The female child is not in our society a standard of feminine sexual beauty. She therefore hardly faces the erotic risk of gracing men's magazine centerfolds.
It would be safe, therefore, to say that the sex desires of older men toward these girls are abnormal in nature, stemming from strange and perverted appetites. Usually they are classified as criminals.
This study deals with those men in our society who crave female children as sex objects.
INTRODUCTION
The novel Lolita was first published in Paris in 1955, with United States publication following three years later. The book was beautifully written, indicating that the author, Russian novelist Vladimir Nabokov, was a master of English, a language not native to him. The book described in some detail the love affair between a middle-aged man and a twelve-year-old girl.
Because of the subject matter, reactions were immediate and varied. Some called it obscene. Others called it a classic. Some felt it was the funniest book they'd read in years. Others were shocked and disgusted by it.
In any event ,the work introduced two fresh new words to the English language--"nymphet" and "Lolita-ism." Prior to this literary invention, the word "pedophilia" had been used to describe the sexual intimacies that took place between an adult male and a non-adult girl. While suitable for the purpose, the word was technically inaccurate, since the word referred literally to sexual behavior with a young boy.
In the book, Lolita was a gangling, knobby-kneed little girl with little or no breasts. The subsequent movie based on the novel aged her several years, placing curves in all the right places apparently so the average moviegoer could have greater empathy with Humbert Humbert who desired the young girl.
The change was a practical one. A girl of twelve is a child. A sixteen-year-old girl, if not exactly an adult, not exactly a child either. It is difficult for normal segments of the population to understand why an older man would be sexually interested in r, pre-pubescent female, who is generally an awkward combination of spindly arms and legs. But a sixteen-year old girl is another matter; in most instances, she is little different physically from an eighteen or even a twenty-one year old. In fact, if the average male is not aware that the girl is going to high school, or if he has no access to information which will tip him off to her true age, many a teen-ager will appear to be much older. It seems this is especially so today, when young girls are allowed to wear makeup at an early age, to wear clothing which emphasizes their bodies, and to do modern dances which are definitely sexual in nature.
As far as outward appearance is concerned, the underage girl often presents herself as a sexual target for men of all ages. Since there is physiologically little or no difference between an "old" minor and a "young" adult, the desire a normal male may feel at the sight of a sexy young female is understandable. After all, what significant change can there be to a young girl within a week of being an adult and that same girl a week later when she reaches her majority.
The change, of course, is strictly a legal one. A man may engage in sexual intercourse with a young girl who has just legally "come of age" and have no fears, whereas if he had done the same thing a week earlier he would be branded a sex criminal, charged with statutory rape, tried, convicted, and sent to prison. The late Dr. Kinsey's Institute for Sex Research reports the case of a man who engaged in sexual intercourse with a teen-age prostitute of fifteen who looked several years older. Despite her appearance or her profession, the man was arrested and convicted of statutory rape!
In our society, the pre-pubescent female is hardly the standard of feminine beauty. The average twelve-year old girl is in little danger of gracing the color centerfolds of men's magazines. It would be safe to say, then, that the desires of older men toward girls this young stems from abnormal sexual appetites.
The problem is different with the older girl, the one who has developed breasts, whose body has rounded and filled out, who has a growth of pubic hair as her badge of womanhood. In these instances, while the male desire may be understandable and even normal, any sexual behavior with these girls is illegal, and most men hold these desires in check; consequently, it would also be reasonable to assume that a male who actively pursues underage females despite (or perhaps because of) the illegality of the act, has abnormal sexual desires.
In our present study we shall treat of both problems.
It has been truly said that a sexual crime against an innocent child is one of the most heinous of anti-social behaviors. The subject is a touchy one. A number of people try to ignore it, possibly thinking that by doing so the problems will magically disappear. Others have preconceived notions about child molestation, youthful sexual behavior, incest and so forth which does not conform to reality and thus makes it all the more difficult to understand and to cope with difficulties of this type. In fact, it is an unfortunate truth that a parent will frequently compound a traumatic situation or even create one which did not previously exist.
Information for the case histories which follow has been gleaned from many sources: court records; interviews with young girls and their parents; talks with law enforcement officials, doctors and psychologists; and case histories of psychiatric patients and persons serving time in prisons as sex offenders.
The cases will probably shock and offend some people. This is unfortunate, but the fault lies with the people and not with the facts they refuse to acknowledge. "The Lolita Complex" is very strong in our society due to a number of factors which we shall explore in considerable detail.
It is our sincere hope that this study may shed some light on a very current and very serious problem--increasing sexual behavior between the older man and the young girl. Perhaps with this volume, parents, their youngsters, and the potential sex offenders themselves may be forewarned of dangers involved and may guard against them, and we as a society may more fully understand the makeup of the person who uses these innocents as sexual objects to satisfy his (or her) abnormal desires for gratification.
CHAPTER ONE - The Child Molesters
There are men in this world who, when the sex urge strikes them, are primarily interested in reaching orgasm and will use any warm-blooded animal to attain this goal. While they may prefer a particular type of sexual partner, they will take whatever is convenient--male, female, young, old, human or non-human.
Oddly enough, this blatant disregard for the age, the sex, and even the species of the sexual partner, is not necessarily biologically pathological, for there is much precedent in the animal world, especially among the monkeys, for this behavior. It is a situation in which the goal is the important thing--orgasm--and any means to this end is perfectly acceptable.
In man, however, the situation is complicated by a greater development of the psychological processes, and by society's mores concerning what is right and what is wrong, which the man allows (often subconsciously) to color his feelings about the behavior. In some cases, in which the man is a psychopath, he will be amoral and not let it disturb him in the slightest; he's enjoyed the experience, and that's that. In others--particularly the opportunists who act on impulse--guilt feelings can be so strong as to seriously hamper their abilities for everyday living and results in their going to the analyst's couch for relief.
One such instance was that of a young man of twenty-eight, whose compulsive behavior made his going to a psychiatrist mandatory. He was quite free about discussing the matter, apparently believing (along with his doctor) that confession was good for the soul.
"I'd never had much of a sex life before getting married," he said. "In college, a few of the girls would put out for me, but I was never the aggressive one. The girl would really have to want it, and she'd do all the pushing. Actually, I didn't mind that, because it made me feel good that she'd go after me and take what she wanted.
"I remember one of the girls went down on me for the first time." He closed his eyes and shivered at the memory. "I still have dreams about that, it was so great. I was in college and I'd just gone out on a date with this girl who the other guys said was an easy lay.
"We parked up on a hill looking out over the lights of the city, and we started doing some heavy necking. I put my hand in her blouse under the bra and started massaging her breast. I could feel the nipple hardening against my palm, and I started getting excited. But when I went to put my hand on her leg, she stopped me. I told her to come on, that I was so excited I couldn't sit still. She said she was sorry, but she was having her period and couldn't do it.
"I was pretty disappointed, I tell you. I'd really been looking forward to having sex with her in the back seat of the car, and then I wondered if some of the guys hadn't urged me into the date as a practical joke, knowing this would happen.
"She must've seen the look on my face, because she reached down and patted me there and said, 'You poor guy.' But sympathy wasn't what I wanted. I was stiff as a board, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. But she smiled and said, 'Don't worry, I'll take care of you.' She reached over and unzipped my fly, reached in and took it out. I thought at first she was going to masturbate me, and I figured that would be something anyway, even though it wouldn't be like the real thing.
"She held onto me with one hand and sort of slid her fingers up and down while she scrunched around on the seat and then bent over my lap. At first I didn't know what she was doing. I could feel her hot breath on me, and then her tongue flicked out and touched the tip of my penis. I stiffened--in more ways than one--and then her whole mouth went down over me.
"I swear I nearly went out of my mind. I thought I was going to go right through the roof of the car. All I could see was the back of her head bobbing up and down in my lap, but I could feel plenty. She really knew what she was doing, all right. I could feel the sharp edges of her teeth scraping against my skin, and that hot little tongue of hers kept moving all over the place. I think I came bigger than I ever had in my life, and I was still sweating a half hour afterward. When I went back to the frat house and told the guys about it, they were pretty envious. I had a couple of dates with her after that, but not as many as I wanted to. After word got around that this chick had a specialty, she was even more popular than usual.
"After I got out of college, I dated quite a bit, but a lot of the girls wouldn't do that with me. A lot of them thought it was dirty, or they felt squeamish about it, even when I showed them sex manuals that said it was perfectly normal. Finally, I met Emily, my wife. We had sex a few times before we were married, but I was always too bashful to bring up the subject of what I really wanted her to do. I thought that after we were married, it would just naturally come about. But it didn't. After a while, I rot up enough nerve to ask her to do it, but she refused, so I had to settle for it the regular way. Then she got pregnant and had our little girl Melissa. We couldn't have sex for awhile after the little girl was born, so I went to a prostitute, who used her mouth on me. It had been quite a while since anyone did that, and I'd almost forgotten how great it was. So every once in a while, I'd go to a call girl just for that purpose. It was fun, of course, but I still resented the fact that my own wife wouldn't do it.
"I hoped little Melissa wouldn't grow up to be so narrow-minded. And when I got this crazy idea. I remember it was when she was about seven or eight months old and Emily was out shopping and I was feeding the baby. I was giving her a bottle, and she was sucking on it like crazy, and I got to thinking that someday instead of a rubber nipple, she'd be working on something a lot tastier.
"Right about then is when I got the idea. Emily wouldn't do it, so why not Melissa the daughter to make up for her mother's lack of feeling and imagination? After all, what harm would it do. The kid was too young to know the difference, too young to remember it, and too young to tell anybody about it. It was the perfect setup, and if it didn't work out, why I didn't have to do it again.
"Still the idea, exciting though it was, bothered me. It just didn't seem like the right thing to do with a little girl. But then, I argued back, I was her own father, her own flesh and blood, and who had a greater right to affection from his daughter?
"Anyway, the idea got me so excited that I found I had an erection, and you know the old saying about it not having a conscience. I figured Emily was good for another half hour at least, leaving me with enough time to experiment. So I put Melissa on the bed and took the bottle from her. I guess she was sill hungry, because she started crying and reaching out for a bottle and making those sucking motions with her lips. I knew it was now or never, so I unzipped and moved over beside the bed, bringing myself closer and closer until--"Well, Melissa thought it was the nipple of her bottle, just as I thought she would, and she began behaving accordingly. If I had any doubts up till then, they were dispelled now. She clutched me with one tiny hand and kept moving her lips and mouth in that motion, and I thought I was going to let loose any second. So I backed off, but she started crying again, so I moved in. She wasn't getting any nourishment, but I remembered from a psychology course I took that babies derive enjoyment from the sucking motions themselves.
"Well, I didn't know about Melissa, but I knew damn well that I was getting a kick out of it. I didn't know if it was right or wrong, but I didn't care either--at least not then I didn't. Finally, I came. It must have scared her, because she kept crying even more. I did my best to clean her up in a hurry. I did, and was giving her the bottle again when Emily came home. My wife didn't suspect anything, of course, but I found myself feeling guilty about what I'd done. I rationalized it as an experiment, as something which probably others had done, and I convinced myself that I hadn't done any harm to anyone anyway. But I did decide never to do it again."
He paused and seemed reluctant to go on, so the doctor prompted: "And did you do it again?"
He sighed, as though relieved that the question had been asked. "Yes, of course I did. Why not? The opportunity was there. I tried not to, but I kept thinking about how great it was. Emily wouldn't do it for me, and this was keeping it in the family at least; that was better than going out to a prostitute.
"Another time Emily went out to the laundry, so I did it then. It got so that I was even suggesting places for her to go, so I could be alone to do it. One night I'd sent her out to a movie, but I didn't know that she felt guilty about me staying home with the kid so much and so she changed her mind and came right on back. I was so busy with Melissa that I didn't hear the front door open and close. I had my eyes closed and was trying to hold off.
I must've heard her gasp, because when I opened my eyes I looked over at the door--and there was Emily just standing there, with her mouth open, her face looking shocked, not moving.
"I guess the sight of her there watching me must've excited me even more, because automatically I let go. That seemed to shake my wife out of her trance, because she started calling me every name she could think of. She said I was perverted, and that I ought to be locked up for what I'd done to an innocent child. I was embarrassed, sure, but I was mad, too, so I started shouting at her. I told her it was her fault because she wouldn't do it for me and so she had no one to blame but herself.
"Then I stamped out of there and slammed the door shut. I went to a bar and started to get drunk. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, but after awhile I decided that Emily was right. It was a rotten thing for me to do, no matter what. So I went home to beg her forgiveness and to tell her that I'd never do it again.
"When I got there, she wasn't in a talking mood. I said I was sorry anyway and went through the entire humble act, without her saying a word. By that time, I'd had too much to drink to give it a second try, so I just undressed and flopped into bed, and fell asleep. It must have been about three in the morning when I woke up in the darkness and had this strange wonderful feeling. I had an erection and someone--in the dark I could tell it was Emily--was bending over it doing everything she could. She wasn't very good, probably from lack of experience, but at least she was trying. I didn't know whether or not she'd be self-conscious if she knew I was awake, so I pretended I was still in a drunken sleep.
"I was feeling pretty good, though, I tell you. I really looked forward to Emily doing this for me a lot in the future. Maybe she was doing it just to keep me away from Melissa. That was okay. I didn't care why she did it, as long as she did it. Finally, I stiffened and came, then settled back with a sigh of relief. Then Emily went into the bathroom and got sick...
"After that, our sex life improved. At least mine did. Emily did what I wanted, but I could tell she didn't like it, and that bothered me a lot. I thought she'd get used to it, but she didn't. Afterwards, she'd always go into the bathroom and get sick. Her martyr act began to annoy the hell out of me, and I started to resent her doing it to me because I knew what her attitude was. At least, when it was all over with, Melissa didn't act like I was the dirtiest person on earth.
"By this time several months had passed, and Emily relaxed her vigil and let me stay with the kid more. Melissa was walking around now, not too steadily, and one time she stopped right between my legs as I was sitting down and reached out to keep herself from falling. Emily was out at the store, and I got this idea I hadn't had in a long time. Before I could change my mind, I had unzipped.
"Melissa was surprised to see it pop out at her. She was at just the right height. She thought it was some kind of toy I'd been hiding, and she reached out and started playing with it. Well, you can imagine what effect that had on me! And then she did what she did with all her playthings--she put it in her mouth... " He sighed. "So there I was, hooked again. I think it was partly the innocence of the child that got me. She was doing something most people would consider vulgar, perhaps even dirty, but she had no realization of this. That seemed to make the act all the sexier. But this time the taste of it didn't seem to agree with her, so I invented a new kind of treat by taking butter or jam and smearing it lightly on me to make the confection more appetizing. I didn't do it very often at first, remembering the first discovery, but then I got bolder--and of course was discovered a second time.
"Emily threatened me with divorce and said she would bring out all the facts in court. I couldn't take that. So I agreed to an alternative--to go to a psychiatrist to try and cure myself of the habit. Meanwhile, I'm never allowed alone with Melissa any more."
---
The traditional guilt-anxiety complex was evident in this subject, complete interestingly enough with the somewhat cliched but nevertheless psychiatrically valid compulsive behavior involving the repeated washing of one's hands with invisible water, denoting the desire to cleanse one of guilt feelings. After the confession, he did seem somewhat relieved, but as in the case with the psychiatric sessions the relief was only a temporary thing. There is obviously more to his motivations than the rationalizations he offered that he desired fellatio his wife had refused to give it to him, so he chose a substitute who represented her. Only many hours on the clinical couch will bring to light the correct answer, and hopefully a cure of his unfortunate malady.
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For purposes of our discussions in this particular segment of our study, let us define the term child as a female who is prepubescent, has not developed pubic hair, has no appreciable breast enlargement or other adult sexual characteristics which would make her attractive to the average male. From the standpoint of age, this would place the female in the age group from one day to the onset of puberty, which is generally around age twelve but which may vary several years in either direction.
Any adult who has sexual contact with a young child is looked upon as a fiend and the act is regarded with horror and revulsion. As we have indicated, sexual activity between adult and immature mammals in the animal world is fairly common and appears to be biologically normal, although in this context it does not reflect a preference for the immature, which is frequently the case with the older man and the younger girl.
Among some primitive societies, a sexual relationship between an adult and a child is frowned upon. The situation may be considered ludicrous, evidence perhaps that the adult is too socially incapable or too unattractive to obtain an adult partner. In some of these societies, infants and children are often masturbated by adults to soothe them, but there is no indication that the adult masturbating them receives any sexual gratification from the act.
In the cases of the men in our society who use children as sexual objects, the situation is much different. In our culture society dictates that certain rules and regulations are to be followed--many of them backed up by laws--and the adult male who bypasses these rules does so at great risk. The rules are especially stringent regarding children, and justly so in an effort to protect these innocents from the dangers of an adult world.
In the case recently cited, the young man broke another taboo: incest. Since the animal world has no qualms about the mating of siblings or parents and children, it would appear that the incest-taboo is acquired rather than biological in nature.
It can be extremely important from a psychological point of view. A man who would not hesitate to have intercourse with a young girl might be horrified at the prospect if the girl were his own daughter. Nevertheless, according to the late Dr. Kinsey's Institute for Sex Research, incest in our culture is more common an occurrence than is generally believed--and is growing.
Basically, the "Lolita" sex urge is between an older man and a younger girl; it is a physical thing, independent of the relationships between the persons involved. Because of this, in our study we shall not set the incest cases apart as a separate category, but treat them as they come.
There are still those parents who believe the child molester is some mysterious stranger, a dirty old man lurking in the shadows, ready to spring out and attack the youngster as she passes by. Studies of sex offenders have indicated that this is not so. The crime is generally committed by friends, acquaintances, and relatives of the family--with an average age in the area of thirty-five years.
Consider, for example, the instance of the college student working for his Ph.D. and rooming near the college with a couple who had an eight-year-old daughter named Carol. Henry was a bright boy of twenty-four, good-looking in a shy, boyish way. The parents of the child put their complete trust in the young student.
Upon our questioning him for this study, it was discovered that he was socio-sexually underdeveloped. As a child, Henry indulged in the usual sex play with other children, especially young girls. As a teenager, however, he felt awkward around girls his own age, who somehow seemed to be older despite their years, and after a few traumatic blunders with them, he reverted in self-defense to the younger girls he'd known when he was their age.
Of course, since he was sixteen, he couldn't very well date girls of nine and ten. But he did display an increasing interest in them, ft least from a distance. One thing that delighted him was that the girls of this age seemed to have no sense of modesty. If their skirts (already very short) went up or their legs spread to show their panties, they thought nothing of it. They lived at that time in a house, and Henry's bedroom window looked out over the backyard of the house next door, where two girls, aged seven and ten, played. Needless to cay, during the course of their playing, there was a lot of squatting and awkward sitting.
"Sometimes," he recalled, somewhat embarrassed by the recollection, "their panties were old and loose, and I could see right into the opening between their legs."
He admitted he received great sexual stimulation at the sight, and often he would masturbate to orgasm while watching.
As he grew older, he dated, but he was still shy with girls his own age. He felt much more secure with a young girl who was still a child.
"I know I shouldn't have done it," he said remorsefully, talking about the happening with eight-year old Carol. "But I couldn't seem to help myself. It just happened.
"Of course, there'd been a lot of other stuff before that to get me all worked up. For example, I'd be studying in my room when she'd come in and ask if she could sit on the bed and read her comic book because it was so quiet in there. I said sure she could, but I made sure the door was open and that Mr. and Mrs.--knew she was in with me.
"Well, that was okay, but sometimes I'd look up and see that she was lying down on the bed with the book propped up on her raised knees, and with all of her legs and her panties and crotch pointing in my direction!
"I tried my best to ignore it, but I was beginning to get excited. And I was remembering how I used to masturbate while watching the little girls next door. I glanced through the open door to make sure the parents weren't in sight, then I reached down to where I was excited and began rubbing it back and forth, still staring at that young crotch with the panties so thin and tight that you could see the outline of everything she had.
"I'd just intended to stimulate myself, but it went further than that. I came. I'd been pretty tense from studying for some exams, so I was relieved in more ways than one. But for a couple of days after that I made sure she didn't come into my room to read.
"But then she started in on another habit--having me read her a story before bedtime. Which would have been all right, except she had to sit on my lap while I was doing it. Sometimes she'd be wearing her pajamas; other times it was her regular dress with the short skirt and the bare legs. Either way, I got the same reaction. She'd nestle her plump little behind squarely in my lap over the vital section, and sometimes she'd wiggle around to get more comfortable after she'd been in one position for a few minutes. Those movements really did big things for me. My organ got big and started throbbing up against her warm bottom; I wondered if she noticed it, but she never said anything.
"And then sometimes her bare legs would be draped over the side of the chair and my hand would casually come to rest on the smooth skin. She was so engrossed in the story I was reading to her she hardly noticed that my hand was moving up and down her leg, along her thigh on the outside, then along the inside just for a moment. It got so I was wearing rubbers because half the time I would come automatically after a few minutes and the other half the time I wanted to and so I did.
"Mr. and Mrs.--never suspected a thing. As far as they were concerned, I was just a nice young border who read stories to their little girl, and who was handy to have around as a built-in babysitter. I didn't mind the babysitting at all, not as long as the baby was sitting on my lap and moving her warm butt around and working me up.
"One thing I did want, though, was to feel my organ right up against her skin, instead of through all those layers of cloth, but I was always too afraid I'd be discovered by the parents or that Carol would tell on me. I didn't want to have intercourse with her, you understand," he added defensively, "but just skin to skin contact. I knew if I could accomplish that, it would really be an experience.
"One night when the parents went out to a movie I decided to try. It was the usual scene. Carol had crawled up on my lap for me to read her a story. She was wearing her dress and a thin pair of panties. She seemed particularly restless that night. She kept moving her bare legs over the front of me and giving me constant glimpses of where her thighs met. Her brown legs were covered with the barest hint of golden fuzz, and I began to imagine what it would be like to let my organ move around between those legs and be tickled by that yellow down!
"The thought was just too much for me. I had a big erection, and the front of my trousers were bulging, and I could see that Carol noticed it. I took a deep breath and guided her hand down to it.
" 'Feel that'," I said.
"She nodded, a little scared.
" 'Know what it is ?' "She shook her head no, but she didn't try to remove her hand, which I held gently in place.
"I looked around conspiratorially. 'It's a secret magic wand, like the one in the story book, and I'll show it to you if you promise never to tell anyone about it.' "She hesitated, but I could see her curiosity was aroused. Finally, she said, 'Is it really a magic wand?' " 'Of course.' "She took a deep breath and said, 'Let me see it.' " 'You've got to promise not to tell anyone about it.' " 'I promise,' she said.
" 'Not even your mother and father,' I persisted.
" 'I won't tell anybody at all.' "Well, that was the moment of truth coming up. I knew the time was right, and if I didn't do it then maybe I'd never have another chance. And I was getting so excited, and there were those plum little legs right under my nose...
"Before I could change my mind, I unzipped my fly and pulled out my sex organ. Carol stared at it, fascinated, as it rose up between her legs, close but not touching them. Then she began to giggle and tell me it looked funny and that she didn't think it was a magic wand at all. I told her to touch it and see, and she reached out and touched it gingerly at first, then firmer. It gave a sudden lurch all by itself and she pulled her hand away quickly. "See," I said, 'it's magic.' "She was still suspicious. 'G'wan. It's part of you,' she said, but she didn't really know what a male looked like so I knew she couldn't be sure.
" 'How could it be part of me? You don't have one, do you ? Why don't you take off your panties and see?' "She didn't want to do that, and I didn't want to push my luck. I said, 'Now watch closely, and I'll make the magic wand do tricks.' "I took her bare legs in my hands and moved them close together, so they'd tightly grip my organ between them. Then I started moving them back and forth like a boy scout rubbing two sticks together to start a fire. And I moved myself up and down between the tight legs, feeling the warmth of her young skin, the tickling fibres of her blonde peach-fuzz.
"It was all over when I realized that she'd been struggling in an effort to get off my lap. Her face was white and frightened.
" 'There,' I said, 'now, wasn't that fun ?' " 'No,' she said, 'let me go.' "She still didn't know what had happened, but she seemed to feel it wasn't right, and that bothered her. I let her go, but I called after her as she ran from the room, 'Remember now, it's our secret.' "She didn't answer, and that's when I started to worry."
---
As it turned out, Henry had good cause to worry. He had no guilt feelings about the act. He successfully rationalized his behavior on an intellectual level; on a subconscious level he had already become accustomed to treating his desire for children as something normal and expected, so he had no problems from a psychological standpoint. The difficulty rose from the fact that in over ninety percent of the cases of child molestation, the likelihood of the offense being reported depended primarily upon the child's keeping quiet.
In the case just cited, Carol did not keep quiet. She told her parents about the "magic wand" Henry had driven her to play with. The mother was shocked, and the father was furious. The older man angrily confronted the college student and literally shook the truth from him, then beat him up and threw him out and all his clothes out onto the street. They saw to it after that that any baby sitters for their young girl were girls themselves.
---
The use of children as sexual objects by men who are shy around older girls or women is a recurrent theme. There are cases, however, of men who never develop far enough to be interested in members of the opposite sex their own age.
Clarence was just such a person. Born on a farm, he achieved puberty at a very early age, and could remember masturbating regularly at the age of nine. He recalls his first contact was with an animal, after seeing a male and a female sheep having intercourse in the barn. He enjoyed the orgasm, but the animal contact did not particularly please him, although it didn't repel him either.
At the time, he was engaging in the childish game of "you show me yours and I'll show you mine." Clarence was always happy to show off his, because it was always so much bigger, because of the erection he got whenever he displayed it. The boys all envied and hated him for it, so they generally didn't join in the game. The girls, however, showed open admiration.
"I'd even," he recalled, chuckling, "let some of them touch it. I even persuaded one of the girls to put it in her mouth. But what I really liked to do was play animal with them. They were all farm girls, so they'd seen the cows and horses and so forth all going at it, and they knew what to do. They'd get down on all fours and I'd go up behind them, neighing like a horse or bellowing like a bull, and stick my thingamajig up between their legs.
Once I actually tried to get inside, but it hurt her and she bled a little, so I stopped doing that. I just had her close her legs tight and then worked my thingamajig in and out the way the bulls and dogs did it and pretty soon--whammo! away I'd go. They seemed to get a kick out of it, and you can bet that I did.
But then they started growing up and didn't want to do that any more. They said it was kid stuff and they had better things to do. Well, I didn't much care anyway. They were getting older and bigger and they didn't seem as attractive to me as they once had. I remember one of the girls liked me pretty well and wanted to have some fun the way we used to. I did it, and it was okay, but not as good as it used to be."
While not immediately obvious, it seemed that the subject had firmly established children in his mind as the proper sex objects for his desires, so he continued to use them.
His further statements corroborated this. He kept playing with girls, and when he was thirteen he was discovered in a hayloft with an eight year old. His parents quickly sent him to the big city to live with relatives. He found it more difficult to play "animal" there, because the girls didn't know about such things in the city. Clarence was only too willing to show them, but he also experimented with different positions. He also managed to have full sexual intercourse with some of the girls, including one eleven year old who was hurt by the roughness, and whose parents intimidated the truth out of the girl. As a result of that, Clarence went to reform school.
---
Needless to say, he was not reformed. He was in need of psychiatric treatment which was not forthcoming. Upon his release, he still had his urge for children, but he was aware now that he should be more careful. Most of his inmates at the "school" had had varying degrees of sexual experience, which they freely related to each other. Clarence's stories of his "conquests" were greeted with derision, so he soon stopped telling of them. He was introduced to the pleasures of homosexuality while incarcerated, but he was not particularly interested in this. As soon as he was released, he went to a prostitute some of the boys had raved about. Though the girl was only in her early twenties, the subject regarded her as "an old bag."
---
Clarence started going to Saturday afternoon matinees at theaters attended by children. He would sit in the back row and size up the youthful audience, looking for a young girl who might have been dropped off by her mother to spend the afternoon. When he found one, he would get up and go to sit beside her. Sometimes he would have some popcorn or a candy bar and offer her some of it. If she was friendly, he would get a little bolder and put his hands on her leg. Whenever any of the girls started to make a fuss, he would get up quickly and move to another location. This is known colloquially as "playing checkers."
"I never really tried to go very far with them," he said, "not in a movie theater. Maybe I'd just feel up along their legs with one hand, while I reached inside my own pants and masturbated. A lot of times, they were so interested in the movie, they never even noticed what I was doing. And some of them were too frightened to do anything but just sit there and let me do whatever I wanted to."
Needless to say, the subject would not have gotten ever that far if the parents of the children had warned the youngsters to call the usher and complain if a stranger made advances to them. Generally a child is not made aware of the dangers of being alone in public places. Even if the child is warned, it is unfortunate that parents seem to insist on overdoing the dangers. Many psychologists and sex researchers feel that lurid warnings to children may actually be harmful and tend to encourage a paranoid fear of strangers and all men. A proper balance must be arrived at: give the child instructions about what to do if approached by a stranger but don't go into detail about the hideous dangers involved.
The subject Clarence also hung around schools, and at one of these he met an eight year old named Mary.
Mary's mother was supposed to pick her up at three o'clock, when the little girl's classes ended, but she was still at the hairdresser's and rationalized that Mary could spend her time on the playground. Mary might have done that if she'd gotten the chance. As it was, she waited out in front of the school as she was supposed to. Soon most of the other kids had gone home.
"Then this man came along," Mary said, in telling of it afterward. She described Clarence. "Mother always told me not to talk to strangers, but I wasn't--really. He was talking to me, and I was answering him. He seemed like such a nice man, like my uncle Bill a little. He asked me what my name was, and where I lived, and what was I doing out here all by myself. I told him and said that sometimes my mother was late, and he said my mother wouldn't want me to wait out here all alone, and why didn't I come along with him and he'd show me his pet snake.
"I don't like snakes," she went on with a shiver, "because they're so--so squiggly, but he said his was a nice snake and that it never hurt anybody. He took my books and said if I was a good girl he'd even give me a nice lollypop to suck on.
"I looked around for my mother, but I couldn't see her. The man had my books and was smiling and telling me to follow him to see his snake, that we'd be right bad'. So I followed him to the street, where he took my hand and we crossed over. He said it was in an empty lot just down the block. I remembered the lot. It was big, and it had a lot of high grass all over it, and part of an old fence.
"He took me through the grass, and I was beginning to get scared. The sun was hot, and the weeds scratched my bare legs. But I fallowed him behind the fence and asked him where the snake was.
"He said it was right there in his pocket. But he didn't pat his pocket. He patted the front of his pants. I looked and there did seem to be something there that looked like a snake. It seemed like a funny place to keep one, though. Then he opened up his pants--you know, like little boys do when they--" She seemed embarrassed--"when they go pee-pee. Then he took out this long thing and said, "See, Mary, here's my little snake.' But I knew then that he didn't have a snake, and that he was just fooling me. I was scared. I wished I hadn't of come out there with him. He kept telling me to go ahead and pet it, but I started backing away to get away from him.
"Then he wasn't smiling any more. He grabbed my arm and hurt me. I started crying. He told me to shut up or he'd hit me, but that just made me cry all the harder. He yanked my arm and threw me down on the ground and squatted down beside me. He said he was sorry he was rough with me and that I was such a nice little girl. He began petting my hair. Then he sat on the ground beside me and--" The girl was reluctant to continue, but sympathetic questioning revealed that Clarence began rubbing his hands all over her legs under her dress. Mary was too frightened to do anything. She wanted to scream, or to get up and run, but she was afraid he'd hit her. So she didn't resist when he put his hands up between her legs, or when he pulled her panties off.
"Then he began kissing me--not on the mouth or on the cheek or forehead the way mommy or daddy does--but on my legs--and way up under my dress, you know, where I go--where I make water."
The little girl had her eyes closed during much of this, to fight back the tears, but when she had them open she noticed that the man was furiously petting his "snake" while he was kissing her.
"Then he got up," she reported, "and smiled some more and patted me on the head. He said he was sorry I didn't like his snake, but that he'd give me a bright shiny quarter if I didn't tell anyone about what happened. He said if I told anyone some bad men would come and take his snake and it would die because it was lonely, and I didn't want that to happen, did I?"
Unfortunately for Clarence, Mary did not feel a great deal of sympathy for his snake, and when she went back to school to meet her mother (who had just arrived!) she told the parent everything that happened. The mother, of course, panicked. Clarence was apprehended just a few hours later.
---
The subject is now in prison undergoing psychiatric treatment. In this particular case (although this is not typical of child molesters) he was found to have subgrade intelligence, so that he actually identified more with a child than an older person. The standard fixation of a child as a sex object is, of course, present.
As far as Mary is concerned, the child was not really aware of what was happening. The experience was traumatic in itself, but the mother in this case complicated it even more. According to studies, most little girls hardly know what is going on when molested and are upset by the experience very slightly, if at all,--unless their parents or the school or other authorities become panic-stricken. In many instances, it appears to be the parents' reaction to the experience, rather than the experience itself, that is traumatic for the child.
---
It will be noted in the previously cited case that a small amount of force was used, after a certain amount of coaxing was tried. This is a typical pattern of those child molesters who are going to use force. Many do not. They try to convince the child with bribes of candy, money, or something else the child might be interested in, and if that fails, they move on to a little girl who might be more receptive. This also aids in protecting the identity of the molester, since if no force is used the child will be more likely to not mention the incident. In the great majority of cases studied, the sexual behavior consisted primarily of petting and fondling.
The use of force may not be necessarily be an actual physical thing. It may consist, for example, of a threat to "take away your dolly if you don't do as I say," if the child is young enough.
In one study of child molesters, 60 percent of the aggressors used force; while the remainder tried to talk the child into it. Most of the incidents also occurred in private residences, chiefly those occupied by the offender. An interestingly large proportion of the males apprehended for seeking sexual contact with young girls claimed amnesia, emotional upset, and intoxication.
While many other males claim they were drunk and didn't know what they were doing, psychologists believe that in the overwhelming majority of cases, the alcohol merely releases desires which already exist in their psychological makeup.
One of the cases which came to light during our investigation was that of a thirty-eight-year-old salesman who planned to go to a convention in a nearby city. They had no children, and the wife invited an eleven-year-old girl to stay with her during the husband's absence.
"I was really looking forward to the convention," the man said later. "You know how it is, not all work and no play, and some of these conventions really swing. I mean, with the booze and the broads. I was barreling out to the airport with a hard-on up to here!
"And then the damned car broke down. By the time I got it going again, I'd missed the plane, and it was late at night and not another one out until the next day. I was feeling pretty horny, too, so I got this great idea. Why not stop at a liquor store and get a bottle, take it home and surprise the old lady. We could have a little orgy all our own.
"So the more I thought of it, the more I liked the idea. I stopped and got some booze and went home. But I'd forgotten that this ratty little kid was staying with my wife. Both of them were in their nightgowns and in bed watching television when I got there. It was too late to take "he kid home, but I figured maybe she'd fall asleep and me and the old lady could go out and do it on the couch.
"So I poured the old lady and me tome drinks and watched television for awhile. But this kid looked like she was wide awake and going to stay that way forever. So I got this other great idea. Why not give her a little shot of booze? It'd probably put her out like a light. The girl didn't want to at first, but I could tell she liked the idea of us treating her like she was an adult instead of an eleven year old kid, so she took a glass of the booze. She made a face when she drank it, but she finally got it down, and I poured her another healthy shot.
"We all were on the bed there, laughing and fooling around and watching the late show. I was feeling no pain by that time and really looking forward to a trip in the sack with the old lady. The old lady was looking pretty sleepy-eyed, and the young girl--Sandy, I guess her name was, short for Sandra--was giggling and flopping all over the bed. I knew it wouldn't be long before the kid was out, so I patted me in front and said to the old lady that I had something for her.
"That's when she told me she had the rag on, and it was no go.
"Hell, that's when my chin hit the floor. And me with a hard-on that wasn't going to stop! I glanced over at the kid then and did a double take. I blinked my eyes and stared to get her in focus. Little Sandy was stretched out on her back on the bed, with her knees up in the air and her legs wide apart--and I could look right in there and see everything she had staring back at me, all fresh and bright and juicy. Well, I tell you that didn't calm me down none. The old lady was grinning at me like she knew what was on my mind.
" 'Go ahead,' she said, 'the kid'll never know what hit her.' "I didn't need much urging. I got out of my clothes fast, pushed up the kid's nightgown, and went right in between her logs. I knew it was going to be tight, so that didn't bother me. I just pushed a little harder. The kid woke up. She was still pretty drunk, but I guess she wasn't used to having sex with anybody, and she started crying and yelling a lot, and trying to push away. Finally, the old lady had to hold her while I finished."
---
The foregoing is an example of an impulsive act committed by a sexually aroused man who had no apparent interest in children per se. The simple fact was that he required release from his sexual tensions, and the eleven year old Sandy was available.
Upon questioning, the men could not see where he'd done anything wrong, but nevertheless insisted that he'd been drinking heavily and didn't know what he was doing. Even if this were true, the fact would not absolve him of the crime. Still, it serves as one of the standard explanations of child molestation given by offenders. It is obvious from some cases, that the alcohol was taken by the older man to work up enough nerve to commit the act.
---
Child molesters come in r" ages, but the concept of the "dirty old man" is not typical of most of these offenders. However, senility is sometimes a cause. Among men in their seventies, for example, moral judgment is frequently weakened, taboos are blurred and indistinct, and these men may yield to situations where gratification is possible.
A nine-year-old girl named Janie kept passing a house on her way home from school, where an elderly man sat on the front porch and always waved to her. Janie always waved back, but she didn't stop, even though the man sometimes motioned with his hand for her to come over. and see him. One day he was sitting out by the sidewalk for her, and he said hello. She said hello. He asked her what her name was, and she told him. Janie was a polite young lady, and she knew it would be rude if she left while he was talking to her.
"He seemed like such a nice old man," Janie recalled later. "He said I was to call him Uncle Ben because that's what the other children called him. He said he liked children, especially little girls, and someday if I was a very good little girl he might show me the rabbits he kept in his garage. He said that maybe I could just take a peek at them now if I had the time.
"Well, I knew Mommy would be worried if I came home late from school, but sometimes I do forget and play in the school yard. I thought if I just took a little peek at the rabbits and then left right away I'd get home oil time.
"So I said all right, but I couldn't stay long. He said that was all right and that it would take only a few minutes. He took me by the hand and led me to the garage and through a door in the side. It was dark inside, but Uncle Ben turned on a light and then closed the door. I got a little scared, because the garage was dirty and spooky looking, and it had a lot of old furniture and things piled around. There were some cages over in one corner, and when I got closer I could see some rabbits moving around inside. It looked funny the way they walked around and with their noses wiggling while they and I had to laugh at them.
"Uncle Ben laughed, too, and I could tell he was glad I liked his rabbits. I had to stand on tiptoe to see into the cage, but Uncle Ben said that he was afraid I might fall that way, so he picked me up and put me on the table with the rabbit cage."
Jamie's description of what happened after that is a bit confused, because she wasn't really aware of what was happening. It seems clear, however, that "Uncle Pen" had put her up on the table, not so the little girl could get a better view of the rabbits, but so that Uncle Ben could get a better view of Janie's legs and panties. He also held onto her "so she wouldn't fall off." His hands moved over her legs, then on the inside thigh, and finally up to her buttocks and crotch.
Janie was so interested in the rabbits at first she didn't even notice what he was doing. Then she was embarrassed, she reported, because "Uncle Ben's hand was right against--well, right against my private parts'" Janie was not frightened, because she thought the old man was really just trying to keep her from falling. But she made an excuse that she had to go home or her mother would be out looking for her. Uncle Ben was disappointed that she had to leave. He took a piece of candy from his pocket and gave it to her and said he hoped she could come by and see him again real soon when she could stay longer.
When she got home, Janie's mother didn't ask where she'd been, and Janie didn't think to volunteer the information. It was later that evening, at dinner, that she mentioned she'd seen some rabbits. Her parents were mildly curious at first, but then Janie's father started getting suspicious and his questions got more meaningful: "Did he touch you anywhere, Janie? Where? Show me where?"
The angered father then got in touch with the authorities. It developed that other complaints had been lodged against Uncle Ben, who had been warned not to take little girls into his garage to show them his rabbits. The old man was definitely senile and could see nothing wrong with what he'd done. He was finally placed in the custody-of a grandson who promised to see that the old man didn't get into any more trouble.
---
As we have previously indicated, child molestation generally consists of feeling and petting. Most of these men, according to a study of sex offenders pursued by the Kinsey people, are not physically dangerous and do not use force or attempt to have sexual intercourse. The sadistic element may be present in some cases, but more often this is not the goal; only enough force is used to enable the subject's sexual gratification.
Nevertheless, in enough cases to worry about, physical force or threats are utilized. It may be of some comfort to realize that as far as the child murder is concerned, the act is not common. In fact, its unique character is the reason for all the attention in the newspapers. The Institute for Sex Research discovered that injuring the child generally arises from an attempt to prevent it from attracting attention; it may also stem from a combination of guilt and panic following the sexual attack. However, researchers note that the chances of its being premeditated and occurring as an integral part of the molester's sexual gratification are about a million-to-one.
---
Many offenses occur out of doors, in theaters and autos, and in public toilets, but by far the most occur in residences. Sometimes, this presupposes that the female child and the older man know each other, at least well enough for the girl to be in the man's house. Many parents who tell their child about the stranger who comes up to them completely overlook the friends, acquaintances and relatives who fuss over the child, hold her on their laps, and so forth.
Where the two share the same residence, the situation is more easily precipitated. We have already seen an instance of this in the case of the young boarder. Another example may be the relative, or near-relative, who stays with the parents and their young daughter.
Just such an example was the case of Uncle Harry who came to visit, and then to live with, a young couple who had a cute little eight-year-old, Nancy. Uncle Harry was a widower in his late forties who never had any children of his own. From the start, little Nancy warmed right up to him, and he obviously liked her. The parents were delighted that the man was staying with them, because he was no trouble at all, and he was always available as a babysitter.
One thing Uncle Harry insisted on was cleanliness, and he made sure that Nancy had a bath before going to bed. To make sure she did a good job, he'd go into the bathroom and nee that she'd soaped herself all over, and if she hadn't he'd grab the soap and do the job himself. Nancy loved him and was not embarrassed by the fact that she was naked in front of him. He'd play a little game with her sometimes to make her laugh. He'd see a bruised spot where she'd hurt herself playing, and he'd say "I'll kiss it better," and then bend over and apply his mouth to the wound.
After a while, he got even more playful. He'd pretend a freckle was a sore spot, and he'd kiss that better, and they'd both laugh at how silly he was. He'd kiss her anywhere just for a laugh, but he seemed to be kissing her more and more on the insides of her thighs. He'd pick her up in a big bath-towel and carry her into her bedroom, where he'd dump her on the bed, and then he'd kneel down on the floor and go into his kissing routine. Once in a while he'd kiss her on the navel, then more often on the inside of her legs, and a couple of times he put his lips right up between her legs. Nancy thought that was pretty funny, too, but she giggled and pushed him away when he tickled her with his tongue.
One night when she was getting ready for bed, Uncle Harry groaned and put his hand over the front of his pants. Nancy asked him anxiously what was the matter. He said that he hurt in a very special spot. She asked him if she could get any medicine, but he said the only medicine that would work was if she could kiss it better.
Nancy smiled, thinking he was playing games with her again, and said okay, she'd do it. But then Uncle Harry did a strange thing. He took off his pants and underwear and stood there in front of her, naked from the waist down. The male penis was not a complete surprise to the girl, for she'd accidentally seen her father go to the bathroom, but she'd never seen Uncle Harry like that and she was embarrassed.
"Look how red it is, Nancy," he said. "Right here at the tip. That's where it hurts most." He moved closer to her. "Go on, kiss it, honey. Make it better."
Dumbly, Nancy watched in fascinated horror as he brought himself closer. Finally, she shook from her trance and managed to shake her head.
"But you promised," he said in a hurt tone. "Whenever you're hurt, I kiss it better, don't I--no matter where it is."
Nancy knew he was right about that. And as she looked, the part of him that hurt seemed to swell in size, the way a finger does when you hit it with a hammer. She thought: poor Uncle Harry, it really must hurt him the way it's throbbing.
Impulsively, she leaned forward and put her soft lips against the red tip dangling in front of her face.
Uncle Harry sighed and said, "That feels so much better, baby. Keep on kissing it for me, will you? Make it better."
Nancy didn't like the taste of it, but Uncle Harry did seem much more relieved, so she reached out and grasped it with her hand to hold it still. Despite her kisses, the swelling didn't go down, but actually seemed to increase. She ran her lips along the side of it, thinking that might help, then around the base of the tip, then over the top again.
Uncle Harry got very excited. Then something happened. The thing in her hand shook and trembled, and then began spurting and Uncle Henry groaned loudly and let out a sigh before collapsing onto the bed beside her.
Nancy didn't know what to do or so. A moment later, she pointed and said, "See, Uncle Harry, the swelling's all gone down. I kissed it better."
"You certainly did," Uncle Harry assured her. "And we must play this game again soon. But--uh--don't say anything about this to your mother and father--I mean, about us kissing to make things better. They wouldn't understand. You know how grownups are about things like that."
Nancy knew, all right. This was to be a secret between her and Uncle Harry. As is generally the case, discovery depended upon whether or not the child talked. And eight year old girls are not noted for keeping secrets. It wasn't long after that before Nancy shared her secret about Uncle Harry's home remedy for curing bruises and swellings.
The most common instance in which the two share the same residence is, of course, the father-daughter relationship.
Incest is a touchy subject, and there arc many who refuse to consider it, apparently believing that by not recognizing it, it will cease to exist. Nevertheless it does.
The father-daughter sexual relationship is a worldwide taboo, and not merely a product of western culture. This is not for biological reasons, for as we know the animal world is not concerned about the relationships between mating members of the same species; brothers and sisters, parents and offspring all engage in sexual activity with as complete abandon as though they were totally unrelated.
The reason for this cultural taboo appears to be concerned with the preservation of the family structure; a father-daughter union would tend to create intrafamily competition, complicate the children's inheritance rights, and interfere with the daughter's outside life with a male from another family.
Nevertheless, as we well know, strong though it is, the taboo is constantly and repeatedly broken. The father who has sex with his female child is doubly despicable, since he has not only broken the ancient and widespread taboo against incest, but also the widespread taboo against sexual contact with young children.
Probably as a result of this, studies have shown that incest offenders are the most guilt-ridden of any group observed by the researchers.
Consider, for example, the case of Bob, twenty-eight, currently in a mental hospital: "I--I don't know how it happened," Bob said, one time when he was able to talk about it. "Yes, I do, I remember now. Sally--that's my wife--Sally died. She was only twenty-five, but she died of cancer. We'd had our whole lives ahead of us. We'd made such great plans for the future. Even when she was in the hospital I thought she'd be okay. But she wasn't okay. She died, and we buried her.
"That left me with little Cindy, our nine-year-old daughter. We were always close, Cindy and I, and now that we were alone together, we seemed to be even closer. I guess I was pretty despondent, because I remember the little girl coming up to me and kissing me and saying, 'Don't worry, daddy, I'll take mommy's place for you.' "She was so cute I had to grab her and kiss her right there and then. I told her she was the lady of the house now, and I wanted her to be just like her mother.
"That night I tucked her in bed, just like always, and then went and undressed and slipped into my own bed. A few minutes later, I felt the covers slide back and then her warm little pajama clad body press against me. She said she was lonely without mommy and she bet I was lonely, too, and please couldn't she stay there and sleep with me tonight?
"So I told her sure she could. She was right: I was lonely sleeping alone in bed. Even if we never had any sex at times, Sally and I used to cuddle up together, real cozy and warm, and I missed that. Besides, what harm would it do if little Cindy did that. All we had was each other. Besides, she was only nine years old and she was my daughter.
"She slept there with me that night, and then the night after that, and the night after that. It became an accepted pattern, and we didn't think anything about it. Generally, Cindy wore her pajamas, but one night she wore a thin nightgown. I woke up early that morning with a strange sensation--strange, and yet familiar. Cindy was sleeping with her back to me, but her nightgown had come up over her naked butt, which was pressed right up against my lap. I had the first erection I'd experienced since before Sally died, and it had worked out the opening in front of my pajamas and was lodged under Cindy's firm round little butt between her legs.
"I was half asleep, but I remember I was horrified. Automatically, I tried to move back. But automatically, Cindy clamped her legs tighter--and the friction against my organ almost made me come. I couldn't let that happen, so I didn't move, expecting that she'd relax and I could free myself. But she didn't relax. Instead, she restlessly wriggled her bottom and made the situation even worse.
"Desperately I tried to think of something else. But all I could think of was my wife Sally, and how sometimes we used to lie like this in bed, and she'd wiggle her cute fanny against me to get me all worked up. Thoughts like that didn't help matters any, either.
"It was ironic. Cindy had told me not to worry, that she would take mommy's place--and here she was doing it, of all places, in bed!
"Finally, Cindy opened her legs, and I slipped out and headed quickly for the bathroom, where I masturbated to relieve myself. I knew that I couldn't have taken the feel of the warm butt and the soft warmth of those little legs much longer without something happening.
"The next night I told Cindy she was getting to be a big girl, and she should sleep in her own bed. She didn't protest, but I could tell she was hurt. She felt rejected, but I knew I was doing the right thing. But later that night, it seemed strange for me to be going to bed all by myself. I didn't get to sleep at all for at least an hour after I'd turned out the lights. Then I heard Cindy, in her own room, sniffling into her pillow, and I felt like a real monster.
"I gave in. I yelled out for her to come in--but just for tonight. She made it in there in about three seconds, leaped into bed and threw her arms around me. Her face was wet with tears as I kissed her, and it made me feel good to have the little girl want to be with me.
"And, to tell the truth, I really enjoyed having her there with me.
"After that, no mention was ever made of her sleeping in her own bed."
The man paused, obviously reluctant to go on. But he steeled himself and said: "After a while, the idea of me having an erection with her didn't bother me. In fact, I enjoyed it. After all, she was my own flesh and blood--in a sense she was a part of Sally, too. So I welcomed her pressing that little butt of hers up against me and wiggling it around. I used to even insist she wear her nightie, so that I could lift it up in back and then move up behind her on the bed and press my hardened penis in between the two half moons. Sometimes I'd do it from the front when she was stretched out and I could work it between her legs. I only did this when she was asleep, though.
"Then, one night, I thought she was asleep, but when I looked at her face I saw her eyes were open, staring at me. I was petrified, and ashamed at being discovered. But she just said, very calmly, 'Is this what you and mommy used to do?' and I told her yes. She moved closer to me on the bed and kissed me wetly on the mouth and told me that she was the lady of the house now, and that she wanted to do everything for me that mommy used to do.
"I didn't want to, I really didn't. But there was a deep ache inside me, a loneliness that couldn't be cured by my going to another woman. And this little girl offering herself to me--she was just like her mother in so many ways. The silken blonde hair, the eyes, the pert little nose, the full generous mouth. She was like a miniature carbon copy of her mother. It was as though Sally had returned to life in the body of our daughter Cindy."
His smile was grim. "You can imagine the rest. At first I just kept on what I was doing, you know, pressing up against her from the front or from the rear, but this time I kept right on until I had an orgasm. And I'd tell her how to move, how to twist her legs, and how to shove her butt back and wiggle it around. I told myself that I was giving the kid a sex education that she wouldn't get otherwise. I had her masturbate me sometimes with her hands. Sometimes Sally would do it with her mouth, but I stayed away from that with Cindy--for awhile anyway.
"She wanted to please me, but she didn't really want to do it at first. Finally she did, and then after awhile she sort of got to like it. We even joked about it being like an all day sucker. Then I'd go down and kiss her up between her legs. She was a big girl for her age, and sometimes we kissed each other at the same time in the sixty-nine position.
"I had to keep telling her not to tell anybody what we were doing, and she kept asking me if it was wrong what we were doing, and I told her no, it wasn't. But I knew it was, and once I even got so angry with her questions, I hit her. I was sorry for it, of course, and I wanted to make it up to her. She'd run into her bed and was lying down on her face, crying. I went in and sat beside her to try and soothe her. I told her that I loved her and didn't want to hurt her, not ever. I kept stroking her long blonde hair, and then my hands moved down her back and along her cute little rounded butt. I kept stroking that for awhile over the dress, then moved my hand automatically under her dress. It was practically a reflex action by that time. She sat up, sniffling, and put her arms around me and told me not to feel bad about it because she knew I didn't mean it. Her hand dropped into my lap, the way it did more frequently those days, and she began to stroke and caress me. I told her excitedly that I'd take her to a movie that night, but first--"I didn't even have to say it. She knew what would please me just from the bulge in the front of my trousers. She quickly slipped off her panties and lay back on the bed. I made myself ready and flopped down beside her. When she came close to me, I put my erect penis between her legs, which she clamped together. She began slowly, moving ever so lightly to match my own movements. I relaxed and closed my eyes and felt very good about everything. This was certainly the next best thing to loving Sally. Except I missed the moist warmth of actually being inside her, and I began to wonder if maybe it wasn't time that Cindy was made to know that particular aspect of love-making.
"I flipped her over on her back, and I told her not to be frightened, that we were going to do it the way her mother and I did it. I began very slowly, easing myself against her while I held her flesh apart with my fingers. I took it real easy, because I didn't want to hurt her, and slowly I managed to inch my way in. I suppose I should've used some vaseline, but I didn't think of it. Besides, Cindy was a large girl for her age, even there, and I'd used my fingers on her so much I think she was used to having something in there anyway.
"So I kept going. I got in part way, and her flesh was warm and moist, and very tight. It gripped me all around the tip of my penis, and the friction there was beginning to drive me wild. I kept moving in and out a little faster, trying to hasten the process, hoping I could go in all the way this first time. If I could do it, then it would really be as though Sally was in my arms and we were making love. I got a little anxious and impatient. Her little body was gripping me so tightly the sexual pleasure I was getting was so extreme it was almost painful. I began to think that this was really Sally, a grown woman I was with, and not a little girl. I couldn't seem to think straight. My mind was full of thunder and lightning. There was a roaring in my ears. I could think of only one thing: the intense pleasure I was receiving.
"Suddenly there was a sound at the doorway, and I looked up to see a woman neighbor of ours standing there, a look of horror on her face. She said she'd heard the screaming, and she'd come over to see what was the matter. When no one answered the door, she just came in.
"It wasn't until then that I heard the screams--from Cindy--or felt the blood that was soaking the mattress...
The little girl Cindy was in a state of shock, but she soon recovered from that and from the bleeding caused by the forcing of her' father's enlarged penis into her vagina. Psychologically and emotionally, she seems to have come off rather well from the extended experience. Not so, her father, Bob. As a result of the relationship, guilt feelings had been building up in him but had been repressed by his rationalizations; after the final sex act with his nine year old daughter, they exploded inside him. For a while he lost contact with reality. Since having been confined, he must be watched very closely, for he's tried twice to commit suicide to atone for his misdeeds.
Generally the incest situation does not end so tragically. However, the foregoing case history does illustrate a finding of some researchers that older males who may conform during normal periods may break the incest taboo when under severe emotional stress. As we have seen, Bob was deeply saddened by the death of his wife, and his young daughter tried to take her mother's place. So grief-stricken was the way that he accepted her as a wife-substitute in varying degrees at first, then more and more fully.
Another situation in which a normally-conforming male may break this taboo is when the man is intoxicated. In their study of sex offenders, the Kinsey Institute found that alcohol was blamed and had been used in thirty-one percent of the cases studied, to the extent that the man was drunk at the time he had sex relations with his daughter.
There was an example of this in our study in the case of thirty-seven year old truck-driver, George, who wanted to engage in fellatio and cunnilingus with his wife, who kept refusing him, saying the act was "dirty" and "unnatural," so while he was drunk he forced his eleven-year-old daughter to engage in these practices with him.
George claimed that he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing. He even claimed that he had' no knowledge of what had happened. His daughter, Vickie, however, recalls it vividly.
"Mommy was out playing Bingo that night," she recalled, "and Daddy was staying home with me. We were watching television, and he was drinking a lot from the bottle he keeps in the kitchen cupboard. Mommy never likes him to drink that stuff, but he seemed to be mad about something, maybe about the fight they had before Mommy left, and I guess he was drinking just to spite her."
Vickie was asked if she knew what the fight was about and she said no, she didn't, but that her mother called her father a disgusting, filthy animal for thinking such things. She said she didn't know if it was safe for her to leave their little daughter at home with him.
"Anyway," Vickie went on, "he was getting drunk, I could see that, and I was getting scared. Sometimes he was mean when he got drunk, and he smashed things. It was still early, but I said I was tired and was going to bed. He said okay, go ahead, so I went into my bedroom and got undressed and put on my nightgown. A couple of minutes later, the door banged open, and he came in, angry, and asked me if I don't kiss him goodnight anymore. Before I could say anything he sat down on the bed. I could smell the whiskey on him, and the odor made me feel sick.
"He said I was getting to be just like my mother." He started to laugh as though he thought of something funny. He said, 'Except you ain't got no boobies!' and he laughed some more. I wanted to say something, but I was too scared by the way he started looking at me. I remember he said, 'Maybe you ain't got no boobies, baby, but you got something else that's just as good, maybe even better. I didn't know what he meant by that. I knew that boobies were those things on a woman's chest, like Mommy has.
"He had the bottle with him, and he took another drink out of it and started laughing again. He said, 'Sure, why not.' I remember him saying that. Then he pulled down the covers and lifted up my nightgown. I tried to pull the nightgown down again, but he said to leave it alone or he'd hit me. So I left it alone. I was scared at the way he was acting. He was smiling and staring at me--at my body, I mean, under the nightie. I didn't wear anything under there, and I was naked.
"He told me to open up my legs so he could get a better look at me. I was afraid he'd hit me again, so I did what he said. He said something else then, but I couldn't understand what it was. Then his head disappeared--I mean, it ducked down under my nightie, and I could feel his face against my leg. His whiskers scratched my skin, so I tried to move away, but he told me to stay still if I knew what was good for me. So I just laid there, wondering what he was going to do next.
"I felt him kiss me down there, on the leg I mean. And then I felt his tongue licking me, all around. It tickled, and T wanted to laugh and tell him to stop or move away, but I didn't dare. Then he moved his head, and I could feel his mouth and tongue on my--" She seemed embarrassed. "On my--you know, where I go to the bathroom. Down there. It was a funny thing to do, and I didn't know why he was doing it. I felt so ashamed I wanted to cry. I hoped Mommy would come home soon, but I knew she stayed out late on her bingo nights.
"Finally, he sat up on the bed and asked me if that wasn't fun. I said yes, it was fun, but could I please go to sleep now? He said that I could in a little while, but he had something for me to do first. Then he pulled down the zipper on his pants and pulled out his peter."
She was asked if she knew what that was.
She said, "Yes, I've seen them on the little boys. And even on Daddy when he was going to the toilet. But this time it looked different. It was much bigger. And it was sticking out in front of him like a--like a broom-handle. I got scared seeing it like that, but he said not to worry. He said I was eleven years old already, and he'd teach me how to play a game called 'suck the peter.' I didn't know what he meant, so I said why don't we wait for mommy to come home and then she could play the games with us. He said that Mommy didn't know how to play the game, but that I was going to learn.
"Then he grabbed my head and forced my face down into his lap. I was surprised. I opened my mouth to scream. But--" She didn't want to describe what happened after that, but it was obvious that George forced eleven-year-old Vickie to perform fellatio on him.
"When it was over, he made me promise not to tell Mommy what had happened," Vickie said, "but I did."
His wife complained to the police, who came and arrested him. This, according to studies, is par for the course. In about 67 percent of the cases involving fathers and their young daughters, it is the wife who informs the police.
George tried to excuse his behavior on the grounds that he was too drunk to know what he was doing. Interestingly enough, in case that reason didn't suffice, he also said that it was probably doing the kid a favor, so she wouldn't grow up to be as hard-nosed about sex as her mother. The sad truth, of course, is that his forcing his attentions on her might have Vickie grow up thinking that men and sex are ugly things, and thus warp her chances for harmony, adjustment and a happy marriage.
In most cases it appears that the first contact with incest is an unpremeditated thing for the male, resulting from intoxication, depression, or other factors. However, once the taboo is broken, the actions tend to be repetitive--until they are discovered. It is difficult for the average man who has never resorted to sexual encounters with young children to believe that any attraction could exist for these comparatively sexual creatures. In the next section of our study, perhaps they will find more empathy--for the females are older, still children to be sure, but swiftly growing to womanhood.
CHAPTER TWO - Teens In Trouble
The average age at which girls start menstruating is around twelve-years-old. From this point on, they begin blossoming into womanhood, developing the secondary sexual characteristics typical of the mature female. They grow pubic hair. There is some breast development. From a biological standpoint, these girls are now ready for sexual contact.
From a psychological, emotional, and legal standpoint in our culture, however, they are still children.
In this section we shall treat some of the problems of the Lolita complex concerned with girls between the ages of twelve and fifteen.
In this age group, the girls are not only older, they also look older. Not merely taller, but filled out with beginning curves that tell of sexual delights to come. While the average male may look with horror and complete lack of comprehension at another male lusting over a spindly child, he will himself admit that many girls in their early teens can be very attractive from a sexual viewpoint. He would never indulge himself, and of course does not condone the action, but he can at least understand why some, men would be attracted into sexual contact with some of these girls.
In our culture a great emphasis is placed on feminine beauty, which sociologists are quick to point out, is a euphemism for sexual attractiveness. With increased use of cosmetics and sophisticated dressing at all age levels, it has become increasingly difficult to judge a young girl's age. Many an apprehended sex offender will rationalize his action by noting the adult appearance of his partner, and frequently he will have had good reason to think she was older.
One such person was Paul, a thirty-five year old aircraft mechanic, divorced and living alone.
"I'd had myself a few beers at the local saloon," he said, "but I was bored. I wanted some action. I hadn't had me a piece in a couple of weeks, and I was pretty horny. The bartender didn't know anyplace, or so he said, so I decided I'd better go to another bar.
"I got in the car and started driving around. I stopped at a corner for a traffic light, and I happened to glance over at the curb. There was this chick sitting there on a bus bench with her legs crossed and her skirt pulled up high. She gave me a great big smile, and I knew that she was out for more than a bus ride. Then the light changed, and this idiot in back of me started honking. I told him where to go, then made a turn and circled around the block. She was still there, but she was standing up this time. The view was still plenty good, believe me. She had on high heels and a short tight black dress, and she looked like a million bucks.
"I stopped the car, rolled down the window, and asked her if she wanted a ride. She said, 'Sure,' and I opened the door for her and she slid in.
" 'How far you going?' I asked.
" 'All the way,' she told me, giving me the big smile again.
" 'How much,' I asked her.
" 'Ten,' she said.
I couldn't believe it. I glanced over at her as I drove along. She was young. She had a lot of makeup on, and her dark hair was piled up on her head. Her dress was way up above her knees, and her legs looked great. And for ten bucks, too. I started getting a hard on just thinking about it.
" 'My place or yours,' I asked her.
" 'I live just around the corner,' she said. 'Let's go there.' "That was okay with me. The sooner I got this hot little chick in the sack, the better I was going to like it. Man, I'd give her a balling she was going to remember for a long time.
"We stopped in front of a big apartment house, and she got out and led me down a driveway to a place on the ground floor. We went inside, and she walked over and turned on the light in the bedroom. I followed her right along. She walked over beside the bed, reached around in back of her for the zipper and pulled it down. The dress slid off her onto the floor. I watched her while I took off my own clothes. She was wearing lacy black underwear, panties and bra, and a garter belt. She was a little on the thin side, but I've always liked them that way anyway. I was completely naked before she'd even gotten her bra off, so I just stretched out on my back on the bed and watched her.
"She took the bra off, and her breasts popped out. They were small, hardly more than apples, but they looked so soft and sweet I knew I'd love to bite into them. Then she pulled off her panties and threw them on a chair by the dresser. She sat down on the bed beside me to unhook her garter snaps and roll down her stockings, and when she was finished, I reached out and pulled her down on top of me.
"By that time you can imagine what kind of mood I was in just from watching this chick do a strip. She laughed and asked me what I wanted her to do. For ten bucks I didn't think I was going to have a choice, but I told her I could use a little bit of everything. She said okay, but she had to have the ten bucks in advance. So I gave the money to her, and she went someplace and then got on top of me again.
"Well, I tell you, this girl must have really been around, because she knew a few tricks I'd never had done to me before. She looked like maybe she was twenty or twenty-one, but she must have started real young, from the way she worked me over. I was still flat on my back, so she straddled me and began raising up and down and wiggling her bare ass around. Then once in a while she'd lean forward and let the nipples on her small breasts scrape against my chest. Then she'd settle back and start in with the hip motions again. Well, it didn't take much of that treatment to set me off. She seemed to know when I was coming, so she started moving her body at a furious rate and didn't stop until I did.
"Man, I was pooped--but happy! You can bet your life I was happy. I figured that was the best ten bucks worth of tail I'd ever had in my life, and I'd be seeing this chick again, soon." He sighed and shook his head sadly. "I was right about that--but not in the way I'd hoped. Things started going wrong that same night. First of all, her mother came home. That's right, her mother. Seems the kid is not even fifteen yet, and she's out walking the streets to make some spending money while her mother is working late at some coffee shop. Except this particular night, her mother has to go get a headache and take off from work early, and when she comes into the house, what does she see? You guessed it. She sees me laying naked on the bed, with her innocent little daughter kneeling naked on me.
Well, it seems this was also a complete surprise to the daughter, who decided to play the innocent act. She started to cry, and she said that I'd forced her to come home, and then I'd raped her! I didn't know what to do. I was dumbfounded. I tried to explain to the mother what had really happened, but she wasn't listening. The old lady was screaming at me, and the girl was crying. About five minutes later the cops arrived and took me away.
"I was in a mess of trouble, all right. But I figured if I just told my side of it, how she'd picked me up and charged ten bucks--hell, she was nothing but a cheap prostitute!--and then when they saw how old she looked, they couldn't really blame me, could they?"
Paul, like many another unhappy males, discovered they could. The fact that she accepted money did not detract from the fact that she was only fourteen-years old. Appearance of the girl had nothing to do with it, but it did not help Paul's case any when the girl--whom he'd seen with heavy make up, high heels, and a tight dress pulled up above her knees--appeared in court in pigtails, a freshly scrubbed face, a modest gingham dress, holding a small rag doll!
In Paul's case, he was not honestly aware (at least on the conscious level) of the age of his sexual partner. In other cases, men have the feeling that the adult appearance of the girl or her promiscuity somehow exempts them from the dictates of society. However, there is eloquent testimony to refute this delusion in the court records of men who were tried and convicted of statutory rape or contributing to the delinquency of a minor.
Of course there are many girls in the twelve to fifteen year old age bracket who do look their age, and any male who courts them also courts disaster. As we have indicated, most reasonably normal males may find girls in this age group quite sexually attractive--the Lolita complex asserting itself--but they are also aware of the dangers involved and are able to restrain themselves. They may engage in wishful thinking, and in fantasizing, but the rule is to look, but do not touch.
It would probably be safe to assume then, that any male who goes out of his way to chose these teenagers, despite the risks involved, may be suspected of some psychological disturbance. An exception to this would, of course, be the case of a man who comes from some subculture where the acceptable age range is lower than is normal throughout the country as a whole.
Andrew was just such a person. As a young man in Kentucky, he was used to having sex with girls of all ages. There were no recriminations, of course, because everyone was doing it. It was the custom, and universally accepted in the hill country where he was raised.
"There was this one woman," he recalled, "about thirty-five or thereabouts with this fourteen-year-old daughter of hers. I was only nineteen then and dating the daughter, but the old lady I guess was sort of jealous because she made me screw her every once in a while to keep the peace. I'd be in the living room humping the girl on the couch, and sometimes I'd look up and see the old woman looking at us through a crack in the bedroom door. She was naked and she had her fingers shoved up in her crotch and working away to beat the band.
"The old lady used to open up the door and shake her bare hips at me and ask when wasn't I going to give her some of that loving. I wanted to tell the old bag to go take a running jump at the nearest fence pole, and once I did.
"She got awful mad at me, and she told me to go and not come back and never see her daughter again. Well, that was okay with me, because I was getting sort of sick of the whole mess anyway, and I had me a couple other girls close by. These new girls was sisters. How old? Oh, I guess one was about twelve and the other one, thirteen. We used to go up in the hayloft, sometimes, all three of us, and have ourselves a ball!"
Andrew married a sixteen-year-old girl the same year. They lived together for eight years and had five children before she died. After that, he had affairs with young girls ranging in age from twelve to fifteen. Then he got restless, gave the children to his deceased wife's mother, and headed up North. He was thirty-one then and unskilled, but he got a job as a counterman in an ice cream bar, located near a grammar school.
"A lot of nice young stuff used to stop in after school for ice cream," Andrew said, "and the ones I liked specially well I used to give an extra helping of ice cream, or maybe help the chocolate and nuts a little higher, or give them some extra thick whipped cream or an extra cherry.
"There was this one girl named Gale that I took a liking to. She reminded me something of my dead wife. She was thin but curved, if you know what I mean, and sometimes she'd have her blouse open at the top so when she leaned over I could see she had a nice little pair of tits coming along. I asked her how old she was and she said fifteen, and I told her that she sure was a big girl for her age, a real grownup. She liked that line of talk all right, so I kept after her with it. I said I sure would like to see her for a date. It seemed to surprise her that an older fellow would ask her that, but she wasn't sore or nothing. I guess up North the parents are a lot stricter, because she said her mother wouldn't ever allow her to go out. I told her that we didn't have to tell her mother. I said she was a big enough girl to make up her own mind about things like that. Besides, I said, what her mother didn't know, wouldn't hurt her.
"So she agreed to meet me later that night, over in the park. She said she'd tell her mother and father she was going to a movie with a girl friend so they wouldn't get suspicious. I said that was a wonderful idea. After work that night I went right up to my hotel room and dressed up in my new slacks and jacket. Then I went out to the park. She wasn't there, and I was afraid she didn't make it out of the house, but about fifteen minutes later she came up, all out of breath and looking very pretty in a skirt and sweater that showed off her chest.
"That late at night--it was around eight o'clock, I guess--there aren't too many people in the park, and it ain't too well lit. I suggested why don't we take a walk, and she said okay, that was fine with her. So I held onto her hand and we walked along the path toward a dark clump of trees I'd already had picked out. We went right over there, and I said let's sit down.
"We sat down, and right away I made a grab for her. But she pulled away, and I asked her what was the matter. She said nothing was the matter, but I could tell she was frightened. Hell, back where I come, from if a girl goes for a walk with you, she knows damn well she's going to wind up flat on her back in the grass. But I guess up North the customs are different. I told her to come on, that I wanted me some loving. She said that she hardly even knew me, and that I wanted to kiss and hug her already. I almost laughed in her face at that one. I hadn't even thought about kissing and hugging her. I just wanted to get her down on the grass and get me between her nice juicy legs and have some fun!
"I made another grab for her. This time I pulled her in real close and kissed her like she'd been expecting me to do. She was stiff and her face was white. She pushed away and said, 'No, please don't.' I got sore at her then. I pushed her away and told her if she was going to act like a silly little kid she might as well go home and let her mother change her diapers and feed her from a bottle. She said she was sorry, but that she didn't have much experience. I could hardly believe that. Back in the hills, a girl who's eleven and still got her cherry is called an old maid. But I kept calling her a little kid, and she started crying and said that she wanted to be grown up and she was sorry.
"Well, I had no trouble after that. I just put my arms around her and kissed her and then laid her back on the grass. I pulled up her skirt and pulled down her panties. I couldn't see very well, but there was a full moon that gave enough light to make me know that Gale was going to be a real sweet little piece. Besides, I felt around down there and I could tell from all the goosebumps that she was getting pretty excited herself.
"So I unzipped and pulled down my trousers, then flopped down on top of her and started giving it to her good. She yelled a couple of times when it hurt her, but I told her that only little bitty babies yell when they're getting screwed, so she shut up. Then I really went to town on her.
"When it was over, I told her she was a real grownup woman now. I told her that next time she came into the ice cream store I'd give her an extra cherry to replace the one she lost. She didn't understand what I meant by that, but I thought it was a pretty good joke."
Andrew didn't have the opportunity to smile for very many days after that. He saw Gale several times in the park, but her parents got suspicious and called up the girlfriend she was ostensibly going to the movies with. The girl friend had been warned by Gale in advance, but the girl friend was flustered at the actual confrontation. More suspicious than ever, they followed their daughter one night to her rendezvous and caught the young girl and the older man in the act.
---
The fact that the girl was more or less willing and that Andrew was used to fornicating with teenage girls was, of course, no defense.
Another aspect of this concerns the feeling on the part of many young girls that they should be ashamed of their youth. While developing the secondary sexual characteristics of the woman, they are somewhat awkward during this transition stage. They would like to be older and so they strive to accomplish this by means of dress, makeup, and associations with older men. In general, girls mature more quickly than boys at this age, and a girl is more likely to look upon a boy of her age as too immature to consider. Thus she will look to older men. In addition, there is a certain amount of prestige in the female teenage society for a girl to be dating a man several years out of her age group--not to mention the material benefits arising from the association.
An older man is able to afford more things. He has a car, he is able to give presents of clothing and spending money. In order to attract these men, a girl will often pretend the sophistication that comes in the later teen years.
---
An example of this was Louise, a pretty, dark-haired fourteen-year-old girl, who had a somewhat cynical philosophy of life.
"Sure I go with older men," she said. "Why not? What can the young guys do for me? Okay, so I go to a movie and maybe have a hamburger afterwards, then a fast lay in the back seat of the old man's car. Sometimes they don't even have the price of a movie and they expect me to put out for them. Okay, so maybe I do anyway, just for the heck of it--but that's not my idea of living.
"No, I like pretty clothes and a couple of bucks in my pocket. So I latch onto some cat who's maybe about thirty or so. I try for the divorced guys living alone. They've been burned and don't want to try it again--at least not for awhile. All they want is some fun in bed and no obligations. So I give it to them.
"I remember there was this guy Mark I met while I was visiting a girl friend at her pool apartment. I was wearing my bikini out on the patio. I've got a pretty big bust for my age, and most of it was showing. There was this guy in a pair of swimming trunks on a lounge watching me. He pretended not to, but I could tell he was anyway. After awhile he got up and went up the stairway to his apartment. I asked my girl friend who he was, and she told me he'd separated from his wife and had just moved in.
"I looked up at the big picture window overlooking the pool, and I saw the drapes move. The guy was up there behind the drapes, with a pair of binoculars stuck through the opening, and he was looking right at me. I thought that was pretty cute, so I thought I'd give him something more to think about. The patio was deserted except for my girl friend and me, so I just stretched out on the lounge chair and spread my legs. Then I reached down to my crotch and began massaging it, like I was straining the cloth there or something. I had my eyes half-open, but enough to see that the drapes were shaking something awful. I wondered if he was up there staring at my crotch through the binoculars and jerking off.
"I thought the idea was pretty cute, so I kept rubbing myself down there and along the inside of my leg. It was one of those real tiny bikinis and the cloth between the legs was hardly enough to cover, and it was so tight I was sure he could see the outline of everything I had. There was even some hair peeking out around the sides, and I knew that was pretty sexy.
"I was getting pretty hot and bothered myself. When my girl friend got up to go in and get some sun tan lotion, I got up and went up the stairs to the guy's apartment and knocked on the door. He took his time about answering it. I guess he was pulling on his trunks and putting away his binoculars. But he opened the door. I asked if I could come in, and he stammered that I could. He looked embarrassed, and he had a good reason to be. His swimming trunks were those tight jockey things, and it was bulging in front.
"I told him I'd seen him watching me, so I thought I'd come up so he could have a better view. Then I took off both parts of my bikini. I swear it was almost funny. He just stood there, wetting his lips, looking me up from head to toe. Most of the time he looked at my face, and at my breasts, and below my navel. He asked me how old I was. I told him I was twenty-one, and today was my birthday. He didn't believe me, of course, so I asked him what difference did it make, that I was old enough for screwing.
"Then I went over to him and rubbed my nipples against his chest, and I opened the top of his trunks with one hand and put the other one inside. Man, this guy really got a hot poker in there. He was pretty anxious, and I got pretty anxious myself just holding onto that thing and thinking what it could do. He still didn't know what to do, so I took both hands and pulled his trunks down over his knees.
"That snapped him out of it. He kicked the trunks away, grabbed me with both hands and pulled me down to the floor. I'd never done it on the floor before. Fortunately for my butt the carpeting was nice and soft or I'd have worn all the skin away. He kept kissing me all over, on the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the throat. He kissed my breasts and moved his tongue all around the nipple. I was getting pretty damned excited. Goose pimples were all over me, and my nipples were getting still in his mouth. You'd think he hadn't had a woman for a year, the way he was going after me.
"Then he stopped fooling around and rammed himself up between my legs. I clamped my legs around him and held on for dear life while he puffed and groaned and kept moving in and out like there was no tomorrow. I didn't mind. I enjoyed it.
"Finally, he grunted and let loose. I've already come a couple of times myself, so that was okay. Then he got up and put his swimming trunks on again. He looked embarrassed again. He said he was sorry, but he just couldn't help himself. He asked if I was really twenty-one. I laughed and told him the truth: that I was only fourteen. You should have seen his face go white at that. But I told him not to worry, that I wasn't going to tell anybody.
"I put on my bikini and wandered around the apartment. He had a great portable hi-fi set, but no rock and roll records. I gave him a little girl look and told him I wish I had enough money to buy a nice stereo record player like he had. He said he could give me a couple of dollars towards one, and I said that no, I couldn't take any money from a stranger, but--and I glanced at his record player. He got the message all right. He said that he'd go out and buy me one, but I said that what I really wanted was this one in his apartment--in memory of what we'd done together.
"What we'd done together--that made up his mind for him. He gave me a weak smile and said that he didn't play it very much anyway, and that I could have it if I wanted it. I called him a wonderful man and threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. I didn't move away right then. I just clung to him and put my tongue in his mouth and moved my body against the front of his trunks. I laughed and said, 'We're gonna have ourselves a lot of fun together, honey, just you and me!' "I picked up the portable record player and went back down to the patio, where my girl friend was sitting beside the pool. 'Where've you been?' she asked me. 'Up there,' I told her, nodding my head toward the apartment. 'The guy's cleaning a lot of junk out, and he gave me this hi-fi set.' Mark was looking at me again through the crack in the drapes. I smiled and waved, and the drapes closed. My parents didn't want me to keep the set. They wanted me to return it, but there wasn't anything I could do even if I agreed to that. Next time I went to the pool apartment, my girl friend told me that Mark had suddenly picked up and moved out, without leaving any forwarding address."
---
It is obvious from the foregoing that Louise had been around. She was the product of extremely lax parents, both of whom worked and did not devote sufficient time to the upbringing of their young daughter. Mark's flight from the apartment was both understandable and commendable. He'd recognized his mistake and he didn't want a repetition of it. With a girl like Louise, will power would not have been enough.
Louise was not a greedy girl. She took most of her loot in the form of small presents, sometimes a few dollars for lunch money. She was very matter-of-fact and offhanded about the whole thing, even when she made the mistake of trying to seduce a young policeman off duty at the beach.
---
The authorities and psychologists are currently trying to give her a more acceptable fourteen-year-old view of life, but they have a rough job on their hands. It is a well-known fact that sexual attitudes are established early in life. The vast majority of both boys and girls (students in sex research place the figure at about ninety percent) receive most of their information regarding sexual conduct from their contemporaries, from friends, from acquaintances. Some of this is misinformation. Some of it is received as a result of personal experience, for example, in the back seat of a car.
Parents are obviously shirking their duties. They keep putting it off, thinking that perhaps their daughters will somehow miraculously become endowed with the proper information and will be involved in only the proper moral climates until they do. Then, when the teen gets in trouble, the parents wonder why, when they save her such a wonderful home life.
Many authorities believe that inadequate sex education is one of the causes of sex offenses being committed.
Of course, we must not lose our perspective. For every girl as promiscuous as Louise, there are thousands of other fourteen year old Lolitas who have had little or no sex experience at all and will not have any beyond simple petting until they are adults. In our current culture, se" is no longer kept under wraps. Movies and books are quite frank in their discussions and display of the commodity. Partly as a result of this open-mindedness, there is a growing army of young girls who want a good time and the prestige that comes with dating an older man, and matter-of-factly look upon sex as the price they have to pay for it. In effect, they are not looking for it, but they don't hesitate if it comes as part of the total package. There are others who act the part of adults and who find it unbearable to back out at the last minute and reveal themselves as childish frauds.
A convenient example of both of these was revealed during an interview with a pretty fifteen-year-old girl named Rita.
"I was dating this older fellow," she said. "He was twenty-four and was going to college. His folks were pretty well off back in Chicago. He was renting a house up in the hills that had its own swimming pool, and we used to have parties a lot. His parents used to send me spending money every month, more dough than my own father even earned, and he was pretty free with it. He was always buying me costume jewelry and clothes and things, and I had to hide some of it from my parents or say that I'd got it on sale some place or it was a hand me down from this rich girl I knew.
"Well, I knew Fred liked me a lot, but he wasn't going to give me all that junk just for holding hands. Heck, if I didn't make it with him, some other girl would--and get all that loot. Not that I didn't like him, you understand. I did. In fact, I was actually quite fond of him. And I didn't mind too much when he started fooling around. Then this friend of his, a guy named Wally came to live with him and things got a little complicated. Fred asked me if I didn't know any girls for Wally, and I said I'd try to find him one. I knew I really would try, because I didn't want both of those guys to go after me.
"There was this blonde girl Patty who was always a good friend of mine. I knew she was quite jealous of my jewelry and the good clothes and the fact that I was going around with a twenty-four year old man instead of some pimply-faced kid of fifteen or sixteen. So I tried to set her up for it, but she was scared. I told her there wasn't anything to worry about, just to act natural, and not to put up a fuss like a little kid if they started feeling her up. I shouldn't have said that, because it almost discouraged her, but I told her to at least try it, and if she didn't like it why she could just forget the whole deal.
"So we told our parents we were going to a movie together and caught a cab instead. I could tell Patty was impressed with that, and when she asked me where I got the money, I just told her that Fred gave it to me. I was nice to him, so he was nice to me--it was as simple as that.
"Anyway, we got up to this house in the hills, and I could see that Patty was impressed by that, too. We went inside and I introduced Patty to Fred and Wally. I told them she was eighteen. I knew they didn't believe it, but I wanted her to feel like she was older, more mature, you know. Wally played along with the gag by saying it was a pleasure to meet a grown woman for a change, instead of some young kid.
"We put some records on the phonograph and did some dancing while Fred made us some martinis. I was used to them by now, but I knew that Patty had never had a drink in her life. But I was willing to bet that she wasn't going to admit it, not after the 'grown woman buildup' we'd all given her. I was right about that. She took the drink as though she'd been boozing it up all her life and sipped at it. No sooner did her glass start to get empty when either Fred or Wally got up to refill it from the pitcher, and then they kept urging her not to be a slowpoke but to chuggalug. After a couple of hours of this, I was afraid she was going to be sick.
"Fred suggested a moonlight swim in the pool, and Wally said that was a fine idea. Patty protested that she didn't have a swimming suit along, but I told her that I keep several on hand and she could use one of them. I took her into the bedroom and pulled a couple of bikinis out of the dresser drawer. She said she didn't think she was in any condition to go swimming, and maybe she should go home. I told her to stop being so silly, she couldn't be a party-pooper now. I said I was sure Wally liked her, but he thought she was a woman, not a snot-nosed little kid. I'd already slipped into my bikini, and I started undoing her clothes and helping her into hers. My measurements are larger than Patty's, but I'd gotten out a bikini that was adjustable, so that it fit her perfectly. When we came out of the bedroom, both Fred and Wally were in their trunks, and they whistled.
"Fred put his arm around me, and his hand slipped down to my rear end and he gave it a short rub. I knew how this swimming session was going to wind up--the same way it always did. But I was wondering how Patty was going to take it. We all went around to the swimming pool and kept splashing around. Patty wasn't doing too good. She was still unsteady from all the booze, and she kept gulping water, and coughing and gasping.
"Finally, Wally winked at us and said he'd better take Patty into the bedroom--to give her artificial respiration. He scooped her up in his arms and went inside. I didn't see them until later. I was too busy with Fred, who was untying the halter of my bikini...
The narrative is here picked up by Patty, who recalls that she was feeling very dizzy. She remembered someone picking her up and taking her inside the house and putting her on the bed. Somebody was untying the knot on her halter, and she thought it was her friend Rita. But when the halter fell free, she felt someone's lips moving over her breasts, sucking at the nipples. Panic flashed across her mind, and she opened her eyes and tried to focus them.
"Then I was dropped back on the bed, and somebody was pulling my bikini bottom down over my hips. I looked--and saw that it was the fellow Wally standing over me, smiling. He was stark naked, and his--his male thing was sticking up in front of him; I got scared looking at it. Then he laid down on the bed beside me and pulled me over to him. I could feel that thing poking at my legs, but I couldn't move. I think I was too scared. He kept kissing me on the mouth and feeling my breasts and working that male thing of his up between my legs. He kept saying he wan glad I wasn't some silly little kid who didn't know what it was all about, but that I was a grownup woman who really knew the score.
"What could I do? I couldn't tell him that I wasn't eighteen at all, but just fourteen and that I'd never had sex before and was frightened out of my wits at what he was doing. I'd always wanted to be grown up, a woman of the world, and this was my chance."
So Patty cooperated, became a grown-up woman (in her own mind) and stared receiving the "fringe benefits" of prestige in the eyes of her classmates and the gifts of clothing and jewelry--until a neighbor happened to glance into an undraped window one night, saw what was going on, and reported it!
According to the studies conducted by the Institute for Sex Research at Indiana University, most of the men who go after females in this age bracket are unmarried, ordinary males out looking for sexual adventures, but careless as to the age of their partners. In 60 percent of the cases studied, the males were friends of the young girl; 20 percent were acquaintances, and the remaining 20 percent were strangers.
As far as the place of the sexual encounters is concerned, over 50 percent of the time the instances occurred in private residences, and 25 percent in automobiles. The reason for this is obvious, considering the extreme youth of the girls. The females are too young to have their own apartments, and the situation is too conspicuous to warrant registering at a motel.
One thirty-year-old traveling salesman confessed to registering at motels with young girls, claiming that they were his daughters.
"My business would take me from my home state into another one," he explained. "So I could register with the girl as my daughter and have out of state license plates on the car, and generally I wouldn't be questioned--especially since I always had my luggage and sample case with me, so it really looked like I was traveling around.
"As soon as I hit a new town, say at night, I'd go to one of the teen-age hangouts and try to find some young chick on the make for a few bucks. Sometimes I'd bat a zero, but if there were enough young girls around I'd be almost sure to score. Sure, I could have shacked up with some old bag and not taken as much risk, but I figured I'd be gone the next day so who was to know. Besides, once you'd had that tender young flesh under you, you don't want to settle for anything else.
"About fourteen to fifteen, that's when they're just about ripe. And after awhile you spot 'em a mile off. It's the way they dress, the way they act, the way they look back at you while you're sizing 'em up. I hardly ever don't pick a winner just by looking over the crowd. Then we go outside and arrange the price, get into the car and go to a motel to register." He chuckled. "Mr.----and daughter. We'd get twin beds, of course. That made it all the cozier when we just used one! In a way, you might say that I was field-testing my company's product."
The subject was a prophylactic salesman!
He is currently in jail awaiting trial, however, because his system for picking suitable child sex partners proved to not be infallible, and the girl he contacted told the authorities. For the most part, the risk in these cases depends upon the ability of the girl to keep quiet; generally, the report of illicit sexual conduct is reported by friends or relatives who accidentally find out about it, or in some cases by a jealous or envious girl friend of the girl engaged in the sexual behavior.
We have examined some cases in which the girl was more or less agreeable to the sexual contact. However, there are many instances in which this was not so. The female in the age group between twelve and fifteen is at an awkward age in many ways. She is old enough to be physically attractive to large numbers of men, but not old enough to have learned how to escape potentially sexually-hazardous situations. There are worldly teenagers, but for the most part they tend to be naive in many important adult areas. The females in this age group are anxious to grow up, and in an effort to hasten the process, they often mimic the behavior and dress of adult females--which results often in their being more sexually provocative than they realize. This attitude may give rise in the minds of any older males she may provoke that the girl who visually promises all these things and does not deliver is really a "teaser."
"She had it coming to her," one man in his early twenties said during an interview. "She was asking for it all evening. The minute she walked into the room it was like she was yelling out at everybody, "Hey, gang, come on and screw me!' "Me and a couple of friends were at this party, see, we'd come stag to see if we could pick up some broads. There were some available, but mostly the girls came with their own dates, and it was getting to be a drag. Then in walks this broad in the tight dress, oozing sex out of every pore. She had on a black dress that looked like it was painted on, and legs you wouldn't believe, and a low neckline that showed she had a couple of knockers she was proud of. She looked kinda young at the time, in the face anyway, but who the hell was looking at that. Later I found out she was fifteen, but you couldn't tell by looking at her, and I wasn't about to ask her for a birth certificate.
"She came in with a girl friend of hers, or no, I guess it was an older cousin who was showing her around, and the party was being given by some friends of friends--something like that. Anyway, I made a beeline for this chick, and my buddy cuts in to waltz around with the older broad, thinking she might be a swinger. The cousin was maybe twenty-two, not too bad, but sort of plain looking compared to what I had with me.
"She was new in town, she said, and hadn't been around much. I got her a drink and we made small talk on the sofa. She was smoking a cigarette and every once in a while she'd lean over to flick some ashes in the ashtray on the table, and I'd be looking right down the front of her dress at two of the cutest, softest looking knockers I'd ever seen, almost down to the nipples. And then the legs. She had a short dress on, and she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, and I'd keep getting flashes of her stocking tops and the garters. After about fifteen minutes of that treatment, I had me a stiff one that wasn't going to quit.
"And every once in a while she'd reach out and rest her hand on my leg. T didn't know if it was accidental or not, but it made my skin tingle. I wondered if she would miscalculate one of those times and find herself with a handful of fresh meat.
"I wasn't in the mood to wait. This babe was giving me a free skin show, and I figured she must know what it was doing to my blood pressure. I asked her if she'd like to see something interesting, and she smiled and said sure she would. So I took her out of the room and into the corridor of the stairway leading up to the bedrooms on the second floor. She went up ahead of me, and I stared at that twitching rear end of hers and the backs of her legs and decided I was going to have myself a real sweet time with this one. It was dark up there, but I took her hand and led her into one of the bedrooms.
"I lit a table lamp and she looked around in surprise and asked me what I was going to show her. I told her she'd see it in just a minute, but first there was something of hers I wanted to see. I reached out and grabbed her and pulled her over to me. I held her waist and kissed her on the lips, and one of my hands got into the opening of her dress and started feeling up one of those sweet little knockers.
"She broke away while my hand was still in her dress, and the material tore. She said, 'Now look what you've done.' I told her it wouldn't have happened if she hadn't pulled away. She said I had no right to kiss her, and I said I had every right in the world. I told her she'd been going out of her way to show me her chest and legs and practically her crotch and now that she had me all worked up she got cold feet.
"She said that wasn't the way it was at all. She said she'd borrowed the dress from her cousin, and she didn't really know it was that sexy. She didn't kid me for a minute, though. I knew that she knew exactly how she looked. I reached for her again, and she pulled away. She was holding the front of her dress up against her where it was torn. I said, 'Okay, wait right here, and I'll send your cousin up to help you with that. And I went out, and down the stairs.
"But I wasn't going to send up her cousin. I was going to teach that little teasing bitch a lesson. I got together with my two buddies and they thought it would be a great idea. They'd both been worked up by teasers before, and they were pretty eager to get even with them. So we all went upstairs. I guess the chick realized something was up when she saw the three of us in the doorway grinning at her. She got frightened and opened her mouth to scream, but we got to her first. The music from the phonograph was blasting away downstairs, so probably nobody would've heard her, but we didn't want to take my chances.
"I stuffed a handkerchief In her mouth. One of the guys held her arms, and the other her feet and they lifted her up off the ground. I pushed up her dress, up above the stocking rims and the garter belt, then got ahold of her panties and ripped them right off. She tried to claw and kick, but my two buddies held her tight. I grinned and unzipped myself and dragged out about six stiff inches. They put her down on the bed, and each of the guys got an arm and leg and spread her out. I crawled on top and went at it, and all the time I kept whispering to her that it wasn't nice to be a tease, and this is what happened to girls like her, they got it whether they wanted it or not.
"When I was finished, I took my turn holding her while one of the other guys had his turn. Then the third guy hopped on top and went at her. By that time, we figured she'd learned her lesson, so we left her there and went down to join the party.
"Okay, so she was fifteen. How was I to know that? Besides, like I said she was a tease, and she deserved what she got!"
Despite the righteous tone, the young male avenger and his two companions were booked on charges of rape.
As for the teenager, she had learned her lesson. After that, she tried a little harder to look natural and not like a girl a half a dozen years older. It is unfortunate that she had to learn the hard way.
The gang-bang aspect of this situation is not unusual when it comes to forcing attentions upon unwilling young girls. Many man out looking for sexual adventure do so in pairs or groups, and the very nature of the situation is opportunistic rather than premeditated. It is also easier for two men to hold an uncooperative youngster than one. The study of sex offenders conducted by the Kinsey group indicated that in 18 percent of the cases, there was more than one male involved in attacking the girl.
The sizable majority, however, involved just one person, and that person was after complete sexual intercourse. It was also discovered by researchers that generally the attackers of girls in this age group from twelve to fifteen tried the conventional means of seduction first--before resorting to force. It was only after these calm efforts proved fruitless, or else time or the male's patience was running out, that the man resorted to violence.
There is, to complicate matters, violence and what may appear to a frightened girl to be violence.
A saddened man in his late twenties reported that he was out walking and he saw this young girl in a miniskirt sitting on a park bench.
"She was a little doll," he said. "I knew she was young, but I figured her for at least eighteen. She had long blonde hair, lots of makeup, one of these short skirts and legs that were out of this world. I knew I was staring, but I couldn't help it. Then she caught me looking back at her, and she smiled. I took that to mean she didn't mind my staring at her, so I went over and sat down beside her and struck up a conversation. The top of her dress was fastened by a strap over each shoulder, and the front of it dipped down far enough so I could see the beginnings of her nips.
"She said she was waiting for a girl friend of hers. They were going to a movie together. I thought that was just a line, so I said that I could think of better things for her to do than that. She was curious, I guess, because she asked me what. I told her we could go up to my apartment and have ourselves a wild time. She actually looked shocked, but by that time I thought it was just an act. You know, the coy bit. So I reached out to touch her shoulders and say 'Aw, c'mon,' but she moved away just then and my fingers got caught in her shoulder strap, and the strap came down over her arm. She leaped up and the strap snapped and the dress fell open on one side to reveal half a bra and one of her creamy breasts cradled in it.
"I could tell she was on the level then, but I was probably more panic-stricken than she was. I moved toward her, trying to apologize, but I guess she thought I was trying to attack her and she started screaming. A police car was in the neighborhood, and they came running up to see what was going on."
He shrugged. "You can imagine the girl's side of the story!"
The subject had learned a lesson the hard way: any man who suddenly realized that what he thought was encouragement was not, is in real danger if he tries to detain a frightened girl to calm her and apologize.
Admittedly the girl's smiling at a stranger and her willingness to engage in conversation with a man she does not know may be misconstrued as a willingness to enter into sexual matters.
There have been many documented cases of young girls who had actually invited sexual attack, not knowingly, but through ignorance of the social customs of the particular subculture in which she is involved.
For example, consider the case of fifteen-year old Janet, who went to a nearby amusement park, missed her bus home and accepted a ride from four young men who were on their way from the park. The young girl thought the men were doing it just to be nice. However, according to the standards of the young men themselves, any girl who got into the car with them was, by so doing, openly offering herself for sexual purposes. So the instant Janet entered the vehicle, rape was inevitable. The young girl resisted, of course, but the men merely assumed that was part of the sexual game she was playing with them!
In certain neighborhoods of large cities and in certain small towns, there is an unwritten law that if a girl of any age accepts a ride from a careful of young men, she implies acceptance of any sexual relations that occur in the car. If a girl is not aware of this local rule, either through ignorance or by being a stranger in that area, she can easily get into trouble.
Even in the same neighborhood conditions change--for example, people grow up.
"I remember when I was only ten," thirteen-year-old Dorene said, "David, the boy next door who was fifteen, and I used to fool around a lot and wrestle in the back yard. He'd always get me down on my back and sit on me, generally on my chest so he could use his knees to hold my arms and shoulders down. It used to be a lot of fun. We were living on the farm just like now, and most times we either did it on the grass--wrestling I mean--or in the hay of the barn so we wouldn't get hurt.
"Then David moved away, and I didn't see him again until--well, until this thing happened last week. He came out to the farm with his family for a visit to my folks, and I volunteered to show him around the place so he could see how we've fixed it up in three years.
"Well, we walked around the place making small talk, and then we went into the barn. He grinned and said that I'd sure grown up. He was staring at my--well, at my chest. I used to be flat there, but now I've got something just like the big girls. I blushed and told him that he'd grown up quite a bit, too. He was eighteen, too, but he seemed to look even older. He laughed and asked if I remembered how we used to wrestle in here, and I said yes, and he was always a big bully. He pretended he was sore and said he was not, and he reached out and gave me a shove. He pushed at my chest, but when his hands touched my sweater where my breasts were they seemed to sort of rub them.
"Anyway, I fell over backward onto the hay, trying to keep my skirt from going up. I had to remember I wasn't a tomboy any more, but a growing young lady like my mother said. Then David threw himself on the hay beside me, and wrapped his big arms around me. He'd grown up so much bigger and stronger than I'd remembered him. We rolled around in the hay for awhile, and then he pinned me on my back and started getting into the same old position.
"He was grinning and puffing as he held my arms down and wiggled his legs up across my chest. And then his smile disappeared, and a funny sort of look came over his face. I could tell myself that something was different. It wasn't like it was in the old days. Something had happened--to both of us, I think. I could see part of what had happened to David. Like I said, he was squatting on my chest with his legs apart, and I was staring right at the front of his trousers--and it was bulging out. I got sort of scared looking at it, because I knew what it was from what my mother and father had told me. It was like when a stallion or a bull gets in heat and wants to make love to a mare or a cow.
"I told him to let me up, but he just smiled and said that he'd grown in other ways too. I remember once we'd gone down to the swimming hole and gone in naked, though we never told our parents or anyone about it. He asked me if I wanted to see how much he'd grown, and I told him no, that he'd better let me up because the folks would probably be coming in here any second. He didn't seem worried by that. He just said that he was going to show me anyway, and he sat on my chest and unzipped himself in front and pulled out his penis.
"He was sitting pretty high up on my chest, so I thought maybe if I kicked my legs I could push him off. I tried it and he lurched forward and almost landed in my face. Then he leaned back to steady himself, and his hands came to rest on my bare legs. He seemed surprised but pleased. He kept leaning back with his sex organ dangling right under my nose and started stroking the inside of my legs. I felt uncomfortable, but I was also starting to feel--well, strange, like I'd never felt before. I was getting all tingly and goose-bumpy, and a warm, sticky feeling began to creep all over me. I started to relax, and my legs went limp as his fingers inched upward along the inside of my leg.
"Then suddenly he was off-balance, and I came to my senses. I twisted my body and shoved him hard, with all my might, to one side, and he fell over into the hay. I tried to scramble to my feet to get out of there, but David was too fast for me. He grabbed my wrist and pulled mo down to the hay beside him. He said that we were going to have a wrestling match, just like old times. I tried to scream, but he shoved me back so hard it took my breath away. Before I knew what had happened he'd ripped, off my panties, then landed on top of me with all his weight.
"I didn't know what to do. I tried to fight him off. I tried to scream, but he kept forcing the breath out of me and covering up my mouth with his lips and sticking his tongue in there. And then I felt his huge sex organ ramming up between my legs, going inside me. And that's when I fainted."
When he was through, David tried to awaken Dorene, to no avail. He began to panic. He put her panties on her, then ran back to the house to inform their parents that the girl fell and probably hit her head on something. A doctor was immediately called, who found no traces of a head bruise but a great deal of blood coming from the girl's vagina. David confessed then to what had happened out in the barn, and despite the pleading of David's parents the sheriff was summoned.
Another case which illustrates this change in attitude on the part of the older male was one involving a girl of fourteen named Beverly, who told of her playful teasing of the family's gardener, a man in his early forties. She used to go out in the back yard where he was pruning the bushes and bother him, and he would say that she'd better be a good girl or he'd spank her. She was only ten at the time this first started, and she'd stick out her tongue at him, and he'd pretend he was mad and grab her and put her over his knee and hit her lightly on the buttocks.
Then, as the years went by, Beverly noticed that he seemed more and more hesitant about playing their little game together. By the time she was fourteen she started thinking that it was a sort of childish game, and so she stopped doing it. Surprisingly, it was the gardener who called attention to it.
It was one day during the summer when she was wearing only a thin halter and a pair of shorts. She'd neglected to put on a pair of panties underneath because that made the shorts too tight for comfort.
The gardener stared at her and smiled. "I'll bet you think you're too grown up for a spanking."
She nodded, going along with his game. "That's right."
"Well, I'll just bet you aren't," he said.
Before she knew what was happening, he'd dropped to one knee and had her bent over the other, and his hand was tapping her bottom in light strokes.
She thought he was carrying the joke too far. "Hey, c'mon, cut it out."
He said sternly, "Now you behave yourself, young lady, or I'll really paddle your behind."
She recalled later that there was a sort of strained quality to his face, as though he were breathing hard. And then his hand wasn't hitting her buttocks anymore; it was moving in gentle caresses up along one plump hillock, down into the crack and then along the other, squeezing and kneading gently.
"Hey, what are you doing?" she asked.
Instead of answering, he slipped his fingers under the rim of her shorts and worked them tightly between her legs. Beverly was so surprised she didn't know what to do. Nobody had ever done to her before what the gardener was doing. She knew she should've been shocked, but she found she liked it.
And all the time he was whispering to her how he'd been watching her around the house, in her short dresses and the bathing suits and shorts, and how he'd taken longer than necessary on the work just so he could be around her. What he was doing now, he said, he'd been dreaming about doing for months now.
Just at that moment, the family car drove into the driveway, and the gardener dumped her with a pleading whisper to not tell her parents what he'd done, that he must've been out of his mind, but he just couldn't help himself, but that he'd never do it again.
Her parents got out of the car carrying pack ages of groceries. Her father stopped by to see how things were going, and Beverly thought the gardener seemed very nervous. The next day, her father came back from a phone call to announce in a puzzled tone that the gardener had decided to visit his family up north and wouldn't be working for them any more. Beverly thought that was a shame, because the formerly childish game of spanking had taken on very interesting adult overtones and she had been hoping for a repeat performance of her initiation into the mysteries of sex.
It wasn't long afterward, however, that she found a young male closer to her own age, to continue the lessons.
As far as incest is concerned, the desire of the older man for the female in this age group of twelve to fifteen is more understandable to the average person. The girls are on the threshold of sexual maturity, and frequently they are much more sexually attractive than many girls who have fully blossomed.
Also, an important factor is the availability of the female. In other cases, the older male has to go and actively seek females in this category. In the case of the incestuous father-daughter relationship, the two potential participants are living together in the same household under intimate circumstances. Thus, the opportunities to break the taboo are many and frequent.
An extreme case came to light during our investigations, where the taboo was inherently not as strong because of the particular circumstances of the situation. The man, whom we shall call Tom, was an engineer in his early thirties.
"I was married when I was eighteen," he said, with a trace of bitterness in his voice, "because a girl I went on a date with got pregnant. Sylvia was only sixteen at the time, and it was either wedding bells or go to jail. We lasted about a year before we broke up. She got custody of little Paula, who was six months old at the time, and I got stuck with sending in child support payments. But that was better than sticking with a girl I didn't even particularly like.
"I guess it was because she was so young-looking that I did it. A lots of girls that age try to pretend they're older, but Sylvia looked like she might of have been even younger than she was at the time. It must've been the thin figure that did it. Anyway, I always went for younger girls. I left the state to try my luck out on the Coast. I got a pretty good job in an aircraft plant and took some courses at one of the local colleges to study engineering. I dated quite a few girls, but it was mostly the younger ones that I went after. I was a lot more careful this time, though, because I didn't want the same thing to happen to me.
"I was twenty-eight when I met Lil. She was seventeen, just graduated from high school and her first job was in the cafeteria as a waitress.
For some reason, I really fell for her like a ton of bricks. I took her out on a couple of dates, but she wouldn't let me do anything but the standard high school stuff--you know, feeling the boobies and rubbing the leg maybe half way up. It was frustrating as all hell. She kept handing me this crap about she wanted to save it for her husband. Finally, I figured why not marry her.
"So I did--and then I found out why not, but it was too late by that time. This one lasted a year and a half before we split up. We didn't have any more kids. Lil made sure of that. She said she was too young to have any squalling brats tie her down.
"And there I was a bachelor again, older and wiser. I started dating pretty regularly, but I was in my thirties now, and I felt kind of awkward trying to get with some of the younger chicks. Besides, I had a pretty decent job as an engineer with one of the top aircraft plants, and I couldn't let anything spoil my career.
"Then I got this telegram from the old home town. Sylvia was killed in an automobile accident, and my daughter Paula was coming out to live with me. Paula! Hell, I hadn't seen her since she was six months old. Once in a while I'd get a picture of her, but she was like somebody else's kid, a skinny little freckle-faced brat in pigtails and braces. I wasn't really overjoyed at the prospect of having to be a father again. My sex life was rough enough without having some little kid to take care of, hire babysitters for--and then I started counting the years. It came as a shock to discover that the girl was already fourteen years old!
I got another shock when I went to the airport to meet her. I was standing around waiting and looking around, because I'd gotten there late, and I noticed this real cute little dish who looked like she was maybe sixteen or seventeen, with dark brown hair, a pretty face, nice mouth, a sweater filled with a couple of bouncy lumps, and & short skirt to show off slim, curved legs.
"I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't take my eyes off her. Then she saw me staring at her and she smiled. I thought: Oh, no! I recognized that smile. It was the carbon copy of Sylvia's. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. I spoke the name Paula to her, and her eyes lit up and she ran to me and threw her arms around my neck and kissed me and rubbed her bulging sweater all over my chest. The action was something I'd been thinking about, but now that I knew she was my daughter, the edge had been taken off.
"Even so, I had a rough time imagining this lovely young girl was my daughter, my own flesh and blood. She was only a baby when I last saw her. Now, she was like a stranger. I took her home with me, to my apartment, and she didn't seem to have any trouble in adjusting. She made herself right at home. I told her we would have to move into a two bedroom apartment; meanwhile, she could have the bedroom, and I would use the couch. She gave me an argument on that, but I insisted, so she finally gave in. The couch wasn't the most comfortable in the world, but I'd already decided that as a father I would have to make some sacrifices.
" That first night I slept on the couch, but I kept tossing and turning uncomfortably, and waking up every couple of hours, surprised to see that morning still hadn't arrived. One time I woke up to see the bedroom door open and the nightstand shining brightly. There were water noises from the kitchen, and I could tell Paula was out there getting a drink of water. She padded back quietly, so as not to wake me I suppose, and as she paused in the doorway, with the light behind her, I got another surprise. She was wearing a shortie nightgown and nothing else. I could tell by the bedroom light that she was completely naked under it, because her small round firm breasts were perking out very proudly, and I could see the small mound of her stomach, and even the outline of the flesh below.
" I got a complete glimpse of all of that in just the space of a few seconds, and then the door closed, leaving me drenched with sweat in the darkness.
"The next morning she made me breakfast. She was wearing a large yellow terrycloth robe over her, with just a trace of the nightie peeking out, but I could still picture her standing there in the doorway practically naked, so young, so lush, so vibrant and full of untapped sexual energy...
"I tried to put thoughts like that out of my mind, but I didn't succeed too well. The image of her standing there in all her naked youthful glory kept coming to mind. I kept telling myself she was my daughter, but I knew logic wasn't going to help. As far as my emotions and body were concerned, she was a beautiful sexy stranger who'd come to live with me. I started thinking of ways I could take advantage of the situation. By the time I'd gotten home, I was pretty worked up, and seeing her in a pair of shorts and a halter didn't do much to lower my blood pressure.
"She decided to impress me with her cooking and said she'd whip up a complete Italian dinner, with spaghetti, meat sauce, pizza, the works. I said okay, that I'd go out and get us a bottle of wine to go with it. When I got to the liquor store, I thought that maybe a bottle wouldn't be enough, so I got two big bottles of Chianti.
"She'd taken cooking courses in school and helped her mother around the house a lot, so the meal was surprisingly good. She'd never had much to drink before, but I convinced her that a little red wine wouldn't hurt her, and that you couldn't really eat an Italian meal without Chianti. She was concerned about how I would like her cooking, but I said it was just fine, and the wine and that reassurance made her relax. I think the wine helped most, because I kept filling up her glass as she was drinking it after awhile like water as she ate.
"She said she hoped that I'd like her and that it didn't bother me to have her around, reached out and patted her hand and told her that I liked her very much, and I was sure we'd become very good friends. When she tried to get up from the table, the effects of the wine showed. She staggered, and I rushed quickly to her side and held her. My hand fell over one of her breasts, but she didn't seem to notice. She laughed and said she thought she'd had too much wine and that she wasn't used to it, and she hoped I didn't think she was just a child. I could feel her breast move against the palm of my hand, as I told her I didn't think of her as a child at all, but that I thought she'd better lie down for awhile.
"I bent and scooped her up in my arms. She was quite an armful, all right. She'd changed from the shorts to a tight sweater and short skirt. My hand went under her leg, under the knees, to hold her, and my fingers itched at the touch of that warm pulsating flesh.
"In the bedroom, I deposited her gently on the bed, then moved toward the door. I hesitated and looked back. Her skirt was riding up high on her thighs, and I went back to pull it down. At least, I think that's what I went back to do. I put my hand down between her legs, but I didn't reach for the skirt, not just then. I was beginning to breath hard just from the sight of her lying there and the feel of her soft skin against my hand. Then I pulled her skirt, but I pulled it up, not down. I pulled it up over her panties up to her navel and stood looking down at the thin white panties pulled tight at the crotch and showing off everything she had.
"Then I looked at her breasts covered by the sweater. It seemed incredible that a girl of fourteen could have breasts that big. She was sound asleep now, breathing heavily, and with each breath her breasts rose and fell, making me all the more curious. Well, what the hell! I thought. She'll never know. So I picked up the sweater and pushed it up to her neck. I could see the roundness of her breasts peeking over and through a filmy bra cradling them. I reached under her and undid the fastening and then pushed the bra up to her neck with the sweater.
"She was lovely, absolutely lovely! Her breasts were like golden apples, cherry-tipped; her skin was satin-smooth and creamy. I had to reach out and touch those breasts to make sure they were real. She moaned twisted her head on the pillow, but she didn't awaken. I massaged those creamy silk mounds until the nipples hardened and then I couldn't resist--I leaned over and touched my lips to the cherry-tips softly, letting my tongue snake out and caress them for a moment.
"I'd had a lot of wine myself, but it wasn't only that. This young girl's body was one I'd never seen before. If she'd been with me for fourteen years, and I'd had a chance to get used to it, things might have been different. But now, she was a sexy young girl lying on my bed, and I had an erection that didn't know she was my daughter.
"She didn't wake up as I kept kissing her breasts. My hand moved down along her belly, past the navel, touched the top part of her panties, hesitated. Then I sat up and pulled the panties down with both hands over her legs.
"She stirred, but her eyes stayed closed as she stretched and twisted her body. I just sat there staring at this lovely creature. She was only fourteen, but she had a woman's body, a body that would give pleasure to any man.
"And I knew that I was going to be the first man that experienced this delight.
"My brain kept telling me not to do it, but my body insisted. My body won. I lay beside her on the bed and pulled her into close contact with me. Her eyes flickered open momentarily, glazed, and she smiled before closing her lids again. I kissed her warmly on the mouth. It was not a chaste father-daughter kiss. My mouth covered hers, and her tongue slipped over her teeth into the sweet warm cavity. Her small firm breasts massaged my chest, the tips hard and hot. I reached down and gripped her round buttocks in both hands and squeezed them and pushed her hot loins against me.
"Something had to give--and fast. I was already so worked up I couldn't wait. I pushed her onto her back and then crawled on top of her, spreading her leg with my hands. Then I eased myself forward gently, making contact, then sliding in all the way. I was surprised it was so easy, and then I realized she wasn't a virgin. I didn't know whether to be happy or not about that, but then a sudden upsurge of pleasure got hold of me and I didn't think about anything else.
"I could feel her responding beneath me. lifting her hips and plunging her pelvis in time with my thrusts. Her arms were gripping me furiously and her legs locked about my back. She started moaning and nibbling on my ear.
"I felt a jarring ripple of pleasure shudder through her entire body a second before I stiffened and exploded in an orgasm inside her. For a moment I couldn't think. I just lay there, puffing, exhausted, filled with the pleasure of the moment. Then I felt shame and regret. I wondered what Paula would think of me for doing this to her.
"She kissed me on the mouth and murmured, 'That was very nice, daddy dear,' and promptly fell asleep again!"
Tom was surprised but pleased at the young girl's casual acceptance of his lovemaking. He did not know before that time that Paula had had sex several times previously, and he did not take into account that as far as she was concerned he was a father in name only. In actuality he was a stranger, a man she was living with. While she did not make it a habit to have sex with strangers, her immature mind rationalized that after all, whether she considered him such or not, he was her real father.
As is generally the case with incest situations, the first time is the most difficult. After that, repetition is fairly easy, and sex becomes a normal habit of everyday living. Tom took it as a matter of course, at least outwardly, but the fact that Paula was his daughter made him feel guilty, a feeling he didn't want and tried to drown in alcohol. It was during one of these drunken bed-sprees that his estranged wife Lil discovered them and reported the situation to the authorities. By then Paula was pregnant.
With the authorities, Tom used the usual excuses for his behavior; he'd been drinking; the girl had had experience; she looked much older than fourteen; she was practically a complete stranger to him anyway, and he didn't think of her as a daughter. To some extent all of this is true. Yet, Tom's background clearly shows indications of an immaturity of his own, partly expressed in his two hasty and ill-conceived marriages to very young girls. He was fully aware of his tastes running to the very young sexual partner and should have recognized that he, especially, could not live with Paula and expect to keep his hands off her. That was tempting fate entirely too much, and the relationship was doomed from the start.
In most cases it is the wife who reports the activity which is generally carried out without her knowledge. In some cases where the mother is less protective she may allow and even abet her husband's relationship with the young girl.
One mother interviewed for this study was quite candid in her remarks. "Why not?" she asked with a shrug. "It keeps it in the family, doesn't it? I don't have to worry about Henry going to some cheap whore and bringing back a disease. Besides, Stella is fifteen now, and she's got urges like everybody else. She's going to want to get some screwing, 'cause it's human nature. Better to keep her home doing it than going out with some college guy and getting knocked up.
"Besides, with Stella around, the old man isn't after me all the time to hit the sack with him."
An interesting case came to light during our investigation in which the teenage girls were used in a direct manner to stimulate an older man but were not aware of it. The subject was a shoe salesman, age thirty-eight, never married, who had always been shy around girls. On a few occasions he'd gone to prostitutes but he was so embarrassed the experience had been painful instead of pleasurable.
"In my job as shoe salesman for the department store," he said, "I met a lot of nice young ladies, but I never had the nerve to ask them for dates. It always made me nervous, too, to be holding onto their legs once in a while when I put shoes on them. I tried to look up further along the thighs, but they were always careful to keep their knees together and their skirts pulled down.
"Then I had my eyes opened--by a thirteen-year-old girl who came in for a pair of tennis shoes. She didn't have a bad figure for a young kid. Legs a little too thin, maybe, and small breasts. But she had a short skirt, and I guess her mother never told her to keep her legs together.
"So there I was squatting down in front of her, and she's trying on the shoes, lifting up her legs, and right under my nose is all that luscious bare legs and thigh right up to the panty crotch. It was an experience, believe me.
"It happened again the next day, this time with a fourteen-year old who had on a loose pair of panties which fell away from her skin as she moved her legs around, and I could see everything she had.
"After that, I beat any of the other guys to some young chick who came in. I was a regular eager beaver." He grinned. "You might say that I was eager to see beaver. Anyway, I was having myself a grand old time, except sometimes I'd have to be careful if their mothers were along. Especially when I stood up, because the front of my pants were usually bulging out. I was afraid I'd have an orgasm one of those times, and then I'd really be in trouble, so I started wearing rubbers to work.
"Then one day I got another idea. It was while I was fitting a thirteen-year-old blonde for a pair of dress shoes. I was sitting on the stool in front of her, glancing up under her dress and trying to get her foot into one of the shoes, when it occurred to me that the bottom of her foot was almost in my crotch at the vital spot. I moved a little closer and the sole of her twisting foot moved against the front of my pants. That, coupled with the view I had right up close, did it. I came. And all the while I kept shoving her foot into my crotch and staring up her dress.
"I smiled at the young girl and her mother and said that shoe seemed a little tight and I'd better get a larger size. Then I went to the men's room out near the stockroom and got rid of the evidence. When I came back I had a larger size, which fit perfectly--and all of us went away a lot happier."
It was inevitable that the salesman should get caught in these activities. He grew a little too casual in his behavior, and his superiors kept watch over him when a mother complained. The subject was fired from his job, a fact which has made him very bitter.
"They had no right to fire me," he complained. "I was doing my job. And if I had a little fun doing it, what's wrong with that. The girls never even knew what was going on."
The subject had never been arrested, but it was obvious that he was going to be. His insistence on following the shoe sales career for self-gratification as well as for a living is indication of that. It is just a step from looking to touching--and that will do the trick.
In their report on imprisoned sex offenders, the Kinsey group discovered that of the sample tested, most were generally not convicted a second time. Most of the men who trifled with the morals of a girl between the ages of twelve and fifteen had learned their lessons and went to older females.
In the next section we shall discuss some problems and case histories involving girls over fifteen--those females who have arrived at still another awkward age: the age at which they are women, but society still expects them to function as children!
CHAPTER THREE - The Young "Adult" Female
It has long been recognized by authorities that in the United States the separation of females into taboo and non-taboo categories on an arbitrary age basis (eighteen or twenty-one generally, depending upon the particular state) has little relationship to either physical or emotional maturity on the part of the female.
In fact, it has been pointed out that beauty contest winners are frequently minors from a legal standpoint. Girls of sixteen and seventeen have been contestants, runners-up, and winners in local and national pageants. It is as though society is saying to one and all: "Here you see the embodiment of sexual appeal. This is the standard of beauty and sexuality. Look--but don't touch."
This is somewhat akin to dangling a meatball in front of a hungry dog and warning him not to eat it until it has aged beyond its prime.
There are, of course, many men who do not heed this warning. Especially among the lower socio-economic levels, the biological maxim is: If they're big enough, they're old enough!
The average sixteen-year-old girl in our culture today may be considered an adult from a biological viewpoint; she is sexually mature and as physically capable of sexual response as she ever will be. From a sociological viewpoint, her Intelligence Quotient has reached its maximum level and will not alter significantly with the passing years; in most cases she has a basic knowledge of the behavior that society expects of her, and sufficient motivation and control to conform to this expectation.
Caught between the dual roles of child and adult, the girl of sixteen is truly a factor in the Lolita complex. The man interested in the young has the best of two worlds wrapped up in one package. On the one hand he has a biologically adult female, complete with fully formed breasts, pubic hair, and the rest; on the other, she is still legally a child. To some extent it is the "forbidden fruit" aspect of the situation that gives it its special flavor; recognition on the part of the male that this is taboo and the possible apprehension that always exists can serve to make sexual behavior with a sixteen year old particularly exciting.
With the increasing emphasis on youthful beauty, with modern teen dances that are frankly sexual in nature, with the laxity in dress and the mod designs that show off lots of tender female flesh, it is little wonder that more and more men look to the underage girl as their ideal of all that is wholesome, fresh, and sexy. Fortunately, most men restrain their emotions--at least until they are thrown into a situation which makes them particularly vulnerable.
Researchers have discovered that the immoderate use of alcohol has contributed greatly to an aroused male sweeping aside the taboo barrier.
One such instance was the case of a thirty-two year old advertising man named Barney, who met a young girl at a party. The girl was sixteen and wanted to be a model. Barney mentioned that he knew a few people and might be able to get her a few interviews. He said she certainly had the looks for it, which was true.
"She was built like a brick outhouse," he recalled. "She'd come to the party with this young punk who resented the fact that she was talking to me so much, but the kid didn't know what to do about it. I was just being friendly and had no idea of trying to cut in, so I took my drink and went over to another section of the room.
"So the girl--her name was Brenda--and this young guy got into an argument, and he left in a big huff. Brenda came over to apologize for her boyfriend, and I apologized back at her, saying I hadn't meant to cause an argument between the two of them. I asker her how she was going to get home, and she shrugged and said she could probably take a bus or a cab. She didn't live very far away, and I was feeling sort of responsible for what had happened, so I offered to give her a ride home. She said that would be fine.
"Then I proceeded to get smashed. No particular reason. I always do at those parties. You, know how it is, you're having fun and talking and laughing it up, and you just keep on quenching the great thirst. About two-thirty Brenda said she really should be getting home, so I said okay, and we left the party.
"I was feeling pretty good just then. Not drunk, but plenty high. The world was my oyster. I put my arm around Brenda's waist and sang her a little song as we went out to the car. We got in and drove off. It was just like old times having a pretty young girl sitting in the car beside me. What I liked about Brenda was that she was not only physically mature, but she seemed to have brains, too. You could talk to her. I was sorry that it had to end so soon, so I asked her if she'd mind if we stopped for a moment. She hesitated, then said no, she guessed not.
"We were near this place up in the hills where I used to go with a date when I was younger, to neck and look out at the lights of the city down below. There were several other cars around, lights out, not a sign of life in them. I drifted to the guard rail and cut the motor and the lights. When I glanced at Brenda I could see she was flustered with embarrassment, and I realized she mistook my intentions of bringing her up here. She thought the only reason a guy and a girl parked up in lovers lane was to make love.
"I was the perfect gentleman. I said I was sorry, that if she felt nervous we could go. I reached for the ignition key, but she stopped me and said we could stay here for a few minutes. So I turned on the radio and leaned back. She asked me if I really thought I could pull a few strings to get her interviews, and I said that I'd certainly try, but that there were thousands of young girls fighting to get the same jobs. That's when she moved closer and leaned toward me, and said, 'I'd do anything for the chance. Anything.' Her voice was practically a whisper, and I recognized the symptoms as a little alarm bell rang in my mind. She was so close to me her breast was grazing my arm. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips were parted. Her perfume was filling my nostrils.
"The damn kid wanted me to kiss her!
"I knew I'd hurt her feeling if I didn't. Besides, she was damned attractive, and I wanted to. After all, what was the harm in a few kisses. We'd just smooch a little, and then I'd take her back home.
"At least that's what I'd intended to do. But the kisses got warmer, more passionate. Suddenly I found myself with my hand tucked inside the top of her breast, with my fingers working over the nipple and massaging the soft flesh. I knew that I shouldn't be doing that, that it was dangerous, but my alcohol-fogged brain told me that no one would ever find out so what difference would it make. Sixteen years old or not, Brenda had a woman's body. I'd hate myself if I didn't take advantage of it. Probably the punk kid who'd brought her to the party had gone into the back seat with her plenty of times.
"She started to protest as I pulled down her panties, but I said, 'You want to get some interviews don't you?' It was an old line, but it shut her up. The only sound she made after that were a few whimpers when I got to her.
"The air and the sex sobered me up, and then I got scared. What in hell had I done? I could be sent to prison for it. On the drive back, I told her she was an exceptionally beautiful girl, and I'd really go all out to give her the break she deserved. Actually, I did know a few people around town that might help, and I was determined to do my damnedest--at least for long enough for her to partly forget what had happened in my car.
"We pulled up in front of her house, and she asked me if I would come in with her, to show her parents that she was okay. They'd probably be worried, but if they saw she was all right and she was with a responsible older man, they'd believe her and not make a scene, even if it was so late.
"I didn't like it any, but I knew I had no choice. I had to stay on the right side of this girl. So I walked her up to her house, where she let herself in. The living room lights were blazing away. Two very stern parents were standing on one side of the room, and the young punk kid was standing on the other, a triumphant smirk on his face. The father was irate, and his eyes bored holes in me. Then he faced Brenda with 'What happened?' "There was really such a simple explanation. We'd stayed late at the party, then stopped on the way home for a coffee. But before I could say a word, Brenda broke into tears before the wrathful glance of her father. She pointed at me and blurted out, 'He raped me!' " As the late Dr. Kinsey often declared, the difference between a "good time" and a "rape" may hinge on whether or not the girl's parents were awake when she finally arrived home.
Many men, as we have seen, try their best to circumvent scenes of this nature by getting their pleasures by means other than intercourse. One of the most common of these is by means of frottage, which means "to rub." For many years men have been employing this ruse in the New York subways, which are invariably crowded during peak hours. This is a generally safe way for these men who like young girls to get their kicks, for it is difficult for anyone to prove the man wasn't there merely for the ride.
Jason was one of these men. In his early forties, he had been married to a frump of a woman for eighteen of these. They never had sex anymore. She didn't care for it, and Jason found the woman physically unattractive. Not so, however, the young girls he ogled in the subway.
For a long time Jason had stared at the teen-aged breasts, the flaring hips, the long legs under the miniskirts, the nicely rounded bottoms just aching for his caress! At home he would raise fantasies of nubile young teenagers flaunting their golden bodies for his pleasure. He masturbated several times each week while picturing this in his mind, but that actual physical contact was a possibility never entered his mind--until quite by accident one day.
At first, he was understandably reluctant to discuss the matter. However, when he became convinced that our purpose in asking him about it was for a scientific sociological study, he seemed pleased to relate his experiences in detail, apparently by so doing it made him seem a more virile and adventurous person.
"It was a Saturday afternoon, late, about five-thirty," he said, "and I got on the subway to go home. Every car was packed, but I squeezed my way on and managed to work my way over to a post where there were several young girls standing talking. I guessed they'd been shopping, because they had packages and they were chattering and giggling. There was one of the girls I noticed in particular, a blonde about sixteen or so, with breasts jutting out of her sweater in front and one of those tight flower-patterned short skirts that stretched across her bottom as though it was painted on.
"Well, I tell you I couldn't help but stare at those twin round globes just twitching there in front of my eyes. Then the car lurched to a halt, and some more people pushed on. I was propelled forward and I found myself right directly in back of the girl. She gave me a glance and then turned away and started talking again with her girl friends. It was just another crowded subway ride to most people, but to me it seemed like the beginning of heaven. The front of me was pressed right into those twin mounds of girl flesh, and I was starting to get an erection!
"I gulped and looked around to see if anybody noticed, but of course they hadn't. I wasn't really doing anything, as far as anyone could see, except just standing there. I held by breath and moved a little closer. It was fantastic. My stiff penis was wedged now right directly in the center, between those two rounded hills of her behind, and the movement of the subway car was shifting those hills back and forth very subtly against my imprisoned penis.
"Well, I knew I couldn't take much more of that without something happening, but I couldn't move away either because there wasn't any room. Besides, I sure as hell didn't want to move away. I was enjoying myself. It was kind of like having a dry run in sex--and with a sixteen-year-old girl! I knew what was going to happen, but at that moment I didn't care. I pressed forward more insistently, and I could sense the girl freeze up as though she knew what was happening behind her. And then I came--big and strong. I think I shuddered all the way down to my toes.
"The car came to a lurching halt. It wasn't my stop, but I didn't want to wait around to see what the girl's reaction would be. Suppose she got angry and called the police. How could I deny anything when the evidence was right there for anyone to see? I didn't even look in her direction. I just pushed my way off the car, the doors clanged shut, and the subway train went on its way.
"Well, I was pretty relieved, I tell you. In more ways than one. But I was happy. I'd always wanted to do something like that, I mean just go up to a young girl and shove myself right up her big juicy behind--and by golly, I'd done it. I felt pretty good, like I'd actually seduced the girl right then and there on a crowded subway in front of everyone, without anyone knowing it.
I may as well have done that, because I was sure it felt just the same--great.
"The next day was Sunday, and I went out riding the subway all afternoon without much luck. There weren't as many people around, and I knew that if I went up to one of the young girls and just stood in back of her it'd look too suspicious. Then I switched lines, and at one point a group of young girls got on who'd apparently just come from the beach and were transferring. There were about a dozen of them. Some of them were wearing shorts, and there was one in a short shift that was just a couple of inches below her crotch. Those things always intrigue me. It looks like the girl hasn't a stitch on, or even if she does, all you have to do is reach down and put your hand under the hemline--
"Anyway, she's the one I chose. I worked my way through the crowd until I was standing right behind her. I tried to act nonchalant as I eased forward. The car lurched as it rounded the bend and her round bottom pressed tightly against me. The girl glanced at me strangely. I said 'Sorry,' and pretended the contact had been accidental. Then I pressed forward a little bit more. She stiffened suddenly, and I knew she was aware that something was happening. Maybe she thought I had an umbrella or something that was poking at her, because without looking she reached a hand around and got me between two fingers even through the cloth. I was pretty far gone by that time, and the touch of her hand on me finished the job. The girl was too shocked by what she'd done to move, and she just stared down at what her hand was grasping. Then she came to her senses, released me, and started blushing furiously.
"I didn't know what to say either, so I just moved away and got off at the next stop. I was through for the day anyway."
Men such as Jason operate in crowds such as in subways, on busses, at carnivals, and the like. In many instances they are too shy to directly approach any female they desire, so they use this means to achieve sexual gratification because no other is open to them, especially when it comes to the sixteen and seventeen-year-old girls. If the girl discovers what he's doing and resents it, Jason merely moves on until he finds one more suitable. If the girl doesn't know what's happening or does know but permits it, he stays until he's finished--and few people in the crowd are any wiser.
Men who desire younger girls often take professions which allow them to come into contact with the girls. Even if they have no intention of any sexual behavior, the closeness of these girls makes them very excited. Unfortunately, some of these males found their way into the school system.
Mr. B--was a high school teacher, age twenty-eight, single. That he liked the young girls in his junior and senior classes was obvious to many of the girls.
One of them, Susan, confided that she sometimes even teased him. "They don't allow us to wear the real short miniskirts in high school," she said, "but we can still get away with some that come up around the knee, and then when you sit down the skirt comes up even higher. Well, I knew the prof, Mr. B--liked to stare at my legs, so I let him, thinking I'd get a good mark in this sociology course he's teaching. Then one day I was busy doing an exam, and I happened to look up and he was staring at me. Not at my face, but lower. I glanced down and saw that my position was anything but ladylike. The skirt had pulled up about six inches above my knees and my legs were spread apart. It was a good thing I was wearing panties or the poor guy would really have his eyes bugged out.
"And that's when I got this great idea. The next day I wore another short skirt, but I didn't wear panties this time. He was giving us a lecture and trying to keep his eyes off my legs, but everytime he glanced over at me I'd managed to pull the skirt up a little bit more. I was sitting in the back of the room, so nobody in the class realized what was happening. I could tell I really had him sweating up there. He went to the blackboard and started writing our assignment. When he turned around, I gave him the real shocker.
I was sitting sprawled in the chair with my legs spread wide, giving him a complete view of everything.
"His eyes bugged out, all right. And his jaw fell open, and the chalk in his hand dropped to the floor. He went down to pick it up, and I knew he had an even better view from that position.
"It was getting near the end of the semester, and I knew I was going to get a good mark out of him. You can imagine my surprise when I got my report card. The no-good bastard flunked me, probably so he could keep me in his class another semester and stare at my crotch!"
The truth of the matter, in this particular case, was that Susan had been more interested in showing off her legs than in studying and she deserved the mark she got.
The idea behind it--bribery--is of course not new with Lolitas of all ages. There are many examples of very young girls, say from eight to thirteen or so who will do sexual things for older males for piddling prices. It may be as slight as a candy bar given to an eight-year-old in return for masturbating a man, or a new bicycle to a thirteen-year-old in return for kissing a man in a special place.
When a girl reaches sixteen, she is generally more sophisticated than to sell her favors for a small price. She is aware that virginity--or at least youth, which gives its appearance--is at a premium, not so much with her male contemporaries who generally can afford little more than an occasional movie, but with the older man who is willing to give her things she needs, or would like to have.
As we have mentioned, the older man is more often than not an acquaintance. One such man was Otto, a wealthy businessman in his forties who was dating a woman named Dorothy, who had a sixteen-year-old girl, Aileen.
"He wanted me to call him Otto," Aileen recalled, "instead of Mr.--. He was a nice guy, and mother liked him a lot. Ever since my father died about ten years ago, mom had dated a lot of guys, but they all were after just one thing, it seemed. But not Otto. He was the perfect gentleman at all times.
"He lived a few miles away all by himself--he said his wife died a long time ago--and he had a big swimming pool with a big fence around the back yard--and he invited us out there anytime. Well, mother was working, but she said it was okay with her if I wanted to spend an afternoon out there, if Otto didn't mind. Otto said he didn't mind at all. He'd even pick me up, he said, and take me out there because he took a lot of days off during the summer and wanted some company.
"So one day he dropped by with his big Cadillac, told me to get my suit, and away we went. The car was air-conditioned, and I wished the other kids could see me drive away in style like that. I'd tell them that Otto was my boy friend, and maybe we'd get married or I'd be his mistress in that big house of his.
"It was a sort of silly, wicked thought, and kind of childish, I guess, but it amused me. Actually, Otto didn't seem as old as he was supposed to be. He always kidded around with me a lot, and I really liked the guy.
"We got to his house. I'd been there a couple of times before, but every time I was impressed. He said I could change in one of the bedrooms and he'd meet me outside the bedroom. The walls were covered with mirrors, and I felt sort of self-conscious as I slipped out of my clothing and put on my bikini.
"When I got outside, he was in his swimming trunks and going back and forth in the pool. For a man his age, he was quite slim and athletic. I dove in. I can't swim too well, but he was right there beside me, making sure I was all right. It was a little embarrassing, because when he held me his hands covered my breasts or they were up between my legs, but he acted so natural about it all I didn't say anything.
"Then we climbed out on the side of the pool to sun ourselves. He said we'd better put on some suntan lotion or we'd burn ourselves up. He told me to lie down and he'd spread some on me. He always had such a commanding tone to his voice, like he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed, so I just stretched out on my back, closed my eyes against the sun and relaxed.
"The sun and the exercise were making me drowsy, and the feel of Otto's hands as they massaged my flesh was very good indeed. He'd put some of the lotion on his hands and then rub his hands along my arms and shoulders, then along the top of the bikini where my breasts began. Then his fingers dipped below the halter to my stomach. He saved the legs for last. He kept massaging and kneading the flesh on my calves and along my thighs, and up between my legs so close to my crotch that his fingers actually kept brushing against the thin material there and I felt a sort of tingling sensation run through me. I figured he'd be through there in a couple of seconds, but he seemed to take his time.
"Then I opened my eyes, and he smiled at me and said, 'Okay, my lovely one, it's your turn.' He handed me the bottle and stretched out on his back and put his arms under the back of his neck.
"I rubbed the lotion all over him and then told him to turn over. He said I hadn't finished this side first. I didn't know where else he wanted to be rubbed, but he pulled the top of his trunks down a little and said that the sun was so strong it could get right through the material.
"I was embarrassed. His trunks were the boxer type, loose at the top, but I could see the outline of his penis just the same. I put some lotion on my hand and moved it slightly under the rim of his trunks. I was about to take my hand away, but he said 'You've got to go lower than that,' and he took my wrist and quickly pushed my hand all the way under his trunks.
"My hand automatically closed over his sex organ. It was stiff, and it gave a little lurch as my hand touched it. I couldn't pull my hand away, because he just held it there. He smiled and said calmly 'That's it, baby. Rub the lotion all over it. We don't want it getting sunburned, now do we?' "I was so embarrassed I didn't know what to do. I guess I must've been pretty naive not to realize this might happen when he invited me out here, and when he was rubbing his hands all over the inside of my legs. He asked me if I remembered that expensive stereo record player I'd wanted, and I nodded because I couldn't speak. He said that he'd be happy to buy it for me. In fact, that very afternoon we could get dressed and go shopping for it. But first, he wanted me to do a good job with that lotion.
"I thought about the stereo set. A lot of the kids had phonographs, but we never seemed to be able to afford one, at least not one that sounded any good. If I had that big one, I'd be able to invite the kids over for a party and show off to them. Automatically, my hand closed over his sex organ and began massaging it.
"He said, 'Tell you what, it'll be easier for you if I just take these things off.' And he stripped off his swimming trunks and was naked. 'Why don't you take off that wet bathing suit?' he suggested. 'No one can see us here.' And he began helping me.
"So there we were, my mother's boy friend Otto and me, stark naked. Otto started running his hands all over my body. He hugged me and kissed me on the mouth, running his tongue over my lips. Then his mouth kissed me all the way down my shoulder, along one breast, to the nipple. He sucked and nibbled at one of the nipples for awhile, then he started kissing me again on the stomach and then he twisted himself around and started kissing me along my legs, on the inside, moving up...
"Sure, I'd petted before. I'd let guys feel me up a little just to be popular. But it wasn't anything like this. After awhile, Otto picked me up in his arms and went into the bedroom with all the mirrors. Then he started in again, and he told me what to do. No matter where I looked, I could see the two of us, my mother's boy friend and me, on the bed, doing things.
"Later that afternoon, I went and picked out the stereo set I wanted, and the man promised to deliver it the next day. When I told my mother the present I'd been given, she told Otto he shouldn't have. But Otto just shrugged and said it was only money, and that I had things money couldn't buy--youth, good looks. He kissed my mother warmly on the cheek and told her that he was giving me swimming lessons, and would she mind terribly if I came out to his pool every day during summer vacation for lessons. Mother hesitated, then she said, 'Of course not, if Aileen doesn't mind.' "I smiled and started thinking of all the other wonderful things I'd always wanted but never could afford. 'I don't mind at all,' I told her. 'I'd like to learn--everything!"
Aileen did not learn quite everything, but Otto soon learned a lesson he is not likely to forget. Aileen's mother Dorothy was given the afternoon off during one exceptionally hot afternoon, and she thought it would be fun to drop in on Otto and Aileen and surprise them. The man had been so attentive to her little daughter and had lavished so many presents on her recently, but it was very seldom that the three of them got together for any fun. On impulse she took along a Polaroid camera Otto had given them. Dorothy arrived at the house, but no one answered her insistent knocking. She went around to the side and discovered some open doors and went in. She made her way through the house, calling out, "Is anybody home?" She arrived at the open doors leading to the patio and the pool--and discovered why no one had answered, or even heard, her call.
Dorothy froze in shock and astonishment. Boyfriend Otto was lying on his back beside the pool totally naked. His hand was idly massaging one of Aileen's bare breasts as the girl lay across him with her face between his legs.
The mother had the presence of mind to snap a picture before she stamped in an indignant rage onto the patio. Needless to say, both Otto and the young girl were surprised. Aileen, embarrassed, ran into the house. Otto tried to soothe the older women with words, but it didn't help. He offered ten thousand dollars for the picture, knowing it would be the only evidence against him. Dorothy said fifteen, and he agreed and quickly ran into the house to write a check. Dorothy refused to give him the picture, however, until she'd gone to the bank and gotten the money.
She took the now dressed and very humble Aileen with her to the bank, cashed the check and deposited the money in a savings account. Then she took the picture to the district attorney.
When the case was tried in a closed session of court, Aileen had decided that Otto had used force, and she hadn't done anything willingly. Otto, of course, denied this. He claimed that the mother had made her daughter go to his house and then try to seduce him. He said they were after his money, and he even produced a canceled check for fifteen thousand dollars to prove the point. However, there was no indication that this was not an outright gift, as had been the stereo set, the camera and numerous other expensive items. It seemed more like the plaintiff had been using his money to exercise undue influence in his attempts to have sex with the sixteen-year-old girl.
And then there was the damning picture! Otto saw the handwriting on the wall and pleaded guilty to a lesser charge of assault, happy to be let off the hook so easily.
Unfortunately for many males who desire young females, a young girl who is willing at the time of the attempt may decide later that she wasn't really willing at all. In the absence of witnesses, generally the woman's word weighs more heavily in the scales of justice than does the man's.
Also, psychologists point out to us that there is often an ambivalence in the sexually aroused female which tends to cloud the issue of the man's use of force or threat. The young girl may be struggling with herself to keep her emotions under control, as well as struggling with the man who is trying to seduce or rape her. They also mention that there may be a masochistic streak in the girl; she may desire to be overpowered by the dominant male, and is secretly thrilled that the man finds her so sexually attractive that he is willing to use caveman tactics to get her. Biologists may well add a footnote that many mammals struggle prior to sexual intercourse as a natural preliminary.
For any woman requiring a defense mechanism, this struggle, even if only a token resistance, is very handy. An inhibited woman may enjoy the sexual experience without feeling guilty about it, with a simple rationalization: "He forced me to do it!"
As we have mentioned, sexual attitudes are formed very early in life. By the time a girl reaches sixteen, she is biologically and emotionally an adult. Yet is many ways she is still treated as a child. It is an accepted psychological fact that if we treat teenagers as children, we encourage them to behave as children, whereas they are fully capable of adult behavior.
At the same time, these young girls are prime targets for men who wish to force themselves upon them. To many males, it is an impersonal thing. Their compulsive sex need is often enough to justify their forceful behavior: "I didn't mean to hurt or scare the kid, but I was feeling pretty horny and just had to get me a piece!"
Many cases of rape are not reported. Few young girls wish to advertise their experiences through court action, especially if--as is often the case--the male is some older man to whom she has been friendly; this provides many suspicions that perhaps the girl wasn't as unwilling as she now says she was.
The vast majority of rape cases are reported by the female herself. It is always risky when a man tries to make out with a Lolita, but when he attempts to force the issue, his eventual apprehension is much more likely. A girl is not apt to protect a man who has attacked her.
In cases of incest, once again the problem arises regarding the use of force. The father is the symbol of authority in most homes, so if he chooses to dabble with his daughter, the daughter is frequently filled with mixed emotions herself.
In many cases, the father of an attractive six-teen-year-old has a wife who is showing increasing signs of wear. The older woman he is allowed to have sexual relations with. The younger one, who is of an age where she is a potentially very capable and enthusiastic sexual partner, he must live intimately with but not take advantage of.
"I was going out of my mind," a forty-year-old man confessed. "Ruthie, my wife, had gotten fat and old-looking, and it was no fun in bed with her any more. Besides, she acted as if she didn't give a damn anyway whether I screwed her or not. But little Janice--she was something else again.
"She was sixteen, and she had a pair of boobies that stuck out to here. Ever since she was a little girl, she used to walk around the house with practically nothing on, and even when she got older it was the same thing. And why not. It was in front of her mother and father, wasn't it?
"One night I went out to a burlesque show. I hadn't been to one in a long time, and there was this young girl there. She wasn't as young as Janice, but she sort of looked like her a lot. And I got to thinking how much I'd like to take that girl off the stage and give her about six inches of the hottest meat she'd had in a long time. Well, I knew that was a lot of wishful thinking. Even if she'd swing, I probably couldn't afford it. It was a shame, too, because there was something just as nice walking around home all the time--and I couldn't touch it.
"On the way home, I stopped for a couple of beers but that still didn't cool me down. I was pretty hot by the time I arrived at the house. Janice was in her room, sound asleep, with the door open. Ruthie was sacked out in our bedroom, flat on her back, snoring with her mouth open. I got undressed and got in beside her. I was still feeling like I wanted to do something with that thing of mine that kept sticking up. I thought of rolling over on top of Ruthie and letting her have it. She was such a sound sleeper that it probably wouldn't even wake her up. But then I thought of that sweet young dish up on the stage and knew that I'd rather go into the bathroom and think of the stripper while doing a hand job.
"I knew I wouldn't sleep unless I did something, so I got up and headed for the bathroom. Before I got there I happened to glance over through the open doorway into Janice's bedroom--and I stopped and stared. In the light from the hallway I could see that she was sleeping on top of the covers and she was wearing only a shortie nightie. She was curled up so that her cute little fanny was sticking out, and I remember thinking, now wouldn't it be fun if I just sneaked into bed and cuddled up real cozy. It was just an idea but it started getting me real excited. I could almost feel her soft flesh against my thing. And then I could just reach around and feel her boobies. Hell, that would be better than jerking off anyday!
"Besides, she was just as sound a sleeper as her mother and probably wouldn't even know what had happened.
"So I went into her room and took off my pajamas. Then I got on the bed and walked around in back of her. She stirred, and I was afraid she'd change her position. I didn't want that. I wanted her just as she was. It was a perfect setup. I eased myself down gently in back of her and then pushed up behind her.
"Janice had a great-looking fanny, and now I knew that it felt good, too. It was soft and warm, and I wedged myself right in there between the two round hills and started moving my hips around. She started to move away, so I reached out to hold her, and my hand came to rest on one of her boobies, over the thin cloth of her nightie. She didn't seem to wake up, so I held onto it, squeezing it gently until I could feel her little nipple stiffen against my hand.
"She let out a little sigh then, and I knew she was having a dream and wouldn't wake up. She started breathing heavily, and then she did something that surprised the hell out of me. Still asleep, she reached around and got hold of me. Well, I tell you that did it. I came all over the place.
"I got up and cleaned up as best I could. Then I put on my pajamas and went back to my own bed. That night I slept like a baby. Next morning Janice had a funny look on her face, but she didn't say anything. I knew I'd have to be more careful in the future--and a helluva lot neater.
Some psychologists still hold to the view that a boy will tend to pick out a mate who resembles his mother, and that a girl will tend to pick out one who resembles her father. Thus, subconsciously, the person has intercourse with his parent, which he has wanted to do (also subconsciously) since infancy. In recent sex research studies it was found that in more than half the cases of incest studied, the daughter voluntarily accepted the advances of the father, either passively or by actually encouraging him. In the case history just cited, sixteen-year-old Janice was suspicious that her dream might not have been a dream, after all.
"I thought maybe Pops was fooling around," she said. "I'd been noticing that lately he'd been looking at me sort of funny, especially when I was wearing some shorts or when my skirt was up above my knees. And he kept looking at my breasts. I knew the guys at school used to do that too, and I knew what was on their minds. I wondered if Pops could be thinking the same thing.
"The guys at school used to buy me things--you know, like ice cream and lunch in the cafeteria. And they used to do my homework for me. They were hoping I'd let them have a fast feel or maybe even go all the way. I did let them touch me a few times just to encourage them, but I never did--well, you know, have intercourse.
"I tried the same thing out on Pops--and it worked. I asked him for some spending money for a movie matinee, and he gave it to me. I told him maybe I'd like some popcorn there, so he gave me some extra. I said, shucks, but I'd promised to help Moms with the dishes--and he said don't worry, he'd do them, and I should just run along. So I ran along, but not before I'd seen the look he'd given my rear end as I walked away.
"That night he was yawning all over the place, trying to get us to bed early. Finally, Moms climbed in bed and was snoring in a couple of minutes. Then I said goodnight and went into my room and closed the door, I undressed, put on my shortie nightie, the one I'd worn the other night, turned out the lights, opened the door and climbed on top of the covers.
"I didn't want to go to sleep, but it was hot in the bedroom, and I felt myself dozing off. Then I heard a sound that woke me, but I didn't move and I kept my eyes closed. Somebody was moving around in my bedroom. I half-opened one eye, and there was Pops stark naked standing right beside me, looking down. I could tell he liked what he saw, because his organ was standing out in front of him as stiff as a poker.
"Some of the other girls my age used to tell me their fathers liked to fool around with them, so I guess it was pretty normal. But I was scared just the same. He went down to the foot of the bed where I couldn't see him, and then I felt him crawl on the bed in back of me. He didn't do anything at first. He called out my name in a whisper a couple of times, just to see how sound asleep I was, but I didn't answer. Then he moved closer.
"I almost jumped as I felt his stiff whatchamaycallit poking me in the behind. He moved the thing all around my butt, then placed it in dead center and pushed a little. I pushed back, which surprised him. Then he did it again and wiggled it around a little. I wiggled back at him. It was funny, and I had to keep myself from laughing. He didn't know what to make of it.
"Then he crouched on his side, in the same kind of position I was in, and his tool slipped down under my behind. I opened my legs a little, so it would go right in under my butt and between my legs. Then I closed my legs tight!
"Pops groaned as I held him prisoner there, but I knew he wasn't in pain. Neither was I, for that matter. I'd never had a boy put his thing anyplace near my crotch before, and I was getting to like it. His thing was really wedged in there against me, and after a while he started moving it in and out, in and out, very gently. It started getting even stiffer and bigger. Then he reached around with one hand and took one of my breasts and began to feel them. He took my nipple between his fingers and rolled it around.
"Nobody had ever worked me up like that before. I could hardly breathe, and my heart was pumping like crazy. I felt all sort of gushy inside and warm. I started rolling my hips around. I don't know why, it just seemed the thing to do. I knew he was enjoying it, and so was I. In fact, I was having the time of my life. Without him seeing me I reached one hand down in front of me and started masturbating.
"I'd come three times before he let loose so strong he nearly threw me off the bed.
"Next day he looked guilty. I asked him if he'd mind if I bought a new dress I'd seen and wanted. He looked surprised, but he said no, of course not. He patted me on the behind and gave me the money. I thought it was pretty great, the way things were turning out, and I hoped it would last."
It lasted--for a while. The father had latched onto a good thing, and he wasn't going to stop for no reason at all. During succeeding nights, he grew more and more bolder, until he was actually inserting his erect penis into his daughter's vagina and massaging both her breasts at the same time. During calmer moments, he thought it was odd that she didn't wake up, but he just thanked the fates that Janice was such a sound sleeper.
In cases of this sort, the incestuous male risks detection from two sources; the wife may discover the activity; or the daughter may tell all during a moment of anger.
In the case history cited, Janice was not about to tell on her father. She was too happy with the arrangement--for two reasons, financial and sexual. But it was Ruthie who lumbered out of the bedroom one night to go to the bathroom and looked in and discovered her daughter and her husband having sexual intercourse with each other.
CHAPTER FOUR - Peepers and Exhibitionists
The peepers are those adult males who for purposes of their own sexual gratification look into some private room at a nude or partially nude female without her consent or knowledge.
This has special significance for young girls, who are more likely to be careless regarding the pulling down of shades and wearing sketchy clothing in disarray in front of open windows. This is especially true during the warm summer months, when the heat causes the girls to wear little clothing and to leave windows open for air circulation.
It is a well-known fact that virtually all males have voyeuristic tendencies. If the average man passes a window in which a sixteen-year-old is disrobing, he is very likely to stop and look. But that same man is not likely to cross a lawn to get to the window where he will have to press his nose against the glass to see inside the room. The peeper will do this.
In childhood and youth, peeping is generally a group activity, with several boys engaged in peering through windows. If this childish activity is carried over into adult life, it becomes a solitary venture, as though the man is ashamed at having witnesses to his degradation. He frequently will masturbate while watching the young girl.
In his study, A Research in Marriage, G. V. Hamilton discovered that out of 100 married males, 73 percent remembered pleasure from peeping at other's sexual organs; 81 percent admitted that the tendency remained when they were adults; and 63 percent said they indulged after growing up.
Other studies have determined that most peepers do not watch young girls they know, but prefer strangers; the figure on this was an overwhelming 95 percent. It seems to be chiefly a young man's avocation, since getting into position for proper viewing generally calls for some agility and the capability of retreating swiftly before discovery.
Psychologists have learned that for the most part, the peepers are sociosexually underdeveloped, that they tend to have less heterosexual experience for their age and socioeconomic status, that they are shy with females, and have strong feelings of inferiority.
One man interviewed for this study, a thirty-two-year-old auto mechanic confessed that he was always shy around girls as a youngster. When he was twelve, his married sister whose husband was overseas came to live with him for a short while, and he was forced to share the same double bed with her. He was very excited at the nearness and he achieved an erection, which he showed to her with some pride. She rejected him, and he felt downcast.
"After that," he recalled, "she was very careful about what she wore around me, and she took to sleeping on the couch. I was pretty frustrated about this, but I managed to look through the keyhole when she used the bedroom for dressing and undressing. But it was when she was in the bathroom that I liked to peep in on her, because she was either taking a bath or going to the toilet, and I found that very exciting. I used to masturbate while I watched her.
"One day I looked in and I found her with her fingers up her crotch, masturbating herself. I had a perfect view of everything she was doing. I came twice that time, one right after the other." This case does not, of course, fall within the realm of the strange females category--until we note that the sister had been married and living away from the home during much of her adult life, so the subject thought of her as a stranger, which to a large extent, at least physically, she was.
In some ways the exhibitionists are very similar in psychological makeup to the peepers.
An exhibitionist is any adult male who deliberately exposes his genitals to young females in a situation where such exposure was not appropriate; it concerns men for whom the genital display is the desired end in itself, and not a prelude to further sexual activity.
It has special significance for us in this study, since these men frequently expose themselves to young girls. This does not mean that they are pedophiles per se. It is common for young schoolgirls to travel in groups, so the exhibitionist has the opportunity with them to expose his genitals to several females at the same time. Also, these innocents will express greater shock than if he showed himself to older and more worldly females who might not really be disturbed by the display.
Even more significantly, the exhibitionist knows subconsciously that by exposing himself to children and teenagers he is less likely to receive any sexual overtures in return--for the exhibitionism is an end in itself, and he generally does not want to be approached sexually by the female, an act which would undoubtedly disturb and embarrass him!
Some of these men have an erection during the exhibition; others may masturbate while exposing themselves. In any event, psychologists tell us that these men are attempting to prove their masculinity through genital display, that they may have some deficiency in heterosexual adjustments, and are expressing their hostility toward the entire world or to females in particular.
For a true exhibitionist, the behavior is compulsive and repetitive. It may start through some combination of insecurity, a real or imagined sense of emotional deprivation, and a feeling of failure. Emotional stress and alcoholism also seem to play a part, although some authorities have pointed out that many an arrested exhibitionist was in reality merely a urinating alcoholic!
CONCLUSION
As we have seen, the Lolita Complex is with us all. To men of any age, young girls in their teens are very attractive sexually. As clothing becomes less covering, and as sexual morals less restrictive, the old adage to look but not touch becomes somewhat disbalanced. There is more looking going on, and frustrations set in very readily because of the inability to not touch.
This is a potentially dangerous situation to both the older man and the younger girl. The age of consent varies according to the particular state. To have sexual relations with a young girl who has not reached this arbitrary age constitutes statutory rape, even if the girl was a willing participant in the activity. Even if the girl is over the age of consent, she may be legally a juvenile, in some cases up to age twenty-one--in which case the male may be convicted for contributing to the delinquency of a minor.
In the case of the younger girls, those fifteen and below, while biologically mature, are often naive and not able to cope with the advances of an older man. These children should be given a straightforward sex education, many authorities feel, instead of having to rely on the sniggering misinformation related by their friends. They should be told of the dangers involved without causing them any hysteria or fear of any man they come in contact with.
As we have pointed out, the girl of sixteen is biologically an adult. She had achieved sexual maturity, has developed all the physical strength, coordination, and intelligence she is likely to, and is perfectly capable, if given a chance, of living in our society as a socially responsible adult.
It would be naive to believe that laws will change basic human sexual behavior. Authorities have pointed out that they can punish a person so he will be more careful next time, but the punishment will not effect a cure, nor will the threat of punishment prevent many of these happenings.
By the time a person is an adolescent, his and her sexual habits and preferences appear to be rigidly established--through physical factors, psychological factors, and through social conditioning in our culture. Unfortunately, some of these factors conflict. Nowhere is this more likely to cause friction than in the realm of experience between an older man and a young girl.
We are aware that the present volume does not solve any problems, but it is our hope that the study will shed new light on a problem which during the coming years will undoubtedly become more acute.
