nobody in the world. I had no friends in school. I was that scrawny kid in school who was convinced that I was ugly and hopeless and so none of the kids wanted to have anything to do with me. There was nobody I could talk to.
Ivan and Joe always acted like they were doing me a favor when they had anything to do with me, and I did believe that they were doing me a favor because I didn't have anyone else.
I believed that I was unworthy and unattractive and I saw the two of them with all their friends.
I just thought of one example, the earliest good example I can recall of the treatment I received.
Ivan and Joe had some of their friends over in the basement playroom of their house and they went to fetch me. We were all quite young at that time. I'm not sure of the age.
I was delighted that they were willing to let me come over to play. But, then I found out the game they wanted to play. They wanted to look at my pussy. All the little boys there wanted to see what a girl's pussy looked like. I was very upset.
But they said that I should do it or else they wouldn't play with me again.
What could I do? Nobody else was willing to play with me and I didn't want to lose them. So, I followed Ivan's command. I pulled my skirt up and dropped my panties.
All the little boys were giggling and looking at it and pointing to it.
And then my aunt came down the stairs. She was still on the stairway when she screamed out, "You dirty little girl. You dirty, dirty little girl." Then she grabbed me and started to smack me all over the head and all over my body.
She dragged me up the stairs, my panties still down. I was being pulled over the steps and she was still ranting those same words, "You dirty, dirty little girl."
Of course she blamed me completely. My father merely told me that he was disgusted by what he heard from my aunt and that he didn't want to speak to me about it.
And my cousins had a field day with that. For months after it happened they would go on and on about it, calling me, "You dirty, dirty little girl." It was humiliating for me.
Then there was something else that happened. I must have been about twelve when it occurred. I know that because I already had a little bit of hair on my pussy lips.
I found that I was locked out of the house.
It was summer and there was no school. I had been locked out of the house. I don't remember the circumstances. But, I knew that I couldn't get back into the house until my father came back from work.
This was a problem because I really had to go to the bathroom.
I remember now. I had come back from the library. I had just returned from the library and I had some books with me. I went to my aunt's house, right next door.
Ivan and Joe were sitting in the backyard, both of them wearing swimsuits. They had been playing under the spray of the lawn sprinkler and they were both wet.
I asked where Aunt Kate was since I needed her extra key to the house. She was gone for the day and she had the key with her. So, I told them that I had to go to the bathroom. But they kept me from going into the house. Ivan locked the door of the house and tossed the key down into the front of his swimsuit. He obscenely rubbed the spot where the key was.
Of course that made his dick rise inside his trunks as he laughed at me.
I was dancing around and begging them. "I've gotta go. Please. Please."
That, of course, only made my cousins laugh at me. Then Joe said that he didn't think I really had to go to the bathroom and he started to tickle me. They both started to tickle me all over and I was rolling on the grass, trying to get away from them.
I was laughing, but I was crying at the same time.
I wet my pants. I couldn't help it. They were tickling me when I had to go to the bathroom.
And then I was really weeping. "Look at her. She still wets her pants like a baby."
They let me into the house and I went right to the bathroom, but it was late for that. Ivan said that I should take off my wet clothes and he would bring me something from their mother's room. I took down my shorts and my panties and stood there, shaking.
He knocked on the door and I unlocked it and then he handed in a pair of black lace panties from his mother's drawer. Obviously they were very stretchy because they seemed very small in my hand. They must have really been clinging when Aunt Kate wore them.
"I can't put these on. Come on, Ivan. Please bring me something else. Please."
"You're gonna give us a fashion show. Put them on and show us."
Apparently, the lock on the bathroom door was broken. I didn't know that. Ivan and Joe were right inside the room with me in a minute. I was bare from the waist down and terrified.
I clumsily pulled on the black lace panties and they were both clapping and encouraging me and doing all sorts of gross things. They were making noises and handling their dicks through their trunks.
The two of them wouldn't let me out of the bathroom.
Ivan said, "We won't bring you anything else to put on until you show us your tits."
"Tits," Joe said. "She hasn't got any yet." They were both laughing.
Joe was right. I had virtually nothing there yet. I hadn't developed yet.
But all I could do was whine and whimper. Ivan knew that he would get his way. He always got his way. Eventually I took off my top and then there I was, in nothing but the black lace panties. I must have looked ludicrous, dressed like that in front of the boys.
"We'll give you more clothes to wear if you play a little game with me," Ivan said.
"What sort of game?" I already knew it would be a nasty game.
"It's call rub-off. You've gotta let me rub my thing off against your panties."
"They're your mother's panties. They're not my panties," I said.
"I'm gonna rub against them. Then you can go get dressed." The two of them had backed me into the bathroom. What else could I do but let them have their way?
Ivan pushed me against the wall and then he unzipped the front of his trunks. He pulled out his thing. There was dark hair at the base of it. I know that it was stiff because of the way it pressed against my body. I didn't look much at it. I shut my eyes almost as soon as he started to press it against me. He rubbed it up and down against the black lace.
What he was doing was beating off against the black lace of the panties.
I was shuddering and was terribly upset about the whole thing. He was panting, his firm chest rubbing against my barely developing nipples. It was all over in less than a minute.
I don't know what Joe was doing at that time. I suppose he was probably jerking off also. I didn't want to look. I had my eyes shut, as I said. I didn't want to see.
And then there was this sticky stuff all over the black lace of the panties.
"Look at you!" he shouted. "Now you messed up mom's underpants. You wet yourself again."
My voice was like a shrill siren as I said, "No, I didn't. You wet them."
He was laughing "How could I have wet panties that you're wearing?"
I forced my way out of the bathroom then. I ran up the stairs with the two brothers chasing me. I wanted to get to my aunt's room so that I could get some clothes to put on.
Joe grabbed me and held me down. Ivan found some diapers that were there from a time when somebody had been visiting with a baby and he made me put them on. Well, he put them on me.
Oh, Lord, when_my aunt came home she was told Ivan's version of everything. She was told that I had wet my pants and had then taken her good pair of black panties and wet in them also. He made himself out to be some kind of hero, telling her that he had made me put on the diaper because I couldn't be trusted in anything else.
I remember the way she responded to that. I was fully dressed in my own clothes again. She called me into her room and told me that I should be put away somewhere because I wasn't fit to deal with normal children like her sons. Then she ordered me to take down the shorts I was wearing. I had to climb over her lap in my panties.
She held my legs between hers like a scissor. My ass was up.
Then she pulled down the back of my panties and she slapped my naked ass cheeks again and again and again. I could feel the stinging fire that was in the flesh of my ass.
"Any normal child would have cried from that spanking, but not you."
I remember that's what she said to me then. I hadn't cried. I couldn't stand the idea of giving her that satisfaction. I couldn't find the tears in me anymore. I figured the only way to survive was for me to hide all my feelings, to keep them inside me from then on.
Of course that wasn't the end with my cousins. They had mistreated. me, but I had very few options in my life, Doctor. I mean, what was I supposed to do?
It's so easy to sit back now and say that I should have stayed away from Ivan and Joe and that I should have had more respect for myself. But, I was a lonely little girl. That's all I was - a lonely little girl. And I didn't see that option.
The only playmates I had were my cousins and I was willing to do anything for them.
Of course, as the years passed Ivan became bolder all the time.
Ivan was the one who always started everything. Joe went along with him. It was always the same.
And so, it was the two of them who introduced me to sex. It was the two of them who introduced me, one step at a time, to all sorts of things about sex.
I recall a game of strip poker that Ivan initiated. There was more than one game. It was down in the basement of their house - as usual. And, naturally, I was a little vague about the rules for the game of poker. I know that they were taking advantage of me.
It's impossible that I could have lost every single hand like that, but I did.
There was no let-up. I just kept on losing. And then I was naked and Ivan said, "Now we have to play for other things."
"No," I said. "I don't want to play for other things. Let me go home."
But he was holding all my clothes and he said, "You can't have them back until we finish the game."
I was whimpering, but it was to no avail. He was going to have his sadistic pleasure with me.
The first thing they played for was for me to touch their dicks and to jerk them off. I suppose I was thirteen at that time and Ivan was fifteen. The first time I touched his penis then it felt so hot to my touch that I pulled my fingers away from it immediately.
It was like touching an oven-. I had never realized that my own pussy got that hot when I was sexually aroused. Touching someone else's sex organ for the first time was a new experience.
He forced my fingers around his stiff rod and then worked them up and down a little bit until I got the knack of it. I kept on doing it for him until he shot all over me.
Then I had to do the same for Joe. This went on a number of times.
I went along with it. It was a way for my cousins to be with me. If not for that then I would have been all alone. Given the option of doing that or. . . Well, it was better than my awful loneliness with no one to talk to and no one to be with.
But, just when I was really starting to get used to it, Ivan was ready to move on to the next step. He was ready to teach me something else then, whether or not I was ready to learn.
It shakes me up a little bit to talk about this, Doctor.
But. . . I feel, now, that I'm on a roll. I just need to continue and tell you the rest. Oh, Doctor, these are things I've never told anyone. These are stories that never passed my lips. This isn't easy for me to talk about. . . even with you.
The next thing that Ivan wanted was to have me suck his dick.
I guess at that time that he was already sixteen. At that time, also, my father was doing a lot of travelling on his job. He would go away for at least a couple of days- each month. There were some months when he was gone more than he was there.
So, whenever he was gone, I would move into the house next door.
It was an awkward way to live, a terrible way to live. I felt as if I didn't have a room of my own. In my aunt's house I slept in the den. The couch there opened into a bed and in the morning I had to see to it that the couch was closed and that all signs that it was used as a bedroom were gone. I was criticized for everything, but that was nothing new.
My aunt called me Zombie. "You walk around here with glassy eyes, Zombie. You give me the creeps."
It was when I was that age that my aunt started to tell me how much easier my father's life would have been if I had died instead of being born. Of course I believed that.
"He could have gone and gotten himself a bachelor apartment without any responsibilities. What good are you to him, Zombie?" Every word she said was filled with hatred.
Meanwhile, I was tossed into the clutches of my two sadistic cousins more and more.
As I said, Ivan decided that he wanted to teach me to suck his cock. He figured, I suppose, that it would be fun for him to have that service available to him when he wanted it.
It's almost amusing that, there I was one of the girls in school who was least likely to have sex, and. I was the one who was being introduced to everything, forced into everything.
None of the kids in school ever suspected any of It. They made jokes about me.
Anyway, Ivan kept on coercing me. It was a day when the three of us were alone in the house. I was staying there then since my father was out of town. I tried to" get away from him. No matter which room I went into he was always there, exposing himself and rubbing it in front of me.
Then he promised me that if I would do it for both of them he would take me along to the night football game that was being played the following week. Oh, I would have loved that. You don't know how much that promise meant to me. There was going to be a party after the game and only the football players and the really popular kids in school would be there.
In return for that I was willing to try sucking his dick.
He got me down on my knees and took off all his clothes. He liked parading around naked like that. As I said, he was a very big guy, a tackle on the football team.
When he told me to put my mouth around it I did. But I choked right away and slid my lips off it very quickly. The taste of it had gotten me sic�.
I think it was Joe who came up with the next idea. I loved chocolate and they knew that. Joe went to the kitchen and got the jar of chocolate syrup. He gave it to Ivan.
Ivan spread a little bit of the chocolate syrup onto his dick and then he had me lick it off. He kept on doing that. Slowly, but surely, I learned to do what he wanted me to.
By the way, that lying bastard didn't take me to that game or that party.
Once I had done it though he wouldn't let me off the hook. He would tell me, "If you don't suck my dick then I'll tell my mother that you've been doing it and then she'll ship you off to a reform school for girls where you'll grow up to be a whore."
And then Joe would laugh and say, "What kind of whore would she be? Who'd pay for her?"
Oh, they were so funny. The two of them thought they were so funny.
Doctor, help me. I'm losing control. I'm sorry. . . I'm trying not to cry. . .
I can't help myself. . . Oh, I can't help myself. I feel so sick. I feel like I don't want to go on. . . I can't go on. I'm trying not to cry. Help me.
Oh, Doctor. . . Oh, Doctor. . . I don't know if anybody can help me now.
Why did they do it to me, Doctor? Why did they have to do all that to me? Why? I don't understand. I'm trying not to cry. I'm trying. Help me. Help me stop crying.
I'm so scared. Will I ever stop... crying? Will I? Can anybody help me? Why did they do it?
Interview Two Grace was unable to continue at that point. She needed sedation and she needed a chance to rest. However, I didn't want to let another day pass without giving her a chance to continue her story. I placed her in another office so that she could lie down for a while and then I had her return during the next free hour that I had.
Thank you, Doctor. Thank you for making this second appointment with me today.
I don't know why you went out of your way for me like this.
I guess I need to learn that there are people in the world who are willing to go out of their way for me, people in the world who don't think that I'm just a lowly creature.
I think I can stay calm now. I do want to tell you the rest of it. I do want to tell you about all the rest that happened with my cousins and my aunt. It's not easy, but I feel now that I can finish the story. I'll take it slowly. Okay, Doctor?
There was the time when my cousins decided that it was time to take my cherry, when they decided that it was worth it to fuck me. I had never even been out with any boy, I had never even necked with any boy, although I had already swallowed the cum of both of my cousins.
It was on a weekend and apparently my aunt and uncle decided to go away. They weren't going to be back until Sunday night and it was Saturday morning at that time.
When they left it was right after breakfast. I went to the den to get dressed so that I could get out of the house. I had found, with Ivan and Joe, that the more I was out of sight, the safer I was from them. I guess at that age I no longer craved their company as much as I had when I was younger. I just didn't want the company of anybody.
I was getting changed when the door swung open. I had asked my aunt for a lock on the door, but she didn't do a damn thing about that. She even told me that I was too much of a nut for her to put a lock on the door of the room I used. "Besides," she said. "That room isn't your bedroom. That room is the den and the family room."
Ivan and Joe were both there. I told them to get out and they told me that they wanted to see me undressing.
Well, they had seen my body constantly over the years and paid no attention to my protests.
This time I knew that something was different. Ivan was rubbing the front of his pants and saying, "It's cherry-popping time now. Get down on the bed."
I shook my head and said, "No. I won't. You get out of here. Leave me in peace."
"I want a piece too," Joe said, scurrying across my bed and grabbing me from behind.
He pulled me down onto the bed and, no matter how I struggled, he pulled my hands up over my head. I was wearing my nightgown, which was down below my knees. It was light pink - almost a flesh color. It was plain except for flowers around the top of it.
While Joe grabbed my hands, Ivan grabbed my legs. They were both pinning me.
"Grab that belt over there," Ivan instructed his younger brother.
Joe took the belt that I was planning to wear that day and he pulled it around both of my wrists. Unfortunately for me he was an expert at tying knots and he managed to do it quickly and efficiently. My wrists were helplessly tied together over my head.
Since my bed was actually a studio couch that opened into a bed it was a simple matter for him to tie my bound hands to the wooden arm of the sofa that was at that end of it.
My wrists were helpless then. Ivan, meanwhile, was holding my feet in place.
The two of them managed to push my pink nightgown all the way up my body so that my breasts were revealed. By that time my breasts were just about what they are now.
They're small but rounded. It wasn't the first time they had seen my tits, but it was the first time that I had been physically forced in that way. I knew what was coming after that.
The two of them managed to pull my panties down my legs and then, for all intents and purposes, I was nude. My tits and my snatch were revealed. My nightgown was tangled up in my underarms. Ivan spread my legs wide apart and said, "I'm gonna bust your cherry."
I shrieked out. The two of them started to have an argument about which one of them was going to fuck me first. Ivan, of course, won. He always won over his kid brother.
It was Joe's job to hold my legs in place while Ivan got himself ready. He stripped naked, revealing his powerfully muscled body. Then he stroked his dick and rubbed the head against my pussy lips. I could feel the moisture that was dribbling onto the lips of my cunt.
And then he pushed forward. I felt the outer lips of my pussy wrapping themselves around the flared head of his cock, taking on the shape of his flared cock head. And, at the same time, I could feel the pressure of the front of the cock against my inner labia.
The inner cunt lips were wrapped tightly together and he was prodding against the clinging flesh.
I felt him spreading me open and then I felt the cock head rubbing across my clit and exciting it. There was a tingling that ran through my body and he grumbled, "Look at her. She loves it."
And then there was the intense pressure. I knew it was going to rip the next instant.
He pushed into my body and I felt the ripping. Only, when it happened it wasn't so much like a ripping as it was like a sting. It was almost like an electric shock. That's what I want to compare it to. It was like a sudden shock from a battery.
And then it spread all down the length of that flesh inside my cunt.
"No matter how ugly you are, little cousin, a pussy is still a pussy."
Oh, Lord, just when I was feeling that he couldn't hurt me anymore, he managed to do it. He always managed to make it worse than he had already made it. That a talent that Ivan had. He thrust forward. It was hard and long and it happened all at once.
He gave me no chance to relax my muscles. He pushed into me and I could feel the flesh, the virgin flesh that had never felt any contact with anything, being spread wide apart.
The breath was knocked out of me. He pulled back and I gasped. Then he slammed forward again.
In and out and in and out. He kept on working his stiff dick back and forth as fast as he could. I could feel this sizzling friction against my flesh. It was wetness. It was moist. But it was burning hot at the same instant. I couldn't stand it.
His fingers were gripping into my flesh. He was grabbing onto my tits and kneading them and he was digging his fingers into my hips. He was doing everything at the same time.
I was feeling so many different sensations and none of them were soft and tender.
Everything was hurtful. But, the one thing I was most aware of was the feeling in my cunt, that feeling that I had never felt before. I was aware of the pressure against the depths of my pussy. I could feel the pulling and pushing and the movement of my cunt flesh.
There was more lubrication, but he was moving so fast and he was slamming so hard that the lubrication didn't matter to me. It was still ripping me apart. It was still terrible.
And then he pulled out and I was still tied to the bed. Then his brother took over.
They both kept me tied up to the bed for more than twenty-four hours. I had to wet the bed when I needed to go. They didn't feed me or anything. They just used me for sex. That was all.
Of course I was the one who had to take some sort of blame for the wet bed.
They used me for sex a few more times then and then I ran away. I couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't know what was going to happen to me when I ran away. I figured, perhaps, someone might shoot me or something. That would have made matters simpler.
Of course I was brought back and I was placed in a home for disturbed girls.
I'll always remember my first night in that home. I was lying in bed and all the girls surrounded my bed. They all stripped me and forced me to do all sorts of things.
It' was nothing new for me, Doctor. I was used to that treatment from my cousins.
My aunt was right about me. I was like a zombie. I didn't react. I didn't have any facial expressions any longer. I just walked around from day to day, not knowing why I was continuing.
I was placed in a foster home because the people in the home for disturbed girls took pity on me. They decided that I was a defenseless, frightened girl who was constantly being abused by the other girls in the place. So, they sent me to a foster home.
My father didn't give a damn about me then. He was probably delighted that he could live his bachelor existence finally, just the way my aunt always said he wanted to.
When I was eighteen I was just turned out onto the street. I had nothing. I didn't have one damn possession except my clothes. The social worker found me some job as a cashier in a supermarket. I worked there and I rented a furnished room. That was my life.
I went to work and then I went back to my furnished room.
The thing that upset that was when I heard about what had happened to my father. Suddenly everything changed in my life. My father had been shot by my aunt. She accused him of raping her.
I'm not the one who can tell you what the real story was, but I know that my crazy Aunt Kate was. . . Well, she was capable of anything. My father was only wounded in his arm but there was a terrible mess that followed with accusations and counter-accusations.
It's unfortunate that I never. . . even when that happened I still never had a chance to talk with my father. He never gave me a chance to be his daughter. He never gave me a chance to tell him about myself or to.. . to love him or get his love.
He didn't try to rape her. I just know that. I know that woman was as wicked as her sons were. I know that she did something to him. I feel it in my bones.
I knew that she kept the gun in the house. I even remembered where she kept the gun. But I also remembered that she never kept bullets in the gun. She said it was there to scare away burglars. She had the bullets in another part of the house.
What that means to me is that she loaded that gun before shooting my father in the arm. Chances, are she wasn't aiming at his arm. Chances are she wanted to kill him.
It wouldn't have made any difference. She might as well have killed him then. My father took his own life two months after that incident. I guess by shooting him in the arm Aunt Kate saved herself a lot of mess. He didn't bring charges because he was worried about her accusation against him that he had raped her and meanwhile he took his life anyway.
And now we're up to the explanation of how I got here today, Doctor.
I went back to Aunt Kate's house, you see. I had never thrown away the keys to her house. I suppose that when I first ran away from there she didn't even know that I had the keys with me. I had worried that the locks might have been changed, but they weren't I went there when I knew that no one would be home. Ivan and Joe were both in college and they both lived at home. I knew that would play perfectly into my hands.
I'm not sure that I knew in advance exactly what I was going to do to them, but I had a notion of it. The first thing I did was go to get the gun. As I suspected there were no bullets in it. I went to the room where the bullets were kept and loaded it.
And then I hid in the attic where I knew they wouldn't be going.
I was able to overhear a lot. My uncle wasn't going to be home that night. It was Ivan and Joe and Aunt Kate and they were all getting ready for dinner.
You should have heard Aunt Kate scream when I appeared in the room, pointing the gun at her. That was almost enough to have satisfied my craving for revenge. But I knew that I needed more. I needed much more than that. I held the gun on all three of them.
They were all begging me for mercy. Me? The scrawny little girl they had abused for all those years.
I marched them upstairs to the master bedroom. "Strip naked. All of you."
"You can't be serious," Aunt Kate snapped. "These are my sons. You. . ."
"Shut up, you old witch, or I'll blow your head off with a bullet." I shot the gun into the lamp to show her that I had loaded it. "Strip naked."
I watched her undressing and I watched the boys undressing. It was a delightful moment for me when she was in her sheer red panties and her matching bra and they were both in their jockey shorts. All three of them were shaking and covered with goose flesh.
"You never wanted to hear the truth about what they were doing to me. You never wanted to hear about the way they tied me to a bed all weekend and kept me there to fuck me. Or was it that you did know the truth and wanted me there as their plaything?"
"Calm down," she said, pleading with me. "Let's talk."
"Talk? Did you ever talk to me before? Maybe I should have learned this when I was twelve, Aunt Kate. Maybe I should have learned then that I had to hold a gun to your head before you would be willing to talk to me. Well, now I'm the one who doesn't want to talk to you.
"You already took everything from me, you and your family. You took my pride, these bastards here took my virginity, you even took my father away from me. Now you want to talk? It is too late, Aunt Kate. Strip out of your clothes and then get on your knees to pray."
You should have seen how fast she fell to her knees. She was weeping, "Don't kill me. Don't kill me."
"Take down your underpants, Ivan," I said, waving the gun toward his dick. "And get it hard. Get it hard for your mother the same way you got it hard to shove it down my throat."
"That's sick. She's my mother. I can't. .." he started to whimper.
"I'm pointing this gun right at your dick, cousin. Either you do what I say or you lose it."
He dropped his shorts and started to stroke on his dick. Then I pointed the gun back toward my Aunt Kate. "Suck on it. Suck on your big boy's cock. If you don't like the taste then maybe he can put chocolate on it the way he did for me."
She kept on shaking her head. I shot in her direction, aiming a few inches away from her and she grabbed her heart, frightened by the sound. "Suck him off. Suck his dick."
She started to cry and then she put her lips around Ivan's cock.
"You," I said, pointing toward Joe. "Get down behind her and lick out her pussy."
He looked at the exposed pussy. The woman was nude and since she was down on her hands and knees with her ass up in the air he could see her exposed cunt hps.
Joe's eyes were wide and there was a very disturbed expression on his face. "I can't."
It took a little coaxing. He had never licked a pussy before, but I was going to make him start. I made him do it. He got his face in there. I made it clear to Kate that she wasn't going to be able to stop sucking Ivan's cock until he had cum down her throat.
Then I told Joe to fuck her pussy while she was down on her hands and knees.
There were tears streaming down his cheeks and he was shaking with dread, but he finally managed to get it into her. I guess she was wet and greasy because of the licking he had been giving her. His dick certainly wasn't hard enough.
Kate was getting it from both ends from her two sons. I told them that they were going to have to all cum before I would let them separate. That was when Joe really started to fuck hard.
It filled me with joy even as it made me sick to see what I was forcing them to do to each other.
While they were doing that, I ripped all the telephone wires out in the house.
Then they finished. They were all covered with sweat. Aunt Kate was lying on the floor, weeping. There was cum drooling out of her lips and more cum drooling out of her pussy.
Ivan was looking off into the distance, glassy-eyed, shaking.
Joe was hiding his face, also shaking, naked as he was. I ordered all of them down to the basement and locked them all, naked, into the boiler room, blocking the door.
I knew that they would get out of the room eventually. I was still at the bus depot waiting for the bus when the police came and got me. They brought me down to the station and I told them, calmly, what I had done to my aunt and my cousins, not telling them any of the things that my cousins and my aunt had done to me when I was growing up.
They sent me straight to the psychiatric ward from there.
That's when I clammed up. I didn't want to tell anybody' my story. I didn't want to tell anybody what had happened to me all the years of my life. I don't know what I expected. I also don't know what I was afraid of. I guess I was afraid that someone might laugh.
Oh, I don't know what I mean. It's over now. Ipaid them back. Can't we call it even?
I don't want to kill them. I don't want to kill my aunt in spite of what she did to me. I don't even want to kill her in spite of what she did to my father. I did enough to her now. That's the end of it. It's over now. Can't they leave me alone?
Why can't everybody leave me alone? I don't understand all of this.
I never had any of the things that other girls had. I never had a boyfriend and I never went out on a date. As far as I'm concerned all sex is hasty and mean and unpleasant.
That's the only kind of sex that I've ever seen. It's always been nasty and mean and unpleasant. First it was with my cousins and then with the girls at the home. And that's all.
After the foster home I just went to my little furnished room and my job as a cashier.
And that's all. . . My aunt was right when she called me a zombie. Oh, I know that I got all upset during my last visit with you, Doctor. I know that I started to cry then. But that was only because I was talking about things that happened when I used to be able to cry.
Those are gone now, Doctor. I've taught myself not to cry now.
Zombie. That's what I'll be. Just let me go back to the furnished room" and to my job. Now I can pretend that I never had a family, that I was just born in that furnished room and that I've always worked behind that cash register. That's all I need now.
I told you all of this because I trust you, Doctor. Don't let them hurt me. Please don't let anybody hurt me now. I don't want anyone to hurt me anymore.
That's right. Nobody is ever going to be able to hurt me anymore.
You can't hurt a zombie, can you, Doctor? If I don't have any feelings then nobody can hurt me. Stick a pin in my finger. I won't cry. I'll prove that I don't have feelings.
CONCLUSION If Grace is ever released from lifetime institutionalization it will be through a miracle. Unfortunately, miracles are not very common in the field of mental health.
Children all have a certain natural degree of cruelty in them, which can grow to an unnatural degree if it is encouraged by an adult. In this case, Aunt Kate's constant degradation of Grace helped encourage her two sons to abuse the girl more and more.
For years and years Grace had these feelings of worthlessness emphasized continually until she had no other image of herself. By this time, although she's a potentially lovely young girl of nineteen, she is so far down in the quagmire of self-hatred, believing that she does hot deserve anything better than that, believing that she does not deserve anyone's attention and that she doesn't even deserve to feel anything, she is virtually hopeless.
Grace needs self-esteem in order to feel anything at all.
A child only gets one opportunity in life to grow into a loving, feeling human being. Anyone given any responsibility for any part of the welfare of that child must be extremely careful with that responsibility! That chance must not be lost as it was in Grace's case.
CASE HISTORY THREE
SUBJECT: Lenore M.
AGE: Sixteen
Interview One
Lenore was a shapely and beautiful girl with long auburn hair and perfectly sculpted feminine features. However, her clothes were very out of place and out of time.
Her clothes were very dull and colorless and were clearly clothes that should have been worn by a younger girl - aside from which they were old-fashioned by today's standards.
She wore a white blouse with a ruffled collar and a skirt that was virtually shapeless and of a flowered material. Her shoes were equally unattractive and she wore them with knee-length green socks. She had no make up on, but her clear complexion didn't need it.
Doctor, I'm terribly embarrassed to be here talking to you.
This is all so awful. I know you want an answer to why I ran away from home. I'm not the kind of girl who would do a thing like that. You know, I'm known around school for being a quiet girl who doesn't make any trouble. I would never make any trouble.
I'm sure the kids in school were terribly surprised by the notion that I ran away.
But, I had to go, Doctor. Oh, now I don't know what to do. Now I don't know where to go. I can't go back home, Doctor. That's the one thing I know for sure.
I don't want to have to tell you this story, the story of what happened to me, but I feel that I have to. I have to tell you because, Doctor, you can't let them send me home again.
You see, my father is very strict. Oh, I'm not saying that I don't want to go back merely because he's strict. I'm not like those other kids in school, those girls who wear make up and who run around and act wild with boys. I don't mind his being strict.
Well, actually, yes I do. I'm very lonely most of the time. The other kids in school don't want to have anything to do with me. They think I dress funny and I do.
But, that's what my father has done to me all through these years.
I can't help it. It's not my fault. He makes me dress like this. These are the only sort of clothes I have. Oh, I tried to talk to my mother about it, but she won't even discuss a thing with me. She told me that my father was in charge of my discipline and that she wouldn't even speak to me about it. She stays in the kitchen all the time.
Anyway, I have to tell you about the thing that my father did to me. I have to.
First I have to go back a little bit and tell you about his general discipline, the way he treats me and the way he punishes me. That's important to the story, you see.
Each evening, after I finish helping mother with the dishes I have to report to father's room. Actually, it's the bedroom upstairs that mother and father share, but I always refer to it as my father's room. It's as if my mother is a non-entity in the house.
I report to father's room and I must stand at attention.
The sequence of events is always the same. I would go in and stand at attention in front of him and he would be sitting in the great big upholstered armchair, leaning back and looking at me as if he were a general inspecting his troops.
Then he asks me questions about my day. I have to tell him about everything that happened to me.
He keeps track of everything that I'm doing and everything I'm supposed to do. If I have a test one day I tell him about that. I wouldn't dare lie to him. Then he'll keep asking me for the test results until I get them. If the score is too low I get punished.
But that's hardly the only punishable offense, Doctor.
If it takes me more than twenty minutes to get home from school I'll be punished.
That is, if I'm not in the house by three-twenty in the afternoon I'm punished. He won't listen to any excuses. If I have any excuse he'll start to rant, "I know what you were doing. You were acting like a slut with some boy, that's what!"
Doctor, I've never done a. thing with a boy. I hardly even speak to the boys in school. To tell you the truth I'm scared of the boys. I'm frightened, more than a little frightened of the boys in schools, of boys in general. I keep trying to convince my father that I'm a good girl. But he won't believe me. Why won't he believe me, Doctor?
I do everything right. At least I try to do everything right. But that's never good enough for him.
Yes, I'd better get back to what it was like when he would punish me. I would be standing there and going through the events of the day. He would decide whether or not I deserved to be punished.
There were some days when he was moody and sullen at the dinner table and I knew that I was going to be punished by him. I knew that he would find some excuse to punish me just because he was feeling rotten and had been through a lousy day at the office.
On those days it didn't matter what I did. He would find something to punish me for.
If there was nothing that I said that he could punish me for, then he would invent something to use. He would say that I had a disrespectful tone or that I wasn't standing properly, that I was slouching too much. He would find some excuse.
It was those days that let me know that the punishment had nothing really to do with me. The punishment was something that he needed, that he wanted to give me.
And then, when the interrogation part of our session would be over he would either dismiss me with no punishment or else I would have to prepare for the punishment. If he would dismiss me I would go over to him and kiss him on the cheek and then leave.
But, if there was to be punishment, then I would have to get ready for it.
The punishment was always a spanking, you see. And the thing I had to do was to remove my skirt and to hoist up my blouse so that he had easy access to my ass.
He would say, "Prepare for the punishment," and then I would have to do it.
I would take off my skirt. All my panties were white. They were all the same, all plain white. They're the kind of panties that younger girls would wear and I always feel embarrassed wearing them in the locker room in school. But, that's all besides the point.
Then I would hoist up my blouse so that it was bunched up under my arms.
My father would spread his legs. He would generally have removed his jacket and tie by that time so that he was sitting in his pants and his white shirt. All of his shirts that he wore into the office were white. He would slap his left leg and I would have to climb over his left leg. I would bend over that leg and then he would clap his legs together again.
He would be holding me in a scissor hold between his legs, both of my legs locked there between his two. Then he would put his left arm down across my back. It would press down right against the back of my bra. Then my ass would be up toward his hand, my body pressing across his leg.
And then he would start to slap my ass cheeks with his open palm.
Again and again he would slap them. My ass would be sweating and the fabric of my white panties would be glued to the reddened cheeks because of the way he was hitting me.
Each time he would slap down against my ass cheeks I would feel my body pressing against his leg.
Now this is the part that's difficult to tell you, Doctor.
I never learned much about sex, you see. There was a sex education class in school which was optional. My father was one of the parents who signed the thing saying that he didn't want me to take that class. He also led a whole fight to keep them from teaching it.
So, I just didn't know what it was like for a man or anything.
Father "felt that decent girls were completely ignorant about such matters. I wanted to be the decent sort of girl that father wanted me to be. I swear I did. I tried my best.
But, there were some things I heard around the school. It was like father suspected. Because they taught sex education in the school there was talk about it. I would hear it at lunch from some girls who were at the next table over from me. It wasn't my fault. I sat alone at lunch. I never had anyone to talk with. I couldn't help hearing what they said.
Anyway, what I'm getting at is the stiffness that was always down my father's pants leg when he would spank me. Each time my body would press down I could feel a springy stiffness inside his pants leg. I could feel my body pressed against it.
I never really understood what it was. It sort of scared me to even want to understand it.
But then I found out about what these girls called a prick and about how it gets hard when a man is excited. That's when I realized that it was my father's hard prick inside his pants that was pressing against my body each time he was spanking me across his lap.
There was also simply the fact of undressing in front of him. I was feeling more and more humiliated and embarrassed about taking off my clothes in front of my father.
I mean, my body was developing and I was getting to be a woman.
It was terribly humiliating for me, Doctor. How can I explain it?
Well, you're a doctor, so I should tell you the truth. You see, I started to feel these feelings in my body. I don't know how to explain it to you. Sometimes, at night, I would touch myself when I was alone in the dark. I would touch myself down there and it would feel good.
Doctor, I feel even more humiliated just to tell you about this.
Anyway, I knew that there was something. . . s-s-s-something s-s-sexual about those spankings. I knew that I was getting too old to appear in my underpants in front of my father.
I knew that the time would come when I would have to confront him and tell him that I wouldn't let him do it to me any longer. I couldn't undress in front of him any longer.
First I went to my mother and tried to talk to her about it. But I already knew just what she was going to say. I knew that she was going to tell me that he was my father and he was in charge of my discipline and that if I spoke to her about it she would go directly to him.
I even tried to talk to our preacher about it. I needed someone who could give me advice. But the preacher was furious at me. He told me that my father was one of the best people in his congregation and that he respected my father's call for discipline.
The preacher gave me this whole lecture about the younger generation.
I knew that it had come down to me and my father. I knew that I had to go directly to my father about it. There was no choice for me. I knew that I had to stand up to him, Doctor.
It terrified me. I. . . I don't think I can go on right now if you don't mind. I feel a pain.
Interview Two Lenore needed to rest for a few minutes, but I refused to give her a chance to 'cop-out' on the conversation. Fortunately I had a free hour following our appointment hour and was able to let the girl continue. Actually, I coerced her into continuing.
You're right, Doctor. The choice is simple. Either I tell the truth about what my father did to me or else they'll send me back to my father. It's as simple as that.
I feel knotted up inside. This isn't an easy story for me to tell.
Also, it wasn't an easy thing for me to do. I decided in November that I had to tell my father that I couldn't let him spank me anymore, that I couldn't undress in front of him any longer. But, I never got up the nerve to confront him about it until the beginning of February.
It was terribly upsetting - all those times in between.
Especially at that time, it was more upsetting than it had been before. I was aware of the bulge in the front of his pants, the bulge that ran like a stick down the leg of his pants. I was aware of the pressure of it against my body. I knew that it was my father's hard prick.
And yet I couldn't bring myself to say anything to him.
I was going to turn sixteen at the beginning of February. I suppose that added to my. anxiety. All the other girls in school had had nice sweet sixteen parties. I hadn't been invited to any of them. And, of course, I didn't have anyone to invite to my party.
I didn't have any party for my sweet sixteen. It was very depressing for me.
I guess, aside from the depression, I also had this great anger building up inside of me. I was angry at my father. I was blaming him for the fact I had no friends.
Doctor, I had done everything the way he wanted. It was because I dressed this way and didn't talk to boys in school that I had no friends. And still he was always accusing me of things. He accused me of everything. I don't know whether I made it clear to you that, although I was punished for many things, the main accusation against me was that I was a slut and a whore and that I would roast in hell for doing things with boys.
He would actually use more words than that. He accused me of sucking cocks in the school cafeteria. Doctor, I never even heard such words other than from my father.
Anyway, it was the beginning of February when I stood up to him.
I was shaking. He had accused me of getting home late from school in spite of the fact that there was a fire drill and our class was held an extra ten minutes. But, I was shaking as I stood in front of him. My jaw was set very firm and hard. I knew that I had to stand up to him then.
"Father, may I speak to you?" I asked. He couldn't accuse me of rudeness.
"I told you to prepare for your punishment," he snarled at me, viciously.
"Father, please. I need to speak to you. I'm going to be sixteen in a few days. . ."
"You asked permission to speak to me and I didn't grant it, but you've chosen to speak anyway. I did not give you permission. You will be punished further for that."
"Father, please. Listen to me. I'm a person. Please, listen to me."
"Are you going to prepare for your punishment, young lady?"
"No, Father. I can't. I'm going to be sixteen and it's not right for me to undress in front of you. It's not right for you to see me in my underpants. It's not. . ."
He leaped up from his chair and seemed to bound across the room in one step. He slammed down against me and slapped me hard across the face. I fell back onto the floor.
"You are not the one to tell me what is right and what is wrong. I'm your father."
Then I was furious. Then I was no longer interested in being polite to him. In a tone I had never used in all the years of my life I shouted out, "And you're excited when you see me in my underpants. You're excited when you make me get over your lap for a spanking."
"How dare you?" he snarled as he grabbed me and pulled me toward the bed.
He sat back on the bed and I was pulled across his lap. He pulled my skirt off. He ripped it as he did. Then he pulled at my panties and he started to spank me like he had never spanked me before.
I was crying out. I knew that my mother was downstairs but I knew that she wouldn't come.
The more I struggled, the worse it became. I squirmed on his lap and he held me down. He pulled at my clothes and then he pressed his fingers between my legs.
"No," I cried out. But it was too late. He pushed me down on the bed.
I was lying on my belly and he was on top of me, behind me. I was struggling, but it was too late. He was already there and I knew that he would be able to do what he wanted to do.
Suddenly I felt flesh against my flesh. I knew that it was my father's prick.
"I know what kind of slut you are," he snarled at me. "I know what a whore you are."
He pulled my hips up in the air and he pressed the head of his dick against my virgin slit. I was struggling to pull away from him, but I couldn't struggle enough.
And then it was inside me. Oh, Doctor, even now when I talk about it I can feel it again. I can feel it pushing at those lips and spreading them wide open. I was burying my face in the pillow. I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to know about it.
He pushed all the way into me and then he started to work it around and around.
It was almost an electrical feeling. It was as if someone had shoved an electric prod up inside me. It was making the moist flesh tingle all over the insides of my body.
I was out of breath. I felt the breath knocked out of my body. Then he pulled back and then he pushed forward inside of me. He pulled back and pushed forward. He did that time and time again and I could feel the throbbing of it. It just kept on happening to me.
There was wetness. There was heat. There was this incredible friction.
He slammed forward and I felt the broad head of it shoving against the depths of my cunt and then he pulled back out of it and slammed forward again. And then I felt it pulsating and there was this moisture inside of me. He was filling me up with this thick wetness.
And he pulled out and there was more of the wetness all over me. He was still shooting at me.
He started to slap the cheeks of my ass even then.
But I pulled away. I pulled away and ran into my bedroom. I pushed something in front of the door so that my father couldn't follow me into the room. Understand the way I was feeling. I was afraid that he might actually kill me, Doctor.
After all, he was this wonderful man, this fine member of the church that everyone respected. He could tell them that I had turned out to be a whore and whatever he wanted to tell them. Oh, Doctor, I was terrified for my life then.
All I wanted to do was put on some clothes and get out of the house. I was afraid to go out of the door of my room. I made a run for it and ran out of the house. I ran down the block. I ran and ran. I didn't have any money with me except for a little over two dollars. I was hungry and cold. I stayed away for three days when the police got me.
But, I couldn't let them bring me back home. That was why I had to tell you this story.
I had been a good girl all that time. My father accused me of everything, but I had been a good girl. He wouldn't believe me when I said that I wasn't a tramp and a whore.
Doctor, can you help me? Please, please try to help me.
CONCLUSION
Corporal punishment, spanking or other forms 'of abuse which adults inflict upon children, is too often completely irrelevant to the child's supposed wrongdoing. Too often it is merely an excuse for the adult to vent his own sexual needs.
It is unfortunate that a man like Lenore's father needs to be dishonest about his sexuality, needs to stifle his daughter with paranoia under the guise of discipline so that she cannot develop normal relationships with others of her age.
I find it ironic that a court in New York has recently removed youngsters from the custody of parents who were involved in the publication of a magazine promoting sexual understanding and awareness, encouraging people to be honest with each other about their sexuality. It seems clear to me that this set of parents would never have gotten their kicks while they were inventing punishments for their children as this frustrated and misguided man has done.
It is with sorrow that I refer Lenore to foster care, knowing the drawbacks of that system. However, if her father wants custody of the child again he must undergo therapy and it must be determined that he is able to deal with his own sexuality rather than using his child as his scapegoat. I, for one, would have a hard time trusting him.
CASE HISTORY FOUR
SUBJECT: Nancy O.
AGE: Fifteen
Interview One
Nancy was dressed very impressively in designer clothes which seemed quite extravagant for a girl of her age. She was tall and seemed even taller because of the high heels she was wearing.
She was also wearing a great deal of make up for a girl of her age, something that she didn't need. Her hair was very light blonde and was very fluffy and beautiful.
Doctor, they've sent me to you for being such a troublemaker, but I want a chance to explain my side of it.
It's not that I make trouble. It's that they keep me so locked up all the time.
I mean, they don't give me one single inch to even breathe if I wanted to.
It's absolutely stifling for me. They treat me like a child.
Well, no, that may not be totally valid. That's not my major complaint against my family really.
Actually, when I look at it in the long-range picture I can almost see my father's point of view about things. But, still, that doesn't help me much at all.
You see, we live out in the boondocks. We live in the most awful part of Kentucky really. I hate it. I have no pride in my state, no pride in my county, nothing.
My father, you see, owns most of, the county and half the people there work for him. My mother is from one of the proudest families in the South. That's the problem.
There's no one I can talk to, no one I can deal with, outside of my family.
When I was younger, when I wanted to have playmates, my mother couldn't permit me, wouldn't permit me, to even see any of the children from school. After all, most of their parents worked for my father. It wouldn't be proper for us to receive them in our home.
Fine. That was what I had to live with all these years.
The question obviously came into my head once I was about ten. I confronted my father and asked him, "If none of the children in the county are good enough for me to play with, then why don't you send me away to a private school somewhere? You can afford it."
I was always a direct little girl and always went after just what I wanted.
Father's reply was a little convoluted, but basically it came down to, "I love you so much, my little blossom, that I couldn't stand to have you away from the house here."
In the end that answer had to be good enough. My father would bend on everything except that one point. There were times I accused him of being a mean ogre for keeping me locked up in the house. I saw myself as a princess in a fairy tale.
But, at the same time I realized that there would be drawbacks in going away to a school. After all, I was really pampered at home. I was refused nothing at all.
Aside from which, there wasn't a teacher in school who would dare raise a hand to me. After all, they all knew who my father was. What it meant was that I didn't have to work very hard in school. I was able to get the top grades and just hold my nose up in the air.
I had first heard about private schools from visiting cousins, and I also heard about the problems with private schools from other visiting cousins. You see, my mother often arranged for us to have household guests. Since the only people I could even associate with were relatives of ours, my mother would see to it that these relatives visited often.
So, that was what I did for playmates. There were some cousins I actually liked. Some of them I didn't like. But at least it was better than nothing at all.
And then of course there was my brother. Peter was really the studious type though. He didn't care about the fact that he had no playmates, the same as I. He stayed in and read books all the time. He was just infuriating because he was no fun to me.
Peter is one year older than I am. He's quite good looking. He's tall and well-built and he has a hard, powerfully built body. I don't know how he got that way just reading books all the time.
Well, actually, I suppose it's not that he's unathletic. It's just that he relishes the solitary life while I go absolutely insane from it. He goes out running before breakfast each morning and he goes swimming before dinner every evening. That's how he's stayed in shape.
But, heaven forbid I should go out to the pool during his swimming time. He never wants company. He just wants to stay by himself. I suppose if only Peter had been a little more sociable then I might have been happier for many years. Oh, well.
The subject I suppose I should talk about is sex. That's been the big problem over the last few years. I mean, that's been something that's been on my mind, concerning me a great deal over the last few years. I've been trying to figure out what to do about sex.
I've wanted to have sex. I've been. . . curious about it and hungry for sex.
Let me give you a history of the different involvements that I've had.
I don't really remember when I started to touch myself, to frig my pussy. I know that it was at quite a young age. It was at an age when I was so young that I wasn't really certain what sex was. Actually, I didn't even know that touching my pussy was a sexual thing.
It's rather vague to me, but I can recall that there was a point where I realized that touching my pussy had something to do with sex. I understood that there was something sexual about what I was doing. I started to connect the notion of the human body with the finger fucking.
In other words, I would frig myself and shut my eyes and picture male bodies.
I wasn't even certain what naked males looked like, so I would just picture different males undressing in front of me without actually finishing the fantasy all the way.
There were lots of different men who figured in the fantasies.
The driver who drove, me and Peter to school each morning and then picked us up in the afternoon was very powerfully built. He wore a uniform and he was quite tall.
He had black hair that was sort of shiny. I guess he used some sort of grease on it. And he had this jutting jaw. Everything was always perfectly in place. I can even remember the way his black boots would shine. I started to spy on him a lot.
And I got lucky with my spying. I still wasn't twelve yet. I was just a little short of twelve when I followed him to the woods in back of the house and saw that he was meeting the new cook that my mother had hired. The cook was probably only about nineteen and the driver was about thirty. This was a girl from Sweden who didn't speak much English.
The two of them started to make out and I watched from behind a bush. I was hoping they would go all the way and I wasn't disappointed. I got a full anatomy lesson that day.
I can still remember the two of them peeling off their uniforms. I still remember how he looked, stripped to his undershorts while she was only wearing her panties. He pulled down her panties and then dropped his shorts. I couldn't believe the size of that dick that stood up in front of him.
And the next thing that startled me was the way that the Swedish cook got down on her knees and wrapped her lips around his long pole. I had never heard of that before.
But she seemed to like what she was doing. She didn't seem to mind it at all.
She worked her face back and forth along his dick, swallowing it down and then exposing the glistening surface of the thick pole time after time. He was leaning forward against a tree that was behind her. He reached down with one hand and he was feeling her breasts.
He tickled the tips of her nipples and she seemed to be wriggling with excitement.
Then she pulled off his cock and got down on her back. She said something to him, but I wasn't close enough to hear it. I was close enough, though, to have a good view of what was going on. I saw that she had her legs up in the air. She had her legs spread and she was showing him her wet pussy. He was stroking on his thick prick and getting it ready for her.
Then he knelt between her legs and pressed the big head of his monster dick into the tight opening of her cunt. He pushed forward and the head disappeared into the clinging opening.
And then he pushed forward and he started to really fuck her.
I had no doubt, as I watched them in the woods, that this was what fucking was. Mostly all I could see was his ass cheeks moving up and down and up and down, tensing together and then relaxing apart time after time. He was pumping it into her, I could tell.
And she seemed to be going wild with pleasure. She seemed to be going to pieces .because of the way he was fucking her. She wrapped her legs around his ass and I watched her digging her bare heels in against the quickly moving cheeks. Wow. It was really something for me to dream about.
I mean, I'm sure there are a lot of people in the world who would be terribly shocked over the idea that a girl so young had actually seen two people having sex, but for me it was like a dream come true. I couldn't have asked for more than that.
But, then again, Doctor, I was a girl who intended to ask for more.
Yes, I spent many merry nights after that, frigging myself and recalling the scene I had seen in the woods, but I wanted more than that. I longed for more.
My chance came when my brother, Peter, got sick. It was some silly disease that I had first and then he got after me. It was the measles or something like that. Anyway, my case was very mild and I had only been a little bit under the weather and then I was well again. But, Peter was laid up for days and days. That meant that Quentin, the driver, was only driving me to school.
So, after school one day I got into the front with him. He told me that my father objected to me sitting in the front with the driver and I told him that I was there and that my father wasn't and that I was going to sit where I chose to sit.
As he was driving I told him to turn off on a particular dirt road.
"That's not the way home, Miss Nancy," he said to me, respectfully.
"But that's the way I want you to go. . . unless you want me to tell my mother about you and the Swedish cook. You know that she'll dismiss you. That was during working hours that the two of you were fucking right down in the woods, just beyond the elms."
He nearly smashed into the side of the road when I said that. "What do you want, Miss Nancy?"
"First I want you to drive down that road. Then I want you to pull up alongside the old orchard there that no one uses. My father owns that land, you know."
Quentin did as I said. When he stopped the car, I- told him, "I want you to undress right here in the driver's seat." He argued with me, but not for very long.
He really had quite a body up close. And his dick was fully erect there.
I touched it. It was hot. I merely wanted to touch it. Then I ordered him to play with himself until he shot his load. He did as I ordered. His face was red then.
That was all I wanted from him. The next day I made him do the same, but the day after that he quit the job. That was my lesson that I shouldn't push people too far too fast.
Then there was the visit that we got from my cousin Robert. I must say that he became my favorite cousin. Robert is a couple of years older than I am. I was thirteen at the time of that particular visit that I'm talking about and he was about eighteen.
I might add that there were some other incidents similar to the one with Quentin, but they're not really worth talking about here. I mean, they were basically the same. Whenever I felt that I had a male in a position where he would have to listen to me, I would demand that he let me see his penis and things like that.
Well, Robert was quite different from that.
He was tall and handsome and bronzed. He was from mother's family and he lived in Florida. And he was very sure of himself.
He has blond hair that's all curly. He's just very terrific looking.
Anyway, one day he was outside sunning himself in just his swimsuit. I could see him from the upstairs windows of the house on that certain side of the house. He was next to the pool.
I was the only one home then. And, don't you know, just as I was watching him he peeled off his swimsuit so that he was completely naked down there by the pool.
Well, I couldn't take my eyes off that fine dick he was exposing with that shock of blond hair around the base of it. But, I wanted to go down to the pool to get a closer view.
He had his eyes closed to the sun and he had a hell of a deep tan. I could tell that he must have tanned with his swimsuit off a lot of the time because he had almost no tan line.
I went right up to him and decided that the direct approach was best with Robert.
"Mind if I join you, cousin?" I asked him from across the pool.
He looked up, just as cool as a cucumber in spite of the fact that I was, a little girl of thirteen and he was stark naked. He smiled and said, "I didn't know you were here."
"Does that make a difference?" I asked him, coming closer, pleased with his attitude.
He smiled again and said, "If you're offended by the way I'm dressed, or not dressed, let me know and I'll put my trunks back on." He just stayed lying there on the chaise.
I was right next to him. I sat on the other chaise. I knew that no one would be home in the house for hours. I also knew that the servants weren't permitted upstairs at this hour and that the pool couldn't be seen from the downstairs windows.
"I'm not offended. It's not the first one I've seen and it's a nice looking one."
He grinned and said, "Thank you kindly, little cousin." Then he really looked at me. "I guess maybe I sort of underestimated you in a couple of ways."
I pulled off my top and said, "I'm only thirteen. Give me a couple of years."
He laughed and said. "That's not what I mean." His dick was growing then. It was all stiff by that time and I was really looking at it. "Did you ever touch one of these?" he asked me.
I nodded and he asked, "Did you ever touch it and really work on it?"
Then I shook my head. He started to lightly finger his dick. I peeled down my cut-offs and panties and then I was as naked as he was. He reached his other hand over and started to tickle and finger my pussy lips. He brushed his finger up along the side of my cunt lips.
And then he pressed his finger between the lips of my pussy, tickling me.
I was shivering all over in spite of the heat. He really knew what he was, doing.
Robert took my other hand and wrapped it around his long, stiff dick. "Play with it," he told me.
I worked my fingers up and down the length of his hard cock. I was really stroking it and really having a good time with it. Then he leaned forward and put his lips on my pussy.
That was something I hadn't seen before then, but I sure didn't have any objections.
His tongue slid down one side of my cunt and then it slid up the other side. Then he pushed his tongue into the hot orifice and he was working it from side to side. He pushed it straight ahead and I felt it pressing against the spot that felt best of all.
I was humping up and down against his face, feeling his tongue against the hot flesh.
The pussy lips were really clinging onto his tongue, grabbing it.
And then he pushed all the way, as far as he could, into me and worked his tongue up and down. I guess he was just flexing and unflexing the tongue against the insides of my body. I rubbed my fingers in the curly blond hair and had a hell of a good time.
I knew that he was making me cum with his tongue. He was bringing me over the verge.
When he pulled his mouth away from my pussy, he sat back and said, "Now it's your turn."
My eyes were wide. He was stroking his dick. I knew what he wanted me to do. I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around the head of his dick. I started to suck on it and choked because it was more than I could really take into my mouth.
He showed me how to sort of jerk him off into my mouth. I did that and had a really good time.
The rest of the time that Robert was visiting was just swell.
But, of course, he had to go back to Florida and I was left without him.
During the time he was visiting I hadn't let him fuck me. I still felt I was too young, although I did love playing with his dick and having him play with my pussy and lick it.
After he left I knew that I was going to want more of the same.
There was only one person I could think of who would be able to give that to me. He wasn't a person I liked or had much use for, but he was good looking. Of course I'm talking about Peter.
My brother, I decided, would have to be my sex partner. If I had been any other girl in the county I might have easily found some guy who could have taken care of my needs. But, since my daddy was who he was, since he was so powerful, I knew that I had to take care of those needs right there in the house. I couldn't afford to fool around with anyone else.
Of course, Peter didn't know about that yet. But, he would find out soon enough.
Interview Two Well, Doctor, the last time I was here I told you about all the things that led up to my seduction of my brother. Actually, I told you about all the things that came before that.
It was actually getting to my brother that was the next step.
That took me a little while. I went out running with him one morning. He didn't like having me along, but I didn't give him much of a choice. When we were down in a meadow that was a little distance from the house I pretended that I had hurt my leg.
He was annoyed with me. He was bending over me and rubbing my leg.
That felt good. I was very turned on. He was wearing a track outfit, a pair of gym shorts and an athletic shirt, and I knew that he had a jock on underneath the shorts. I had seen the waistband of it and I had seen it cutting into the cheeks of his ass as he had been running.
While he was rubbing my leg I reached right up and grabbed his dick through the jock.
He pulled away. "What's the matter?" I asked him. "Didn't that feel good?"
His face was bright red. He was adjusting his shorts.. "Your leg isn't hurt," was all he said. Then he turned and started to run. I couldn't believe that he had willingly turned away from that so quickly.
I mean, how much more direct could I be with my brother?
I decided that I was going to have to be a lot more direct than that.
Doctor, I was horny. I'm only going back a couple of months now. This was when I was still fourteen. I hadn't passed the age of fifteen yet. Peter had been on my mind for some time then.
I mean, first there was the visit from Robert. Then there was that day when we went running together. After that, Peter just kept avoiding me for the longest time.
In the meantime we had this invasion of cousins who were really irritating.
These were some cousins of daddy's. Now, daddy's side of the family is the side with real money and real property, . but not these cousins. Daddy said something vague about their branch of the family really sliding downhill but that blood was thicker than water and all that trash. But, they were the most common people I had ever seen.
There was only one positive thing I could say for the whole bunch of them. That was one son named Steven. He wasn't too bright, but he sure was sexy looking.
Steven had very light blond hair and a deep tan. He had a kind of chunky body, like maybe he could have lost five or ten pounds, but it was all in the right places. He swam like a little demon and he sure looked good when he was soaking wet.
It was clear that where they came from in Arkansas they weren't used to such a nice place and to their own swimming pool and things like that. Steven acted like most of those kids in school act when they're around me. He acted like he would do anything at all to please me and to get invited back.
Peter didn't want to have a thing to do with Steven. I mean, Peter was almost sixteen then and Steven was already a year younger than I was - he wasn't fourteen yet.
I had a little fun with Steven while he was there.
The first thing that happened to us was in the woods down below the house. We stopped deep in the woods where I was sure that no one would see us and I asked him, "You wanna come back to visit someday?"
He was all over himself, telling me how much he wanted that and all.
So, I told him, "Well, if I say that I want you to visit they'll invite you again."
"Wow. I'd do most anything to get back here again. This place is super."
I grinned at him and said, "Okay, Steven. I'll let you in on the secret. You have to please me."
"I'd please you, cousin. What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"First off I want you to show me your dick. I want you to strip naked."
He was moving his mouth, but he couldn't say a thing. "No girl ever saw me like that before."
"You wanna come back here, don't 'you?" I asked him, acting really haughty and snotty to him.
Steven nodded his head and I said, "Well, you got your choice."
He started to undress. I could tell that he was really nervous. He was practically shaking when he was down in his underwear. "What about you? Are you gonna undress?" he asked me.
"Maybe I'll do something. We'll see," I said to him, acting very superior.
He was naked. His dick was standing up hard and erect in front of him.
I told him to get on his knees in front of me and then I pulled off the pants I was wearing. I had on these little bikini panties and I spread my legs and told him to lick the fabric of the panties and to really work his tongue over that. He was upset by that.
But, I didn't give a damn. After I trained him to lick my panties I got his tongue right up there into my pussy itself. That was nice. That was really nice.
So, I taught Steve how to suck out my cunt and that held me over for a while.
I didn't want him to fuck me though. He was just too young. His dick wasn't big enough.
I had seen my brother's dick a couple of times. I had also noticed it through the wet fabric of his swimsuit more than once. Usually it was accidental times that I got to see my brother's prick. It was times like when he was wearing a pair of gym shorts and I guess he didn't have a jock on underneath it because his dick just fell out of one of the legs.
He knew that I had seen and he rushed out of there right away.
My brother was always a very modest sort, if you get my meaning.
Peter was never anything like me. I already told you that. He kept to himself and I was the one who was always crazy and adventurous. That's just the way we were.
Anyway, getting back to where I wanted to get fucked by Peter, I knew that I had to be very, very direct. I knew that I had to do something that wouldn't allow him to back out.
He always shut his bedroom door, and he locked it. There wasn't much chance for me there.
The best bet was in the dressing rooms down behind the swimming pool. They were down a flight of stairs from the swimming pool. There was one on one side that was for men and the other on the other side that was for women.. I already knew that the lock on the men's dressing room didn't work. That was why daddy had made it the men's dressing room.
Daddy assumed that women needed the lock and that men didn't.
I figured that, it might take a little effort, but getting Peter in that room would be the best bet for me. He was almost through with his swim. I knew the way he worked. I knew his timing. I went down to the men's dressing room.
That was a day when both mommy and daddy were out of town. There were only the servants to look after us and whatever time we came in and wanted to eat dinner would be fine with them.
So, I knew that it was an easy bet that I could keep Peter down there for a while.
I also knew that Peter always took a shower after he went swimming. It was a health thing with him because he didn't like the pool chemicals staying on his skin.
When I got into the dressing room, I went directly to the storage closet and hid there. The storage closet was in the passageway between the lockers and the showers. I had checked to make sure that there were no extra clothes in the dressing room.
I had another part of my plan and it involved not giving Peter a chance to get away.
I didn't know whether that would be necessary or not, but I wanted it just in case.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Peter came into the dressing room. I heard the noise there and then I heard him near the lockers. Then I heard him passing very close to where I was and finally I heard the sound of the running water of the shower.
I gave it a moment. I didn't want to wait too long. I slipped out of the closet and could tell that he was in the shower room where he couldn't see me and where I couldn't see him. I slipped into the dressing area and was glad to see that he had stripped out of his trunks there, rather than taking them into the shower with him.
I opened the locker he had used and pulled all of his clothes out of it. Then I took all the clothes and the trunks also and I rushed out of there. I had even taken the towel along, although I wondered whether he had another towel in the shower with him.
I hid all the clothes quickly in the women's dressing room, locked the door, and then hid the key to it in the crook of a tree where he would never be able to find it. Then I went back into the men's dressing room and was delighted to hear that the sound of the running water was still continuing. I pulled off my swimsuit, top and bottom, and walked naked into the shower. Peter was covered with soap and he looked at me, shocked.
"You get the hell out of here, you little. . ." he said, backing toward the tile wall.
"Shame on you, using language like that in front of a Southern lady."
The water was washing the white soap down his body. I saw that his exposed dick was arching up toward me. He put his hands in front of his dick, as if he wanted to hide it.
I got down on my knees right in front of him, before he could say another word or voice another protest. I put my lips all the way down the length of the cock.
The full length of his prick was in my warm mouth and it was growing there.
Peter's dick was soon hard as iron and it was pressing against the back of my throat. I started to suck back and forth on it and he was leaning back against the tile wall.
The water of the shower was splashing down on both of our naked bodies.
I kept on sucking his dick and I wouldn't let up. I was showing him real pleasure. He started to move his hips along with the movement of my mouth. He was working his hips forward each time I pushed my lips forward so that the head of his dick really slammed all the way against the back of my throat. Then he pulled back a little bit and slammed forward again.
Believe me when I say that I didn't mind at all. I was loving everything that was happening.
I reached my long fingers around to the cheeks of his muscular and smooth ass. I was encouraging him to really fuck my face. He was starting to do it. I knew that he was hot, very hot. I had him at a point where he wasn't going to pull back from it.
So, I slid my lips off his dick and said, "I want more than that."
"Huh?" I know that he was my older brother, but he seemed so naive.
I stretched out on the tile floor of the shower and spread my legs apart. "Give it to me."
Although he pretended for a moment that he didn't know what I wanted, it was hard for that pretense to remain since his dick was standing up hard and long in front of him.
I arched my hips up off the floor to show him how anxious I was for his cock.
He knelt between my legs, his dick waving hard and long in front of him. Then he positioned himself so that his cock head was right up against my pussy lips. He paused and looked into my eyes for a moment as he said, "I never did this before. . . you know."
"Neither did I. I did other things, but I wanted you to do this."
Peter swallowed hard and didn't say anything else. Then he pressed the dick forward and it was spreading my cunt lips apart. I could feel the pressure against my inner labia as the cock progressed. Just at the same instant that the flared head of the glans was rubbing against my clitoris I could feel the threatening pressure of the front of the cock head, the blunt part of it, pushing against the delicate wall of flesh that guarded my virginity.
I knew that was the moment, Doctor. I had looked forward to it so much.
It's funny. No matter how sophisticated I had acted at other times, no matter how much I had acted like I wasn't a young girl, at that moment I felt very much like a young girl. I felt very girlish and innocent because of the pressure of the penis against my hymen.
He pushed forward and clumsily entered me. It was painful for an instant but then there was this glow that seemed to suffuse my whole body. And then he kept on pushing and I felt the stiffness of his penis sliding all the way into my body, filling me up.
Peter paused for a moment when he was resting down on top of me, his pubic patch mingling with my pussy hairs, his hard and flat belly pressing down against my body. I could feel his firm chest rubbing against my youthful breasts, his nipples tickling mine.
He rubbed from side to side for a moment and then pulled back so that he could push in again.
Peter grunted each time he pushed into my body and then he shivered each time he pulled back.
There were so many things happening to me all at the same time I could hardly believe it. But, the thing I was most aware of was the sensation inside my cunt. There was an intense heat, which I suppose was from the virgin blood, but at the same time there was also an intense pleasure. I felt the dick massaging the flesh deep inside me that had never been massaged before.
It was pulling at the pussy flesh and making the walls of my cunt thick with the juice of my own body. I could feel the pussy walls thickening quickly.
Oh, Doctor, it was as though I had an itch deep inside me and this was the first time in my life it was ever being scratched. I did the same thing I had once seen the Swedish cook doing to the driver. I wrapped my legs around my brother's naked, wet ass cheeks.
I was digging my bare heels into the cheeks of his ass and making him fuck me even harder.
Each time he pulled out of my pussy I dug my heels in against the muscles of his ass cheeks so that he would have to push forward a little more quickly. Then when he did push forward I jabbed my heels even harder so that he would push even further into me.
He started to go faster and faster and then he stopped suddenly. He was pushed as far into me as he could go. I could feel his balls moving against the tender flesh between my legs. I could feel the base of his dick getting even thicker with the juice that was speeding up the length of it. And then the depths of my pussy were being lubricated with the juice of his cock. It was shooting into me. I could hardly believe the pleasure.
My cunt was on fire then. I could feel the walls of my cunt pulling taut around the thickness of his dick. I could feel the stiff boner that was throbbing repeatedly against the walls of my hot twat. I was on fire and he was on fire at the same time.
I was cumming with a dick inside my cunt. It was so different from the way I had always been before that. I mean, I was used to the feeling of my cunt walls collapsing and pulling taut, but this was the first time that I had ever felt it with a stiff rammer inside me that was keeping my cunt from pulling quite as taut as it wanted to go.
When it was all over and my older brother pulled his dick free from me the first thing he said was, "We shouldn't have done that. That was terribly wrong."
I knew that I was going to have trouble with him from then on. I managed to get him to fuck me three more times after that and then he went and told my parents.
Before I was even told that he had told my parents about the fucking, they shipped him off to a school in New England somewhere. Now, isn't that a joke? They shipped him off and they kept me at home! My father didn't want to be separated from me. I guess.
My father went a little bit crazy about what happened, about the fact that I wasn't a virgin any longer. But, my mother cooled him off and convinced him that I should go to see a shrink. So, I'm here with you now. I know that I'm not crazy. How about telling them that?
I don't know what I would really want you to tell my parents. I think I'd just want you to tell them that I should have a chance to lead my own life. You know what I mean?
CONCLUSION Youngsters need opportunities to have friends, to form relationships with their peers and to discover things for themselves with those peers, whatever age they may be.
By keeping his children in a setting where he considered all of the other children unsuitable he was forcing them into an incestuous situation. It's as simple as that.
Aside from that he was teaching the girl a terrible set of values since, as far as he was concerned, the only worthy people she ever had contact with were family members. Even with a great deal of money she will have difficulty adjusting to the real world where people of all ranks, not necessarily members of her family, will expect decent treatment from her.
If her father cannot offer her an opportunity to live the life of a teenage girl (though not necessarily a chance to lead 'her own life' as Nancy has put it) and if she is not going to learn anything of discipline and dealing with others in that household then it would certainly be in the best interest of the girl for her to go away to school. I regret, however, that her rather single-minded father will probably not do what is in her best interest. He seems to look upon her as a prize pet kept there in the house because of the affection he feels for her. This, however, is as damaging in its overkill as many of the negative attitudes expressed by parents of other troubled young women.
CASE HISTORY FIVE
SUBJECT: Tanya U.
AGE: Seventeen
Interview One
Tanya was a very beautiful, rather busty girl of Latin American extraction.
Her skin was a light cocoa color. Her black hair was long and she wore it in a very modest and girlish fashion. Her dress was simple, apparently inexpensive, but very clean and well cared for. Her large black eyes seemed to dart about and take in everything.
Doctor, I have to confess to you that I am, inside of me, a very hot girl.
I can't help it. This is what my problem is. My father and my brothers are both very strict and they get upset with me all the time. Then there is. . . Well, I don't know if I can tell you that. There was something that happened to me. It is not easy to talk about.
My father was always very strict. He says that if I am to bring honor to the family and if I am to marry well I must be brought up in a strict way and must never bring shame upon myself.
Sometimes I went crying to my mother when I was younger. I would tell her that I had done nothing wrong. She would console me and say that it didn't matter that I had done nothing wrong, that if I ever gave the impression of having done wrong that would be enough for the young man who might wed me.
It is all very difficult, but I know that it is part of our family way.
I know it is part of our culture. Even the girls say that the boys will only marry you if you are a virgin. They tease you now and they make you feel miserable because you will not give them what they want, but then when the time comes for marriage they do not want the girls who were easy when they were younger. They only want the virgins.
But, Doctor, I used to feel so terrible because of the feelings inside me.
Well, even now. even in spite of all that has happened, I still feel the terrible guilt because of the feelings inside of me. I still feel the hunger and the longing inside my body and I wish that I were able to make that hunger go away. But I cannot.
Let me tell you about something when I was very young.
There are, in our neighborhood, many places where nasty boys write on walls. I remember that I was out walking with my mother and I saw this one word F-U-C-K all over a wall.
It was written there many times. At least one of the words was very large and it was painted many colors. I remembered what it looked like. That was at an age when I was too young to have learned the whole alphabet by heart. I was still learning the letters.
So, when I was at home and playing with my crayons I wrote those letters I had seen. I wrote them more ways than one, in different colors, just as I had seen it.
Doctor, for all I knew, F-U-C-K could have been U.S.A.
It didn't mean anything to me. It was no kind of disrespect.
Why do I remember this so clearly? My father came in and saw what I was doing and he lifted me up with one hand. He held me up in the air and smacked me back and forth as if I had been a bell that he was ringing. I screamed out, but he didn't hear me.
He went on and on about me being a 'puta' and that he would kick me out of the house if he ever saw me writing such a word again. Can you believe that?
Now, Doctor, I am not a doctor and I am not even grown up or wise, but it seems that I was a little child and I would have forgotten all about the word, all about those four letters, if he had given me a chance to forget them. But, he burned that into my memory.
Now I think about that word, that word that I have been so forbidden to say, and it makes me steam up inside. I feel the moisture in my body, in my pussy, when I hear the word.
That is not the only word that does that to me. There are others.
Fuck! There, I said it. Oh, you do not know what the sound of it does to me. Fuck! And cock! Cock! Dick! Prick! Pussy! Cunt! A cock fucking a pussy! These mere words excite me so much* so very much that I can hardly catch my breath now after using them.
But, that's not the whole story here, Doctor. That's just the start of it.
That was just to show you the way that my father and my brothers would always try to keep me from even knowing that there was such a thing as sex. But, somehow it didn't work.
There was sex all around me. In my neighborhood I couldn't help knowing that it was there.
Of course I saw what a man's cock looked like when I was still at a young age. It was a disgusting old drunk who pulled it out and showed it to me and to my girlfriends. I ran home in tears. I ran straight to the church and went to a special confession.
The priest made me say many prayers for that at the time.
Doctor, I'm not one to question things. As I said, I am not grown up and I am not wise. But, it seems to me now that it was hardly my fault that the drunk opened his zipper in front of me and pulled out his thing in front of me and my girlfriend.
And yet I was made to feel that it was my fault. I was made to feel that I should ask forgiveness for it. I Was brought up in a way that taught that if a boy flirted with me I was supposed to go to church and pray for forgiveness for it.
That doesn't seem right anymore. It seems to me that there's something wrong there.
But, as I said, I am not one who should question these things.
It's just that, since that time, there are other things that have happened.
Those are the things that I've come here to discuss with you, Doctor. Those are the things that are troubling me and haunting me. I have been through so much now.
Interview Two The last time I was here I spoke about things from my childhood. I guess that I was just sort of fooling myself, Doctor, and trying to put off talking about the thing I had really come here to tell you about. And yet, it was important for you to understand the sort of family that I came from. That way you can better understand what happened to me.
Whenever I would go downtown I would always walk around the residential blocks. It always interested me to look into the windows of the nice apartment buildings and also to look around the garbage. I don't want you to think that I'm some kind of shopping bag lady, you know the kind of crazy person I mean, Doctor. I'm not- this kind of person who takes clothes and things from the garbage.
The only things I would usually take from the garbage in front of the fancy buildings were the magazines. There would be books and magazines and things like that, things that were interesting. I would take those. Most of the things I would throw out when I got home, but there are some lovely magazines that I have kept.
I can't afford to buy magazines, Doctor. I can't afford to get all I'd like.
Many different things in the garbage interest me. There are movie fan magazines and then there are also magazines about art and architecture. There are even magazines about flowers.
I love to read, Doctor. I don't know whether I told you that last time.
Well, it just so happens that there was a great pile of books and things that I took from the garbage in front of this one building. I was delighted with the haul and didn't even have time to look through them all. I figured I would look through them when I got home.
Once I was home I found that two of the magazines were these women's magazines that I have seen around. There were naked men in the centerfolds. That excited me greatly.
I knew, of course, that my father would never approve of such a thing * and that he would be furious if he knew that I had even looked at such things. But, I was no longer that little child who was content to stay ignorant. Do you see what I am saying, Doctor?
So, I hid those two magazines under my mattress where no one would find them.
They stayed there for some time and then there was another addition to that collection. Again it was something I had found in the garbage. It was a book, a very nasty book.
The story in the book was all about sex and about men and women doing things with each other.
That excited me very much. I knew that I should have thrown out the book but I kept it and read it and then I read it again. I couldn't bring myself to get rid of the book.
In our apartment I have a very small room for myself. My three brothers all share a very large room. And then there's another large room for my parents. My room barely has space for my bed and my dresser.
Anyway, now that I've told you all of this I should tell you what happened.
I came home one day and there was my oldest brother, Victor, sitting in my room, looking grim. I knew immediately that something was wrong. He and I were the only ones home.
"What is wrong, Victor?" I said to him, feeling deep concern.
He pushed the door shut and his face turned to an angry expression as he hissed, "I didn't know that my sister was a slut and a pig." I couldn't believe he was saying that.
I shook my head and started to say, "No. It is a mistake. I am not like that. . ."
But he slapped me and I fell and then he landed on top of me. Then I saw that he had the magazines and the book that had been hidden under my mattress. I don't know why or how he found it and I don't think I'll ever have an answer to that.
That didn't matter then. He was on top of me and he was pulling my clothes off. "As long as you want to be a puta, your big brother might as well have some of the fun."
I was screaming and pleading with him not to do anything to me, but he wouldn't listen.
And then he had my legs spread. He had ripped my panties and he had fingered my slit. I couldn't believe the feeling of his fingers against my delicate, virgin slit.
Then he pulled out his penis and he pressed it against that hole.
Tears came to my eyes. "I am a virgin. You must not. You must not treat your sister in this way. It is your duty to protect your sister's virginity and not to spoil it."
That made him pause. I actually thought that, perhaps, I was to be saved. But, that was not the case. There was more that he had in mind then. He tossed me over on my belly.
I screamed out as I felt the broad head of his penis rubbing up and down along the crack of my ass. I wasn't sure what he was going to do, but then I felt the pressure of two of his fingers, moistened with his spit, pressing against my anal opening.
His fingers were pulling me open and they were also rubbing the wetness of his spit around and around the tightly clinging opening. I was weeping and hiding my face in my hands.
He plucked his fingers out of the hole and then I felt something thicker against the tight opening.
I didn't dare look over my shoulder. I didn't want to see. I had a chance to glance at his penis when he had first tossed me over. I knew that it was long and threatening and that it was standing up hard and erect. He pressed the flared head of it against the tight anal opening and I felt the moist flesh of my ass spreading wide open.
He pushed in and. then there was a great deal of pressure. I was really spread open by the powerful thrusting of the huge rammer. And then there was a moment. . . I don't know exactly how to describe it. I knew that I had the cock head inside of me. I knew that much. Then it was only a matter of getting the rest of the length of the cock into me.
I knew that Victor was not going to let up until he had succeeded in doing that.
He worked it into me a little at a time. I guess he had slicked the rest of the length of that huge pole with more of his spit- It worked into me, sliding over the flesh.
He pulled back just a little bit and then thrust all the way forward.
I couldn't believe it. He had his entire cock stuffed up my ass. I could feel the curly patch of hair that was rubbing against the cheeks of my ass. I could feel his balls that were pressing down against my body. It was very intense for me, very intense.
He pulled back just a little bit, but his dick didn't slide out of me. It merely pulled back against my anal opening. Then he pushed forward and I felt the head of his dick pressing against the depths of my body once again. He pulled back and pushed forward, time and time again.
I guess, somehow, he created more lubrication inside my ass so that he could actually slide his dick in and out of it after all. He really started to work his cock back and forth then. It was making my whole body tingle because of the way it moved.
When he pulled back I shivered all over and then when he slammed forward I gasped.
I kept on going from one sensation to the other. My body was shaking out of control.
And he was going faster and faster. I started to whimper but I doubt if he even heard me.
Then he slammed all the way into the depths of my ass and he started to shoot gobs and gobs of the thick wetness that burned inside me. And then he pulled out of me.
I was still lying on the floor. I was weeping and couldn't bring myself to move.
"Cover yourself, puta," Victor snapped at me. "I'll throw this shit out and I'll do you the favor of not telling the rest of the family that you're a slut and a whore."
I swear, Doctor, that Victor had always been kind and loving to me before that. I swear he had. It was like something snapped. I know that Victor always considered that there were only two kinds of girls. He said that often. All the men in my family said that same thing.
There are whores and there are good girls. That's it. I had suddenly changed from a good girl to a whore because he had found those magazines under my mattress.
Well, that wasn't the end of it. Victor kept on insisting that I should take care of his needs sexually. He didn't take my cherry. He respected that and said that I had to save that for my marriage. He said he would kill me if I lost my cherry.
But, he also taught me to take his dick in my. . . in my mouth.
Oh, Doctor, I don't know what to do about this. If I tell my father he will kick me out of the house for being a whore. But, I can't turn against Victor. He's too powerful and if he were to tell my father then I would be kicked out for being a whore.
It's so confusing to me, Doctor. All I wanted to do was to find out a little about what sex was all about, to find out a little about the world. And now this has happened.
I don't know what to do. Is there any way you can help me, Doctor?
CONCLUSION Young people must be given opportunities to satisfy their curiosity.
The best we can hope for in Tanya's case is that a family therapy session with her father and her brother, Victor, both present, will allow some honesty to come out in the open.
It is all well and good for parents to wish to be protective however it is very difficult for a girl like Tanya to come to terms with the world around her when she is being so sheltered that mere inquiry of her healthy, maturing mind is considered a sin.
Her father must be made to realize that there is a middle ground of cautious questioning which will permit the girl to grow up healthier and happier and will not permit her brother to abuse her and blackmail her! He has created, through his insistence on old-fashioned ignorance, a cruel situation, extremely harmful to Tanya.
CASE HISTORY SIX
SUBJECT: Wanda Y.
AGE: Twenty
Interview One
Wanda looked like any one of thousands of struggling young career girls in a big city.
Her dark hair was clipped short and her pixie-ish features had just a little make up. Her clothes were coordinated and it was clear that she was trying to look her best on a limited budget.
She was of average height and had a shapely body which was well cared for.
Doctor, let me get right down to the story. I don't have a lot of money to waste, but I felt that this was something I should talk to a professional about and that's why I came to see you.
First of all, I want you to know that I'm adopted. That's very pertinent to my story.
Like most adopted kids I've wondered about my real mother, about my real parents. My adoptive parents were wonderful to me. I've got to say that.
However, there's got to be that curiosity. I think anyone would have it.
I think my adoptive mother was a little hurt that I started trying to find my real mother. When I turned eighteen I started and it wasn't an easy process. But, I was determined.
Anyway, I finally found my real mother. She was in Montana. I contacted her and I spoke to her on the phone and she was as curious about me as I was about her.
I had been illegitimate, of course. I had been born when she was still a teenager. She told me about my father. He was some no-good miner who had been engaged to her and he had disappeared as soon as he found out that she was pregnant.
Well, my impulse was to go see her as soon as I could. In fact I decided to move there.
I guess that was a little silly of me, a little impetuous. I was planning to make a new life for myself and to make up for almost two decades of not having my mother there.
But, when I got to Montana things didn't work out the way I thought they would. I mean, things were a little strange there. It was a very different sort of life.
The town was filled with miners. The only thing that people of my age did was to hang around in one of the bars and drink. I tried to find a job and there was nothing for me to do. It seemed like the only girls I became friendly with there were hookers.
Most all the girls in that town had the same story. It was outrageous. Each one had gotten pregnant and dropped out of high school and married a miner. And now that they were twenty or twenty-two they had two or three children and they were divorced and on welfare.
It was the most depressing place I had ever been in in my life.
Honestly. People talk about how awful New York is. But, I grew up in New York and it never seemed so awful to me. When I made contact with my mother I was so jubilant. I was thrilled at the notion that I would get away from the dirty city and lead a clean life in the country of Montana. But, that life was just awful there.
But, after all, I hadn't travelled out there for the town. That wasn't what I was looking for.
I had gone out to Montana in order to be with my mother. I wanted to get to know her and I wanted to live my life with her. That was my goal. I was going to make my new life with her.
Once I was there I felt more like she was a sister than a mother to me.
She told me to call her by her first name which was Zina. She was quite beautiful. She looked like me in terms of her features and coloring, but, of course, she was very womanly compared to me. 1 felt that I looked like a girl compared to her.
But she had kept herself in shape. I meant that comment about her being womanly as a compliment and not an insult. Her breasts were full and firm. Her body was nicely put together.
When I got back to this seedy little house that she rented I was shocked at what a mess it was. I guess, growing up in the suburbs with my adoptive family I was used to mothers always being neat and tidy. Zina, of course, had never thought of herself as a mother.
And also, back at the house, there was a little bit of a problem. His name was Xavier.
Xavier had the cutest French accent. He had a very deep and masculine voice. He was mother's boyfriend. I mean, he was Zina's boyfriend. And he was very handsome.
He was extremely tall and powerfully built. He's French-Canadian.
And he was in the habit of walking around that little house with very little on. As soon as he would get in his shirt would come off and be on the floor. By the time he was lying on the couch and watching television he was stripped to his undershorts.
His entire body was very hairy. He had muscles on top of muscles and there was something about him that made me think of a bear. But then too there was the way he looked at me.
Zina accused me a couple of times of flirting with Xavier. I kept on swearing that I hadn't and she would only get angrier and angrier at me. I was sorry that I had sublet my apartment back in New York. It was a shitty situation all around. I wanted to get out of there.
So, I was spending more and more nights at the bar, drinking with the kids.
I would try to get back to the little house as late as I could.
But, there was a night when I was lying in bed and Xavier was right over me. I started to scream but he indicated that I should be quiet. He had his huge dick, the biggest I had ever seen, sticking out of the fly of his underwear. He was working his fingers up and down along the length of the cock, pulling on it enticingly, teasingly.
I wasn't a virgin, but I just didn't want to do anything like that.
"Come on," he urged. "Just let me rub it on your tits. I won't fuck you."
"Don't let Zina know," I whispered back to him. I didn't know what else to do.
I took off my nightgown and he rubbed his hard dick all over me. He shot his load right between my tits. Then he was gasping and he said, "I always wanted a woman and her daughter at the same time."
"That's filthy," I said to him. "I don't want to hear about it."
After that happened .1 decided, even more so, that I had to get out of there.
But, I will have to admit to you, Doctor, there were plenty of nights when I found myself frigging my pussy and thinking about Xavier, thinking about what he looked like stripped to his shorts. He often sat in those underpants and purposely gave me a chance to see his dick through the spread fly opening or else up one of the legs.
He was always giving me times to get turned on to his body.
I guess, deep down, I knew that something was going to happen. I also suppose that, in spite of my protests and in spite of the fact that it had upset me, his idea turned me on.
Interview Two Like I said, Zina was a very beautiful woman. I had never had lesbian desires. I had never been a lesbian. But, I had watched Zina walking around the house naked, or dressed in only her panties and I had recognized a great beauty in her body.
Well, also there was a great curiosity in me when I watched her.
Recognizing that she looked like I did, that she had the same sort of features and the same sort of coloring, only a number of years ahead of me, I was curious to look at her to see what I would look like when I was that age. That was a pretty fair bet.
And I was quite pleased with what the future seemed to hold in store for me. ' Anyway, it finally happened one night. I was sort of an innocent victim. Oh, what the hell. I know that they plotted it. Or, at least Xavier plotted it. But, if I hadn't wanted it to happen I could have stopped it from happening. I saw it coming.
I suppose that each of the three of us wanted it to happen in a different way.
But, the fact remains that the three of us were all involved in it together.
Well, let me stop making excuses and just get down to telling you about that night. I was really getting very frustrated with just hanging around and not having anything to do, not having any job to go to. Xavier had gotten some grass for us to smoke.
Zina loved getting stoned. She was working behind the notions counter at the five and dime and she was stoned half the time she was there.
Anyway, Xavier said that he had something that was even better that night and he wanted to turn us both onto it. Of course he was sitting there in just his underwear. Zina was in her nightgown and I was fully dressed. I knew that something was going to happen. It was in the air.
We kept on smoking this new stuff that he had brought home. My head was spinning.
Also he had brought this bottle of ouzo. It's a Greek drink. I had never had it before. I was sipping it and I guess I lost track of just how much I had been drinking.
Then I noticed that Xavier had his dick out of the fly opening of his shorts and he was jerking it up and down, slowly. He was smiling at me as he did that.
"It looks good to you, don't it?" he asked me in a deep and sort of mean voice.
I looked away. I looked at Zina. She was laughing then. Xavier pushed her nightgown up. "Let's see if you got any other beauties like this one up your box," he said to my natural mother.
She continued to laugh. I started to laugh and then Xavier said, "Let's tickle her."
Well, although Zina had acted so jealous of me all that time she helped him tickle me. The two of them were all over me. The two of them were feeling me up all over and then they started to peel off my clothes. I knew that Zina was peeling off my sweater and revealing my tits. As you may have noticed, I don't wear any bra.
And then Xavier was peeling my jeans down my legs. My panties were pulling down along with the jeans. I know that it was Zina who first had her fingers in my snatch.
I was naked. Zina had her nightgown pulled all the way up to her arms so that she was, for all intents and purposes, naked as well. She was fiddling with my snatch.
I was hazy and wasn't sure what was happening but something felt wonderful.
Then I realized that Zina had her lips down at my pussy slit. My own mother was licking out my cunt. She worked her tongue up one side of my pussy and then slid her tongue down the other side. Then she pushed her mouth muscle between the delicate lips and spread them apart. The moist lips were wrapped around her invading mouth muscle.
She was working it back and forth and back and forth and then she was able to thrust it forward. I was actually holding her tongue in place with the tightly clinging cunt.
Her lips and her teeth were also wrapped around the cunt lips and she was pulling and nipping at the delicate flesh with the pressure of her lips and teeth.
She was not only working her tongue against my insides, she was really sucking on my cunt, sucking on it good and hard. I could hardly believe it.
Just as I started to tense up, Xavier, who had peeled off his shorts and revealed his full nudity to me, started to play with my nipples. He was tickling and even pulling on both of the tits and he was massaging the delicate flesh of them both.
Both of my nipples were standing up erect because of the attention.
Meanwhile, the walls of my cunt were undulating. They were pulling together because of the hot way that my mother was massaging them with her tongue. She was able to get the tip of her tongue right up against my delicate, excited clitoris and then she was working her tongue back and forth and back and forth, driving me insane.
Xavier pushed her away from my pussy and said, "Let me do a man's work."
I was confused then. There was something that passed between them. And then Xavier was on top of me and he was positioning his dick right up against my cunt. Well, of course I was wet and I was hot for it. I had been sucked out by the hot tongue of the beautiful woman and I was as ready for the fucking as I would ever be for any fucking.
He slid the thickness of that huge cock all the way into my body.
Then he pulled back and pushed forward. He started to fuck me wildly.
Xavier was really ramming the head of his dick against the depths of my cunt and then he was pulling back all the way out of my body. I could hardly stand it. It was so erotic, so very erotic.
He kept on fucking in and out of me and then he slammed forward and shot his wad.
I don't even know where Zina was then. She was probably drinking a little bit more.
Then Xavier pulled out of me. I felt lost and very funny for a little while.
Zina was over on the couch. I was lying on the floor and Xavier was next to me. All three of us were naked. I felt cold and awkward and I also felt horny. I hadn't cum.
So, I turned my attention to Xavier's dick. I slid my tongue all up and down the length of the hard rammer. I worked my tongue over his balls and then I opened my mouth as wide as I could and I wrapped my lips around one of his balls. I sucked hard on it.
I pressed that ball, the testicle in the sac, up against the roof of my mouth and I played with it, working it back and forth and from side to side with my tongue.
And then I slid my lips off the ball sac and I nipped a bit of the flesh with my teeth. It was only the loose flesh that I took between my teeth and nipped because I didn't want to do any actual harm to him. Then I used my tongue again, pulling my lips over my teeth.
I worked my tongue around the sides of both of his balls and I licked at the flesh that was between his balls and his thighs. I worked my tongue along that flesh and then I pressed the balls upward with my mouth muscle and licked at the flesh behind them.
As I worked my tongue around his balls and back to his dick again I could feel the long rammer brushing against my face and I knew that it was stiff as iron again.
I slid my lips along the length of it and then opened my mouth wide so that I could get the head of it between my lips. I could feel the broad cock head pressing down against my tongue and I slid my lips forward so that the blunt head of the dick pressed against the back of my throat.
Then I started to work my mouth up and down and up and down the length of the stiff cock.
I was massaging the delicate flesh with my tongue. And I was working my face up and down along the length of the cock as hard and as fast as I could. I was hungry for the dick.
Meanwhile I felt something at my pussy. Zina was licking at the delicate flesh between my thighs, the flesh on the insides of my thighs. She worked her tongue up to my cunt lips again. This time she seemed to be sucking hard and it occurred to me that she was sucking her boyfriend's cum out of the depths of my pussy. That really turned me on.' The three of us were all entangled. I remember cumming again. I remember Xavier jerking off on my face.
When I woke up I was on the couch and there was cum on my face. It was quite late the following day. Apparently Zina had managed to get up and go to her job. Xavier wasn't there either. I didn't see the two of them for the rest of the day.
I kept on rehearsing what I would say to Zina. I didn't care about Xavier. As far as I was concerned he was just a big stud with a big dick. I had travelled all the way out to Montana to live my life with my real mother and that's what I cared about.
But Zina didn't come back to the house until very late that night. She was with a guy who was only about twenty-three. She told me that he was Albert and that he was her new boyfriend. She had only come back to pack and she was leaving there.
That very night she moved a hundred miles away. She didn't want to speak to me.
I asked her what I had done that was so awful and she told me that I already knew. I didn't even have an address for her. She was gone, just disappeared.
Doctor, I felt as if she had done the same thing to me a second time, two decades later. She moved and didn't give me her address. That's a joke, isn't it? That's always the joke they tell about parents, that they would move and not leave any address.
I was deserted a second time by the same mother who had deserted me a first time.
I wanted to live my life with her and she rejected me, Doctor.
That's why I had to come to you. I keep going over the things that happened. Of course I feel that I shouldn't have gone along with the sex. What did one night of sex mean compared to my mother's acceptance of me? I wish it had never happened.
I want another chance'with her, but I don't know what to do.
I really feel that I need to be accepted by her. What should I do, Doctor?
CONCLUSION There are two choices. Wanda can either strive for the acceptance of this unstable, immature woman, or she can recognize that this woman's lack of acceptance does not, in any way, reflect upon her.
Wanda suffers from many of the same anxieties and tensions that many adopted children feel. She feels that she started out life being rejected. However, she needs to understand that she was given up by her natural mother for reasons that had nothing at all to do with her. She must understand, in a deep, emotional way, that she was not given up for adoption due to any negative qualities in her appearance, her personality, or her talents.
Now that she had this unfortunate contact with her natural mother she should realize that this woman is flighty and not dependable. No, there was nothing that Wanda could have done which could have made any difference. Wanda will now need some therapy to help reaffirm her own self-worth. From all she has said about Zina I propose that the best relationship the girl can hope for is one in which they exchange Christmas cards.
She grew up quite well for twenty years without her natural mother and there's no reason for her to permit this unfortunate incident to ruin her life now.
CASE HISTORY SEVEN
SUBJECT: Bente C.
AGE: Fifteen
Interview One
Bente was an incredible long-legged beauty. Considering her youth this was really amazing.
Her long, honey-blonde hair came down to her shoulders. She wore no make up, needing none. Her features were perfectly sculpted and her flesh was clear and smooth.
She wore simple clothes, but everything she wore looked absolutely perfect on her.
Doctor, this is very frustrating for me. It is a difficulty that is caused by the fact that I have two homes.
You see, my father is American and my mother is Danish. I was born to them when my father was married to my mother and they were both living in Denmark. But, they were divorced when I was still quite young and my mother has no wish to move to America.
My father moved to America and I stayed for a few years with only my mother.
That accounts, you see, for the fact that I have a bit of an accent and sometimes the sentences I say in English are a little bit awkward. English is still not my native language.
I was twelve the first time I came to spend some months in America with my father.
It was a strange time for me. I went through many feelings during those months. I came here for the three months of summer and it was very lovely that year.
My father, at that time, was living in a place in Maryland. He was married to another wife and I didn't like her much. But, that was the first time my father was spending with me in seven years and I came to like him very much. He is a man with a sense of humor. But, in many ways he was very strange for me to get to know.
He is definitely not Danish. That is the one thing that I can tell you.
You see, that summer, I got into trouble for being undressed in the garage with these two boys, one aged fourteen and one aged twelve, like me. They lived in the house next door.
My father was suddenly furious. Suddenly he no longer had the sense of humor that I loved in him. I did not understand. These boys were curious about my body and I saw nothing wrong with letting them see my body if they would, in turn, let me see theirs.
You see, in Denmark I would often go to the beach where everyone was naked.
My mother thought nothing of it. I would see my mother naked and my mother's brothers who are all very handsome and have very good bodies. I liked looking at their naked bodies.
But," my father thought that there was something wrong with that. He thought that the naked body must be kept hidden and covered with clothes. This is not so in Denmark.
Things are so crazy here in America compared to the way they are back home.
Back home we do not think that sex is dirty like you think it is here. Also, you should know that back in Denmark fifteen, the age I am now, is the legal age for having sex. Here in America it is eighteen. It seems silly that anyone should think that I am not capable of knowing what I wish to do with my own body at this age.
But, we are not here to discuss international policies, Doctor. I am here so that I can discuss my relationship with my father and the way that it has progressed.
During that summer, when I was twelve, I must admit that I also started to think of my father in a sexual way. I will admit that I was often touching myself late at night. I enjoyed the thrill of frigging my pussy and the fantasies that would go with it.
Even at that tender age there were fantasies of my father when I touched myself.
To tell you the truth, I think it was the fact that I had never seen him naked. You see, he was not like my uncles back in Denmark. He thought that being naked was a wicked thing. He also lectured me about the way I walked around. He told me that I must not expose any part of my body in his presence. He was, what even you would have to call, a prude.
So, in a very strange way I came to have great feelings for my father. I came to love him dearly that summer because he was a sweet man who had a sense of humor about everything except for the subject of the human body. And, at the same time he ws also a very sexy man.
I take after the looks of my mother's family. I'm sure that this is also another part of the strong feelings I had for my father. You see, I was used to seeing men who looked like my uncles. I was used to men who had smooth bodies and blond hair.
My father has dark brown hair and he has a very hairy body. In fact, recently he has also grown a beard. His chest is just covered with hair. So are his legs.
It's most impressive to see my father and the way he looked when he goes to the beach and wears only his swimsuit. But, even then he wears this boxer style suit. When the men in Denmark wear swimsuits they don't worry about letting girls see what they have in there.
I do not mean to be vulgar. Forgive me if this sounds vulgar. But I found myself, even during that first visit to my father, attempting to assess the size and the shape of his penis. At that time the only thing I could assess was that it ran down his left leg and that the size of it was hardly what one would call small.
Knowing my mother as I did, I assumed that it wouldn't be. She is a demanding woman and has had many lovers even in the few years that I have been aware of them.
When I went back to Denmark I looked forward to my father's promise that he would bring me to America each summer, even though I didn't like his second wife.
The following summer there was something good and something bad that happened. I didn't get to go to America. I was furious at my father. I decided that I hated him. I tore his pictures into little pieces.
He had broken his promise to me. I said that I would not forgive him for that.
However, he was soon forgiven. It seems " that the reason he couldn't bring me over to America that year was that he was divorcing that terrible second wife of his and he was always going to court against her. At least I could look forward to the following year.
When I was fourteen he was living in California and that was very nice. I went out there and visited him. I had a wonderful summer and made friends with some of the college kids who lived nearby. It seems that in America I always seem to fit in with a slightly older crowd. Kids of fourteen in America are so much sillier than kids that same age in Denmark.
At that age in America kids of fourteen will giggle about the silliest things. They still think that sex and the human body are things to be laughed at. I can't deal with them.
My father acted a little different that summer. He said that I had developed a lot and that he worried about me. He invented ridiculous rules for me. He said that there would have to be a curfew for me and then he went further and said that I was not permitted to get into the car of a boy. Can you believe that he could say such a thing?
He told me that American girls the same age were ruled in such a way.
But, what sense did it make to walk somewhere when there was a boy with a car who would drive me? Why did my father say that I couldn't get into a boy's car?
There were a few times over that summer when we had fights, father and I.
Then there was a lot of correspondence with my mother due to something that had come up for her. You see, she works as an architect. She does fine work all over Denmark.
Anyway, I think I mean to say that she did fine work all over Denmark. She was phoning me from Denmark that summer to tell me that there were different job offers for her and that she wasn't certain what would be happening as of the fall.
It seemed clear though that she would be travelling and that it would be difficult for me to stay with her and still attend school. For a little while I felt unwanted, but then I felt very wanted. Mother wanted me to come back to Sweden and live with a particular aunt and uncle who were over there. She said that would be a change from Denmark.
But, father wanted me to stay with him. He said that I could go to school in America for a year. He and mother had a fight through long-distance, but eventually it was up to me to make the choice. I was able to get quite a few concessions from my father.
I told father that it would be difficult for me to give up my life in Denmark because it would mean that I would have to be restricted 'just like an American teenager.' So, of course, he assured me that he would relax the standards on me. After all, he had seen that I was really very dependable and that I wasn't a fool about things. He went on like that and I kissed him and agreed that it would be fun to stay in America for a while.
By that time it was clear that my mother was going to be travelling down to Africa to work on a project there. Frankly, I just didn't want to go to Africa. Also, as I said, it would just be too difficult to deal with going to school when she was travelling around between three different cities in two different countries.
I felt sad about it because I knew that I would miss my mother, but she and I wrote long letters to one another and we agreed that there was no need to feel any guilt over my choice.
Meanwhile I was excited about the fact that I would be living with father.
We did have one argument Which I told him I refused to even discuss with him. I had gone with some friends, some American girls who were older than I was, to a nude beach.
There's only one nude beach near Los Angeles. Legally it is not really a nude beach. That is to say it is not legal for people to be undressed. However, there's only one way to get on the beach. You have to climb slowly over these jagged rocks.
So, there is no way that any policeman could raid the beach.
It's a wonderfully friendly place. One of the girls had mentioned it and I encouraged her to find out where it was. None of us had ever been there. But, of course, I told the girls about the nude beaches in Denmark and they were very curious about it.
But, when I told my father where we had gone he was very upset and annoyed with me.
I told him that part of my agreement to stay in America was that I wouldn't be deprived of any of the pleasures I had known in Denmark. I had enjoyed sunbathing nude and seeing the other naked bodies on the beach back in Denmark. In a way I enjoyed the one in Los Angeles even more. The Americans on this beach were a little more coy about being exposed and I believe that there was more of a variety of types on this beach here.
That was when my father asked me whether I was a virgin. I told him that I was.
That was the truth. However, he didn't ask for any further details. I had fooled around with boys in Denmark, in spite of the fact that I was so young. I had been naked with boys, of course, and I had felt boys on top of me, rubbing against me.
I had fingered other girls and been fingered by them. And I had masturbated often with boys.
In fact, there were two cousins of mine, two twin boys who were exactly the same age as I. When we were all thirteen, very soon before I left for America, I started to dare them to prove just how perfectly matched they were as a pair of twins.
Of course the end of that dare was that both of them were completely naked in front of me and both of them had long erections. I jerked them both off at the same time.
One of them licked my pussy out and the other one was sucking my tits while I was jerking them both off. It was quite pleasant and very lovely. It gave me a great deal of pleasure.
The three of us had a chance, after that, to try some other combinations. I put both of their dicks into my mouth at the same time and sucked them both off. It was wonderful.
I worked my tongue over both of the piss slits at the same time.
They did not cum together, but I kept them both in my mouth until they had both cum.
Anyway, I'm only trying to point out that I was still a virgin. I still had my cherry. I hadn't let any boy fuck me up the pussy. But, I knew a great deal about sex with boys.
There had been one boy in America that I had fooled around with a little bit as well. Most of the college boys in the crowd I hung around with were just friends, even when they tried to push it further with me. But this one boy, this one terrifically handsome boy, really got me excited. He and I went off in his car, although daddy had forbidden that.
Once in his car he drove me up to the park and he, kissed me for a long time. Then he fingered me and I jerked him off. He wanted to fuck me, but I wouldn't let him. I was very assertive about that. I just felt that I had never done it with anyone.
What am I trying to say? I am trying to say it the right way in English. I had never done it with anyone and I felt that he was not worth doing it with before anyone else.
What I mean is that if I had already lost my virginity so that he could have been the third or the seventh man who would have fucked me I would have done it for the pleasure. But, I suppose that even in Denmark with all the liberal feeling about sex, I still learned that my cherry was a valuable thing and I didn't want to part with it lightly.
I wanted my first time with sex to be something that I would really remember.
I mean that I wanted the first time that I ever had a penis inside me to be with some male who would mean something to me. Little did I know the way it would turn out.
Interview Two Doctor, the thing that happened with my father was purely an accidental thing. It happened due to fury and due to a series of accidents. I am willing to see it that way. Why can't my father see it that way?
We were sharing the place in Los Angeles and I was taking care of it during the summer. But, in the fall he had to go to New York City for a different job. He did a terrible thing to me. Just when I was looking forward to living in New York and being there, he took a house in New Jersey. He told me it would be very convenient.
That was a lot of bullshit. He just wanted to keep me a little further away from New York and the wild life there. He was afraid of what I would get into there.
He figured that if we were in this suburban neighborhood I would behave myself.
Well, in a way he was right. I really hated the kids all around that neighborhood. They all had nagging mothers and they were all very boring and childish to be with.
In Los Angeles we had somewhat close to U.C.L.A., but in New Jersey there were only the suburban neighbors and nothing else to keep me occupied. How I hated it.
My father had to take a train out from the city and I had to use the train whenever I wanted to go into the city. It was a long, tedious, annoying ride.
Doctor, there was actually an annoying thing that was happening to my masturbatory sessions.
You see, I enjoy touching my pussy slit. I enjoy the feeling in there. I think that during the last session I already discussed the pleasure I felt in frigging my cunt and in thinking of different fantasies during those sessions. Well, I have enjoyed that for a long time.
But, out in New Jersey I was running out of men to fantasize about.
There had always been men around me, men that would turn me on. In Los Angeles it had been certain of those college boys. In Denmark it was my uncles or just the guys I would see on the beach or on the streets. But, why is it that everyone in New Jersey looked ugly to me.
I mean, the boys in school with me all dressed terribly in clothes that did not fit them well. It was like a joke that they all wore pants in silly colors that bagged at the knee and bagged at their asses. They all seemed to have either bad complexions or bad bodies.
I like to frig my pussy, Doctor, but I do not like to close my eyes and visualize a boy who wears funny pants that do not fit him right and who has a bad complexion and a pot belly. And these were the boys who were my age and still in school! Do you know what their fathers looked like?
If I sound very nasty about them it is only that I know that all of these problems are brought upon themselves. I look good because I care about the clothes I wear, because" I eat the right foods and take care of my body. If they wished to look good to me, they could do the same.
Anyway, I was actually running out of males I could put into.my fantasies. I had to watch television so that I could be reminded of what an attractive male looked like.
And, then of course there was my father. I suppose that my father entered my masturbatory fantasies more and more of the time then. I couldn't help it. He was just there.
I could frig myself and. think about a television star, but I suppose that it was three-dimensional things which turned me on even more. I recall one day when my father finished his shower and I went into the bathroom to take my bath.
The bathroom was still all steamy. As soon as I had shut the door I inhaled deeply and started to frig myself. I was turned on by the smell in the room. Then I noticed that his undershorts were on the, floor of the bathroom, a little moist from the mist in the air.
I brought them to my nose and inhaled. I was smelling the aroma of my father's crotch. It was like a heady perfume that made me dizzy. I licked the fabric and I fingered myself in a frenzy. I had my orgasm, delighting over the fabric of his underpants.
So, I think you can see just how obsessed I really was with my father.
Now let me tell you about the particular day in question and exactly what happened. I wasn't expected back in the. house until later that evening. It was still in the early afternoon on a Sunday and I had gone off on an outing to the city.
But, I had gotten as far as the train station and I realized that I had forgotten something I wanted to take into the city. There were shoe stores open on Sunday and I wanted to get a pair of shoes to match a swatch of fabric I had from a new dress.
I don't know why I cared about my clothes out there in New Jersey. Well, the only one I could have even been dressing for, of course, was my father. I suppose I was dressing for him.
We had just a little toilet off the kitchen. There was only one real bathroom and that was upstairs right at the end of the hall, the door of it between the door to my room and the door to my father's room. I noticed, as soon as I went up the stairs to go to my room that the little table with the telephone on it had been pulled up next to the bathroom door.
The door was open just an inch or so and I realized that my father was certainly bathing and that was the reason why he had the door open and the phone next to it.
My heart stopped beating. In all that time I. had seen so many male bodies without any clothes on and I had never seen my father's naked body. I wanted to look through that door.
I knew that it would give me something to think about while frigging my pussy. In that way alone it meant a great deal to me. I crept quietly down the hall and then I knelt by the door and leaned forward so that I could look into the bathroom.
The shower was running and I could see movement behind the shower curtain. Then the water was turned off and the shower curtain was pulled open. I saw his naked body for the first time and was surely not disappointed. He had really kept himself in shape.
His stomach was flat and hard and his dick was long and thick between his legs.
He took the towel and started to wipe his very hairy body. I meanwhile, was dreaming about touching that hairy body. I was dreaming about what it would feel like to be near that body.
But, as I dreamed about it I reached down and reached my fingers up under my skirt. I reached my fingers into one of the leg openings of my panties and started to work them up and down against my pussy lips. I was watching my father and frigging myself.
My father was dry by that time and he started to work the towel over his dick more and more. I could tell that it was growing. Then it was standing up fully erect.
It's so lovely to say that it was the longest one I had ever seen in my life.
He lightly wrapped his fingers around his dick and started to play with it. Then he sat down on the edge of the tub and continued to do that, his penis pointing toward the ceiling .of the room. I was frigging myself at the same time and felt like I was in a race.
But then I lost my balance and toppled into the room. My fingers were still in my panties.
He exploded and shouted at me. His fingers were still on his penis.
I was down on the floor and he was towering over me. I reached out and touched his cock. I stroked it. I wrapped my lips around the penis and worked my tongue back and forth over the length of it. He was stammering, but he never actually got any words out.
Then, as he was standing there, his stammering turned into a cooing. He started to become affected by my sensual lips and began to move his hips back and forth and he was fucking me in the face. He seemed to be relaxing.
But then he changed once again. He pulled his dick out of my mouth. I looked up and saw that his face was red. "Slut," he shouted out. That was all he said.
Then he landed right on top of me. I was on the floor of the bathroom and he pushed my skirt up out of the way. Then he pushed my panties down. When I felt his cock head up against my pussy slit I stopped fighting him. I wanted it, Doctor.
And he said to me, "So, you little slut, you want it from your own father?"
He made it sound so dirty. Yes, I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to give him my virginity.
Why did he have to make it sound so dirty and so hateful? Now he says that I can't live with him any longer and that he'll send me to my aunt and uncle over in Europe.
I don't see why. We lived together for a long time before that happened.
It was just a crazy thing that happened, I think, because we were cooped up in that awful place in New Jersey and both of us were longing for it. Why can't my father face the reality.
Yes, the way it happened between us was very unpleasant. But, I know it won't happen again.
CONCLUSION
Sometimes the child is wiser than the parent. Bente understands her own sexual longings although her father's caution due to her age is certainly justified.
In this instance she is willing to be more rational about the event that occurred than her father is. He's willing to allow guilt to cloud his perception.
However, while it would certainly be advisable for the two of them to intelligently discuss what happened that day in the bathroom so that it will not cloud their future relationship, it is not advisable for the girl to remain living with her father at this time.
There's too much temptation to have what would be a destructive sexual relationship!
CASE HISTORY EIGHT
SUBJECT: Delia E.
AGE: Eighteen
Interview One
Delia was an attractive girl with reddish brown hair and an oval face. There was a serious intensity about her.
Okay, Doctor, I did it. I'm not denying a damn thing.
I'm here to tell you that anything they told you about me was absolutely true.
So, I'll just give you my version of the situation. You see, it really started years ago with my uncle. He was going to help me. He was going to help pay my way through school and give me music lessons because I was so talented and he thought so much of me.
Fine. Everyone thought he was a wonderful man. But, I sure didn't think so.
Right after it started he started to treat me like I was crap, like I was the lowest sort of worm in the earth. I would go to his big fancy house and I was lower than his servants.
It would be "Delia, go get the newspaper. It's up the driveway." And it would be "Delia, I want this package brought over to my lawyer's office." Do you notice that the man never said the words please or thank you? He never treated me with the slightest bit of decency.
I should explain that my parents have very little money and they thought he was a saint to have let me gone over there to practice on his piano and to have paid for my piano lessons and my special school. I actually told my parents that I was ready to give up the special school. They told me that I was an ingrate and that I was a terrible person for even thinking such things.
But, as far as I was concerned, I would have preferred giving up his money and his special favors, if, at the same time, I didn't have to kiss his ass. My parents told me that I should kiss his feet in return for what he was doing for me.
What he was doing for me? Every single time I went there he found something to criticize in me.
And then, of course, he eventually took me to bed. At that point he had cut me down so far already that I couldn't say no to him. I guess in a strange way I wanted his approval. I wanted him to love me and to be nice to me. But, I never even got it from him in bed. I'll tell you about that.
He seduced me by sending me down to use the sauna. He told me that there was too much tension in my body and that I should try the sauna he had just installed. He adjusted everything and then told me to undress. He gave me a bathing suit that I could put on and then he came in in his swimsuit.
He said that he wanted me to give him a massage. It seemed like little enough to ask for in return for all that money he was spending on me and all the nice things he did for me. At least that was the way I thought at that time. I massaged him and he told me how to do it better.
Then he said that he would massage me. I was nervous. I knew that it was something sexual when he was behind me and rubbing my flesh. I could feel his body on top of mine. I could feel his hard dick through the fabric of his trunks and my swimsuit. I could feel the pressure of him against me.
And then it happened. He brought me back up to his bedroom and it was terrible.
He took my virginity and he found things to criticize about me all the time it was happening. I messed up the bed. I had forgotten to bring a towel. Can you believe that insensitive bastard? The first time in my life I had a dick inside me and he criticized me because his damned sheets had to be changed. Fuck him. It wasn't as if he was the one who had to change the sheets.
Goddamn. I don't know why I'm getting so emotional, Doctor.
Do you see what I'm saying? When he took me to bed, I hardly even minded it. What I minded was the fact that he was so damned insensitive about me. He fucked me and pulled out of me and told me that I was too tense. I mean, I can't believe how intelligent this man was! He told me I was too tense. I mean, that really did a great deal to relieve the tension, didn't it?
He was a boorish pig.
The man thought he could treat me any damn way he wanted to. I just had to show him that he couldn't, that was all.
And that was why I went to his house that day and held a gun on him and handcuffed him to his desk. That was why I shoved that dildo with all the spikes up his ass and shoved my panties down his throat and put the tape over his mouth. That was why I beat his naked body with that clay statue until it busted and he was already black and blue. I had to teach him his lesson.
It's hilarious. Now all the family thinks that I'm the nut. Everyone thinks that I should be put away, aside from everything else that I'm an ingrate and a terrible girl. But, I know the truth.
Doctor, he could have been my lover. I actually would have liked that.
There's something strong about my uncle, but he never uses that strength for anything good. He is never kind and generous with that strength. He was never warm to me.
How else can I explain it to you, Doctor. This is it. This is the whole story.
CONCLUSION Either Delia's story is true or it is not. If true then her rage is justified because of the man's lack of sensitivity and this should be justly brought to light. If it is false then it is important that therapy get to the real root of her anger.
Something has clicked inside this girl and she must have a chance to work it through.
Too often, adults are willing to discount complaints from youngsters, giving them no validity. This could prove to be a cruel mistake.
Since Delia was not a wildly insane girl. There must have been some actions on her uncle's part which warranted her hostility.
GENERAL CONCLUSION
They say that most accidents occur in the home. Is it that the home is more dangerous? Not really. It's just that we spend so much time there, we spend so much of our vulnerable time there, time when we hardly pay attention to what it is that we're doing.
It's the same with incest! While parents' groups protest sex education in schools and worry about attacks on the streets, statistics still show that more young girls are going to be victimized in the home, by members of their own families, than anywhere else! Certain incestuous exploration between siblings, without force, might actually be healthy. Curiosity is part of growing up. However, there must be measures taken to prohibit real harm from being done, measures taken so that young lives are not warped and destroyed due to irresponsible adults who selfishly choose to take advantage of the responsible positions they hold as they relate to young people - fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles, older siblings.
It is sad that when the daughter of a Hollywood star revealed her mother's abusive treatment of her one old friend of that star stated that all of them knew the way that woman had been treating her children and they just didn't say anything about it.
There is a conspiracy of silence which permits unfit parents to remain unchecked.
Other nations have initiated ombudsman boards to protect children. In our advanced country, too often there are abused children with nowhere to turn. While clergy and law enforcement officials are concerned about the sanctity of the parent-child relationship there are young lives which are being ruined.
