enovel Women's Secret Lusts Unknown [Future Story Codes]

---

.....12422 home .....12424

Women's Secret Lusts ....(64k)    by Unknown

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

Fantasies make the world go round. Each of us has his or her secret fantasy life.

And each of us, in a sense, lives in his or her own fantasy-for though we go through our daily lives, who is to say how we see ourselves? Each person sees the world through his or her own eyes, i.e., through his or her own fantasy.

Following are the true-to-life accounts of six different people who participated in a study to get a sampling of erotic fantasies. You will meet:

Sally Q., 19, a college girl who doesn't really get turned on by sex with her college boyfriend, until she makes it with her best friend's father-whom she's always fantasized about!! He teaches her what loving is all about!

Rosalita J., 23, a prostitute with a Catholic upbringing who's secret desire is to make it with all the priests in the Church she went to as a little girl. She imagines going to confession-but the fun in the confession box is not penitent at all!!

Martin S., 52, a handsome, greying middle-aged executive fondly remembers the enemas of his childhood, and dreams of plunging the tube in the pert ass of his secretary. The Doctor recommends treatment!!!

Kiki P., 30, a popular rock star who's mostly in love with herself imagines taking on her whole band in a wild trip into outer space!! Her fantasy inspires her band and together, with the help of some costume designers and set builders, they create their own environment, and take off!! In front of a huge crowd at the Wintergarden!!!

CASE HISTORY ONE

SUBJECT: Sally Q.

INTERVIEW ONE

Sally is a very pretty girl with long thick dark hair and bright brown eyes, which are alternately very dreamy. She was wearing a short black mini-skirt and black tights and a tight white sweater when she came to my office for the first time.

She is the kind of girl who is obviously aware of her good looks, and of her attractiveness to men, and she is not embarrassed by her attractiveness. Several times during her interview with me she crossed and recrossed her legs, aware of space between her legs, and she shook her shoulders so that her sizeable firm round breasts shook, and her long dark hair fell into the crack between her breasts.

She smiled at me as if she were about to divulge a very intimate secret before she began telling me her sexual fantasies.

My best friend's name is Anne. We've known each other since the fourth grade and we've always been close. All through high school we did our homework together at either her house or my house, after school every day.

I always liked going to her house better than going to my house. I'm an only child and I live alone with my mother who, I guess you could say, is pretty old-fashioned. My father died when I was two and I can hardly remember him at all.

But Anne has these great parents who've always treated me just like a daughter. Her mother is real pretty and young looking and her father-wow! Anne's Dad, Mr. Storm-Jack is his first name-is really something else.

I guess he looks like every girl's idea of what a handsome virile mature man should look like: he's got incredible broad shoulders and huge biceps and a narrow waist.

He's got great thick muscular thighs and, well, I guess you're wondering how I know all about his body. Well, it's not what you think-Anne's family are all great tennis players and I often used to go with them to the courts and watch them all play.

Anne's a great tennis player too and she would play with her father and mother and brother. I never learned how to play tennis so I could only watch. They used to encourage me to take lessons and I always said I wasn't interested, but the real reason was that my mother couldn't afford it. But I didn't mind. Just getting to watch Mr. Storm, in his short white shorts and a loose white T-shirt, running up and down the courts now, hitting the ball with that incredible back-hand of his, watching him laugh....

I used to really envy Anne having such a great family. They all used to have so much fun together and laugh a lot and really seem to love each other-nothing at all like the quiet house I grew up in where if you laughed out loud you felt like you were committing a sin.

Anyway, I guess as Anne and I started becoming women-you know, filling out and thinking about boys and getting our periods, my thoughts naturally sort of focused on her father. I mean, I thought about boys at school too-who were more on my level, and I went out on dates and necked and all that. And this year, I finally lost my virginity. I had to wait until I went away to college-I'm going to a state school about a hundred miles from home, to do it.

I have a boyfriend at school. His name is Ralph and he's the editor of the school newspaper. I guess I like him mainly because he's so intellectual. He's got a real sharp mind. He's on a full scholarship and he's really considered important on campus. He's considered one of the smartest people in the school, and I really like being seen with him. I like being known as his girl friend. He thinks I'm very intelligent and says he thinks I could be a very good writer myself, if I want to be.

But to tell you the truth, physically, he doesn't really turn me on. I mean, I like to kiss and I love to sleep naked all night long with a man in the bed "with me. And now that I know something about what it's like to fuck-well, I like that pretty well too. But I can't help thinking that it must be so much better if you could do it with someone who really turned you on-physically.

Ralph is very tall and extremely skinny. When we lie in bed together I can feel all these sharp jutting points sticking into me-his ribs and pelvis. I was talking to another one of my girlfriends up at college and she said that from what I said, Ralph didn't sound like he knew too much about making love to a woman.

She told me that I wasn't achieving orgasm, and that it was Ralph's fault. She said, that Ralph should be spending a lot more time on exciting me-in foreplay, and should be more interested in how much pleasure I'm getting out of our intercourse.

The way it stands now, is: we usually undress, in the dark, quickly, because the nights and the dorm are very cold up there and we usually get to bed real late, after working late on the paper. So we just jump out of our clothes and jump into bed and get down under the blankets.

Then, if Ralph wants to make love, I feel his dick get hard and he'll start rubbing it again my thigh. He'll start rubbing his whole skinny body up and down against mine. He says he loves me because I'm so fleshy and yet I'm not fat. He says lying beside me makes him warm. He's always cold, but I'm usually warm. I guess I carry a lot more body heat around with me.

Then usually he kissed me in between my breasts, holding on to my breasts and just burying his face in between them-I think this is to get warm too, as my breasts are usually very warm and exude a great deal of heat.

And then hell kind of worm his way in between my legs, gently pushing them open with the weight of his body. I like to kiss a lot and I always try to pull his face up to mine and press my tongue into his mouth. I find that really turns me on. The contact of the two tongues, one pressing into one mouth, and the other mouth accepting, the tongues curving up against each other and licking, and just the whole soft wet feeling of the two mouths, i arouses me.

But Ralph doesn't go in much for kissing. He says it distracts him from the main issue at hand-the intercourse. Of course Ralph doesn't have to force my legs open. I mean, I'm pretty new at making love, so I guess I am a bit timid.

I mean for example, Ralph is always saying: "You have to open your legs a little bit wider, Sally. Don't be afraid."

And generally I do open them wider because, as I say, since I'm new at making love I am pretty curious about it.

And I want to do it, each time Ralph gets hard and wants to do it, because each time I think maybe I'll discover more about sex, more about how great it's supposed to be, more about orgasm and coming. I really want to learn all about it.

So my legs slowly open and then Ralph, who's generally on top, slowly pushes the tip of his penis in between my legs. Ralph says there's something wrong with me because usually I'm pretty dry down there. He really has to work to insert his penis into my vagina and it usually hurts me quite a lot.

Until we get going. Once he gets his penis deep down inside me-usually he provides a little lubrication by putting some spit on his fingers and working it over the head of his prick and then sticking his prick back in me but once he gets it a ways down inside me, I start to get wet deep down inside.

After that, as Ralph starts to fuck me, and his cock is going in and out, his cock tends to bring up the juices that are hot deep inside me, and so, by the time Ralph comes and it's all over, my outer pussy is aroused and wet too.

I mean, I don't mean to say that I don't enjoy this. I think, personally, that I am a very healthy girl. I mean, I don't feel hung up about sex or anything. I like to have sex, and in fact, I'd like to have a lot more sex than I do have. Right now, Ralph and I fuck about twice a week, that's when school's in session. During vacations, I don't fuck at all of course, because Ralph lives far away from me.

But I just want to go back and explain what the end of our lovemaking is like. . Ralph usually gets going up and down in me pretty fast and it gets all hot and liquid inside-and that's when I feel like I'm just starting to get into it. That's when I can feel that my pussy is the most sensitized. I mean, by that point, it feels absolutely excruciatingly delicious when he pulls his prick almost all the way out and then pushes it in again, because my pussy lips are sort of all soft and inflated and very sensitive and I love the feeling of the penis pushing them apart.

And I love the feel of Ralph's balls knocking against my soft wet pussy lips. And of course I love the feeling of his long hard spear probing deep into my newly aroused pussy. But, as I said, just about when I'm starting to get into it, pushing my fingers through Ralph's thin hair and trying to press his pelvis down against mine, he usually gets pissed and tells me to stop messing his hair and pressing his ass because it's messing up his rhythm. I guess he pretty much likes me to just lie still underneath him with my legs spread wide open.

Then he starts humping me faster and faster-that's how I know he's almost finished. Then I feel him start to hump me in sort of a frenzy-jerking and pounding and then he kind of slumps on top of me and I feel his cock give sort of a little spurt, and then it's all over.

Ralph likes to leave his prick inside me after it's all over because then, when he's tired and just lies there with his prick still up me, I'm sort of allowed to wiggle and jerk my pussy around his softening cock. We call it, "my time." I press my hands up and down his back and open and close my cunt around his motionless pole. I even wiggle and jerk my hips up and down while he lies like a bump on a log on top of me, his cock all soft and shrunken now. But I still manage to get pleasure out of this time, I mean, it's better than nothing, and I do care for Ralph and I like to make love, with him. So my cunt ha; become sort of very good at jerking around a loose piece of meat in it. But, when I told my girlfriend at college about "my time," she said I was crazy and that there was a lot more to loving than this.

I've always kind of suspected this myself but I'm afraid to say this to Ralph, for I know it will offend him. I mean I know he considers himself a pretty good lover, and he's real. very insecure deep down inside, though he seems very aggressive. So if I ever mentioned that I was even a little bit unsatisified with our love life, I think he might not want to go out with me anymore and, as I said, I really like being known as his girlfriend.

But I only told you about Ralph and me to give you some idea of the kind of sexual experience I've had up to now. Well, to tell you the truth, that's not all. In high school I would never let boys go below the waist with me, though I always did get sort of wet when they played with my breasts. But I never masturbated.

I was just too uptight to even think of masturbating in my mother's house. We are strict Catholics and I just had this feeling that if I ever touch myself, you know, down there, the roof would come crashing down or our house would be swallowed up by an earthquake. It would be my luck. Embarrassing things are always happening to me, and things that everybody else gets away with-when I try it, I get caught. Like shoplifting at Woolworth's or cheating on a quiz.

But after I started sleeping with Ralph, I started masturbating.

After he finally withdrew his cock from my vagina, he would roll over and fall asleep instantly. He was really tired, poor boy. He worked very hard all day long in the newspaper office and being editor is not easy.

But I always lie awake, somehow unsatisfied. Of course he pulled his cock out when my pussy was jerking all over it, trying to reach some kind of peak. He would lie alongside me, snoring, and I like to lace one of my legs over his body and keep my legs apart.

Then I let my hands slide down over my breasts and down my belly and across my waist and hips to my cunt. My cunt is really liquid hot at that point and I love to stick my fingers in and let them jerk and slide over my clitoris. My clitoris is really big and wet and the feeling that happens when I slide my fingers back and forth over it, after Ralph's cock has gotten it hot, is sooooo good.

I love to rub and slide my fingers back and forth over my clit again and again. I stretch my legs wide open and wow! do I ever bring myself off. It feels so good.

One thing I really like to do is get one finger going on my clit and get another finger working back and forth deep inside my pussy lips, which is also another sensitive spot in my cunt. I can groan and moan and sigh and swear, and it never wakes Ralph up, which is good.

The thing is, sometimes I wish it could happen so that Ralph could be the one to bring me off the way I can bring myself off. My girlfriend says that's the way it's supposed to be, and that if Ralph knew anything about anything, he would be bringing me off this way. But the thing is-I can't see how a guy could do to me what I do to myself, because I know exactly where it feels good and what motion feels good. And I can tell when I've had enough of one motion and need a change to bring me higher and make me hotter. But how could a guy know all that?

When I came home for Thanksgiving vacation, after my first semester at college, and my first semester with Ralph, I went right over to Anne's house. I couldn't wait to see her. She goes to a small expensive liberal arts college out west and we had been writing letters all fall. She had lost her virginity too, so we had a lot to talk about. And it was good to see her family again.

The thing was, when I saw Mr. Storm again, I found myself thinking about how physically attractive he was, more than ever. I had dinner over there one night and it was terrible because all I could think of, was, when Mr. and Mrs. Storm get into bed at night, what do they do. I kept trying to picture pretty Mrs. Storm lying in Mr. Storm's arms, both of them naked. I wondered if he had to slowly part her legs the way Ralph parts mine, and if she wasn't wet at first like me. I mean, it's crazy but ever since I went to bed with Ralph I've been looking at married couples-people who I know sleep together, and I've been trying to picture what they look like when they make love together.

I kept looking at Mr. Storm and wondering what he looked like naked. I've seen his chest naked, when he plays tennis in the summer outside and gets hot he takes his shirt off. What a magnificent chest he has! Practically, hairless, with two perfect brown round nipples. He has the greatest thick black hair on his head, and he has a path of dark curly hair that starts at his navel.

I also have seen the size of the jock strap that he wears when he plays tennis. Once, when someone was in the main bathroom in the house, and I had to use the bathroom, I went into the bathroom off the master bedroom and I saw his jock strap hanging up in the shower. It was quite large and it looked like it had been worn a lot because the shape of his penis was still outlined in the stretched out fabric.

Sitting at dinner that night, over Thanksgiving vacation, I could hardly listen to what anyone was saying.

I kept trying to picture not only what Mr. Storm would look like naked, and what he did in bed with his wife, but also, what he would look like-what the expression of his face would be-if he were naked and lusting, and lusting for me!

I imagined him coming upon me in his bathroom. Maybe he was undressed and ready to take a shower, and I was in there and he came in by mistake and found me.

He wouldn't be embarrassed or anything, though I would be very embarrassed. My eyes wouldn't know where to look, but they would keep slipping down to what they wanted to look at-his cock.

He would notice the object of my attention and he would find it amusing, but he wouldn't be embarrassed. He would just stand there, his arms folded over his broad chest, with a smile on his face, letting me look my fill, as he stood with his legs spaced wide apart.

I would mumble something like, "Excuse me, Mr. Storm," and try to brush past him but he would stop me, gently, with his arm and say:

"Just a moment, Sally. Where are you hurrying off to so fast? Are you embarrassed to be alone with me?"

I would mumble something, not knowing what to say.

Then he'd tell me what an attractive girl I am, and how he's always thought so, though he always thought it wasn't his place to tell me. I know that by this time my tits would be standing up under my sweater and I would be squeezing my thighs together so that the moisture and the smell of my hot aroused cunt would stay between my legs.

He'd tell me what a very pretty girl I was and ask me if I had a boyfriend at school. I'd mumble something about Ralph and then just slip and rush by him.

I mean even in my fantasies-at first, I couldn't imagine anything more than that.

Mr. Storm kept trying to talk to me at that dinner about how my first semester at school had been, and Mrs. Storm too. I know they both noticed that I was kind of distracted because after dinner Anne asked me if anything was wrong. She said her parents were both concerned because I seemed to have something on my mind. I lied to because I couldn't tell her the kind of thoughts I was having about her own father! And I went home early that night.

But that night in bed, I masturbated under my mother's roof for the first time, and I was not thinking of Ralph!

I was thinking of Mr. Storm, Anne's father!

I lay there with my legs open and my finger working lazily on hot liquid cunt, my clit was bright red and aroused. And I imagined that for some reason, suddenly, Mr. Storm was at my door. He would come in, and look down at me, with my legs open on my bed and my finger working in my cunt beneath my panties, and my boobs naked.

He would be naked from the chest up and he would just look down at me smiling. This time I would be smiling too, and unafraid. I wouldn't stop fingering my cunt just because he was there, and I would like to finger while he was looking at me.

While I fingered my cunt I would look at his groin area, and I would see a huge lengthening bulge moving down one of the legs of his trousers. With my free hand I would reach out and grab him between the legs and pull him closer to me.

I would feel his stiffness through his pants, and stroke and rub it to make it real hot before he even took his cock out of his pants.

He would start to unzip his pants and then he would hesitate.

"Do you mind, Sally," he would say. "After all, I am your best friend's father."

"Not at all, Mr. Storm," I would say. "Anne and Mrs. Storm don't have to know."

He would smile as if we were two birds of a feather and keep on taking his pants off. Then his beautiful majestic body, his erect cock and firm balls and all, would be risked beside me, towering over me. I would reach up to feel his hard prick-and be awed by the size and hardness of it.

He would smile gently.

I would tell him, somewhat .rid again, that my boyfriend's cock wasn't half as big, and I was a little afraid of the size of his prick.

He would let me continue to fondle and squeeze it, letting me get used to the idea of the size and firmness of it, and then he would lie down on top of me, promising to be gentle.

He would start by kissing me and caressing me passionately-kissing my face all over my lips and eyelids and nose and eyebrows and forehead and hair. He would put his hand around the back of my neck and kiss my ears and my neck and breathing in the fragrance of my hair. His kisses would fall from my neck to my shoulders and from my shoulders to my breasts and he would passionately kiss my breasts with such soft, warm loving sensitive lips that he soon had my nipples rising and then he took them in his mouth and sucked them while stroking the undersides of them with his delicate tongue.

My pussy would be hotter than melting wax at that point and I would grab him by the ears and pull his face up to mine to kiss him.

"I've wanted to do this to you, with you, Sally, for a long time, so long. But I never thought you would let me. I never knew you wanted it too," he would say.

"Yes, Jack, yes, I want it!" I would say, staring deep into his dark eyes until our eyes seemed to melt into each other.

All the while his long hard cock was like a poker pushing and rubbing insistently against my belly and my thighs. I could feel the powerful strength of his legs and thighs.

Suddenly he pressed his face down against mine and began kissing me with such crushing power that it took my breath away. For a moment I almost panicked, for I was not used to this kind of kissing. But then I remembered that this was Jack, not Ralph, and that this was the kind of passionate kissing I had always longed for, and I would open my mouth to Jack and I would yield.

As his long thick wet tongue pressed through my parted red lips, his cock head would begin to probe into my cunt lips, slowly, erotically.

He has the most seductive rhythm-his hips and groin gyrate with every plunge, and he doesn't just force his way in and then hope that my pussy will get hot deep inside, he takes his time, and makes my cunt hot and liquid every inch of the way before he plunges deeper. He's got a lot of experience so he knows how to do it, and he can keep off coming for a long fucking time.

Well my cunt lips are opening all on their own as he erotically strokes his penis head into my vagina. He strokes the wet tip of his cock head back and forth against my big red wet clit-knowing I am loving it!

And I am! I have my mouth open to him and his tongue is plunging in me, while his cock plunges in my cunt, and my hands are straight up in the air around his neck, and I am sighing and groaning as his cock strokes do the trick.

My legs are spread wide! One leg is up against the wall, pushing, trying to push my cunt up against his cock harder, because I am all hot and wet and ready and I want his big cock all the way up inside me. But he feels this pressure and he smiles.

"You like my big cock don't you?" he says.

I moan, and say, "yes," and wrap my arms around him and, with one foot against the wall and one foot against the floor, I am trying to get his whole big prick inside me but he wants to tease me-to make me even hotter and want his rod more.

He pulls off me and, looking down at the wet place where his penis is making contact with my cunt, he puts his hand on his prick shaft and guides the wet head of his penis back and forth over my aroused swelling cunt lips, until my cunt lips are opening and closing with unbearable desire and he is making me even hotter!

My legs are spread wide, my cunt open, wanting him, and still he teases me with his cock. Suddenly he balances on top of me and shoves his shaft in.

It plunges in straight and deep and I am coming around his thick prick already.

I only have a chance to wrap my cunt meat tightly around his cock and started to vibrate and spasm, when he is pulling his cock out of my vibrating cunt meat, only to force and shove his rod down into my spasming cunt meat again.

He does this over and over again, knowing that I am coming on his prong as he stabs it in and out of me.

Finally he gets his own rhythm going hot and fast and I am spasming hotter and faster all the time. I feel his pole jerk and quiver like an arrow about to leave the bow and I know he is about to come too. I spread my legs wide and make my cunt tight, and then he is fucking my cunt with a passionate fury such as I have never seen before.

His pole is vibrating and jerking and jumping and then I feel his spasms, his hot jerking sperm, and I wrap my legs around his back and shove him down deep into my hole. Now his cock is all the way down inside me and he just jerks ever so slightly, mostly an internal jerking that just manages to rub against my clitoris and make my pussy meat jump and grip all over his penis head and shaft and we are jerking and spasming together, as the hot thick creamy spurts of his come pile onto my hot pussy walls and finally bring me peace.

Well, while having this fantasy I was jerking myself all the while, and it really was the best orgasm I've had from fingering myself.

The thing is, I feel a bit embarrassed and guilty. I mean, I can't talk to anyone about my thoughts. I'can't talk to Anne about it, or to Mrs. Storm, and certainly not to Mr. Storm. I can't talk to my mo'ther or to Ralph.

And yet I just keep having these same thoughts and fantasies and I can tell you that they leave me feeling frustrated as hell because I know I can never have my fantasy come true.

And it's become very embarrassing to me to even visit the Storms because I keep getting the uneasy feeling that Mr. Storm can read my thoughts-or maybe they're just very evident. Every time he addresses me, I can feel myself blushing, and my eyes drop, and sometimes they drop to his crotch, and then I get even more embarrassed and awkward and I usually end by spilling something, knocking over a glass or something.

Last time I was there I broke a very expensive crystal wine glass and I felt just terrible, but I was sitting at their table thinking about what it would be like to put my lips on his cock, kneeling before him and looking up at him, while he stood, with his trousers open, smiling down at me, and then-in real life-he asked me if I like white meat or dark, and I knocked the glass off the table and broke it.

The thing is, I don't see them much anymore anyway, only at vacation times. But it's making my friendship with my best friend very strained, and I can't tell her why.

INTERVIEW TWO

The second time Sally came to my office was about two months after her first visit. My office was located at that time, in the town where she lived with her mother, and she was coming to see me when she was home on vacations.

She had come home for Christmas vacation, and she was obviously very agitated. Something had happened to change, in one way or another, her original dilemma, and I was curious to hear what it was.

She was dressed in a long, swinging skirt, very pretty, with a soft texture to it and a fringe on the bottom that swept the floor. She wore a tight black leotard top that left no doubt as to the size and shape of her breasts which were round, full, not huge, but also not small. Her long dark hair was shining and hanging free over her breasts and she wore a small gold glittering cross that hung down into the dark valley of her cleavage. She smiled at me once, somewhat hesitantly, and then plunged into her story, as if she had nothing to lose by telling me all.

Well, a lot sure has happened since I last talked to you, Dr. Lamb. When I went back to school after Thanksgiving, everything went on just the same as usual-me and Ralph I mean. But about a week after school had started again, Ralph and I were lying in bed.

He had gone through his usual routine-fucking me until he came, and I was just beginning to get hot, and then letting me writhe and wiggle on his limp dick for a while, and then pulling his cock and rolling over to go to sleep.

But this time I was mad.

"Ralph!" I said, scratching his back, "I want to talk to you!"

"What about, honey," he said. "Can't it wait until the morning?"

"No, it has to be right now! I am not satisfied with our love life together."

"What do you mean, Sally? Tonight was the third time this week."

I said, "Quantity isn't everything. It has to do with the quality of our fucks. You just don't satisfy me, and what's worst of all, you don't even seem to know that you're not satisfying me, much less care about it."

"What are you talking about?" he said rolling over, awake now. "I felt how you came."

I said, "I was just beginning to come, and anyway, coming around a limp cock just isn't my idea of ecstasy. I want to be coming while you're fucking me, while your dick is still hard and pushing in and out."

Well, that got him. He reacted just the way I knew he would. He reached for his glasses and put them on, and he got these two red spots on his cheeks which meant he was hurt and angry.

"Well, you never said anything about this before? Why has this problem suddenly come up," he said getting all formal and intellectual as if we were discussing the situation in Rhodesia or the Cultural Revolution under Mao.

I said, "Ralph, it's always been on my mind, right from the start, but I was afraid to tell you."

Well that really did it. He started to get up out of bed and started putting on his pants. "Well," he said, "if I had known that I wasn't pleasing you I wouldn't have forced myself on you all this time," he said.

"Ralph!" I screamed mad. "You weren't forcing yourself on me. I wanted to sleep with you, arid I still do, but it's just that you have to know how I'm feeling and that I'm not satisfied. Together we can work on it and change a few things so I can get some pleasure too."

"Oh, I see, you weren't getting any pleasure. All these nights, all these months, it's been just gritting your teeth and bearing it. All right, Sally, I'm glad you told me. No really, I am. Because if you're not happy, then I'm not happy. I would never want you to sleep with me if you weren't enjoying it."

He was getting his coat and books and going to the door. We were in my room. His room was in a dorm across campus.

"Ralph! Where are you going? I just want to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about Sally. I'll see you tomorrow at the Herald Office. And don't forget, you have that story due tomorrow on the women's health clinic and birth control."

And he left.

From that time on he treated me very coldly and professionally, just as a reporter, like any other, on his newspaper. Oh, he was always polite, and he never mentioned what had been between us-but that was what hurt me so much. Once I tried staying late at the office to talk to him about what had happened.

Everyone knew we weren't going out anymore-and they were all saying that he had dumped me. He started going with this really dumb blonde girl who was the society page editor and she got promoted to the assistant editor, even though I know I'm the better reporter. When I tried to stay late to talk to him, he said what was done was done and he wouldn't hold it against me.

He said he still felt very fondly towards me, and he hoped that I wouldn't spread nasty rumors about him and his "performance in bed." That was how he put it.

Of course he did have to put in, in a slightly nasty tone, that Betsy Natchez, the blonde chippie with the big tits, was quite satisfied with his performance. I was so mad at him that I just left the office without a word, and ran outside, so he wouldn't see my tears.

I don't know what it was after that-whether I was just too depressed to go after any other boy, or whether no other boy at school is interested in me, or what, but I started spending a lot of time by myself, and I was masturbating an awful lot.

I guess what I missed most of all was the reputation of being Ralph's girl-and the prestige it carried. Plus, lying next to someone during the long cold nights was so nice. But I found that I could get so much more pleasure from masturbating that I decided I didn't care about losing Ralph.

I really did a lot of experimenting in those weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I smuggled a lot of cucumbers out of the dining hall and kept them in my room. I found that, if you peeled them, they made the most fantastic dildoes.

I really used to get into going to my room at the end of the day, lighting up a few joints, putting on some Roberta Flack records, and fantasizing about Jack Storm--pretending he had come up to the school to visit me, or I went home to visit Anne and found no one home but him. And then I would get the big wet slick cucumber sliding in and out of my cunt, and it was really nice.

I got into such a habit of fantasizing about Mr. Storm that went I went over to the Storms in December, it almost seemed to me as if we really did have some kind of relationship. They invited me over to celebrate Hanukah with them. They are Jewish. And they were also showing some old home movies that night.

It was really cute to see Anne as a little kid playing on a beach, with her father, younger-looking like a boy really-with his big broad brawny shoulders and thick black hair, in his swimming trunks, running after her.

The films were silent so we couldn't tell exactly what was going on. But suddenly Mr. Storm caught up with his little daughter and lifted her up and pulled down her pants and started spanking her.

"Daddy! You meany!" Anne cried out as we watched.

"I was only playing!" he laughed, and he was laughing in the film.

Without even thinking what I was saying I said dreamily, "It looks good to me!"

Suddenly the room was silent. I realized what I had said, but I didn't feel embarrassed. My feelings for Mr. Storm were such that I just didn't feel guilty anymore. I couldn't hide them, and I didn't feel embarrassed about them.

The film was over then and Anne had suddenly left the room. Mrs. Storm looked after her daughter who had run out on the verge of tears. She exchanged a glance with her husband and then followed after Anne to talk to her and comfort her.

Mr. Storm and I were left alone in the den. Mr. Storm was working at the projector, rewinding the reel. I sat where I was on the couch.

"You know, Anne is very upset about your friendship with her. She says she's convinced you don't like her anymore, and it's hurt her very deeply."

He paused, as if giving me a chance to talk, but I said nothing, sitting-wearing what I'm wearing today in fact, with my legs crossed. I took a cigarette out of my bag and lit it. I also started smoking in November.

He said, "Sally, you never used to smoke before. What's come over you? You seem to have changed in some way. Can you talk to me about it."

I blew some smoke away and shook my head nonchalantly.

"It's got nothing to do with Anne, Mr. Storm," I said. "I still like her very much and, well, I would never do anything to hurt her. But, well, there are some things you can't tell anyone, not even your best friend. Not when the person you really want to talk to is your best friend's father."

My heart was pounding and I knew I was taking a big step, but I decided to take the risk, I had to tell him how I felt and I had to find out how he felt about me. Nothing else in this world mattered at that moment. My thighs were wet and sweaty.

"What do you mean, Sally?" he asked me in a low throbbing voice. He let the projector rewind automatically and came around the couch to stand nearby me. He was looking down at me, just as I had imagined--with his arms crossed over his pretty red wool sweater, and his broad shoulders looking strong as a mountain.

I reached out for him and drew him to me, my hands at his hips, and I looked up at him and whispered:

"Jack Storm, I want you."

He just kept looking down at me, with his brows pointing down in the middle of his face and I wasn't sure if he was going to kiss me or slap me.

My heart almost failed me at that point because I realized I had made a terrible mistake and this man didn't want me, didn't want me at all--had never thought about me in the way that I--constantly--thought of him.

I closed my eyes-I couldn't bear to see him looking at me like that--with that stern disapproval, and hot tears flowed out of my eyes. I pressed my face against his groin and my lips pressed against his fly, kissing over and over, the entrance to the flesh I longed to touch.

Suddenly I opened my eyes. My lips felt the stiffening and lengthening of his tool. For a moment I thought maybe my senses were mistaken and I was just imagining what I longed to be true. But then I saw it with my own eyes.

His cock was jutting out of his pants and it was obviously hot and throbbing.

I stole one quick look up at him again, my heart pounding, my fingers itching and already reaching for his zipper.

One look up at his face told me what I wanted to know: the stern slope of his eyebrows was just as frightening, but this time a small almost cruel smile played on this thin lips. I just kept my eyes glued to his face as I began to pull his zipper down and he didn't stop me.

We were in the den alone, the door was closed, and we had complete privacy-as long as Mrs. Storm or Anne did not come back.

I took his cock out of his pants and his balls protruded to. His spear was big-much bigger than Ralph's-not only longer but much thicker, fatter, too.

I caressed his cock head and cock shaft and then, my eyes half-closed, put my tongue out and licked the little prick hole and caressed the mushroom spearhead of his prick with my lips as if I was nibbling a delicious delicacy.

I looked up again and saw that he was smiling even broader now, with his arms still crossed against his chest, so I became bolder, sucking down along his cock shaft until my lips were pressed firmly against his warm groin. I snatched at his cock hair with my teeth and then pulled my mouth and throat off his cock.

Although I had almost no experience with this kind of sex, I knew exactly what I wanted to do to him. I wanted to suck him off until he came in my throat. I wanted to give him pleasure, all the pleasure, so he would know that I belonged to him.

My tits felt so heavy, hanging free in my leotard, and the nipples were tight hard raisins as I sucked the dick of the man I loved, and had dreamed and fantasized about for so long. I think he really loved what I was doing to, because he didn't say a word the whole time, just shook his head as if in wonder, when I looked up.

I made his huge throbbing shaft go in and out of my mouth, and on each inward thrust, I really let go with my throat muscles and shoved the prick shaft down into my throat while my lips pressed and nibbled and my tongue slurped and wiggled along the underside of his massive cock.

"Oh! It's good Sally. You really know what you're doing!" he groaned once.

I looked up, with tears in my eyes, his words sweeter than honey to me. And I kept up the cocksucking job, going faster and faster.

My hands worked over his balls while my mouth lathered on and down his prick and I could feel him giving way-letting his cock shaft start to quiver as I plunged the head of his dick deep into my soft mushy throat. I made the plunges sharp and quick, my tits jiggling each time I knocked his cock down in my mouth and I sucked with all my power and bit at his cock patch and then it started to happen.

His cock started to jump and spurt in my mouth and I matched his rhythm shoving his prick head deep into my throat and jerking his come out of him with the spasming swallows of my jerking throat. He was moaning softly and his hips were jerking. He was jerking his big prick down my throat and pumping his come down my throat and I drank his prick juice gladly, enjoying the salty savor, sucking it out of him and sucking the cock that was making me so happy.

It was as if during that whole time, neither one of us could hear anything but the sounds of our own pleasure, but after he came and I swallowed his come, we suddenly heard the other sounds of the house. We heard the tapping of the tape which was all rewound and going around and around and around still because he hadn't turned it off, and we heard the sounds of someone coming down the hall to the den.

Jack stepped away from me and snapped his prick back in his pants and pulled up his fly. He moved back to the projector and started fiddling with it, trying to turn it off.

Mrs. Storm came back into the room looking worried.

"Anne's very upset, Jack. She seems to be worried about something that's happening between you and her, Sally, but I think the real problem is, she's coming down with a fever. I made her get in bed and gave her some aspirin. I think she has the flu."

"Oh no, what a pity. Can I go see her before I leave? I'd like to tell her that I really enjoyed myself here this evening, and that I value her friendship very much."

I was dabbing at my lips with a kleenex, hoping that there were no sticky traces of Mr. Storm's come on my lips.

"That's sweet of you, Sally, but I think you'd better leave her alone for now. The flu is very catching, and she seemed very tired. Why don't you give her a call tomorrow though? I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"I'll do that. Well, I think I'd better be going home now."

"Jack, I'll put the projector away. Why don't you drive Sally home? I don't like her to go home alone like this after it's dark."

"All right, honey, good idea," Jack said, giving his wife a peck on the cheek.

And that's how I wound up, with my panties off, my skirt up, and my chest bare, lying back on the front seat of the Storm's Honda, on a dark lane, with Mr. Storm kneeling on the floor between my legs, eating me out!

"Let me do something to you, darling!" I breathed between pants, my fingers lost in his thick wavy hair. No one had ever eaten me out before. Ralph had always said that the smell of women's genitals made him sick and that anyway, he didn't think it was a very hygienic thing to do, so he had never done it.

I had never even known the joys of sex, of what sex could be until Anne's father parted my white thighs with his strong fingers, pulled gently on my cunt lips to open them a little and then slid his big thick tongue up and down my hot slit.

"Ohhhhhhhh," I moaned. "God that feels good!"

"Hasn't anyone ever done this to you before Sally," Jack asked looking up at me with an ironical grin. He could feel how my pussy flesh was quivering under his fingers, and my surprised, breathless groan had made him understand that all this was new to me.

"No," I said, splayed beneath him in the car, utterly liquid and powerless to move. "Never before. Oh, do it again. Please, again," I begged.

He grinned and leaned up my body and kissed each of my tits as they hung nude. I could feel his giant cock leaping up my thighs.

Then he bent his face to my wet cunt again and holding me by the hips he must have supped and suckled at my wet cunt for the better part of half an hour. It just seemed to go on and on and on endlessly, and I loved every minute of it.

He had me come over and over again and his mouth was drenched with my pussy juice. I think I have never flowed so much sex juice in my life until that night. His tongue wiggling, sucking and plucking at my clit brought me off time and time again, and when he reached up and began pinching my nipples I almost couldn't take it anymore.

Suddenly he was on top of me, mounting me, like a stallion mounts a mare. I mean, I was still on my back, but his force above me reminded me of a huge, powerful sleek horse as he reared up above and poised his large throbbing prick at the wet slit of my cunt.

He took my hands and grasped them over my head so I couldn't move-he wanted only to give to me. I came immediately.

I couldn't help myself. After all that super-stimulation of his tongue and lips, when his thick rod-the cock I had been really fantasizing about for so long-when it actually plunged into my throbbing cunt, all I could do was spasm and come. His cock head was so spongy and firm and his cock shaft really packed a wallop. Well he really fucked me that night. I mean that was one time I can really say I got fucked.

When he plowed his jism into me I felt as if I were spasming in every pore of my body and my spasms were all happening as he jiggered his tool into me and released his load of hot sperm.

We lay hot and sweaty in the car afterwards, just kissing lightly and talking. I told him all about how I had dreamed about him for a long time, and he told me how he had had "thoughts," as he put it, but he was afraid to express them, and he never thought they would actually happen.

Well, he drove me home afterwards, and it's been two days since I've been to the Storms. Anne is down with the flu and I called her and talked to her. And then once I got a phone call from Jack-he was out at a public phone on the street and asked me if I could come and see him-he had gotten a room at a big hotel downtown.

I went and we had a good time-three whole hours together.

I know the whole thing is crazy, and I know it can't possibly go anywhere. I mean, I'm going back to school in a week, and he's married, for Christ's sake and has a wife and son and daughter and job and reputation. We'll be far apart.

But I think he really does care for me. I mean, even if it's just for the fucking-he says I'm really a hot little tiger-which Ralph never said-but what he doesn't know is that he inspires me.

He's already talking about maybe taking a weekend off, for business he can say, and coming up to see me at school. Or maybe I can come down to see him. I mean I don't have to wait for a vacation to come to the city. I can hop on a bus and come down here and just see him, in a hotel. My mother doesn't have to know I'm in town.

Oh, I know the whole thing seems crazy, and, like I say, nothing can really happen, but I don't care. I feel so happy, and that can't be bad, can it?

CONCLUSION

Sally's own comments about her fantasy and her experience reveal a lot of things about the young women which I think are true. She acknowledges, for instance, that she has not had a lot of experience with sex, and that she is healthy and sexually oriented and wants to have more and deeper sexual experiences. Thus it is perfectly natural that, unsatisfied with and by her immature lover at school, her attentions should focus on the most attractive, mature man she knows-Mr. Stiends' fathers as their sexual development unfolds. They look to these men as emblems of the sexuality that seems so far from their reach-as adolescents. These males represent initiation into a young girl's full womanhood, and the young girls fantasize about making love with these males, and the males accepting them as fully developed females.

Fortunately for Sally, she found in Jack Storm a gentle and willing man, who did not embarrass her when she revealed her true desires to her, and did not hurt her, as he might have. Sometimes it is good to have your fantasies come true, and Sally was lucky for hers unfolded without complication.

However, I question the wisdom of her continuing to see him. The planned rendezvous-his coming up to her college, or her coming down to see him in town might lead to some very difficult situations. Sally seems to me to be on the verge of falling deeply in love with this man and, as she herself has said, it seems sure that nothing can come of such a love.

Mr. Storm gives no indication of loving her, beyond enjoying making love with her, and she stands a good chance of being emotionally hurt by him.

Mr. Storm has not only had a good deal more sexual experience than Sally has, he also has a lot more emotional experience. He has, most likely, been to bed with many women, and is not likely to lose his head over one more, while Sally is still very young and impressionable. I hope she does not get hurt by the man of her dreams.

CASE HISTORY TWO

SUBJECT: Rosalita J. AGE: Twenty-three

INTERVIEW ONE

Rosalita is an extremely foxy looking young woman, but you can tell, she is also very obviously a hooker. She wore bright red spandex pants that clung to every pore of her curvaceous body. Her hips are round, her belly a nice gentle slope from navel to pubis, her thighs thick and firm, her legs long and well-proportioned.

She had tawny brown skin, a lovely Latin American burnish, and thick tanwy auburn hair-most likely tinted, which hung in voluptuous curls to the tops of her tits.

Her breasts, I should say were all but revealed beneath the loosely buttoned red silk shirt she wore. And it appeared that she wore a black uplift bra beneath, from the way her mammary glands were pressed up and together.

She wore heavy black makeup around her eyes, with green highlights, and she wore a thick wet layer of bright red lipstick on her chubby lips. Her fingernails and toenails were also painted a matching bright red.

Her toes by the way were prettily framed by open-toed black high heels, and she sauntered into my office sexily, giving off the sexual energy that many prostitutes and whores seem to exude. She wiggled her pert ass into the chair opposite my desk and then flipped her bangs out of her eyes with one toss of her head. She looked me straight in the eye, with her brazen look and then she began.

Well, I guess I should start with my childhood, when I was young fifteen, sixteen, and still in school. And still what you call a "good girl." Although I was never really all that good. I always had a wild streak in me, as my mother used to say. She died a few years ago.

My first sexual experiences-or rather my first complete sexual experience happened in the Catholic school I went to as a girl. St. Theresa's, down on Amersterdam Avenue.

Of course we had only nuns for teachers and they taught us a lot of crap. Really, sometimes when I think about it, when I think about all those hours that every kid spends in school, having a lot of junk pounded into his brain, and when I think about how not one thing I ever learned in school was ever one bit of good to me in my life afterwards, I have to laugh, for I know what a joke this whole system is.

We had priests for confession of course, and to carry out the religious services. Nuns don't rate for the heavy stuff.

Me and my friends-a bunch of girls who were sort of borderline cases-good girls who weren't planning to stay good for long, but hadn't yet gone bad yet-we used to laugh about what the priests had under their gowns-and why they were wearing gowns at all. They were men weren't they? We used to pester them with embarrassing questions, and the younger ones-who didn't know how to handle young girls like us, used to blush like crazy. We used to laugh at them.

One time my girl friend Marjorie and I snuck into one of the confessionals in the church with a penknife that Margie stole from her brother. One of those red army knives-I forget what you call them.

We giggled and tried to hurry as we cut out a whole-about the size of a man's cock, at the level that we figured the average priest's cock would be as he stood in the confessional and took confessions.

I guess we were never terribly religious. I for one, just refused to buy all that crap. I mean, if there is a hell I guess I'm going there, but at least I'll be in good company because everybody I know will be there with me.

After we carefully cut out the circle of wood, Margie went around to the priest's half of the professional and she slipped inside. We were both giggling like crazy but there were only a few half-crazed women praying in the back of the church and all of the priests seemed to be out of the chapel at that moment.

Margie stuck her fingers through the little hole we had made and then she started to play like a priest.

"Have you been good this week, my child," she said trying to make her voice low like Father Donnegan.

I kneeled on the kneeling board and said, "Yes, Father," very breathlessly, because this is what we used to do to irritate the prieststry to turn them on with our voices-making our voices sound all hot and breathless.

Well, I've got to explain to you that most of us girls knew the facts of life pretty graphically. I had seen my brother and sister fucking-not each other, I mean with friends who came over to our house, and I knew men looked at me in the street. I used to play with myself-you know, the way young girls do, and I was really hot to lose my cherry. I used to practice moaning and sighing, as I had seen my sister do, for she told me that really turned men on.

"Yes, Father, I've been real good this week," I said breathlessly to Margie on the other side and then I started sliding my mouth up and down on her fingers, pretending it was some priest's cock.

"Oh! child! That feels good! Tell me, have you been playing with yourself again this week?" Margie asked still playing the priest, and pretending that her finger's were the priest's cock.

While I kept going up and down on Marge's three fingers-like I had seen my sister do to her boyfriend's prick, I pushed up my green plaid skirt and pulled down my white cotton panties-right there in the confessional and started to plunge my fingers down into my wet crease. I've got a real thick hairy bush, Doctor, and so it wasn't easy to do all this while I kneeled in the confessional, but my fingers finally found the wet slit and soon my groans and sighs were for real, as I imagined that I was sucking some priest's cock and fingering my pussy.

"Yes, Father, I have fingered myself again." I started to say but then we heard a very gruff voice outside.

"What are you two girls doing in there? Come right out this instant. These are confessionals-not toys. Come out!"

He was dragging Margie out so I had time to slip the little knot of wood back in its hole and stand up, and pull my skirt down, before Father Donnegan came to grab me.

"You girls ought to be ashamed of yourselves! Now bow before the Virgin Mary and say twelve Hail Marys, and then get on out of here.

I did as he said.

Why are priests always so boring? They always have the same prescription for every offense, no matter what it is-pray harder and say some Hail Marys. Do they really think that somebody listens to all those repeated prayers?

Anyway, we targeted the priest we thought most likely to get really upset and confused by our behavior. Father Donnegan was the oldest one-he was about fifty, and he would never take any nonsense from us.

But a new young priest, his name was Father Michaelson, had blue eyes and a blonde crew cut. He was scared shitless of us young girls, I think. I mean we always used to wonder why any healthy man would voluntarily give up women for his whole entire life and we always used to wonder if any of them had women on the side, or before they took their vows-or even on the sly.

So we picked the young Father Michaelson-he must have been around twenty-five-as our victim. I said I thought he looked like a virgin. He was one of those priests who are so fucking sincere that you could puke, and whenever we were rude or made lewd remarks in his class-he taught geography-he would say-in this mild voice, that surely as we were babes of the earth, we were innocent of the meaning of what we had said, and that in the eyes of the Lord we were lambs whom Jesus loved.

He was always turning the other cheek. I don't know if you've noticed this Dr. Lamb, but I've found that some people who are weak or humble really seem to ask for people to beat on them. Or at least, in myself, weak people make me want to spit on them. I guess I was always brought up to be strong.

Father Michaelson was taking our confessions that week. Margie and I had a little note prepared, and we handed it to him-or rather she did as she went into the other side of the little box. I waited in the pew breathlessly, trying to keep my eyes ahead of me but not able to keep from staring at the silent, black box where Margie and Father Michaelson were now enclosed. She had passed him the note. I had seen his hand accept it. It would take a few moments for him to read it, and then-I wondered what was going on?! I was dying with curiosity. Finally she came out and she kneeled to the statue of the. Virgin and crossed herself and then rejoined me at the pew.

"What happened?" I whispered, dying with curiosity.

"Nothing," she said angrily. "He didn't do anything after I handed him the note and I was too scared to mention it. He never said anything about it, and he just went on with the usual thing. I confessed to him and that was it."

"Didn't you take the piece of wood out and give him a chance?"

"No! I was too scared!"

It was my turn and I left Margie and walked up to the black box.

I stepped in and kneeled, facing the priest whose face I could not see on the other side of the wall. The note we had typed him told him of the hole, and explained quite explicitly the level of the hole and what part of his body might fit in the hole, and what we do if he would only slip that part of his body through the hole and give us a chance. We had also promised that we would never tell anyone.

Father Michaelson said, "Have you sinned this week, my child."

That was what he usually said, but it seemed to me that his voice was kind of quavering. I decided that he just didn't have enough guts to investigate and see if the hole really was there himself, so I pulled it out my self.

A circle of light came through from his side of the confessional box to mine.

"Just keep talking Father Michaelson," I said, "and let me play with you-I won't tell anyone, I promise. No one will ever know."

He knew who I was, and since he was a man-and every man's the same, I've found out-he must have noticed my figure, like other men had at that time. I had big jutting tits already and my nipples pointed upwards. Often I had brushed against him in the hall, after taking my bra off in the girls' room, and laughed when he went scurrying off down the hall, sort of bent over. And I was real pretty then. I think I'm starting to look a little worn out now, but then I was young and fresh as a dewdrop, and I hardly needed to wear any lipstick or rouge to keep the rosy look on my cheeks and lips.

Well, as I kneeled in the confession box expectantly, I saw the hole first covered up by fingers that felt for it. Then the light was totally cut off as if Father Michaelson was leaning up against the hole. I heard the swish of robes being lifted and then, to my pounding excitement and delight, I saw a long limp piece of male flesh-penis flesh-dropped through the hole. It sagged and hung down for the first moment.

But all I had to do was blow on it-it fell right in front of my face, and it stiffened visibly. When I put my fingers of the stiffening prick it picked up a little more. "Just keep talking Father," I said, "that way it will seem more natural and no one will suspect a thing."

So he started asking me the questions he had to ask: had I been rude to my parents or disobeyed them? Had I been rude to my teachers? Had I done all my homework.

I opened my mouth as he talked and stuck out my tongue. I slid my tongue along the underside of his penis so that his penis was being cradled on my tongue and I got so hot and wet in my cookies!

I had my tongue on a real live cock-a priest's cock! I quickly pulled up my skirt and stuck my fingers down into my panties. I had been right-it was pure liquid cunt down there. I loved the weight of his cock on my tongue and I began slithering my tongue back and forth under his prick while my mouth closed on his prick shaft and my lips sucked and pulled at his prick shaft and the head of his penis knocked against the back of my mouth. I couldn't wait to tell Margie!

Of course, during all this time, Father Michaelson wasn't getting any answers to his questions but he just paused between each question, as if he were listening to an answer, while I sucked on his cock. It was a nice fat one, about five inches long, a good size for easy cocksucking, and I really enjoyed doing it to him.

I only lifted my face off his prick one time to say to him: "Jam it home into me Father Michaelson-stick it in!"

He started to jam his prick in and out of the hole in the wall that Margie and I had made. My fingers were going in my wet pussy slit and all of a sudden I got a crazy idea.

Father Michaelson had just come to the part where he was asking me if I had played with myself this week.

I pulled off his cock for a second, and saw how the head of his penis was dripping with my saliva I guess-because he hadn't come yet. I scooted up on the kneeling board, bringing my wet cunt right up to the tip of his penis.

"Yes, Father Michaelson, I have been feeling myself all week long. Would you like to feel what my pussy feels like after I've been feeling myself for a while?"

I was still holding off actually letting his cock touch my cunt. I wanted to hear young Father Michaelson ask me for it.

There was a long breathless silence. He didn't know what was going on, because I had stopped sucking his cock and everything.

"Well, do you want to feel my cunt, Father?" I asked.

"Yes," he said quickly, with a sharp intake of breath.

"Yes, what?" Father I said slyly, patting his throbbing waving cock as it pierced through the hole.

"Your ... cunt, child, let me feel it."

"All you had to do was say so, Father," I said cheerily and I scooted my cunt, holding it open, to his cock and pressed my split wet meat down against his aching prick head. I heard him groan. My tits were shaking. I had taken off my bra before coming into the chapel.

Almost instantly Father Michaelson started to come-hardly without any action at all. I was trying to jerk my cunt back and forth against his wet prick head, and thinking about Father Michaelson's big blue eyes and innocent jive all the time.

And here I was riding on his thick hard cock meat, inside the confessional. He was a man after all. He spurted his cock juice right in my cunt like a pro, and like a pro-considering it was my first time too-my pussy clamped and jumped up and down his prick like it was sucking it, like my cunt sucking his prick was like a mouth sucking a prick.

I felt his little spurts inside me, and I remember thinking-I bet if he wasn't a priest, if he was a real man, he would shot a much bigger load.

He let his prick rest in my cunt a moment longer after he came, then he pulled it out and back through the hole. I replaced the wooden plug in the hole in the confessional wall, assuring him that this would, "remain our little secret, Father."

He told me to pray for my soul, and for his, and to say ten Hail Marys and then I pulled up my panties and pulled down my skirt and skipped out of the confessional, aware of a certain stale smell in there that there had not been before. My hands were sticky too, as they had not been before I went in.

"Well?" said Marge excitedly as I rejoined her at the pew.

"Well I did it," I said simply, staring straight ahead.

"I don't believe you! What did you do? Tell me everything!"

We had to wait until we got outside and then I told her.

She didn't believe me, but then I let her smell the sticky smell on my fingers, so she had to believe that I had at least been fingering myself while in the confessional. And then in the girls' room we went into the same stall together and I pulled down my panties and showed her how there was semen and a little bit of blood-my cherry wasn't that big. She had to believe me after that.

Well, I never got to use that cock-hole in the confessional again, because I was expelled from school a week later. I don't know exactly what happened, I guess I'll never know. The only thing I've been able to figure out is that maybe Father Michaelson confessed to his confessor-priests confess too, you know about what he did with me, and they removed me from school.

They told my mother it was just my general rowdiness and un-Christian behavior, but generally they let me off pretty lightly. Father Michaelson I heard was transferred back to a monastery.

I went for another year to a girls trade school where I trained to be a beautician, but I knew that wasn't where the money was, and when I dropped out of school I went right into hooking. Of course my mother never knew that, thank God. It would have broken her heart. But I always thought it was a kind of work suited for me. I mean I've got a cunt with a good grip, and I give good head work, and I've got lots of imagination-which, believe me, honey, you need a lot of in this line of work.

Anyway, when I heard about this hear research project, and heard you're giving good money for women who come in and tell their sexual fantasies, I decided to come in and talk to you about this one fantasy that I've had ever since those days back at St. Theresa's.

I mean, I guess plenty of people would be curious to know what a hooker's sexual fantasy is. Well-mine is this:

I've always gotten off on the idea of going back to St. Theresa's to see if that cock-hole is still in the booth. I guess they would have removed it, if Father Michaelson told them how and where we got it on.

But I hate the hypocrisy of the church so much that I've always fantasized about taking on a few priests at once-they're all hornier than hell, I know. I've sucked off lots of them in my time as a hooker. They really get off too, on telling you that they're priests-going with fallen women. It's all very Biblical to them, and it turns them on. So I've always fantasized about being sort of a receptacle for a bunch of them-for being sort of a mirror for their hypocrisy.

You know-sort of saying to a bunch of them-come on boys, I'm hear for you to fuck and use. Anytime you want some cunt or head, just come to me-you know, maybe sort of being a hideaway in one of their refectories, or coming around to a refectory once a month so they could all get off on me. Providing a service you know.

Yeah-a hooker who specializes in priests.

Because I've got to admit, ever since my first trick with Father Michaelson-well, I guess you couldn't call it a trick, since I didn't get paid for it, but ever since then-priests have always made me get hot. I like to make them, and I love to get paid by them. I think I come one last time when I've finished fucking a Brother or a Father and he has to hand me some green.

"Thanks Father," I like to say, giving my pussy a shake as I accept the dough.

I guess it's there piety that makes me so sick. I like to prove to them that there not so fucking pious after all. That they're just like all other men, straight men anyway-they like some nice hot wet pussy to stick their dicks into, or else they like some good hard head. They usually seem fascinated with my tits too, and I knew one priest who loved to come by just rubbing his prick against my titties, but that's another story.

Anyway, Doctor, this fantasy really does haunt me. It's funny. You'd think a whore would fantasize about not having any more cocks to fuck or suck, but I just dream about being a special whore for priests only.

INTERVIEW TWO

The second time Rosalita came to my office she was wearing a silver dress that clung to every curve of her body and emphasized her sexy Latino chest and buttocks.

She told me with a gleam in her eye of how she had carried out a scheme with great success to realize her long-held fantasy.

While she talked, her body moved in twitches and rhythmic shakes and gestures as if she were reliving the experience while she recalled it.

I must confess I am very suspect of the truth of what Rosalita tells me. Something about the joy with which she makes her confession leads me to believe that nothing she says is true, and that it all is fantasy. I even wonder whether she is a genuine whore or only a woman whose fantasy is to be a whore.

In any case, what follows is what she told me:

I told you last time, Dr. Lamb, that I have this thing about priests. I guess it's because of the way my mother believe so whole-heartedly in the church. I always thought that her belief in Jesus and the after-life was just sort of a drug for her, to keep her from thinking about the misery of her own life and too keep her from thinking about the causes of her real misery. So it's always turned me on to think about seducing and luring these ministers of Jesus into acts they would be ashamed to confess to.

After talking to you last time, I decided to put my fantasy into action, to try to make it a reality. I figured, well why not? If I want to do it, I should just do it. I've always been a believer in getting what you want. I hate people who are content to dream, and are always afraid to take the next step.

Well, I've never been back to St. Teresa's since I was expelled when I was a kid. Back in those days it used to be in a good neighborhood-you know, clean, no bums or whores. But the neighborhood has gone downhill since those days, and in fact, the church is only a few blocks from where my favorite corner for picking up John's is, on Dean St. in Brooklyn. Like I say, I've never been back to the church but the other day, on my way to work, I walked down that street and looked at the old building. It looked a lot shabbier than it used to, and I stepped inside the chapel on an impulse.

Everything looked exactly as it used to including the statue of the Virgin Mary-all chipped gilt gold, staring down on everybody from the front:

Even the old line of confessional boxes were where they always were-on the side. And it even seemed to me that the few little old ladies crying and praying in the back were the same little old ladies that always used to be there when Margie and I went to school here. I wonder where Margie is today.

Anyway, I slipped into one of the pews on the side where the confessionals are. I had an overwhelming desire to see if our little cock hole was still in the confessional wall. Of course I was dressed pretty oddly for church, and attracted some pretty mean stares from the ladies in the back. I was wearing this very same dress and a big green boa around my neck and silver high heel shoes.

But I didn't care. I mean the church is supposed to take in anybody right? Or so they say. I saw a priest-and immediately recognized him. It was Father Dunnagan. He looked like he had hardly aged a day-he looked as stern as ever, with those deep mean lines in his face. But all the same, as I sized him up, he was a healthy-looking man. He always used to keep pretty trim, and he wore the' black robes of his profession with broad shoulders and a firm walk. He came in followed by a little boy in a gold and white robe. The kid was swinging the incense and the priest started chanting some stuff. I didn't know it but I had walked right into a. noon mass.

I was surprised that they held mass for so few people but I guess the church has fallen on hard times.

I stayed all through the service-probably the first time in my life. But all the while, I was looking at Father Dunnagan, wondering what those black robes hid, wondering what kind of a man he was deep down underneath all that heavy clothing. I also had my eye on the cute little choir boy too. He had fair gold hair and big round blue eyes, he must have been about fourteen or fifteen and looked innocent as an angel.

After the service the Father announced he would now take confession. As there was hardly no one in the church except me, aside from the little old ladies, I waited until they had made their paltry confessions, and then I slipped into the old confessional.

It was funny because the confessional box hadn't changed-but I had. I had grown a lot, and when I knelt on the board my ass touched the back wall. It was really a tight squeeze. Father Donnegan started his spiel and my fingers felt in the darkness for the circle of wood. Sure enough-it was still there.

"Confess your sins to me, my child," he finally said.

"Father Donnegan," I said. "I am a prostitute. But I am not a repentant whore. I like what I do and I have no desire to be forgiven. Father Donnegan, since I don't want to be absolved of my sins, just think what you can do with me. Surely you sometimes feel the call of the flesh, Father. Surely sometimes you want to be a man, a real man, with a woman. Why not use me Father? You can do yourself no harm by using me.

"Father Donnegan," I went on in a low murmurous voice, plucking out the bole of wood and pulling up my dress and pulling down my panties. "There is a hole at the level of your groin. Put your fingers to the hole Father Donnegan, and feel what I have come to offer you."

I heard only his heavy breathing for a moment, and I pressed my wet cunt to the hole. Just talking to him like this, in the dark confessional, in the musty church, pressing the forbidden slit meat to the hole for the Father's perusal, made me hot.

For a second I thought he wasn't going to do it, but he is a man, like all others, and he couldn't resist copping a feel of my merchandise.

I felt his finger stick into my split beaver, feeling like a blind man. It only took a second for him to know what he was feeling. He withdrew his fingers quickly as if they had been burned, but I cooed:

"Don't stop, Father, that felt so good.

Touch my cunt again-remember, I'm only a filthy whore."

And his fingers returned. This time they poked and stabbed far into me, as far as they could reach and I felt him searching out my clit meat which he rubbed as if it brought him exquisite relief.

Then I heard the sounds of his robes being swished around.

"Give me your cock, Father Donnegan, please stick your cock in my cunt!" I said.

In an instant there came through the hole the thick white rod of a stiffened prick.

I was clinging to the wall of the confessional when I felt the head of the Father's prick pass through my pussy lips and penetrate into my cunt.

I gripped the wall and let the Father fuck me, through the confessional wall. I'm afraid the box shook a little bit, but the old ladies in the back were too blind to be able to see. I was wondering what the choir boy thought, though. This was turning into a long confession indeed.

"It's good, Father Donnegan, your cock in my cunt feels real good," I sighed. His prick was a pretty hefty size and he had the power, the steam and the push of a John who hasn't been laid in a good long while.

"Fuck me, Father Donnegan! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"

He was doing his best. His prick came shoving through the hole stabbing into my split beaver meat and penetrating my pussy, cock shaft and penis head plunging deep like a spear.

I could hear his grunts and groans.

"Forgive me Father, for I know not what I do," I could hear him murmuring in between thrusting grunts. But he knew what he was doing all right.

I wrapped my cunt meat around his pole and I hung on. It felt good, Doctor, so fucking good! He was poling into me faster and faster now and I just gripped his prick with my pussy muscles and started sucking on his cock and his pole started to quiver.

"Blow your wad, Father. Blow your cock juice down my cunt!"

He blew. I could feel the spurting blasts shotting off down inside my pussy and his hot sperm sprayed my hot pussy walls.

When he was through he jerked his cock back through the hole.

"My child, you have sinned. You must confess and repent. Jesus will still love you," he started to say.

I said, "Father, save your breath, and listen to me. Anytime you want it, you can get it from me. In fact, I'd like to offer you and your fellow priests a little deal. Cut-rate rates, you might say."

And I proposed to him what I had been thinking of: of me coming by here some night and getting into the confessional this way, and all the priests and Fathers and Brothers who needed to have their tubes cleaned could come and use me. And I named my price.

He only said, "My child, you are a terrible sinner," and then kind of dismissed me, but I knew that I was going to come back the next night at midnight, and I knew he would be waiting for me.

Sure enough, when I slipped in the church doors at midnight the next night, the church seemed totally empty, but there were candles lit on the altar and fresh flowers so I figured somebody must be around.

I walked down the side aisle and then I heard a noise near the altar.

It was the gold-haired choir boy.

"Hey, honey," I said. "Is Father Donnegan around?"

The little angel boy came down the altar towards me. He was looking at me with awe. I was wearing this sensational red dress that makes my boobs practically fall in their faces and the skirt was real short, showing my thighs practically up to my pussy bush. I was wearing black net stockings and a garter belt and high red heeled shoes. I guess the kid had never seen a girl who looked like me before, or at least never up so close. His eyes were wide like saucers and he was taking a real good look.

He said, "What are the priests going to do for you? They're all waiting in back?"

I lifted my skirt. I was wearing black panties. I said, "Have you ever seen what lies underneath panties like these, little boy?"

He shook his head and I slowly pulled my panties down and jerked my hips forward to give him a look at my mound. I slipped my finger down into the slit and tickled myself until my cunt lips spread apart, to give him a better look.

His eyes now looked like two big moons. I laughed and tickled him under his cheek. I stuck my hands between his legs and found he had a nice little hard-on. I said:

"Just take your turn in line, honey, and I'll give you some pussy too."

Then I slipped into the confession box. I guess the kid went back to tell Father Donnegan that I was ready.

I unplugged the knothole in the wall and waited. I heard footsteps coming and someone stepped into the confessional in front of me, but to my surprise I heard another pair of feet go into the confessional behind me.

"What do you want, Father?" I asked the faceless man who had gotten into the confessional in front of me. There was silence.

"Don't be afraid to say it. I'm just a filthy piece of whore-scum. My soul is lost. Don't worry about me. You want me to suck you, fuck you?"

"Suck me off," I heard a low groan and then an absolutely huge prick came through the hole and its head was already dripping with sticky pre-come.

"Yes, Father, it will be my pleasure," I said opening my mouth hungrily with delight. When I slithered my big red lips along the penis head, drinking up the pre-come and then started slithering my mouth down along the shaft, I heard this incredible moan of anguish and delight as if the Father were in seventh heaven.

But as I kneeled in the darkness, my lips wrapped around the big dick, my ass pressed against the back of the confessional box, I suddenly felt myself stabbed from behind by a big prick head.

I raised my head for a moment and turned and saw that another hole had been cut in the back wall of the confessional and another prick was sticking through.

I was delighted! They were going to make economic use of me, making me take two cocks at a time. I reached behind me and grabbed the big prick. It was good and hard.

"Hello, Father!" I yanked.

"Hello, my child," someone said and I recognized Father Donnegan's voice.

"What do you want, Father, my cunt or my ass. They're both at your disposal."

I heard an anguished sigh. Then,' with a fierce grunt, "I want to put it in your ass you filthy slime."

"Yes, Father," I said coquettishly and I raised my charming ass to the rear wall, and with my fingers guided the spearhead prickhead to my anus. I applied some spit to my winking pink ass hole and then pressed Father Donnegan's mammoth prick to my anus. He did the rest.

With a mighty shove he sank his cock about two inches in my ass.

I groaned and so did he. "Thatta-boy, Father Donnegan. Fuck my whore's ass. It feels good." And then I turned my head back to the prick in front of me.

As Father Donnegan speared me from behind I was pushed down on the prick of the priest in front and as the priest in front jabbed his prick head down my loving throat, I was shoved backwards on to the fuck rod of Father Donnegan.

So, being forced back and forth between them, I got roundly fucked in the face and in the ass. I could feel their two big spongy prick heads forcing their ways inside me. My throat guzzled on the delicious feel of the big mushroom shaped penis head, and my mouth closed around the shaft and squeezed and sucked and my throat longed to be gulping down the steamy globs of priest come.

And my butt hole widened and closed and squeezed tight around the slimy spear of Father Donnegan as he made a cunt out of my ass and slid his lubed prick in and out.

I reached behind me to spread my ass cheeks apart and I began jamming my body back and forth, first against one wall and then against the other, setting up the rhythmic pounding that would bring them off.

I heard their cries mounting.

"Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!" from the priest in front.

"Mm! Mm! Mm! Mm!" from Father Donnegan in my behind.

I sucked cock and I spread my ass cheeks wide.

Do it to me, do it to me, do it to me, was what I kept thinking.

Suddenly it started to happen. The cock in my mouth started jerking down my throat and I tasted the first hot delicious globs of hot come and I sucked even harder and harder, while I shoved my ass hard on the prick in my ass hole. Then the prick in my ass started to pump come into my ass crack and I jerked and pumped the prick with the muscles of my ass canal. God fucking damn it felt good!

When the two cocks had deposited their loads of slimy sperm they pulled out of me. I heard a lot more grunting and groaning, especially from the priest in front and then I heard their footsteps departing and two new sets approaching.

Once again there was a priest in the box in front and another in the box behind.

"Ma'am, is that you?" I heard a youthful voice say. It was the go Id-haired choir boy and he was in front.

"Yes, honey, stick your pee-pee through the hole and let Mama feel it."

He said in a quavering voice, "It's my first time Ma'am, I'm kind of afraid."

"Nothing to be afraid of, honey, I'm just going to put my lips around it and suck."

I saw his arrow-straight hard little rod shooting through the hole. It was stiff as could be and virgin white.

"Ooooooh," I cradled his stiff prick with my hands. "I'll be real gentle, I promise. Rosalita will make your pee-pee feel real good."

Then I heard another voice from behind.

"Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"It's my first time too." This was an older voice. "How old are you son?" I asked curious. "Thirty, Ma'am."

"Well, Father, give me your cock and I'll give you some cunt. You must be wanting some awful bad."

"Yes, Ma'am," the voice sorrowfully admitted.

I raised my ass and scraped it against the wall so that my cunt grazed against the hole in the wall. I felt the insertion of the prick-it was big and hard. It sank through my split pussy meat like a knife going through butter.

I heard this long drawn-out groan.

"Feel good, Father?" I asked lewdly.

"Yes, Ma'am, yes, oh Lord yes." He could hardly speak because he was already slowly beginning to draw his prick blade in and out of my wet cunt meat.

"Ok, honey, here we go," I said to my choir boy in front, and I placed my lips and began to go down on him. He gave a few short gasps-I guess he never knew women did such things but then he settled down to some nice groans and moans.

"How am I doing Ma'am? Am I doing it right?" the thirty year old virgin asked from behind me.

I raised my lips off the choir boy's prick. "I can't talk because I'm sucking off the choir boy, but you're doing just fine, Father. It feels real good. Just start going a little faster, my cunt is real hot.

Well, I've always liked getting it from behind Dr. Lamb. I guess it's because the fuck rod seems to pass more heavily over my clit-you know. So the virgin taking me from behind really did me some good. His prick was real heavy and it passed back and forth over my clit meat like a good hot fuck should.

I sucked the little choir boy off pretty quickly-his virgin come in my mouth was hot and salty. I guess he didn't know how to hold off for too long. But it was a long while before I could get Thirty-Year-Old-Virgin behind me to blow his wad in my twat. He was enjoying himself too much and he didn't want it to be over.

Finally I just put down some heavy sucking-cunt action, and his cock couldn't hold off any longer. When his prick shot off its wad in my cunt, I sucked all his prick juice out of him with my expert pussy muscles.

Well, I must have seen-or rather not seen, but serviced-about twenty or thirty priests that night. I lost track somewhere along fifteen.

They always came in twos, and I really suspect some of them came back for seconds, to try my other end.

Dr. Lamb, I just loved it. I can't thank you enough for letting me talk to you like this. I mean, you were really one who inspired me to go out and do what I had always dreamed of. Fucking all the priests in the confessional, though I confess the idea of the two holes must have been Father Donnegan's-he's always looking for ways to save money for the church and my agreement with him was based on time and not how many customers came.

Our agreement is that I'm to come by once a month to service the priests in this way, and I must say I'm very excited about it. I think I would even do it for free, and I practically am.

The rates I'm charging them are practically nothing. But the idea of taking on all those horny priests-I mean, once a month?!?!

Jesus fucking Christ-it turns me on!!!!!

CONCLUSION

As I pointed out in the introduction to the second interview, Rosalita's "true" account of what happened in the chapel is highly suspect in my opinion.

What we have here, I think, is a highly imaginative account of a woman's fantasy. As I say, I even doubt whether she is really a whore, to start with. She wears the clothes a whore would wear, but any woman can buy these clothes, and many women know how to wear them. The fact that she supposedly offered herself cut-rate to the priests also indicates that she is probably making up the story of being a whore. Most whores are in the business for the money, first of all, and they cannot afford to give away their favors.

But the fact that this Catholic woman fantasizes making it with a church full of priests (and possible fantasizing that she is a whore) is extremely interesting. As in the case previous to this one, in which the young woman fantasized about her best friend's father, young Catholic girls, when they begin to look around them at men, almost always find their eyes lighting on the priests, who are after all men.

The priests are an object of curiosity and speculation for young girls. As Rosalita says: how can they be men and yet not need sexual intercourse? What kind of men are they?

She takes a particular pleasure in describing how the environment of the church-the candles, flowers, statue of the Virgin Mary, the darkness and the musty odor, all play a sensual part in turning her on. The un-likely holes in the confessional walls add another hidden, illicit thrill to the whole affair. Instead of her confessing, she is luring the priests into sin, and that is part of what turns her on too.

On the whole, I think her fantasy is fairly harmless. It obviously gives her a sexual thrill to tell her fantasy out loud, embellishing it as she goes along, and her fantasy is the natural outcome of a repressed Catholic upbringing.

CASE HISTORY THREE

SUBJECT: Martin S. AGE: Fifty-two

INTERVIEW ONE

Martin S. is a very respectable-looking man with greying hair at his temples and a kindly face. His face reminds one of one of the older nightly news anchormen-it inspires one with confidence and a warm feeling, as if he were your father.

He was dressed in a tweed jacket and dark trousers of good quality. He is not tall, only about five feet, five inches. He has a greying moustache too. He has the broad shoulders of workman, however, and, as he told me, he is a construction engineer for a large cigar corporation, one of the largest in the world, based here in New York.

He works with blueprints in one of the tall skyscrapers of our fair city and makes a handsome salary.

He smiled a little uneasily as he took his seat in my office, as if he were a little embarrassed and didn't know how to begin. He tapped the tips of his fingers together, and stared at me over his moustache, and finally took the plunge.

When I saw your ad in the paper, Dr. Lamb, I must admit I felt almost-well, relieved. I mean, I never would have thought of going to a psychologist before. I'm just too old for that sort of thing. You know, all that sort of stuff is not for my generation, or at least that's how I feel.

But when I saw that you were collecting people's sexual fantasies for a scientific study-and that no names would be used, well I thought-why not? Because, you see, my fantasies have almost become what I guess you could call obsessions.

And they do trouble me sometimes. I mean, I don't think I'm sick, but I do worry sometimes that my fantasies are getting a little bit out of control.

But let me be more specific.

I guess you could say I have an anal fixation. I just can't get excited about-well, that's another matter. You see I've been a married man for more than twenty years, and you've got to admit Doctor, that after twenty years things can go a little stale.

In the sack, I mean. And on top of that, my wife is going through her change-you know, menopause, and is also into a lot of women's lib stuff-getting herself a job and her own career and all that. So we just don't have much of any kind of sex life to speak of anymore.

But to tell you the truth it's a great relief to me that my wife doesn't expect anything of me that way anymore because I don't think I could get it up for her anymore.

I crave my secretary. I crave all the young secretaries who work in my building.

I'm constantly next to them-being pushed against them in the crowded elevators going up to the fourteen floor where I work in the morning and coming down in the elevators at five at night. And they wear the sexiest clothes.

Really-I remember in my day, when I was a young man, secretaries wore black suits, and blouses that buttoned up to their chins. But now!-Jesus Christ-you'd think they were laughing at you the way they brush their thighs against you-by mistake always, of

, course, in their miniskirts. They actually seem to shake their tits at me as I walk by the secretary pool, in their low cut blouses.

And their tits! Oh! So ripe and young and round and full. I tell you one of my fantasies Doctor is to have a room, like a hunting room in some kind of manor, except instead of trophies I'd have girls lined up all along the wall, each with a different shape and size of tits. Tits, tits, tits, young firm and fleshy-I love them all.

But even better than tits are buttocks!

Oh!

When I look through the pages of those magazines they sell on the stands and I see glossy photographs of those girls smiling at you over their shoulders with their tits hanging down, and their asses raised-oh, doctor! I reach out and stroke the crack in their asses, in the picture and I wish, oh! I wish....

I don't have a personal secretary, but there is a young girl, a woman I suppose I should say, named Lois who is the secretary for the engineering department.

There are four of us in engineering and she takes care of us. She is the nicest girl-so compliant. She makes parties for our birthdays, calls our wives, remembers our children's birthdays for us.

She has long straight blonde hair but just recently she had it done in a kind of a perm and now it's all frizzed and it hangs to her shoulders and gives her a real baby doll look. I wonder what she would look in a pair of baby-doll pajamas. You know the kind with the short lacy top and the little lacy panties?!

Anyway, you'll excuse me if I ... have erections while I talk to you Doctor. I really can't help myself. Excuse me. Uh, there, okay.

Lois also has the biggest juiciest titties I've ever laid eyes on. Oh, God, just to think of them. They're firm too, they're not all loose and soft. I've bumped against them many a time, in the elevator or at our little parties.

She's the kind of girl who doesn't get all embarrassed and defensive. I mean, I always apologize when I bump into her tits, and she always says it's all right, but I think she does really know that I do it on purpose, or rather, I don't try to avoid it, and I think-now maybe I'm really going off the wall here, Doc, but I really don't think she minds. I get the feeling her attitude is: well, let the old guy get his little thrills, you know?

She's got long legs with thick thighs, and a cute pert little waist and her ass cheeks! Well! They're full and yet not big. When she wears my favorite pair of tight pants her ass cheeks kind of hang just a little bit over her legs-just enough to give you two nice handfuls, but they're still firm-not sagging or loose.

And she's got a nice belly slope too. I hate these stick-thin women who don't have a curve on them from their navels to their cunts. I like a woman with some meat on her, you know what I mean Doctor?

Sometimes I think about, well, about, about parting her ass cheeks.

About having her ass naked in front of me, while she looks at me over her shoulder while her tits dangle and she winks and smiles at me. And I'm allowed to squeeze and part her ass cheeks and then-then-I look at her pretty pink winking anus.

It makes me hard just to think about it.

But I think about it all the time.

About what I'd like to do with her ass hole.

Excuse me, Doctor, I just can't sit still.

You see, when I was a boy, my mother was from the old country-Poland, and she used to practice some old-fashioned remedies on me and my sisters.

She was a firm believer in the use of the enema to get rid of a number of afflictions. Every time one of us caught a cold or the flu, she came out with the enema ;ag. She said it cleansed you out and got rid of all the germs that were infecting you.

I don't know what the men of medicine would say about this today, but I do know that, while I was a young growing boy, I witnessed many times my older sisters-their cunt hair already grown in, exposed bare-assed on the floor, while my mother stooped over them, parted their ass cheeks and stuck the enema tube in their anuses.

I had three older sisters and all three of them were subject to this treatment, for as long as my mother was alive. None of the girls left home-girls didn't in that day, and my oldest sister was twenty when my mother died. And she received enemas to her twentieth year, many of which I witnessed.

The sight of those squirming beauties-of course I didn't even really consider them beauties at the time-how could your own sisters be beautiful? But when I think back, they really were luscious: their tits spread flat on the floor underneath their bodies, their asses twitching while they screamed and writhed trying to get out from under my mother's strong peasant hands.

Oh! That moment when she shoved the tube into their assholes, their asses suddenly went limp-when she turned on the warm water.

I don't know, I guess that's when I started fixating on asses. I can't get it up to screw a girl in her pussy, you know, unless I've had some foreplay in her asshole.

The thing is, Doctor, to tell you the truth, I've never had any of these pretty young things I lust after.

No, all my life, I've been faithful to my wife, not that I've had all that many chances to be unfaithful. But I'm just a common guy and I used to be in love with my wife and I didn't believe in all that fancy stuff-fooling around.

But now, all that's changed. My wife and I sleep in separate beds, and I figure I'm entitled to find some outlet for my ... desires.

I don't know-like I say. Sometimes I think my fantasies are really getting the best of me because I sometimes start to think that maybe I could make them come true.

I get sent down to the Dominican Republic frequently. Our company has a big plant down there and occasionally a roof caves in, or a wall is found to be weak, and they send somebody from construction down to have a look, and also to report back to the top management on how the place is being handled.

And the Dominican Republic's become, over the years, my turf. Sylvia, my wife, has gone down there a lot of times with me in the past. I mean it's nice to jaunt down to the Caribbean in the middle of the winter, even if it is on business. They have a nice hotel, and some beaches and there's always plenty of sun. But lately she's complained that she's always hated going down there with me-that she's bored witless down there, and she doesn't intend to accompany anymore.

I have this dream of going down there with Lois and then, far away from our usual environment, I ask her to do ... strange things for me, and she does them, and she lets me do them....

What kinds of things?"

You really want to know? .

Well, I've worked out the whole trip from beginning to end in my mind. It's kind of like a story. You want me to tell you? It's sort of ... unrealistic, you know, but I guess all fantasies are.

Anyway, say something really big comes up at the office. Say-production is doing so well that the top brass decides they want to build an extension on the big plant down in the D.R. and they're sending me down to go over some plans with the chief manager of the plant down there, a guy named Guy Jacobs.

Because it's going to be such a big and complicated project, they decide that I will need a secretarial assistant to go with me, and they decide to send Lois.

I chat with Lois about our proposed trip in the main area of the engineer's office on the fourteen floor. She is sitting at her desk, with her phones, in the central area-all of our offices are around this area, and there is a great view of the Hudson River from up here.

I smile down at Lois. "Well, well, well, well have a little vacation just the two of us," I joke and I look down the crack of her tits. She is wearing her low cut red sweater.

She says, coyly, "That's right, Mr. S. Just you and me, and all that work!"

I think, her smiles says more than her words do. Joe, another engineer, comes out of his office and smacks me on the back looking down at Lois. "You lucky bastard," he says to me. "How come I never get the really prime assignments?" and We all grin.

The next day Lois and I go out to Kennedy airport with our bags. Sylvia drives me out there, and she has been hostile and huffy all morning, wanting to know why that "blouse-ful of tits has to go with you."

"Lois is a very efficient secretary," I say icily to her, "and she is going down there to work for me."

But Lois and I know better as we meet in the waiting room and almost as soon as we are on the plane, seated side by side, and the seat-belt signs have gone off, she complains she is cold and asks the stewardess for a blanket.

She drapes the blanket across her lap and casually lets part of it fall across my lap too. In an instant, surprised, I feel her hands creeping from her side of the seat to mine, and she is running her hands all up and down my torso, letting it feel up and down along my groin for my stiffening cock.

I am surprised and pretend I have not expected this of her.

We do nothing more for the moment, but in a while, she says she has to visit the John and asks me if I will come with her. She says she is afraid of flying and does not want to be alone. I follow her down the aisle to the John and she slips in, leaving the vacant sign still showing. I wait a few minutes to see if anyone has noticed that "she has gone in there, and no one has, so I slip in too, and then we pull the hinge that makes the sign read "occupied" outside the door.

Instantly she is standing, slithering her hands up and down my sides, my chest, feverishly opening the buttons of my shirt, caressing my chest hair, covering my body with kisses.

I grab her around the waist and pull her tits against my naked chest. I feel the nipples of her boobs rise and harden in my chest hair and her boobs are like pillows bouncing between us. I firmly press and squeeze her ass cheeks and pull her belly against my groin-giving her a sample of how hard my rod can get.

She feels my stiff rod against her belly and she wiggles and giggles and wiggles her belly against my cock, trying to hump my cock with her cunt through our clothes, curving her cunt up wards to press it against my prick.

She is crazy-hot for me, but I don't like our surroundings and also, I want to initiate her properly into what I like and what I want her to do, how I want her to perform, so I try to explain to her, that this is not the proper time and place, and I am very surprised at her behavior.

Someone knocks on the door asking us to hurry up, and we are silent.

"Be out in a moment," I call.

It turns out the dear girl really does have to urinate. We are so cramped in that tiny compartment however, that there is no room for me to stand while she sits on the toilet. So, I sit down first, but realizing I am likely to get my pants ruined-since girls don't have pointers to direct their pee-pee flows with, I take down my trousers. Then I sit on the John. My cock is pointing high in the air.

She pulls up her skirt and pulls down her panties, and I catch a glimpse of her bush. It is darker than her blonde hair-and I suspect that she is not a natural blonde. I see a pair of pink ripe labia hanging down, and I catch my first glimpse of her rosy full ass cheeks.

She presses her lovely ass globes right against my erect prick as she sits on my lap and spreads her legs wide.

I watch as she masturbates herself a little bit first to make herself hot, as I have refused to fuck her here and now.

But watching her has turned me on even more.

I don't want to put my prick up her cunt for she has told me that she has to urinate, so I wet the head of my prick, smearing some saliva around on it, and I life her up a little bit.

"What are you doing, Martin?" she asks me coyly turning around.

I say, "Spread your ass cheeks honey. OT Martin has something to give you."

"Whatever could that be, Mr. S?" she asks me coyly.

Spreading her ass cheeks nice and wide.

Now I see her anus-a nice tight pretty pink flap. I position her on my cock, her anus flap tight against it, and she wiggles her ass down on my pole.

She is diddling herself in her cunt and squirming on my cock in her ass and everything is ju-ust fine!

Someone knocks on the door again.

"I'm not feeling well! Use the other one!" I call.

And Lois and I proceed to fool around, her squirming and letting my prick slide up her ass, and her diddling herself.

Finally, we have to get going, so I spurt up her back door, my love juice finding its true home, with joy. She pulls her behind up off my cock and then, sitting on my lap, her ass cheeks pressing against my spent cock, she spreads her legs and her pee-pee comes squirting out of her cunt, as she sits on my lap.

I hear the sound of her water hitting the bowl of the John as my beloved, voluptuous secretary sits, ass-naked on my lap in the John of the plane, and then we are through.

I watch her wipe her cunt with some toilet paper and then she stands up and pulls up her panties, bending over giving me a nice view.

Then she squashes herself against the wall and I pull up my trousers and zip them up. She fixes my tie and buttons my shirt and we kiss long and deeply, then I slip out the door, my cock still warm and glowing in my pants.

She waits a few minutes and then slips out too, and nobody is the wiser. She rejoins me at our seats and we spend the rest of the trip quietly, holding hands and kissing occasionally like newly-weds.

When we get to our hotel, and finally have some real privacy for the first time, she says to me:

"Mr. S. I never suspected you had such kinky tastes. Or such a mighty bruiser."

She sidles up to me-the boy has barely closed the door behind him leaving us alone, after bringing our baggage up--and she puts her arms around me and begins kissing me. Well, you know, I'm not as young as I used to be, and I don't want to wear myself out all at once. We've got four days down here together and I want to make sure I last.

I ask her if she wouldn't like to take a shower and she says, yes, she would like to, but only if I will take one with her.

I pinch her buttocks and tell her she must take one alone, but I will watch.

She goes into the bathroom and I hear the water running in the tub so I understand that she has decided to take a bath. I unpack my suitcase getting out the enema equipment.

I take off everything but my shorts and follow her into the bathroom, holding the enema bag and tube behind my back.

"Hi, darling," she says already in the tub and covered by lots of puffy white bubble foam. "What have you got behind your back? Is it a surprise for me?"

I put the enema stuff down behind the dresser where she can't see it, slip off my shorts and hoist myself up over the tub and tell her to suck on my cock.

She takes my prick into her mouth and it grows hard in her mouth. She wants to keep sucking it, but I won't let her, I just wanted her to make me hard in her mouth.

I am reaching down into the water to feel her big tits covered with soap suds.

"Get out of the bath, now, Lois, and bend over the side of the tub. It's time for your surprise," I say, trembling with excitement.

She gets out of the tub, with big puffs of soap still clinging to her tits and ass cheeks and she bends over the side of the tub, on her stomach, as I asked her to, but she has an unhappy look on her face.

"Daddy isn't going to put his pecker in my do'ody hole again, is he?" she asks petulantly. "Doesn't Daddy want some nice pussy for his dipper?"

I wipe the soap suds off her ass globes. I have filled the enema bag with lots of nice warm water. I hook the bag over the mirror and bring the nozzle down to her ass hole, parting her ass, and feeling my juices starting to flow.

She turns around, with her tits still handing down into the soapy water, and sees the enema tube and nozzle, then looks up and sees the enema bag.

"Ahhhhh! What are you doing? Mr. S.! What are you doing to me!"

But I have her firmly in place, my knee in her back and my eye on her anus. "Don't worry, Lois," I say calmly, "just relax and enjoy it."

"You're not going to stick that thing in my ass are you?" she screams.

I say, "Little girls often need enemas to wash out their systems. And I'm going to give you one."

"No! No!" she is screaming and sobbing. "I let you fuck my ass in the plane-I mean that was one thing, but I don't like this. This is ugly! Please, Mr. S., let me up! If I had known...."

"Be still, Lois, and be a good girl, or Daddy will make the water real hot, and then he will make it real cold. Little girls shouldn't contradict their Daddies. After all Daddy knows best," and then I sank the nozzle of the enema tube in her winking ass flap and she wiggled and writhed as I fed it into her.

I slapped her ass cheeks quite a few times to get her to stop wriggling so much and her behind was a nice glowing shade of red. Finally she seemed to have calmed down a bit and I started letting the warm water flow into her ass.

She got scared and mad again and started writhing so I had to slap her ass some more, with the flat of my bare hand.

The slaps of my hand resounded against the firm round curves of her ass globes and I let the water flow more swiftly down into the tube that sank into the crack between her cheeks. She groaned.

She said, "Not so much! I can't take it! Mr. S. you're going to humiliate me, please stop it."

I said, "Little girls who can't take a nice warm enema in their behinds should be telling their Daddies what to do. Now, you just take it, and you hold it in until I say so, or you'll get a spanking you won't forget young lady, do you understand?"

She looked around at me and the look on her face was unforgiving, but in the present circumstances there was just nothing she could do about it.

I patted her ass happily, pleased and proud to see that she was indeed taking the whole enema inside her and she was succeeding at holding it all in so far.

Then I made her crawl around the bathroom with the enema tube stuck in her ass crack, while she confessed to a great deal of discomfort at having to keep all that water in her bowels. My prick was still really hard and it did turn me on to see her crawling around with the at thick tube protruding from her ass cheeks and to know that my hands had put it there, so I made her suck me off while she kept the tube up her ass hole.

"I can't do it, I can't, Marty," she whined and complained. "Sucking you off will turn me on and if I get turned on I don't know if I'll be able to control myself you know-back there!"

I said, "Suck my cock, Lois. And just keep your mind on keeping the tube in your ass."

She whined, "But it hurts." She patted her reddened ass and then her hand slipped down to her cunt and she started to play her fingers in her wet pussy crack. Her beaver was spread open immediately. What I suspect happened was that the paddling I gave her behind had moistened and excited her cunt, and she wanted to try to ease her excitement.

She took my prick in her mouth, while I twisted her boobs and kept watch on her tubing in her ass hole, and she sucked and sucked and diddled her self.

I was terribly turned on. My cock was like a torch of steel and I loved to seethe way her beaver split right down the middle and her finger stuck in her crack.

Then I saw that the tube was quivering in between her ripe buttocks.

" Lois," I said, "are you having trouble behind? Tell me if anything is about to happen. Don't let it blow without telling me!"

I shoved my prick deep into her throat to emphasize this point.

She guzzled on my prick head and seemed to be trying to say something-her eyes were wide and big and her tits were wobbling as she took my cock deep in her throat and her mouth stretched wide. I started blowing my wad into her deep throat and it felt so good.

"Take my stuff sweetheart," I said to her. She was choking on my prick and her ass was shaking with the effort of swallowing my come-like more liquid up her ass, and trying t to keep her ass in gear.

She sucked down my cock juice and then I pulled my prick out."

"I can't hold it anymore, Marty! Please! I can't hold it anymore!"

I said, "Then climb up on the potty and make doo-doo like a good girl."

Sorrowfully she climbed up on the potty and she pulled the tube out of her ass.

I watched. the expression of relief on her face as the anal water came flooding out. When she was all through she had a coy, satisfied expression on her face and she climbed down off the potty like a good girl.

Well, I guess I could go on and tell you more things, Doctor, because this is only one of my fantasies. But I'm sure this will give you" something to put in your study.

What? Am I going to try to act out my fantasy? Well, I do think about asking Lois to go away with me somewhere. And I'm sure I could work it so she had to take a business trip with me, but I really doubt whether she would permit me to have sex with her, much less play with her anus the way I want to.

But maybe she would. You never know. People are into all sorts of kinky things.

INTERVIEW TWO

The second time Martin S. came to my office, for our follow-up visit, I was eager to know if he had taken any sort of steps toward fulfilling his dreams. I am particularly interested in the fixations of anal repressives and in studying if they can make any progress with their obsessions through acting them out.

I had advised him that it would be best to turn to the help of a prostitute to play water sports with him, or else to advertise in one of the sex-specialty papers for a willing partner, for he could offer me no assurances whatsoever that his secretary Lois had any sort of inclination for this kind of sexual foreplay.

On his second visit, about two weeks after his first, he was dressed very differently-in white string-knit shirt that revealed his chest, which was indeed broad and well-formed. I saw that his chest hair was grey, to match his distinguished sideburns and mustache.

He also wore fashionable blue jeans and white shoes and he seemed to be looking very satisfied with himself.

This time there was little of his earlier hesitation or embarrassment with 'me, which made me feel very good. It seemed to indicate that he trusted me and knew that he would not be judged by me. For it is not my place to judge, merely to observe and report. Nothing is weird or abnormal to me. I have talked to too many people to think that we can still allow ourselves the luxury of thinking in those terms.

I put an ad in one of those newspapers, Doctor, as you suggested. The ad I put in read: Handsome white male, 52, wants to play water games with submissive but feisty female beauty--mid-twenties or younger. Big tits and firm juicy ass a necessity."

To tell you the truth, somehow I never believed I would really get an answer.

You know-it would be like a dream coming true. For several nights I think all I expected was the arrival of the vice squad.

I was contacted at my office by the newspaper, and they gave me the names and numbers of the responses my ad had gotten. I was overwhelmed. There were ten responses in the New York area alone, not to mention other parts of the country. I had no idea that so many young ladies were into the same thing I am into.

A number of the girls had sent along photographs too, and I decided to check these out first, so I went down to the newspaper office and picked them up. I couldn't believe the pictures these girls had sent m!!!!

Gorgeous muff shots-I mean just the kind I like. Asses stuck in the air, big thick enema tubes piercing into their ass holes, big grins on their faces, big tits hanging down.

I immediately called one cute little girl whose name was Elena. She was only eighteen years old and she had adorable little gold freckles all over her nose and on her behind too! When she heard my voice on the phone and heard who I was, she got all excited.

"Oh! It's you. Oh! I can't wait to meet you."

Later she told me that when she was talking to me on the phone she unzipped her jeans and started diddling her pussy right then and there, because she wanted her and me to get off on a good start right from the beginning.

I have never met a girl as adorable, as energetic and feisty, who is still basically submissive. She makes it really fun to dominate over her-you have to chase her naked around the room a little bit, and she is always forever slipping her fingers down to her cute little cunny to jiggle her clit and she loves to masturbate while I watch.

Sylvia, my wife, had to go to the West Coast on business and so I had the apartment all to myself for a weekend, and I invited Elena over to come and play with me.

She arrived with her own bag of goodies, bless her sweet ass. An extremely large enema bag and very thick tube-she must have had them custom-made at some specialty shop because I have never seen such large anal equipment before.

She immediately stripped off all her clothes and she stayed naked all weekend. I did too. We never went out, and when we got hungry we sent out for pizza.

That was a very funny incident because when the boy came to deliver the pie, I opened the door and let him stand in the hallway, which looks into the living room.

I had my bathrobe on, but Elena was lying on the coffee table with her legs spread wide and tied, in the air to two lamps on opposite sides of the room. I hadn't yet tied her hands, so the little darling was naturally playing with her fingers in her pie. Her beaver was big and aroused and split open, her cunt lips stretching apart as her legs spread wide.

Her cunt was facing the boy and when I fumbled for change in my pocket I saw him staring, open-mouthed, at the happy Elena, diddling herself with her fingers. She smiled at him and waved.

He took his change and ran, but not before I saw the big pickle-shaped object pointing down one leg of his tight jeans.

I shut the door and brought the hot pie inside and put it in the oven to keep it warm for later, but Elena said she wanted some now.

So I opened the box and, sitting on her chest and feeding a big drooping slice of greasy pie into her mouth, feeling her nice big tits against my thighs, I asked her why she answered the ad of a man so much older than she.

"L like older men," she said slyly between bites of the pizza. "They turn me on more than young men-I don't know why.

They've got kinkier ideas. I guess maybe sex feels good and dirty with older men, and that's how I like it. Sex should be dirty. With younger men, sex feels too clean to me."

I grinned. I got up off her chest and tied her hands down and apart too.

"Hey!" she said. "No fair! Now I can't play with myself."

I stuffed a big slice of pizza in her mouth to shut her up and then I went around to her open and exposed rear.

I shoved another in her cunt lips pink and spread wide apart so her big red clittie was hanging out. I shoved the pizza in point first, all the way up to the crust.

"Ooooh!" she giggled and squirmed.

Then I went to the refrigerator and got out a jar of sweet pickles and brought them in to Elena. When she saw them her eyes widened. I took out the biggest one-they were the jumbo size, and held it in front of her face so she could see its size.

I went to her ass hole, squeezed it open with my fingers, and shoved the big pickle in her. Then I sat down to eat my dinner, pizza and pickles, served up a la cunt.

I had to eat through the crust first but then I got to the good part-the cheesy inner pizza, which was coming direct out of her pussy. I ate the pizza out of her pussy, eating her pussy at the same time of course. God, how she loved it!

I chomped off a bite of the pickle up her ass hole at the same time, of course.

Then I sat on her face for a while and made her lick my ass hole and balls.

She was so young, but she was so perverted, that she loved every minute of it!

I was sort of tired after all that so I amused myself with wandering around the house and collecting all of the objects-little statues, abstract art, vases, candles, all the junk that Sylvia liked to keep around the house and I brought them all back to Elena.

We had such fun seeing what she could take up her cunt, what she could take up her ass, and to tell you truth, the idea that I was taking all of Sylvia's knickknacks and putting them where they would do the most good up Elena's pussy and ass, turned me on more than anything. And Sylvia would never know.

We played like that all weekend, just doing whatever came into our minds. It was so wonderful to be able to feel that I could do anything with this feisty eighteen year old and whatever it was, she wouldn't think it sick or horrible. She had a natural enthusiasm for anything having to do with either one of her holes-including her mouth.

When I gave her an enema on Saturday night it was truly one of the most erotic experiences I have ever had. Her little anus took the thick tube with only a little forcing. It was charming the way she got all little-girlish when I told her it was time to have her behind cleaned out and she sobbed and cried a little bit and I did have to tie her down. I played with her pussy for her while the water dripped in, which of course excited and stimulated her and made it more difficult for her to keep the water in her bowels, but when we were all through and she had squirted all the water out over the side of the tub, she had a sexy sly look on her face that suggested all her little tears had been worth it.

I've got to tell you Doctor, that the suggestion of yours, about putting an ad in the paper really paid off, and I think I've made a lifetime friend with my little playmate, Elena.

CONCLUSION

Martin S.'s dilemma, or rather his unfulfilled fantasy, is not as odd or uncommon as one might think. Many men and women too, as they approach a change in life, and enter a new decade, find that the old ways they expressed their sexuality just doesn't turn them on anymore. Thus the big incidence of older women seeking out younger men, and older men having a lust for young women.

But Martin's desire to re-enact the enema scenes of his childhood reveal an honesty on the part of this middle-management executive which is certainly laudable. If we cannot bring to the fore our secret desires, they curdle inside of us, poisoning us, and who would have been surprised to read in the papers one day that Martin S. had put an end to his hated wife Sylvia-had he not followed my advice and pursued his own interests, as he has a right to do.

Thirdly, many men who have white collar jobs fantasize about their secretaries, and I think Martin brought up at least one good point-a point that has perhaps been passed over too lightly by our good friends, the feminists.

Can't we have a certain decorum in our office attire. If these lovely young women who work in offices-mainly with and for men do not want to be the objects of male lust-can't we ask them to please cover the parts of their bodies that may bring lewd suggestions to a male mind?

Martin represents one of my happier case studies. Following is one which is not so happy.

CASE HISTORY FOUR

SUBJECT: Kiki P. AGE: Thirty

INTERVIEW ONE

Kiki is a famous rock singer, whose real name I am not using, naturally. She has feathered blonde hair and the day she came to see me in my office she was dressed entirely in black leather. She wore a black leather bra piece that criss-crossed across her belly and tight black leather pants. She often appears in this attire for her performances I am told.

I have never seen her perform, I must admit, though I have become interested in seeing her act since she came to me for a consultation.

She had medium-sized, firm breasts, which nicely filled out the leather bra cups. She wore bright red lipstick on her full red lips and she had beautiful green eyes which she accentuated with light green eyeshadow extended outwards, which enhanced her cat-like appearance. She also wore black open-toed shoes, and her toes were prettily adorned with red nail polish.

She too, like many others, had heard of the investigative nature of my studies, and had voluntarily come to tell me of her erotic fantasies, which I was most interested to hear, since I knew her own person formed the basis of the erotic fantasies of many of her fans all over the world.

Dr. Lamb, it's so good of you to take this time to talk to me. I really do appreciate it. I must tell you that I really didn't come here just for the money. As you can imagine, the small payment you offer your subjects for volunteering their erotic fantasies isn't diddly-shit to me. I mean, honey, I make thirty thou for one concert alone, and that's when there's only one set to sing.

Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you, Mister Doctorman, is that me and my group-we have a problem. But I'll tell you about that later.

My fantasy, Doctorman, has got to do with outer space. I want to go see the stars! Yeah! I'd love to be sent up in a big fat, pointy silver rocket ship. I'd love to wear one of those tiny clinging suits and board the ship. Be strapped in. Hear the countdown signal, and then feel the blast-off!!!

Wow! What a thrill. Outer space, man! Send me out there!

Of course I wouldn't want to go alone. I'd have to have my afghan puppy with me, I don't go anywhere without Susu. Susu is the most adorable little puppy-though of course she's not that little. And then I'd have to have my boys along-the boys in my band.

There's Rick, Gerry, Plowman, and Pinto. I don't think Pinto would want to come. He's gets air sick. But the other guys are hip to flight.

All the boys look pretty much alike-it's the style of our group: conformity-you know? They all have slick black hair and dovetails and they all dress in black, lots of leather and stuff you know? They like to wear a lot of metal too. We're sort on into S & M scenes together. It's really a whole lot of fab fun.

I used to think S & M was sick but that was before they showed me how much fun it could be to be gang-raped by all of them after they tied me. I mean, I learned to trust them and to understand that all they were going to do was fuck me. I mean they weren't going to hurt me or anything.

When we're out on the road together, sometimes I'm the only girl around, and they all know how hot I am when it comes to screwball activity, so I just take care of all my boys. To tell the truth, I get a little jealous when any other girls start hanging around, but I guess that's one of the things I'd better be working on.

I have this dream though of a man. He's tall, and real hunky-big husky shoulders and big blue eyes. See we're looking for a new drummer-if only we could find a guy like this, who I could really fall for.

I like the real masculine type, you know, but so many of those really masculine guys these days are gay. What's a cock-hungry hetero girl to do? I ask you Doctor.

But to get back to my fantasy, say that Rick, Gerry, Plowman and this dream guy of mine-let's call him Bert-(like Reynolds, only blonde) we're all going up into outer space together.

We're all in these hot silver suits. But I get a little lonely when we're in the cabin and they close the door. Bert, my dream man, tells me not to be afraid, and I go and sit on his lap for the takeoff. There's a lot of technical stuff to do before the take-off and we all get hot and tired and bored.

I'm really curious about this brand new male and I sort of sidle over to him and lean up real close and we start to talk. I see that his cock is hard under his silver suit. I smile knowingly and gesture with my finger to come down to the lower room, and he follows me down there.

Within a matter of minutes, he's got my suit open, unzipped down to the crotch. I'm lying on this table and he's on top of me, his black and silver suit also unzipped to the crotch. His cock is huge, I pop it out and stick it in my mouth.

But he's on top of me and calling the shots.

He's fingerfucking my cunt-the bastard, while I'm taking his cock down my throat like a real pro.

I want him to eat out my cunt but I can't even say so because his fuck stick is ramming down my throat.

We hear over the loud speaker system that the ship is ready for take off.

Bert reaches over us and straps us down to the table. There we are sixty-nining when the ship's about to take off!

"10"

I take Bert's prick in my mouth and I slither my tongue all around the base of the shaft and then bring my tongue to the penis head and start sucking my way back down.

"9"

What I'm doing seems to please him for finally he takes his fingers out of my pussy and begins licking my slit.

"8"

I start to come-his tongue-work on my slit is so good, and he's got my clit throbbing.

I feel him reach for my tits and start to squeeze the nipples, pulling and twisting.

"6"

Wow! Am I turned on!

"5"

We're in this rocket pointing up into space, ready to fuck right into space and this gorgeous hunk Bert is doing a fantastic job of eating me out!

"4"

Bert's prick is really jumping in my throat like an electric wire now! "3"

I feel my cunt lips being sucked and he spears me with his tongue. "2"

With his tongue in my slit my clit stars to quiver and his shaft is vibrating in my mouth and I suck!

"I Liftoff!"

Bert shoots his scum into my throat and I drink it! I am quivering, my pussy flesh quivering all over his able tongue!

Up we shoot and soar through the atmosphere!

Although Bert just shot off in me, he is still hard we turn and twist to see out the windows as the clouds go shooting past us and then we unstrap ourselves and rush to the windows. We see the planet Earth getting smaller and smaller beneath us as we travel away. I for one have no regrets. I am on this ship with Bert, and gonna have a good time.

We go upstairs to join the boys.

They are peering out the windows too, and sending reports back to the tracking station. Soon we are in pitch black outer space, watching the stars zip by.

We take out some grass and are soon all real high.

High-that's funny! Higher than high, in outer space!

Leaning over to look out the window at the strange new world, I feel someone creep up behind me.

Suddenly I feel an hand. in my suit, unzipping the crotch, and I feel a large cock head being pressed to my ass.

"Bend over Kiki," a voice says, and I recognize Plowman. I arch my back and bend over for him, and soon he's plunging his dip stick into my asshole, parting my ass cheeks wide while I stand with my legs spread.

I hang onto the rail and watch the fucking universe zip by while Plowman sinks his cock up my ass and I feel so fucking good.

I diddle my pussy flesh while he makes my ass flow like a river-the fucking is so good and hot I quickly get all lubricated back there.

His shaft sinks into my ass meat like crazy, and pretty soon he's pushing my ass cheeks together, telling me to squeeze hard, as he going to blow.

I start to do what he says and then suddenly I hear a loud giggle and shriek behind me. I turn my head around startled.

I see another girl!

She's up on the table and her legs are spread wide. Gerry is going down on her, feeding his face in her cunt.

"Who's that?" I start to say, but Plowman is mad-I haven't been squeezing his prick or paying attention to his rhythm.

"Squeeze my fucking cock, cunt, I said!" he growls angrily, and I squeeze.

He blows his wad up my ass hole and then when his hot juice is all up my ass, and dripping out, he pulls his dick out.

"All right, who is that?" I ask angrily.

It is another girl all dressed in a silver suit like mine, but she had long brown hair and brown eyes and a sly smile.

"Thought I'd come along to for the ride, Kiki, darling," she says. "I just didn't think you could handle all these boys alone."

I am furious.

"Who let her on here?" I demand.

The boys hardly listen to me.

Rick is sucking her tits and playing with them, Plowman's eating her brown bush and Gerry kissing her mouth and jerking off with this cock, getting ready no doubt to slap it in her face.

"What's going on here!" I shout. "Don't be a pain, love," Bert comes up from behind and goosed me. "She's just a friend of mine. I have trouble being monogamous, you see, but I was going to keep her hidden away. I guess the boys found her."

"Found her indeed," I mutter, angrily. I tell you--I get jealous when I see my boys go down on anybody else but me.

"What's she got that I have, t got?" I ask enraged, stripping off my silver suit and standing up nude in all my glory-nude except for my black stockings and garter and heels. I jump up on top of the table and stand over the tacky brunette, showin him my silver blonde pussy hair in all its glory. Nobody is going to tell me that some tacky brunette can turn a man on more than the silver-haired Kiki!!!!

"What do you say to that, Carna?" Bert says laughing watching the scene from the side. Carna's under me looking up and I strut my stuff on top of her.

My boys are laughing too, amused, even though they know how mad I am.

"Shut up!" I scream. "Shut up! Shut up!" pulling my lovely blonde silver hair with my fingers, threatening to hold my breath until I turn blue and die.

Bert walks up to the table and grabs my leg.

"Let go of me!" I say.

With one strong gesture he pulls my leg down on top of me and I come tumbling down on the girl Carna.

Suddenly leather thongs appear .from nowhere and I am being tied down on top of Carna, my face near her pussy, my ass over her face.

"Stop this! Stop it! Boys! This is Kiki! You can't do this to me!" I scream and yell.

Bert is laughing to see me totally helpless, and practically naked, strapped to my rival.

"Eat her out, Carna, teach that cunt a lesson!"

"Stop it! No! I don't like women!" I scream.

But we are tied together. What can we do.?

"Come on Kiki, don't be such a bore. It will turn us all on, really it will. Do it for us," my boys say, and they all take out their pricks and show me how they are getting hard. Well the sight of all those male rods perching in the middle of all those beautiful brunette and blonde cock patches gets my juices flowing.

"Well," I say hesitantly, watching Bert's cock rise. He's got this gorgeous gold cock ring around the base of his penis and it's attached to leather thongs that criss-cross around his chest. I look down at the cunt under me-the brunette.

I am kind of sickened by the whole thing-it's not pussy I want. I AM a pussy-I want a cock! But what can I do-my boys want me to perform?

I run my fingers through the brown pussy hair and I see how the pussy mound trembles. I see how the cunt is pink where the pussy flesh goes down into the crevice and I see how the pussy lips are folding back and away, and how the very middle of the slit is very wet.

I lick it.

The boys start to murmur and I look up, they are all watching me with lewd grins on their wolfish faces.

"I don't want to," I whimper and groan. "You can't make me," I taunt.

Carna is trying to bring my ass down to her face, but I don't want her ugly tongue in my cunt! But suddenly Bert is towering over us, his prick big, and he's got a long leather whip in his hand. :

"You cunt," he says to me viciously. "You think you can get whatever you want. You think because you're so hot and sexy that you can always have things your ways. Well, maybe that's how it is with your boys-but that's not how it is with me. And I'm here to teach you what a real man is like. Now I like to watch my women eating each other. So eat!"

And he slashed me with the whip.

It fell across my naked buttocks time and time again.

"Whack!

"Whack!"

"Whack!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" I cried out in pain.

But to tell you the truth, the slapping on my buttocks from the leather thonged whip were imparting a glowing warmth to my ass cheeks which was quickly seeping down to warm up my cunt meat. Pretty soon my whole ass and cunt area were flaming hot.

I needed a tongue pretty quick to douse the flames.

Bert's whip drove my ass down to Carna's face, lying under my cunt, and she reached up and parted my pussy, opening it wide-I could feel her fingers pulling me open, and then she sank her tongue inside, and I practically fainted for joy. It felt so good!

I just wanted to lie there and relax and feel the delicious sensation of this woman's tongue work in my hot quim.

I could imagine that it was Bert this way-

I didn't have to think about it being another lady-my rival.

But they wanted me to suck her cunt too, and I still didn't want to.

"Oh, stubborn are you?" Bert said, and he moved up and applied .the tongue of the leather whip to my boobs which were squashing out from under my body as I lay strapped to Carna.

"No!!! No!!! Ow!!! Ow!!!"

He made my tits all red and hot and striped and the same thing happened. When he was through my tit mounds were seething with sex lust. My nipples were as hard as rocks.

I leaned over Carna's open cunt and I sank one aching nipple into her wet jpussy river. Then the other. Such relief.

The boys were jerking at their cocks like crazy.

"Kiki-fantastic!!"

"Wow! What a scene!"

Well finally I realized that my boys really were getting off on this scene and they really would get off on seeing me eat out this girl's cunt, so I bent my head and licked her slit. She shivered and groaned beneath me.

Suddenly I was overcome with pussy lust.

I sank my face in her cunt and started sucking.

But this wasn't good enough for that bastard Bert.

The stars were racing past us, we were winging our way to Planet X in God only knows what universe, and I was eating out his girlfriend, but it wasn't enough.

He kept strapping me with the whip.

"Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!" on my voluptuous tits and ass.

Each blow of his whip on my boobs sent my face further on into Carna's cunt slit and each blow of his whip on my ass forced my ass further down on Carna's face and tongue.

We both started trembling with liquid pussy love.

We were coming and coming strong!!!

The boys crowded in close around us to place their penises-hot and hard, on my reddened boobs and ass!! They began to stuff their cocks in our cunt holes and ass holes.

Plowman stuffed his prick into Carna's quivering cunt-which I was bringing off with my tongue and suddenly his prick was blowing its juice into her cunt while I was sucking his prick, sucking her cunt, and watching him blow in her bloated pussy flesh.

And Bert was fucking me in the ass hole while Carna kept eating me out, eating me out!!!

Oh God!! Just think what fun we could have Doctor-eating and fucking and sucking our way all the way to the moon!!!!

I love to make love in outlandish settings and situations. It really turns me on. That's just one of my sexual fantasies-to do it among the stars.

INTERVIEW TWO

When Kiki next came to see me, she was wearing an outrageous silver-spangled skin-tight jumpsuit with a zipper that went all the way down the front of her body. It was unzipped to below her navel as she sat in front of me talking.

It was very difficult to concentrate at time, on what she was saying as her round firm breasts were partially visible-the slopes of her cleavage looking soft and as silky as satin. Her soft blonde hair seemed to form a halo around her head.

Her green cat-eyes flashed as she recounted with obvious relish the experience she had had the night before at the Wintergarden.

I must admit that Kiki's scandalous appearance last night is perhaps partly my responsibility. I don't know how much of the blame I can take on myself for her show. She is basically a very egocentric, egotistical, over-indulged woman, and I doubt very much that anyone can change her mind, once she has decided what she wants to do.

The critics have hushed up the whole thing, and only some rumors have leaked out. Of course, fortunately, the performance of her and her group was a benefit performance for a private party. And her fans have come to expect the outrageous from this beautiful if spoiled performer.

I was there, I did witness what happened, but I will let her tell you in her own words as it is interesting to see how she herself perceives her performance, and how she perceives the significance of it.

Well, Dr. Lamb-I can't tell you how thrilled I am. I feel so-fulfilled!!!

And it's all because of you! I truly feel that you inspired me. I hadn't really thought out in such detail my fantasy about making it in outer space before. But after talking with you last time, I went back to the boys and had a fantastic idea.

We are getting ready to cut a new album and we have been searching for a new theme and a new look. I proposed the outer space idea-that we would all dress in silver space suits and perform in an environment that was all black with twinkles and flashes-like asteroids and stars-in the background. They loved it!

Plowman, who's our main songwriter, quickly jotted down a few songs, and as you probably know, they hit the top of the charts last week, only days after we had released them. "High Up Above Our Planet," is one. "Send Me Your Sunshine When I Get to Mars," is the other. They're really doing marvy on the charts!!!

Well, anyway, we already had a whole act planned for this benefit performance for the starving children of Southeast Asia, but when we came up with these new planetary songs and ideas,' we decided to revamp the whole show.

We got these neat costumes made and had the whole theatre painted black. Then Lenny-our fantastic lighting man-installed these little teensy blinking lights all over the walls and ceiling of the theatre, and all over the backdrop of the stage.

Then sprinkled throughout the theatre were some planets and asteroids that could be suddenly lit up-to make it seem like they were whizzing by.

There was a big red Mars on one wall, and a huge dazzling sun, and a few moons, and an absolutely gorgeous Saturn.

But the fabbest thing of all was this absolutely gorgeous rocket ship they made. Well, I know you were there, Dr. Lamb, and I hope you enjoyed those front-row seats I got you, but I want to describe it anyway. I mean-it was such a sexy rocket ship. It turns me on just to think about it.

It was so-you know-phallic!! A big huge silver prong, pointing upwards, with that fantastic nub-nosed cab on top and the big silver needle sticking out on top!!!

Didn't you think our entrance was fantastic?!? It was my idea.

I mean the way the rocket ship opened at the top and I came gliding up-there was an elevator inside-and out of the top, dressed in my silver suit with those fab silver thigh-high spiked-heel boots?!

Then the boys came up out of the top too-in their black and silver suits with their shining black hair and their black and silver boots. I really loved the way they each grabbed a rope and catapulted off the sides of the ship down to the stage.

But, really what did you think of my entrance-the way I wrapped my legs around the big dick-like ship and slid down the shaft of it?!?! Didn't you think that was marvy?!?!

Of course I just sat on this moving seat that rode me down, but I must admit I did get off-the idea of all those thousands of people seeing me slide down this big silver phallus-all those people, all those men who want me!! Watching me spread my thighs and embrace the phallus ship!!

Of course the boys and I indulged in a little warm-up foreplay inside the ship while the emcee was making the introduction. Nothing too hot or prolonged.

I just went down on each of the guys-sucked their pricks a little bit-I find it calms them down before a show and I know I couldn't go on a stage without a little soothing cocksucking first. Also, after I had eased each of the boys' big pricks down my throat and massaged the heads of their penises with the back of my throat, I got out my "Entertainer" vibrator-the jumbo size, and I just unzipped my suit just a little farther so I could get at my pussy.

Then just as the emcee was starting to say, "So I know you'll all give a big welcome to...."

"I was playing the head of the dildo vibrator into my wet pussy lips, massaging my cunt and really getting off-I love to masturbate right before I go on-and even as the elevator was lifting me towards the head of the shaft I kept diddling my cunt with the firm head of the dildo.

At the last moment I threw it away, and appeared-gorgeous, breathtaking, startling in my exotic beauty-to the applause of thousands.

After sliding down the shaft of the ship, I took my place center stage and the band picked up the hard driving beat of our first number-"Ship me to Your Skies," and I started to sing.

Oh-I forgot to tell you about Norberto, our new drummer.

We found him at the last minute, really by chance. It's one of those incredible success stories-because he fit in so perfectly with our group, and he knew just what we were driving at. He has a great instinct for soul and disco.

And gosh!! He's so dreamy looking too. He's got this fantastic black hair that's long and curly in front as it droops over his forehead and is kind of short like a spic haircut in back. Well, he is a spic of course. He doesn't say too much-in fact, I think right up to the show that night he hadn't said a word to me.

He doesn't have much trust in dames-I heard him telling Plowman.

Anyway, the boys were beating out their stuff on the guitars and Plowman was outdoing himself on the organ. Norberto was drumming up a humdinger of a storm on the drums.

The lights were flashing on and off all around the theater and the audience was loving it. When I started to sing, in my deep sexy voice, I got all hot, just hearing myself. I started swivelling my hips and gyrating.

There was a part where I sing alone with no music behind me except for the drums, and I went over to stand in front of Gerry, who had his guitar hanging at his side. He started pretending to hump me, and our hips gyrated together as I sang out the pounding beat. I could feel his cock hard-pushing against my ass, into my ass crack, and God! how horny I was!

You know the part at the end of the song when there was a big drum solo? I read in the papers the next morning how everyone thought that was really fantastic the way I let each of the players play alone for a bit-sort of like jazz riffs. Well, all that was totally unplanned. It just happened!!!!

I just got so hot and horny I couldn't stand it. First I was rubbing up against Gerry's cock, then I moved and stood in front of Ricky. His groin kept rubbing, rubbing against my ass and I wanted some cock! When I went and sat on Plowman's lap while he pounded the keys, I thought I was going to die, I was so hot.

And then I looked back at Norberto, who never even talked to me. And then I knew who it was I really wanted, who I was really hot for. It was like all this time I had been trying to keep it a secret from myself, but I couldn't any longer.

Still singing, I just went and stood in front of him-he was working on a platform raised above all the others.

I faced him, with my back to the crowd, and started shaking and jiggling my ass. I could feel the crowd screaming behind me and I could even hear some people starting to scream: "Take it off! Take it off!"

In fact I thought I heard your voice, Dr.

Lamb, coming from the front row-you were right in line with the microphones.

Norberto's eyes were right on me the whole time-while he kept drumming without losing a single beat. And I kept singing, but I started to unzip my suit all the way.

I turned around and started to dance and shake my tits which had come loose from my suit and were dangling free. I just felt so loose and free last night-like I've never felt before.

The top of my pussy hair was showing, I know, but I didn't care. I stuck my finger down into my clump and started frigging myself--it made my rhythm much better and my voice dropped in pitch-down to the sexiest notes I've ever hit. The crowd was going wild-over me!!! My crotch was jerking and they could see what I was doing.

Gosh!!! I love' to masturbate in public!!! I love to have people love to watch me turn myself on!!!! It turns me on!!!! It really does!!!!

I put my hands down to the lowest part of my zipper-my zipper just didn't open wide enough-and I ripped the fabric of the suit open.

The crowd screamed when I did that and I saw people starting to faint!!

I was jerking my naked pussy back and forth, with one finger stuck directly in my wet cunt wiggling and jerking and frigging clearly for all to see.

The fabric had split up my ass too, so when I turned around to face Norberto again, my fleshy pink ass cheeks too were naked and exposed. I strutted my stuff, as I walked up to the man I wanted to claim. His eyes stared directly into mine but his look was cruel and impassive. As if he didn't give a shit about me, as if he hardly knew I existed.

His legs were spread wide as he whipped his sticks on his skins and poured out a pounding symphony of jungle rhythm.

.....He's really a genius, I think!!!

I slithered up under his drums and started squeezing and caressing his thighs and kissing them. He was the only one in the group who had refused to wear silver. He was all dressed in black. Leather of course. I squeezed and touched the silky smooth black leather and my pussy was creaming into my space suit.

I saw the big bulge grow in his pants and I didn't see how he could keep all that cramped in there. His black leather pants fit him like a second skin, and his cock bundle is really huge, Doctor! I've never seen anything like it before!!!

I opened his zipper-it slid down smooth as honey and then his huge prick was sticking out, pointing right at me. He kept up a steady rhythm with his drums.

Well, in a second, as I kneeled in front of him, with my pink buttocks to the crowd, my mouth was down on his cock and I was sucking for all I was worth, while one hand kept my pussy happy and hot and wet. I love the feel of that man's prick head!!

You know what I mean? For me, the size of the head of a prick is almost as important as the length of the shaft, and Norberto has a big head on his prick!!!

I shoved it down into my mouth!! I , clamped my lips around his shaft and he started pushing his prick down my throat while he drummed up a storm, and I sucked and I sucked!

All the guys in the band saw what I was doing---well everyone saw and everyone was loving it!!! I always have been in the forefront of avant-garde pop music.

As Norberto was pounding his prick into my face, and I was opening my mouth wide and loving it, I suddenly sensed a presence behind me and suddenly I felt and hand feeling the crack under my ass, and I recognized Gerry's big thick fingers.

Then I felt him placing the head of his prick-his prick head is nice and long and pointed-though not as big and fat as Norberto's-into my cunt.

I let my own hands slip away as I knew Gerry wanted to fuck my from behind.

I spread my knees wide to take Gerry's cock in my cunt while I continued to suck off Norberto.

The drum solo was over and the boys picked up on their guitars. Their was a pounding finish, and I want yo to know who enjoyed it the most!!!!

Fucking A!!! Man, it was me!!! My cunt was being royally served by Gerry's prick slithering in and out of my cunt with a pounding electric beat while Norberto was driving his steel-headed prick down my throat and I took it.

The final notes of the song are just supposed to be a riotous crescendo!! They were!!!

Norberto pumped his come down my throat as he pounded his drums and his feet were going wild on the percussion. And simultaneously, Gerry's cock double-pumped his load of hot sperm straight up into my gyrating pussy!!!

My cunt has never done such acrobatic spasms since I first started balling, Doctor, and that was quite a few years ago, when I was fourteen.

I stood up when the number was over to turn around and take my applause. Not everybody has the guts to do what I did!! I had to lick my lips to pick up a few drops of Norberto's come that was spilling down my face, and I guess I had a big grin on my face because the whole crowd was cheering like mad!! I saw the photos they took of that finale!!

There was even sperm drooling out of my wet beaver as I stood there with my legs spread and my arms raised, accepting the homage of my fans.

I noticed that I had inspired several people in the audience to sexual stimulation which they decided to fulfill-I read about in the papers too!!

Apparently an imminent psychologist had led it off by attacking the girl sitting next to him in the front row-tearing open her clothes and going down on her while she screamed to me, and then, raping her right in front of the whole crowd.

That wouldn't have been you by any chance, Dr. L., would it?

The whole show was a huge success-we made almost a million dollars for the starving kids of Asia-and they say we've inspired a whole new wave of music-explicit sex rhythms, they're calling it!!! I love being in the front line!!

Thank you, Doctor, thank you, for bringing the real me up out of myself.

CONCLUSION

The first thing I would like to say is that my publisher promised me that the last part of Kiki's interview would be excised from this text, and he obviously has not kept that promise. So I would like to take the opportunity to explain fully that I did not, in any way, shape or form, do what is described above.

I never attacked any woman in public, and I certainly did not rape any woman at that concert. I was sitting next to a highly attractive youngster in an extremely short suggestive mini-skirt, wearing practically nothing on top but a see-through blouse.

She made forward suggestions to me all evening long, distracting my attentions from the show, and was really quite a nuisance.

I called the ushers and told them she was very disruptive, but they told me there was nothing they could do, as audiences in rock concerts are supposed to be disruptive.

Towards the end of the act, when Kiki had climbed onto the drummer's platform and her head was jerking back and forth right over his crotch-(that's all I could see from where I sat), this young woman next to me suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me on top of her. It was then I saw that her skirt was up and she was wearing no panties of any sort underneath. She forced my head down into her genitals and I almost smothered as she kept my head down there, as she writhed and twitched with her legs spread wide open.

I managed to jerk my head up finally, and I looked around to see what was happening on stage. It was then I saw that one of the members of the band, one of the guitar players had come up from behind Kiki and appeared to be humping her.

(All I could see was that his backside and hips were jerking upwards-as if driving a long cock into her raised and naked butt.)

While my head was turned, this young woman grabbed for me again, jerked open my pants tearing them (and I was wearing a very expensive pair of jeans), and pulled out my genitals. In another instant, before I knew what was happening, she had pulled me down on top of her again, and my genitals-naturally-sank right into hers.

There was absolutely nothing I could do about it after that.

One of her girlfriends had gotten on top of me, so I couldn't get up and I was forced to ride out this girl's spasms, as the spectacular finale crashed on all around us. The newspaper accounts and the rumors that I attacked and raped a girl in the front row are, therefore, entirely false. If anything, it was quite the opposite-she attacked and raped me.

Now that I have cleared the score on that matter, let me make my analysis of Kiki's sexual fantasies, and the way in which she went about realizing them in real life.

Kiki, as I have mentioned earlier, has an ego typical of many entertainers, especially those in the rock business. She is spoiled and she is totally in love with herself.

She gets off mainly when she is on stage, and the fact that, as she herself says-she gets off most on masturbating in public is most revealing.

One advantage of being in the entertainment business, and especially in the extravagant rock business, is that people in this industry can act out their fantasies to a much greater extent than people in other walks of life.

As Kiki points out, her fans expect it of her. They expect her to be wild and outrageous, to do for them what they cannot do for themselves.

That her fantasies should have penetrated and permeated her act is most natural, and I am happy that the whole thing was such a big success, though I take little personal credit for the success myself. My job is only to help people bloom, to water their desires and sprinkle fertilizer on their dreams. They do the rest, however.

Nobody can make your dreams come true but yourself.

CASE HISTORY FIVE

SUBJECT: Lana A. AGE: Sixteen

INTERVIEW ONE

Lana is a very healthy-looking young girl, in fact it could be said that she personifies the healthy young American girl look.

Her hair is long and straight and shiny-clean, and a pretty shade of light brown. She wears it parted in the middle, and hanging down over her breasts which are small, perhaps, but very firm and round as apples.

She was dressed in tight blue jeans and brown cowboy boots and she wore a tight pink sweater on top. She wore almost no make-up.

Perhaps she was wearing a little blush-it was hard to tell, as the day she came to see me it was quite cold outside and the blush may have been her skin's natural healthy reaction to the chill cold. She carried a pair of ice skates-beautiful white figure skates with gleaming mirror-like blades, over her shoulder. She put these down on the floor by her side as she began to talk.

I'm one of the ones who didn't go, Dr. Lamb. I'm talking about Lake Placid of course. You know, sometimes I think it's really sick the way we're taught only to compete, but my coach, Mr. Birch, Tom Birch, says I only feel that way because I don't have what it takes to be a winner, but I don't know.

I guess you could say I've been pretty depressed lately.

I made it all the way to the finals, but then I just didn't place.

You know I've been training for the Olympics ever since I was a little girl.

My Mom bought me my first pair of figure skates when I was two, right when I first learned to walk, and I've been skating and training ever since.

My Mom was once an Olympic skater. She was born in Romania and skated for that country and won a bronze medal. But then she met my father, at the games. He was an American and she fell in love with him and married him and came to this country, and had me, and pretty much gave up her career though she still loves to skate. I guess she's always had high hopes for me, that I would win the gold medal one day.

She's been pestering me to tell her what went wrong that day at the finals, but I can't tell her. Because I guess it was pretty evident that something was wrong. My performance wasn't np to par at all. But I haven't been able to tell anybody about it.

That's why she suggested I come to see you. I resisted for a long time, but, well, here I am finally. I don't know, it's kind of hard for me to talk about what's been going on in my head these last few months, but I'll try.

You know, when you're in training for something as serious as the Olympic games-well, you don't grow up like other kids do. I mean, your whole life is always geared for the goal-the big dream. I spent all my afternoons after school working out at the rink. Weekends too, and vacations.

Vacations I'd just go to some winter resort with my parents and work out, and practice, and skate, skate, skate, skate. Then I got started working regularly with my coach, Tom.

He's had a lot of faith in me and I know I've really let him down.

It all started when I met Leonard, last winter.

My father is a skier (silver medal for downhill racing). Last winter we all went to the Alps so he could ski and I could skate.

Tom came too, to work out with me. Tom's a real sweetheart. He's about fifty, and he's a real pro. He's got greying hair and sort of a thick body. You wouldn't think he'd be as agile as he is, but you should see him on the ice.

I had a brand new skating outfit that I was working in-it was bright red with a white ermine fur trim around the short skirt and V-neck. It was the sexiest thing I had ever worn, but my mother said it was time I started playing up my looks--start looking like a woman. In a way that's pretty funny.

You see, I'm a virgin. It's very embarrassing.

I've never even kissed a boy-I mean with tongues, you know? What they call French kissing I think. But I've never had time for parties and dating.

I don't even have many girlfriends to talk to. I mean, when I hear girls my age talking-they all sound so experienced, and I just assume they really have had a lot of experience, and gone all the way with guys. But I really just don't know.

But I really loved the new little red skating skirt, with its short flirty hem. The panties that were attached underneath the skirt were also bright red and very tight-clinging like a leotard.

Well, the first day we were at this resort in the French Alps, I suited up and put on my skates and tested the rink. It was a good one, nice and large, and not too many people on it. I always went real early in the morning, to practice by myself for a while before Tom came out to help me. They opened the rink at 6:30 in the morning, especially for me. Well, that first day I saw this stunning young man skating on the rink all by himself.

He wore this sleek set of leotards-in light brown so they almost blended in with the color of his skin. He had sleek brown hair and piercing black eyes. He looked foreign.

His style was beautiful. He glided around the rink effortlessly, executing the most difficult moves without looking as if he were even trying.

A light gold chain hung around his neck and his skates were shiny black.

I just watched him for a while wondering who he was, and then I tested out the ice for myself, trying a few of my own moves.

I did all my usual stuff-pirouettes with my leg raised high and my back arched, some new spins I was working on-one where I bend over and hold on to my ankles while I spin around-all that stuff.

I kept looking up at the beautiful young man skating all by himself down at the other end of the rink, and hoping he would look up at me and notice me, but he never did.

Well, I found out all about him from the rink attendants. He was a French skater, and was considered a hopeful for the gold medal at Lake Placid.

I started having fantasies about him-imagining that one morning, as the two of us worked out alone, he would skate up to me and introduce himself.

I wanted him to be attracted to me as I was to him. I wanted him to invite me to have lunch with him in his lodge. I imagined him being enchanted with me, as I was with him, and I imagined that maybe we would fall in love.

Maybe we would go out to the movies at night together, and when he took me home he would hold me for one moment, in front of the door where I was staying. My heart would be pounding knowing this was going to my first kiss. Then he would press his lips against mine and suddenly I would feel his wet tongue pressing my lips apart, and I would open my lips slightly and then we would be kissing, fully and deeply, just as I have always longed to do.

After that, every morning on the ice would be our special time together.

We would start working as a team, him showing me things and teaching me and perfecting my form. My heart Would pound and throb as he wrapped his arms gently around me and our bodies touched, his long sleek chest and groin and thighs gently pressing against my back and buttocks as he led me through a beautiful pas de deux.

His hand would be firmly around my waist ... and then I started imagining sexual things. Well, I mean, I started hating going out at night with my parents. I felt like such a jerk going around with them like I was still a kid, so I stayed in our room when they went out. I couldn't bear the idea of Leonard seeing me witn my parents and I fantasized that maybe he would come to my room while they were out.

I never used to do those things that girls always talk about-play with yourself and stuff I mean. But when my parents left me alone, I would get undressed and spread my legs and get a mirror and watch what happened when I put my finger into my-you know-vagina, and played with myself.

It got so I had to do that every night. It just felt so good, I couldn't get through the day unless I knew I was going to have my little honey at the end of the day.

All I did was finger myself-a whole lot. I had seen a book in the drug store called "Oral Sex." I bought it and took it out when I was alone and fingering my pussy while watching how my pussy would kind of open up and get all wet.

The book was very informative-with pictures and all, and I imagined that Leonard would come to my room and put his mouth to my crotch and lick my wet little beaver with his tongue. I was kind of scared thinking about the other part of that-when the woman has to take the man's penis and stuff it down her throat.

I mean I just don't see how it could fit. In the pictures, the man's penis disappeared all the way down the woman's throat until her face was flat against his balls-so I didn't think about this much.

But then I started having really kinky fantasies.

I'm embarrassed to tell you....They were, like, that I would go to the skating rink early one morning in my ermine-rimmed red suit and bright white skates, but that I had forgotten to put on my red panties.

I imagined how I would be skating and doing pirouettes and raising my leg-and looking really good as I bent way over and did my hands-on-my-ankles spins.

Leonard would come up behind me and watch my cunt spinning around until I came out of the spin. Then when I stood up slowly he would put one hand around my waist, as we started to dance together on the ice, and his other hand would get lost in my cunt, as he fingered me just as I used to do to myself.

In my imagination it was wonderful the way this happened. We would be skating and my cunt would be throbbing as he fingered and stroked in and out of my wet slit.

I felt as if I had never skated so well.

Then he would squat down on the ice and I would put my hands on his shoulders and he propelled us forwards, as he ate out my cunt!!!!

I closed my eyes and glided across the ice feeling free and easy as my cunt was stroked by his tongue and sucked by his mouth, and I spread my legs wide apart and enjoyed it!!

Another time I imagined how, growing more familiar with each other, and sensing I was ready for it, Leonard would watch me skating, without my panties and then, he would come skating up to me to join with me in our dance.

My leg would be raised high, my cunt pink and glistening. As he fitted his body against mine, my back and buttocks to his groin, I would feel this long hard thing-his stiff prick. He would take it out and insert it into my cunt and slowly, as we skated, he would draw his stiff prick in and out of my cunt.

It was wonderful!!!

We developed many new routines based on this new "movement" of ours. He would swing my cunt up off his prick and then swing me in between his legs, and I would go down on his prick long and hard with my mouth. Then he would swing me back up and I would land on his cock again with my cunt.

Or I would swing up and hook my legs over his shoulders, while I was still impaled on his prick and my head would hang down and my tits, and he would caress my tits while I jerked my hips up and down on his prick, my cunt getting a real prick full, then again I would swing down and we would just skate smoothly, tight against each other, my leg raised high, my back arched high, our bodies connected where his cock penetrated my split wet beaver. I got off so many times on this wonderful fantasy.

Well, the trouble began when I couldn't stop thinking about this fantasy.

Early in the mornings, on the ice alone with that man I'd never even said one word to, I couldn't even skate for watching him. I'd judged, by carefully looking at his groin area, that he was pretty well hung. There was a big bulge under his leotard where his genitals were.

It got so I'd have to leave the ice and sit down in the bleachers and just watch him, and of course, I was fingering myself, under my panties as he glided by, and I smiled at him.

Well after that, my concentration was just about shot.

I couldn't do anything right, and Tom attributed it to nervousness. You see, the final competitions were right after that, and I failed miserably.

I only got four and fives in the judging.

My mother was hysterical, Tom was upset, and so was I too, but what could I do? Every time I raised my leg to the judges, I thought of my cunt-of Leonard eating me, fingering me, sliding his cock into me as we glided along.

I haven't even been skating since then. Like I say, I've been in this terrible depression.

So finally my mother convinced me to come and talk to you.

Well, I'm here, but I don't know what good it can do.

I've lost my chance to be at Lake Placid, and really for a figure skater, I'm getting pretty old. I may not have the chance again. If you know what I mean.

CONCLUSION

Dana is a sad little girl. Dedicated to her work, she has never had time to be a kid, or a young woman. All this has caught up with her, as it inevitably must.

Of course, it is obvious what she needs. A lover. Someone to care for her and restore her image of herself as capable of inspiring love.

At this moment, however, I cannot say how her story will turn out. She abruptly ended our therapy after this first session. I learned later that she had changed her coach as well. Olga Kleb, legendary coach of the East German teams throughout the late seventies, now emigrated to the USA, had taken her on, it seems. And she had assumed more than a professional role in the girl's life. Is this bout of lesbianism simply a phase that she must pass through? I, for one, cannot say. She was such a gorgeous girl ... ah well. I can only think of the words of Henry Miller-"Nothin's more depressing than the sight of two women rolling naked together on the floor, getting nowhere."

THE END
Women's Secret Lusts ....(64k)    by Unknown




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~







.....12422 home .....12424








---

	"Double for Nothing!! Tricks for Free!!!"™ A MrDouble Production: mrdouble

Page Design Copyright � 1998-2014, Mr Double, ALL Rights Reserved    
Stories Copyright respective authors.