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From: nosepicker <"noosepicker "@gnn.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: repost of Eileen parts 1,2,3,4
Date: Wed, 30 Oct 1996 04:58:43 -0500
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Archive-title: Eileen - 1
Standard Preface:
H MILLER ON RUSTY & EDIE'S BBS
This is correspondence with a man who used the pseudonym Pace. He
wrote me from about 1979 till 1987, because I answered an ad in a
swinger's magazine. I never met him. I have no idea what has
happened to him since 1987. He was born in the late 1920's and felt
he might have a heart condition. He may have died suddenly, because
the correspondence unaccountably went blank in mid-stream. Or he
could be alive. It bothers me. He was obsessed with performing sex
with his wife before groups of men. She was very pretty, gullible,
and very much his junior. The period of intense sex performance he
wrote about extended from 1967 to 1972. But he covered everything
leading up to it and beyond.
The material was scanned from typewritten pages and dot matrix
print-out. Then edited and edited. If Pace's writing "voice" seems
to change suddenly, blame my editing. Everything was originally
written "in one long string". Time and sequence are "bugs" of his,
and loom large. But all else is chaos. This man neglects typos and
grammar, can switch from the vulgar to the pedantic in the flick of
an eye. His personality was very Schiz, his lifestyle was, too, and
so was his writing. I give you Pace, as he was, heavily edited and
revised. He is honest, and self-admittedly an opinionated, bigoted
man. That's him, not me, please don't shoot the messenger.
IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE A MESSAGE TO DISCUSS THIS TEXT, OR OTHERS FROM
THE SERIES, LEAVE A MESSAGE TO H MILLER
____________________________________________________________________
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1. My Baby and Me
Fucking my Wife for Crowds
This is a bunch of "books" about me, a guy who fucked his wife for
show in front of guys. I'll call them books, but I'll never publish
them as real books. They're only for a very a special public,
written by a guy who's not a "writer". There's stuff here I'd like
to share with a very unusual, a very small, a very special audience.
Guys who are older, like I am. Guys who were raised in more
conventional, much more inhibited times in the past, when women were
"nice". Most especially, I think this stuff would "get" to a certain
kind of guy, get to him in the guts; someone like me, with an
exhibitionist screw loose in his head.
I've got this funny, uncomfortable, weird and freaky "thing" in my
head. I'd like to know that I'm talking to guys who understand this.
You want to know what it feels like, fucking your wife in front of a
crowd? It's sends the blood racing through you. Your heart beat is
unbearable, like in a marathon, the excitement comes and hits you,
wham!!! wham!!!! There is nothing like that excitement. It's like
you're going to have a heart attack. I'll tell you, I get it at just
the thought, just the image, of fucking my wife in front of a group
of other guys, before I'd even get her stripped to fuck her. If this
is the kind of thing that would turn you on, if you've ever
fantasized about doing it, but have been too chicken to do it, the
way I once was, then these stories, these "books" are for you.
In my heart I'd really like my stuff to be read by guys who watched
me, who were audiences at our stag shows. But I don't know how that
could ever be. I don't know how this could ever get into their
hands. If it did, this is the way I'd like to talk to them. This is
what I'd like to say to them. I'd like those guys to see how I
manipulated that little ninny, my little Irish wife, literally, the
little fuckhead, the mother of my kids, into spreading out her Mommy
cunt so they could look right up into her excited pussy hole. And
you bet she got excited when she did that. We couldn't have done
what we did if she wasn't getting something out if it, too, it if she
wasn't excited.
And all of those guys who saw us would know I was doing it before
the swinging Seventies, back in the Sixties. That's right. When I
could have gotten our fucking asses in the klink for doing something
like that, or even a hell of a lot worse. If my audience was reading
this now they would remember what it was like, when they were at my
stags. I never got to talk to them like a real person, one to one,
we always talked about the stag show, itself, arrangements, bullshit
trivia, I never got to meet them, personally.
After all, I was this kook who was letting them fuck my wife. I
was too strange for any of those guys to look me in the face, most of
the time. It was really rare anybody ever gave me eye contact. And
if they did look me in the eye, they couldn't hide their contempt for
me, they had this shit-eating grin, this smirk on their lips. Even
though they talked to me, and gave me "lip service" about what a
great guy I was, you know, letting them fuck my wife, or sucking them
off, that ain't what they were thinking. No siree! They thought I
was the biggest asshole ever born. It was a real charade.
Hey, guys, those were uptight times, when flower children were
tip-toeing through the tulips with Tiny Tim, and Vietnam was heating
up. Didn't it break you up, when I let you look at family album
photos? When I sat there in your Club room running our home movies,
just before you were going to fuck my wife? Most of you knew we were
for real, we couldn't fake those movies and those photos, if you had
any brains. Some of you guys wouldn't believe it. My wife had to be
a hooker. Those guys thought it was all a hype, it was all a con
job. I even showed our personal wedding photos, photos from our
shotgun wedding. That wedding was real; I'd knocked up my little 17
year old pussy, Eileen. It was a small wedding. And there was my
sweet ninny of a child bride, a young sweet thing who cooed like a
bird, with her lilting Irish brogue. And her mother. Side by side.
In the photos. Some wedding, a 32 year old guy with a pregnant 17
year old. It was screwy, wasn't it??
You've got to remember watching my wife's open pussy in action in
your Clubs, all those function halls, locker rooms, hotel rooms, hey,
I even fucked my baby and invited a gang bang in a machine shop. A
bowling alley. All kinds of places. Freaky, wasn't it, showing all
those home movie shots, right? And then Eileen sucking cock, mine
and yours. How about all that other impossible stuff I had the sweet
innocent do, you know, in the later years, with black stag performers
and me. The looks on your faces!!! You couldn't have forgotten us.
I know I'll never forget the noise, the whooping and hollering, just
the astonished shock, the unbelieving looks on your pusses. What a
kick that gave me.
You knew, for sure, most of you who wanted to believe it, that we
were for real. We were what we said we were; married, and in love.
Really in love. You could see it in the looks on our faces when I
was fucking her. I was grinning at her, leering at her, kissing her
lips, her ear lobes, her neck, her eyes. You don't see professionals
do that. They stick to cock and pussy. Just fuck the hole, or fuck
the mouth. That's what's important when there is no love. You knew
we had kids, and lived normal lives, except for my "kink", my bent.
Wasn't it wild, seeing my wife and me take our marital bed right out
there out in public, in front of your staring eyes?
I remember. Do you? You saw the little girl suck my cock off, and
in amazement, your jaws hanging down, watched the totally innocent-
looking mother sucking out the scum from cock after cock of your
buddies. And grinning at her husband. And her husband grinning at
her. If you were lucky enough or nervy enough, you even got a chance
to get your own tool sucked off, or slip your dick into that awfully
pretty, innocent looking young wife's Mommy hole. I've heard you
guys wondering aloud, about us. I heard enough of you muttering.
Well, I wish that you had this book so you could get part of your
answer.
Well that's what I would have said to my stag audiences, if I could
have gotten this book into their hands. But for the rest of you,
you would know exactly what I'm talking about if you'd lived through
the forties, or were a young adult during the fifties and the
sixties, times when sex was so intense, so forbidden, pre-X-rated
times, when you were lucky to see one open snatch, in your entire
lifetime. Anybody who grew up then knew what it was like to live in
up-tight times.
Me and My Princess
To make it even wilder, I'm an Italian. An "older" Italian. I was
born in 1927. You know how jealous Italians are supposed to be about
their wives? Especially someone like me, a "paisano" who lucked out.
Against all odds I was hooked up with a sweet honey of an Irish wife.
I was told it often enough. How my Eileen was pretty enough to be a
movie star. That's how I felt about her, too. But to me Eileen was
more like an English Princess. She came on with this stimulating
half-English, half-Irish accent, but definitely a lilting brogue. I
was the luckiest guy in the world. How would you like to find
yourself like me, "into" a cunt 15 years younger, with a license to
fuck her all you want? Just looking at Eileen, I swear, I fucked my
giggling bride every chance I got.
And I wanted a lot of kinky sex out of her, so I stalked her like a
cat. Gradually, slowly, slowly, I trained the girl. I trained her
being real sneaky about it, into doing more and more perverted things
for me. I'll tell you how much that innocent "look" on her face
turned me on. It was unbelievable, whenever I could, I'd jump her;
I'd have my sweet Princess down on her knees, at my crotch, gulping
my hog, or flat on her back, getting her hairy drippy red split
pounded. While Eileen giggled her fucking head off. Always amazed
at how "gruff" I was. Her words. I couldn't stop it. Every time I
looked at that cunt, I wanted to fuck her. It never went away. I'd
literally look at my wife's face, sometimes, and get a hard-on. I'd
fuck the piss out of the girl, literally, she'd always be running to
pee after I fucked her, that hard, four times a day, or whenever I
could.
Call me a wop or a guinea and I'd probably "break your face".
Probably not, if you were too big. Hey, I'm no hero. But how else
can I say it? Could an ugly-looking "guinea" like me ask for a sex
life more exciting than that? I'm fucking a girl most people thought
wouldn't even talk to me. So you'd think I'd died and landed in
heaven, right? That was so much to have, who could ask for anything
more? It's true. I did land in heaven.
So it's natural to ask the next question; what's this fucking
pervert doing, here he is with the fuck of his dreams, and what's he
doing? Dreaming of fucking his sweet little wife in front of a gang
of guys. Now you've got to understand, this was way back in the
sexual dark ages, like in the early '60s. Kennedy was still King.
That was Camelot, and Father Knows Best on TV. And there I am, this
nut, plotting and scheming, all I could think of was fucking my sweet
Irish bride in front of a gang of guys.
What was bugging me? Where did this screwball "bugginess" come
from? The whole book, in fact all these books are just about that.
I'll show you how Eileen and I, both of us, were sort of "set up" to
go the way we did. We were both like loaded guns. All we needed was
the right trigger pull to come along and start us down that path. We
didn't know it, at the time, that we were going to act anything out..
We both thought we were "normal", whatever that means. Or at least
Eileen did. With my screwy sexual background I knew I was a sex
addict. And that addiction kept pumping me up with fantasies, I
would look at every woman and undress her and fuck her. Until
Eileen. When I didn't have to look. I could do it. I could fuck
that dumb cunt over and over and over again. And she liked it!!!
And let me do it!!!
My Wife Gets Propositioned to Pose for Fuck Photos
Anyway, there was this "incident", and that was our trigger. Made
us go Bang! And Bang and Bang, again and again, over and over. I'll
talk more about it, later. For now I'll just tell you that the
"incident" took place after my little girl had our first baby.
Sometime after that. I was the proud middle-thirties father of his
first boy. Eileen was a dumb, gullible 19 year old ninny. And fresh
from being made a Mommy. Going to Boston University's School of
Nursing, to do her part in supporting our family. But in white bobby
sox and plaid skirts, with school books under her arms, Eileen looked
more like a high school freshman than a married lady when she
commuted to college classes. The Mommy-coed.
Well, it all happened when my wife took a ride in a car, she got a
lift (I'll say!). The MTA trolley line (not MBTA, back then) right
in front of our house on Commonwealth Avenue in Allston, a part of
Boston, ran straight down to Boston University. It was out of
action, as it often was. When that happened students hitchiked.
Eileen had done it often. I never knew. If I had, I'd have had a
fit. A lot of students did it. Not girls, though. The guy who gave
Eileen a "lift" this time was another guinea. He was a guy like me,
a guy with just as dirty a mind as Eileen's "old man". Anyway my
stupid little pussy got propositioned.
This pastafazool spotted her and psyched her out just right; he
handed that gullible lolly pop of mine a bullshit line, offering to
pay her an incredible hourly fee for having sex in front of his
camera for some "medical photos". With her husband, "of course". My
trusting fool confessed, beforehand, that we were just about stone
broke. And didn't he "leap into that breach". Yeah, and likely to
leap into her breach, if she didn't watch her dumb fool ass. My dumb
cunt!
Get that!! Medical photos!! Some sh-ee-ee-t!!! But this is it!!
This is the kicker!!! My dumb cunt of a wife was eager to "go for
it"!! Fucking surprise. Fucking wild!! Just ask me. Would I have
predicted it? No fucking way in hell. I just didn't know how to
handle the situation. I was too chicken and scared, wanting like
crazy to do it, excited totally out of my skull, but scared, scared
of cops, of Mafia, of God knew who this guy was. Eileen had me
shaking with excitement, pumped full of adrenalin, when she came back
to the house with the offer. It made me dizzy. Really!!!
Frankly, I dropped the ball. And did I live to regret that! Sure
I did!! Stupido!! That crazy proposition planted the nutty idea,
and I couldn't shake it. My amazement was that my silly goose of a
beautiful wife was actually willing to pose for those photos. At
19!! From a straight nice little Irish Catholic background. She
would do it!! That silly little cunt would actually do it!
Well it took almost five years, five fucking years after the
"proposition" to pull off the real McCoy, but this wasn't posing for
animal crackers. Not by then. No, boy. Things had really moved
along in our sex life. When my wife got propositioned, back in '61,
there was no way you could have convinced me that, in a short five
years after, when she'd gotten her nursing degree and was a
practicing nurse, the sweet thing would end up the solo performer at
her first, and what I thought would be her only, real stag show. A
stag party, a gang fuck. Yup, a gang fuck. You got it, baby. A
pile on. The two of us dancing, still dressed, alone on a small
wooden dance floor, under lights, packed with close-in, steamed up,
teased up, panting guys, surrounded by a wall of watchers, their
tongues hanging down to the floor. Waiting.
What Happened to Amateur Stag Performers
I was nutty!! Crazy!! You know what we were facing, my Eileen and
me, with that nutty obsession? In some States, just because we were
amateurs. We were not like the regular whores and pimps who did
stags, professionals who paid off the cops, or who let the stag
performer fuck the cops as a "gratuity", if the cops wanted it.
Amateurs like us could've spent months, or even possibly more of our
lives in jail, if we'd been caught. That is, if we'd been lucky.
Yeah, a jail sentence would have been lucky, in Massachusetts,
compared to the alternative. Well, if a pro was going to get off the
hook by sucking off a bunch of cops, how about your wife? What the
hell, she'd fucked a crowd at a stag performance, hadn't she? Well,
you became a free fuck station for every cop who wanted a quick fuck
and blow job after you'd been nailed. Till a couple finally got the
point and moved out of State.
I don't have the facts, but have to confess that I never read of
one amateur stag performer who was busted in a raid for having sex at
a bachelor party in Massachusetts being brought to trial. Unusual?
Why? Was Massachussets a tolerant State? Hell, no!!! Not with the
Catholic hierarchy and Protestant blue-noses rampant. No way, Jose,
was Massachusetts lenient. I'll give you the whole story in other
chapters in these books, but even now, I can fill you in on what
happened to unlucky amateur fuckers in Massachusetts that will blow
your socks off. No shit, for real. It certainly sounds strange
enough to be unreal.
Back in those days, as I said, it was the rarest of rare things
that amateurs fucked in stag shows. Some of the few were caught.
Off and on. By accident. Maybe you could get away with doing one
stag, once, for kicks, anonymously, and never go for seconds.
There'd be no cops setting up to raid you, that way, on your second
try. But if a couple did more than one stag show, they were
certainly taking a chance of being caught. They were. It happened.
There were very, very infrequently these little bitty squibs, short
articles, maybe a couple of column-inches long, in the Boston
American, or the Boston Record, whatever its predecessor was, a
Hearst tabloid, about stag party busts. Maybe once or twice a year.
Or more. At the time we had this anti-porno happy Sergeant in the
State Police who made a big deal about busting stag shows. He was a
real bugger about dirty pictures.
But what never hit the papers was news about what happened to these
couples after arrest, their cases seemed to disappear from public
view. That was strange. Because, if you ever looked at the Boston
rags after arrests, you never saw news about prosecutions, only
arrests. Now why do you suppose that would have been?
Well, just think about it for a second. Would the "public" care
about some couple stupid enough to get caught fucking for a bachelor
party, anyway, except for the reporters who could generate a
momentary titillating thrill for their readers, exposing somebody's
perversity? Was that really a threat to public safety? Nobody
really cared if the couple got jailed, or got off. It was all just a
high-spirited dirty joke, after all, some couple out for a "kick".
Hey there was a real problem with real prostitutes, and racial
troubles, and the Vietnam War. So some dumb fucks were fucking in a
Vet's Club, who cared, good luck to them!!! Lucky Vets!!
So, with that situation, put yourself in a vice cop's place. A
corrupt, horny vice cop. As a cop, you're never supposed to fuck the
hookers, right? It's part of the "code", right? If you did you
would be risking your ass, getting canned. But everybody else was
getting ass. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. And, besides who
would have wanted to fuck some toilet of a whore, anyway? Now, you
got this bust of an ordinary married couple. As a cop, could you
imagine a better edge you could have on a really "clean" couple, a
couple that had been caught fucking in public, than the fact you
could send them to the klink?. What the fuck was the point of that?
Sending them off to jail? Some asshole had gotten his even bigger
asshole of a wife to fuck and suck a bunch of guys. Made her into a
fucking whore. Right? This pricker obviously didn't give a shit who
his wife fucked. Why not you? Hey, a free piece of ass. A golden
opportunity.
These two dumb fucks didn't want to go to jail. Hey, if you, a
cop, just wanted them to do the same thing for you, just once, since
they'd already fucked their heads off for a bunch of civilians, what
couple in their right minds wouldn't fuck the cop and his buddies,
just have the wife suck off a few more dicks, and the cops would let
them off scot free. The little lady had already sucked cock, so what
was new? "Just let your wife suck my dick a little like she did at
the party, buddy. No skin off your teeth." Quite a con? You could
see that happening, couldn't you?. It did. It was standard
procedure. If that was all, well, what the hell! The couple
wouldn't do stags anymore, that was for sure. What harm in it. the
cop got a little free piece of ass. This fucking asshole of a
husband was making his wife's pussy into a urinal, anyway. Could
have been just another cock blown off at the party. One cock more or
less, and the joke is ended right there.
If that had been all there was to it, it would have been a minor
corrupt end to something the cops should never have been involved in
in the first place. I admit it is hearsay, but there were supposed
to have been instances of sexual enslavement or harrassment of wives,
and even more perverse, of families of amateur couples down in
Massachusetts, which didn't just end that way. There's no way the
news of these events could have ever broken out into the public. It
was a system that was guaranteed to get some unfortunate victims of
police sexual blackmail stuck into a horror that broke their lives.
There was nobody to complain to about what they'd been subjected
to. Just think about it. After a couple was raided at a stag show,
or worse, entrapped into giving a stag show by the cops themselves,
what could they do to get out of what followed. Nothing. Just look
at the judgement that would have been on them. After al, they'd done
a stag show willingly, hadn't they. I'd heard, from someone who'd
lived it, that couples were not just let go after sucking off a few
cops cocks. It was like being caught by a loan shark. You never get
out from under.
And it was done in a real insidious way. The way cops use "good
cop, bad cop" routines on criminals. There was always some cop,
apperently with sincerity, "playing" good cop. What does a "caught
couple" do when some fake sympathy is offered to them after being
caught "wide open" by the cops? Isn't a shocked and totally shamed
arrested couple relieved and grateful when they meet some
"kind-hearted" cops who seem to understand the couple's freakiness in
the exhibitionism department? Kind-hearted like a crocodile. That
was the hook and the bait used to catch these poor fish.
The opener was to have the wife or woman suck off one cop's dick.
And then, after a "social" visit, repeat the same ext. Then the
stakes were escalated. Since the unfortunate couple had already been
"caught in the act" of giving a sex show, or the woman, girl-friend
or wife had already fucked a number of guys at a stag show, what was
one more sex show, more or less, or one more dick in the lady's hole,
more or less, between "friends", especially of the "friends" could
see to it that the charges could be swept under the rug, in exchange
for a "favor"? Get the picture?
These cops used that bait to suck in such couples further, so they
couldn't back out anymore, they would escalate the level of
involvement, get the couple deeper into performing perverted sex
acts. Before Eileen and I ever got into doing stags I learned
details and and more details about it from one couple we were
involved with personally, and closely (boy, will you see how close!).
It taught me a lot about how to run my own similar sex obsession in
the following years, and how to be clear of problems when I started
playing out my own nuttiness.
I should drop the subject, because these were only a few rotten
apples, of all the vice cops, a little band of vice cops, Staties and
locals. But some cops bragged to victims, to degrade them even more,
to let them know where they stood, to terrorize them about the power
these cops had over them. I'd heard horror tales about what they
were eventually forcing the couples to do to avoid prosecution, as
they got them further down the betrayal path. Things like forced
family sex.
The thing is you could never prove any of this, or bring cops to
justice. I'll give a recent example. There was a protest, based on
a complaint of a woman, not a prostitute, but an ordinary woman sho
dated a cop, who claimed she's been gang raped. the case was never
prosecuted. It did result in the closing of so-called Private Clubs
maintained by Boston cops, sometime around 1987. There was a
quickly quashed scandal about a small number of cops maintaining
these Private Clubs where other women besides this complainant had
been brought in and forced, many times, to have sex with officers.
That's in these times. Now think back to way back then. If a
couple had opened their sexual bed to mass penetration at a stag
show, from a cop's sexually bigoted point of view, the woman was a
commmon ordinary slut. That was 30 years ago. Probably those
fucking cops are still alive, having ruined these folks' lives. So
you should have an idea of the kind of legal environment, the
policing and emotional setting in which my wife and I operated, if
you didn't actually live through it.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Epilogue
If these reworks of Pace's "Books", as he calls them, interest you,
I will continue to post them here. From start to finish each page
costs me about an hour and a half out of a busy life. Reactions are
motivating. Especially appreciative reactions. I am not a
masochist and do not thrive on negative or nasty carping. Comments
can be left to me privately, by invoking the R security restriction
on Rusty & Edie's BBS. I will answer.
I believe that what Pace described really did happen. Would also
appreciate feedback in the form of remarks or information from other
people about other couples who indulged in similar activities. Or
first person descriptions by males who may have attended either
Pace's performances, or other such performances by amateurs,
especially from the New York, Chicago, Dallas, New Orleans, LA or Bay
Area.
Such couples as Pace and his wife Eileen intrigue me. If anyone
has has indulged in similar activity, correspondence or email of any
quality would be appreciated.
--
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Archive-title: Eileen - 2
Standard Preface:
This is correspondence with a man who used the pseudonym Pace. He
wrote me from about 1979 till 1987, because I answered an ad in a
swinger's magazine. I never met him. I have no idea what has
happened to him since 1987. He was born in the late 1920's and felt
he might have a heart condition. He may have died suddenly, because
the correspondence unaccountably went blank in mid-stream. Or he
could be alive. It bothers me. He was obsessed with performing sex
with his wife before groups of men. She was very pretty, gullible,
and very much his junior. The period of intense sex performance he
wrote about extended from 1967 to 1972. But he covered everything
leading up to it and beyond.
The material was scanned from typewritten pages and dot matrix
print-out. Then edited and edited. If Pace's writing "voice" seems
to change suddenly, blame my editing. Everything was originally
written "in one long string". Time and sequence are "bugs" of his,
and loom large. But all else is chaos. This man neglects typos and
grammar, can switch from the vulgar to the pedantic in the flick of
an eye. His personality was very Schiz, his lifestyle was, too, and
so was his writing. I give you Pace, as he was, heavily edited and
revised. He is honest, and self-admittedly an opinionated, bigoted
man. That's him, not me, please don't shoot the messenger.
____________________________________________________________________
--------------------------------------------------------------------
How I'm Going to Show Off my Wife's Sexy Body
Now it's clear I'm not a writer. But, I'll tell you this, this
story is not one of those dumb juvenile porno whack-off stories, or
those stupid, really asshole scripts you come across in all the dumb,
really dumb porno movies. That stuff is so jaded, so boring. You
know what gets me? The poor younger generation, the kids in their
twenties and thirties. Those fucking ripped-off kids think that the
stupid manufactured mass-production plastic standard General Motors
Issue asshole stuff they see in porno crappola has anything to do
with sex. Garter belts and stockings and mechanical dildoes. Oh,
Real, Real Shittola!! That's nineteenth century whore crap, from
England, yet!! Commercial crap to steal away your own exciting sex
imagination, like TV, and Coke, and drive an Accura Legend. That's
Accura Legend SEX. Garbage!! It's grubby money horse-shit sex.
That fucking business of coming off on girl's backs and cunts, all
that dumb shit. God, I'm glad I didn't grow up in a time of X-Rated
horseshit. Marone a Mia!!! (That's instead of taking the Mother of
God's name in vain).
Anyway, I'm not a porno writer. I'm not a fantasy fuck dreamer.
But, before I get on with the main story I want to talk about this
product I dreamed up, all by my lonesome. I've prepared a video that
illustrates what I talk about in these books. These videos are
close-up views I took with the macro lens of a camcorder, focussing
on snapshots, still photos. I've over-dubbed a voice script, to go
with the pictures. I figured that these illustrative videos would
make the books very, very real. They show still photographs of my
very young wife, Eileen in her ordinary activities, in daily life.
You can see her the way she worked around the house. See my wife,
for real, as a wife and mother to our kids. Eileen was always a
good, loving mother. But then the "fun" of the video are those
"other" pictures. After you look at those precious family album
pics, you can see, mixed in, my sweetie pie, stuffing her mother-hole
with cock and huge veggies, chomping on dick. How about that?
In these books I've also written about my sex adventures with other
women and girls. You can see sex pictures of them, too, in the video
collection. What's interesting about both of them was that I took
the photos when I was teetering on the edge of 50, and both girls
were under twenty. I took dirty photos of them, and was getting them
to suck off my dick. Gorgeous little girls, like my wife was when I
first married her, and me a fat ugly Italian.
Eileen and Our Stag Party Routines
Now for some realistic background on Eileen. My wife performed her
first, and what I expected to be her only stag party at a packed
veteran's club in 1966 when she was only 24. And the mother of two
little kids. I looked old enough to be her fucking father, at 39.
Fat and hairy and balding. Pretty little Eileen didn't even look old
enough to have two kids. She looked like a fucking bobby-soxer, a
high school girl, or a college freshman cheerleader. We were totally
off the wall, as far as any stag audience was concerned.
At the time Eileen was spreading her pussy so guys could get a look
up her hole, that same pussy had given birth to two small kids, our 6
year old boy and our pretty 4 1/2 year old daughter (not mine,
actually, as I later found out). I wanted to have that scene happen
once in my life, to see it for real, and I couldn't stop pinching
myself, I'd actually pulled it off. Crazzy me!!
Whore's did stag shows. Doped up, crazy "nymphos", hopped up,
anything goes soon-to-die, who-gives-a-shit nymphos did stag shows.
A married straight suburban housewife, with kids? Nobody, but no
married woman ever, ever, ever did that, as far as these Clubs were
concerned. Well, they didn't know everything, there were a few
others. But nothing, virtually nothing compared to the regular stag
show activity.
This is a knowledgeable guess, based on my own personal
solicitations of Clubs, practically all of which I turned down as
being too raunchy or wrong for what Eileen and I wanted. Just some
statistical estimates. Averaged out over all the year, there are
maybe 150 marriages a week in Massachusetts. Stag bachelor parties
back then, in the sixties, were held most often by industrial
workers, a lot of second-generation Italians or even more working
class Irish. The only others who would have bachelor parties were
the scum of the colleges, the drunken fraternities, and they usually
had a party using a more feeble-minded or compliant girl-friend of
one of the members. So the occasional lowlifes in the general
pupulation would have a stag party. That would be the smallest
percent of all the couples, not the average middle class
church-goesrs, because the general run of the populations are too
straight, or it doesn't go with their lifestyle in this religious
uptight conservative New England. But concentrating on Massachusetts
alone I'd guess, even back then, for bachelor parties, or parties
held for salesmen, or visiting firemen, or fraternities, of which
there was a shitload at the Boston colleges, in any week it would
have only been a few, like two or maybe even three or four parties
like that going on in any week. I admit, looked at cumulatively, it
may look like a lot, as much as a hundred to two hundred bachelor and
stag parties in any year. These would be anything from a hired stud
and some hooker or hookers fucking for an audience, to sometimes,
maybe once a year somewhere in the State, the real adventurers would
have a real sex circus, animals and all, or combination stag shows
and drunken gang fucks. But if you think about this happening among
about five million people, that's not a lot.
In the entire New England States, all of the States, I'd heard from
the Clubs I worked with, there were maybe two or three other real
amateurs like us, at any one time, taking a chance. Because when I
would arrange something, that would always be a chance for the guy
who was making the arrangements to bring up the question of whether
my wife and I would be willing to do this or that sex act that they'd
heard about some other amateur couple doing. Each amateur had a very
different style, that was for sure. We didn't work by formula. Often
these other couples were just like us, usually doing it for kicks.
But they only tried it maybe once or twice, for the thrill of making
money fucking and having a good time in a sex exhibition. Sort of at
random.
The amateur that made a practice of it, in Massachusetts, was
asking for it; if they did it more than one or two times, sooner or
later there were always little local yokel cops at these shindigs,
and they'd rat to their Statie counterparts, just cop-to-cop
courtesy. A careless couple would be set up for entrapment. I went
to elaborate measures to avoid that, just in the way I worked it.
Any amateur who came to the attention of the cops was sucked into
their sick game. So that amateur would be off the scene pretty
quickly. Eileen and I fucked for audiences all over New England, New
York City and New York State. We spread ourselves thin, if you don't
mind the joke.
But, in general, nobody in staid, uptight, sexually repressed New
England had ever heard of what we were doing, that is, in the
sixties. In California, today, fuck it, it's like buying a hot-dog
at the beach. No big deal. It's an amateur hobby or second income.
But these are weird times.
But what we were doing? Where did you ever hear of an audience
being treated to a family-style (for real) slide show and home
movies, beforehand? Just to give the affair that "homey" and "cozy"
flavor. You get the impact?? That was a real kinky husband, for
sure! My audiences dropped their socks with astonishment that it was
actually taking place. They thought, always, that it was some kind
of joke, or hype, or "kicky" con that I was putting over on them.
Well, some six years, and 45 other stag shows, by 1972, my Eileen was
then a jaded a 30-year old mother of three kids. At that point my
disgusted wife pulled out of doing stags forever. Four years later
she would totally split from me. We'd had a third kid, less than a
year after the first three stag shows, in 1967. A short break. In
case you've got a dirty mind; no, no, our third baby was not
conceived out of the pool of scum pumped off into my wife's bare
pussy hole at a stag party. As a matter of fact, Eileen was three
months pregnant, and showing a little preggie belly at her third stag
party.
That fun "party" the little pregnant mother had was her third stag
or it could have been her fourth party. I've got a list, but it's
too much bother to look it up, right now. Anyway, this bunch of stag
parties, about one a month, was like a crazy opportunity, they all
sort of all fell into my lap at once. I'd been maneuvering for a
year, and everything came together at once. I wasn't even assured by
Eileen that she'd be willing to do any more than just the first one,
if even that, but went ahead with the arrangements, anyhow. Why not?
Arranging for it was pretty exciting, in itself. I could always pull
out. The young mother had "entertained" at that many parties in just
three or four months. Three or four of them.
And this third or fourth party was a real scum bag of a dirty gang
fuck. Not like the first two or three parties. Those first two
stags were a model of fun, they were really wild, better than we
could have ever imagined. There were high jinks, the young mother
playing tease, everybody coddling her, enjoying her sweetness. Not
like this sordid affair in a bowling alley in Connecticut. In
Willmantic we had a crowd of real low life. I'd gotten the lead from
other activity I'd indulged in, trying to line up parties. Anyway,
at this affair there was Eileen spreading her pussy right on the
bowling alley, bowling naked, frigging her pussy with "duck pins",
blowing off line-ups in the men's room. All the things guys had
ever wanted to do to all the gals they ever saw in a bowling alley
were acted out. On my wife. No family photos here. Just a gal
walking into a bowling alley with a bunch of guys waiting, in nothing
but a coat and and her skin, and whammo! flash open the coat, showing
nothing on but black high heels and pussy and tits out for action.
I've got a great series of nude photos I took of Eileen earlier
that same night. I did these "rehearsals" in our living room, before
we did our stags. It happened the first time we did a stag, and it
became a really important part of the ritual. In these photos, which
are featured in the video, there is Eileen showing those tits and
pussy, just as she was ready to go for it that night. The only
photos I got a chance to take that night were nudes. These were
taken when we almost leaped for our "sex room" within moments after
our kids were picked up by Eileen's Mumsy for an overnight. We
didn't waste time time fucking around with cameras, I'll tell you
that, for sure. I had to get my rocks off into her, and Eileen had
to fuck her bloody head off, before we left. It just had to happen.
Period. Otherwise the tension on the long ride from New Hampshire
down to Willimantic would have burst over on the road. These
"rehearsals" were some of the most excited sex we ever had,
anticipating the main event, talking about what would happen at the
stag party, while we were fucking, there in our "sex room", and going
out of our heads over it, coming like crazy.
Ah, but then there's the "aftermath". You know what I mean? You
know that "let-down" guys get after fucking? The lethargy. The
feeling of "what the fuck did we ever so that for?" Eileen and I
would moan and groan, and look at each other, all worn out from
fucking, and laugh. Oh, why the hell were we doing this? Eileen
would go limp, looking at me. Laughing at the both of us, calling us
both nuts. We shouldn't go through with this. We'd already gotten
our rocks off over the idea. Nothing could be more exciting than
that. How the hell was Eileen going to go through with this now?
What the hell were we doing, going to a stag? All the little woman
felt like doing, was going into her beddy-bye and snuggling up to the
pillow.
And frankly, I didn't feel too peachy-keen on the whole idea,
either, post-coitus. After fucking my girl, here I was in a normal,
rational state of mind. In the clear light. Ugh! This was
screwball! I looked at it the same way as the audience looked at me.
What kind of crazy was I to want a crowd of horny assholes sticking
their dicks into my wife, the good and kind mother of my kids?
Ooo-oo-oh, what a weirdo! I must be some sick puppy to have started
this.
We sort of made ourselves do it. We had no more desire to go
through with this than we had to wade through a tub of shit. But we
had to. We would laugh and groan, saying we'd fucked away our
evening, or our party. And we were getting paid. The idea of all
those guys waiting. All the build up. None of these Clubs ever
believed we'd ever really go through with it. Couldn't blame them
for thinking I was just some kind of fruitcake, getting my rocks off
over an idea, a fantasy that I could never pull off. Frankly, it was
just as well we fucked beforehand. Who the hell could have taken the
tension, on the drive down? You know, that was like a five hour
drive. But the same thing used to happen those times, later on, when
we stayed nearby, in a motel. The frantic fucking, beforehand.
Ah, but then, there was the stag show itself. Then all the
pre-fucking paid off. Because we needed patience, and a clear head.
Once you've fucked, you're not that keen to fuck again, so the
fucking set me up to get into it unexcited, mostly, cold-blooded, and
protected. Both Eileen and I both walked out of shows I'd arranged
that were suspicious, even after all of my screening. Never started
them. Sometimes there was just this feeling that we could be raided,
or the guys were acting too fidgety, as if they were not letting us
be in charge, but were leading us on, so they could do something I
expressly said we wouldn't do. You know. Like a shiftiness in the
eyes, an unwillingness to make eye contact, I just had the sense of
betrayal in the air. It was like a sixth sense, a radar. I'd heard
the horror stories and took them all seriously, every one of them.
I'd say that one out of every four or five planned stags were like
that. If we'd been all juiced up, too much, we probably would have
walked into some really nasty situations. I don't want you to get
this wrong. We were excited. But not THAT excited, if you get what
I mean.
Sort of something that grew out of this pre-stag "blowing off the
steam", or the cum, if you'll pardon the joke, happened more or less
the way it was destined to. We ended up giving these little
"warm-ups", after the first year, or maybe less, with my "contact",
the guy who'd arranged it with me, or the MC. Believe it or not, at
some of the stag shows we actually had an MC introducing us. We'd
rehearse the thing with the guy, try to "lay it out". Those were
really the best of the shows, when a guy was making funny remarks
into a mike while your wife was fucking on stage. Hilarious, sexy,
funny, erotic, exciting, all of that. Some of these guys were great
clowns, keeping the atmosphere light, while my wife fucked, either
me, or groups of guys, or male stud stag performers at "the party".
I mean Eileen would be in the middle of blowing off some guy's dick,
and she'd catch the funny line and start laughing, with the dick in
her hand, I mean she'd stop sucking cock, and crack up. The guys who
were waiting to be sucked off, the line-up, laughing their heads off.
HONEST!!!
These guys, the MCs, usually wanted to get their rocks off first, a
sort of privilege. WE knew it, but the MC and Eileen and I played a
little tease and seduction game, exciting, really. It always ended
up with the guy and me fucking my wife Eileen's cunt and mouth
together in a threesome. I'll tell you, sometimes, just because it
was ahead of the main event, in the empty hall, or on an empty stage,
without anyone there yet, it could bring on some of the most intense
orgasms, for all of us. Our most solicitous and best MCs, on stage,
were guys who fucked Eileen's face or pussy ahead of the crowds.
On the later stags it would sometimes be the officers of the
particular Club, union or managers and coaches and captains of the
team, a small group, who would take us to dinner, amazed at how
"normal" we were, as a couple. Three to four to five or six guys
fucking Eileen, before "The Main Bang". It was the time pressure, to
fuck Eileen before the herd came in, that pumped it all up. It was
frantic, hectic, crazy, everybody laughing, because they all felt
they had to fuck my wife and get their rocks off into her pussy hole
or her mouth before the "gang came", a real pun. A real competitive,
exciting atmosphere. It was like they were "cuckolding" their
buddies or team-mates, getting one up on them, like fucking a lady in
her own house, in the marital bed, within minutes of the time the
husband was due home for supper. Same kind and brand of excitement.
The erections in these "warm-ups" were hard as rocks, not a limp dick
in a car-load.
A Description of Eileen
At this point I realize that Eileen is sort of faceless. I'll
remedy that. If you're not part of that very intimate, special, and
favored crowd I've been screwy enough to send a copy of the video to,
I'll describe my pretty wife Eileen. At least the way she looked
back then. Eileen had a very pretty oval-shaped Irish-British face.
Her looks were common in this country. My little wife was a "type",
one of the prototypes of the All-American girl. Eileen resembled
"Ivy League" women you usually associate with class, with
upper-class. A lot of pretty clothing models look like Eileen in the
tonier catalogue order books that the smarter and richer and frugal
Yankee crowd shops from, catalogues for classic clothing, like "The
Talbots".
There are a lot of model "types". At the extremes are those with
these refined oval faces. You've seen them, they look like royalty.
At the other end are these large-jawed, wide-apart cat-eyed small
snub-nosed creatures, the Shirley Temple types. Eileen's refined
oval face was crowned with a wavy halo of short, honey-colored hair.
Her features are evenly spaced, none too large for the others, except
that her eyes are really big lamps. Eileen's full brow was graced
with arching thick eyebrows, like Elizabeth Taylor's, and below these
were large, sparkling china-blue eyes. Imagine a honey-colored hair
version of Elizabeth Taylor. Eileen's jaw, unlike Elizabeth's, which
is slightly weak, is normally shaped, compared to another
English-Irish type, the lantern-jawed Irish or English. Her skin was
the clearest of clear, almost pearl-like and translucent, and
occasionally her nose and upper cheeks got freckled in the sun. She
had a straight strong nose, and shapely, soft, very definite pink,
beautiful lips framing a rather medium sized mouth, and regular,
evenly spaced, beautiful white teeth. She also had a load of dental
work done on that mouth to make it perfect.
I mention the teeth because the less wealthy Irish and English
girls of Eileen's age usually had poor teeth due to poor diets.
Eileen had a brogue, charming, and that in spite of the fact she'd
been raised in this country from the time she was 3 1/2 years old.
I'd expect that my most interested readers would have been born
during the pre-War, 1925 to 1940 period. They may remember the
English actress Deborah Kerr. Eileen looked like a mix between
Taylor and Kerr, somewhat similar to Kerr, with a stronger jaw, a
very classy dame.
The companion video has been filmed in accordance with a script
which has also been included in the book collection, in case
particular readers don't have access to the video. The script gives
the voice narration which is dubbed in on the video to accompany the
visual image. The tabular entry preceding the audio dubbed material
gives the duration of the narration, and the point in time at which
the narration starts. The script was used as the guiding document
for making the video.
I know I sound very technical, and my writing also sounds sort of
technical, too, or "intellectual". Frankly, I've never been to
college, but I grew up in New York, and my Mamma made me into a
bookworm. I've read everything, so I'm self-taught. I mostly sell.
I sell real estate, I sell anything. But I always haunted writer's
groups. I took courses on writing, on film writing, too. So I've
written tons of material over my life. The "intellect' is only skin
deep. Underneath it I'm still pretty much of an animal. As you'll
see.
This is the first place in the books where I'll slice a cut, or an
extract from the video script into the book. Appropriately the
opening part of the script is titled Book 1, Chapter 1, with
identical titles to book and chapter. The video more or less travels
along in parallel with Books. In the opening section of the video I
show Eileen's face for the first time, just the way I've described
her. These are the script extracts from B01C01 video clips 01 and
02.
# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
MIN SEC MIN SEC
01 Desk portrait of Eileen 95 0 37 0 0
Script:
This pearl-necklaced, bare-shouldered portrait of Eileen, my very
young and classy looking Irish-born wife, was taken in '63 when she
was only 21 years old and the mother of our two small children, aged
1 and 3. I was a 36 year old hustler, a self-educated, ugly, bald
and fat Italian, and very vain about my wife's heritage, the classy
English side which gave her the snooty look you see. I proudly kept
a silver-framed version of this photo at work, which co-workers
dubbed "the Princess Portrait". I adored Eileen and kept a wallet
version for showing off, too.
# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
MIN SEC MIN SEC
02 Color head portrait 104 0 41 0 37
Script:
Not only was a miniature of the desk portrait in my wallet, there was
a full figure photo shot taken in the same photo shoot as the
bare-shouldered portrait, on a Sunday dawn, in July, at 5:30 A.M., in
our deserted Town high-school football field. Eileen was wearing
pearls, dress patent leather high heels, and was stark naked,
grinning from ear to ear, her nipples rosy, red, erect, with a
shocking thick bush of pubic hair, posing. I often flashed these
photos as a teaser for prospective stag party contacts, or for kicks,
on travel, in darkened bars, when other guys showed wallet photos.
Our Public Exhibitionism
I'll make a comment on that script piece. That football field was
the reason Eileen and I moved into the small New Hampshire town where
we settled and raised our kids. It was way down in this hollow,
below the line of sight from the Town high school and elementary
school complex.
Eileen indulged me, early in our marriage, by accompanying me as I
cruised around searching for deserted places where I could play at
the risky sport of having public sex. Outdoors I usually pulled
quick photo sessions of my nude babe, and then had her get down on
her knees to suck me off, naked, or fucked her standing, while she
bent over to get pumped. Rarely on her back on the ground. But
mostly with her nude, and me dressed. Usually at dawn, in picnic
grounds, or other kinky locations.
It was during on one of my excited hunts over the landscape of
Massachusetts and New Hampshire, heatedly looking for places to
publicly fuck my amused, young, gullible and accommodating bride,
that we went through this sleepy small New Hampshire town. I took a
dog-leg off the main road because I'd spotted a school sign. That's
how I'd stumbled onto this great, half-hidden, half public outdoor
location.
For a long time, while we lived in the Town, I played this risky
game, teetering on the edge of being discovered. Fucking Eileen by
the football field meant taking the tantalizing chance of being
discovered, in our own Town, at the same time minimizing the risks of
discovery, because of the time of day, and depression of the field
below the line of sight. We had enough close calls to keep it
incredibly exciting.
There's no thrill like a set of headlights coming down the road, at
1 or 2 A.M., on a weekday school day morning, on a totally moonlit,
bright warm Spring night to give your balls an extra thrill, when
some teen-age parker or make-out artist is seeking to drill his date
for excitement. This happened.
The moon is full, the sky clear, and it is brilliantly lit. Eileen
and I are both naked. Instead of being close to the slope which led
up from the hollow to the road which led into the area from Main
Street, we are in the open, the furthest part of the field away from
the slope, the most likely spot to be looked down on and seen. But
it was also the easiest position from which to run to cover, you
could dash it, with your dick dangling, naked, dragging your
clothing, within five seconds, the dashing distance to the area
behind the rickety iron stands, and then the covering darkness of the
Norway pines.
My sweet naked wife is bent over, hands on her thighs, I am fucking
her little pussy. She must have been all of 20 or 21. I had my dick
in my own wife's pussy, while she's bent over naked.at the edge of
the field. The car is approaching the field, slowly. There I am, in
the middle of an ejaculation, as my sweetie is grunting, Uh-Uh-Uh,
right in time with my pumps, bare-ass, biting her lip, trying not to
shout as she has orgasm after orgasm. She is grunting, muttering
that they were going to see us, they were going to see us. Because
the headlights are shining way above us, into the trees line.
Oh, shit, I was coming. That's an ejaculation caused by headlamps.
My prick squirted off a gusher into Eileen's vagina. We both grabbed
clothing, crazy, and scrambled for the woods, suppressing giggles at
the surprise and the situation. Eileen left a baby blue sock lying
in the field.
And while we dressed, in a hurry, about to crawl back home, the
fucking intruder became just that. Two sets of minds with two great
thoughts. A huge, tall humongous guy with a teeny little girl, it
looked like a high schooler with an elementary school girl, headed
for the same field. Right square in the middle of the fucking field,
yeah, that's what I said, the fucking field, this kid, this guy, gets
down on the moist grass, on his back, both kids fully clothed. No
nakedness for these two youngsters. The little girl drops her
panties and climbs on to the prick of what I would bet was one of the
school's football players (I would bet it).
We were the ones who were supposed to be the fucking performers on
this field! But there they were. Fully dressed. I kidded Eileen
that we should join them, in a foursome, my mouth literally in her
ear. She winced because it tickled her, the idea, and had to
suppress a giggle. What could they do? I told her. Caught
red-handed, no red-pricked. No, she wasn't in to that, shaking her
head vigorously.
It was too dark under the trees, I could barely see Eileen's face.
The teen agers were maybe 200 feet away. You couldn't see any
details. This was not the standard porno suck and fuck. We watched,
but were pressed to get the hell out of there. You know, we got this
"after-fuck" letdown, and wanted to be home in bed, just then.
Eileen was giddy because she'd lost her sock, as we walked behind the
Church on the Common to our house, grinning. The Town totally
asleep. A farm Town. I didn't know why Eileen found it so funny.
I didn't get back to the field for several days, was too busy, and
Eileen's sock was gone. What the hell did anyone want with one lost
sock? Probably a dog got it and used it as a rag toy. Out of
curiosity I walked around where the two kids had been fucking. Deep
in the newly growing Spring grass, there it was, the condom,
somewhere about the same area. That started me searching, from then
on.
That was a busy place, "our" field. I wonder how many others had
skittered off and watched Eileen and me fuck. The grass was pretty
worn down on the field, during the summer. The upper field was used
for baseball, but the football field always had kids playing on it.
There were condoms under the stands. Interesting. Fucking on the
slats and pulling it off? There were, on average, two or three used
condoms a month. A lot of them close to the steep slope, up the
hill, at the base, and others close to the tree line. Pretty few "in
the open" fuckers. How about that?
The apartment we rented in an old New England farm house converted
into three rental apartments, was, literally, within walking distance
from the field, just by dumb luck. The house was 600 feet from the
Town Common, and the entire school complex, and the field itself, was
only 1300 feet from our front door. This meant that, any time of the
night we could skulk over to the field, totally clear of street
lights, just crossing the street at like 3 or 4 in the morning, and
taking one short block's walk to the "way" that led to the field. It
was our own private public exhibitionistic stage, weather and time
permitting.
It was one of the features of the Town, this location for fucking
Eileen at dawn, which attracted me to the Town when we had to move
and look for a place, just before Eileen delivered her second kid.
Anyway, after we moved to Town we used this location many times,
unobserved, as one of various places in the Town where I pursued this
screwy business of fucking my wife in public. As we became settled
residents I also used our Church sanctuary, and various meeting
rooms, because I had keys to the building, and even eventually got a
key to our Town Hall, because I'd gotten involved in Town politics.
Anyway, on the occasion when I shot these wallet photos the Town was
fast asleep, and our only audience was an occasional stray dog who
watched this strange performance. The situation was always exciting
for me, and on this occasion, too, Eileen ended up giving me a blow
job, pearls and all, till I squirted my sperm into her throat, which
she swallowed. I was too excited fucking Eileen's mouth to fuck
around with cameras, just then. After Eileen swallowed my cum for me
in one of my public exhibitionistic adventures I would always be so
happy, really manic, actually, that my elated state would amuse
Eileen. I'd be giggling and joking. Like I would be after she gave
stags for my pleasure, later on. I would fawn over Eileen. After we
returned to the house I'd feed her breakfast. I'd spend an hour in
our bed frigging her, fucking her, bringing her off to one orgasm
after another. Those days she'd be treated like a princess.
Eileen's Body
To flesh out my description of Eileen; the girl was short, barely
five-feet tall, had slight down-sloping shoulders, they were very
slim. On top Eileen was a petite girl. Her mouth-sized little
titties were far apart on the outer edges of her upper chest, close
to her arm-pits. She could've worn deep V-neck blouses with no titty
cleavage showing. Eileen's breasts were crowned with nipples that
erected into very prominent suckable teats when she was sexually
stimulated. At least half-inch long pointy teats.
My Irish Eileen had a rather longish torso, with broad hips, a big
ass, and shapely dancer's legs, accentuated by strong thighs. My
tiny wife's broad hips had prominent love handles which begged to be
grabbed so her pussy could be pressed against an erection, hips that
were very sexy on such a little girl, and gave her a slight
pear-shaped body. The pretty young mother was blessed with an ass
that jutted out, a big round Irish ass, while up front she flashed a
bushy Irish pussy that stimulated desires in some guys to bury their
faces in her hairy crack and eat her cunt. It wasn't my dish,
because as far as I was concerned my wife had a nasty-tasting snatch.
Eileen was never taught, and never consistently practiced any sort of
basic feminine hygiene.
Here's the script from the next video clip which illustrates that
description I just gave of Eileen:
# TITLE WORDS DURATION START
MIN SEC MIN SEC
03 Eileen in stag rehearsal 87 0 34 1 19
Script:
As my first book opens I describe Eileen's face. You've seen her
beauty now. In the book I lovingly describe Eileen's naked body, and
here she is, laughing and teasing, flashing open her coat on her
pussy and titties the way she did in one of her first gang fucks in
1966 at a bowling alley in Willimantic Conn. This Polaroid was shot
during a fuck and suck photo session I held in our living room as a
sort of cunt and cock "warm up" before the gang fuck activities of
that night, when Eileen diddled her hot red pussy in front of a
drooling audience.
Today's Boring Sex Reality and Sex Fantasy
I want to make a comment on the difference between a true story and
the loosy-goosy fantasy stuff that seems to dominate all porno media,
whether it's video or text. I find that stuff, a lot of it, anyway,
so dreamy, vague, or repetitious, with all the same dirty words, that
it's boring. I think what I'm laying out for you may be a lot
different, unlike the swinger stories of today. Today nothing is
shocking. Or really gut-wrenching, stimulating, either. Nothing is
exciting. Everybody has seen everything, and porno is the most
boring thing in the world. Boring, boring, bo-o-o-o-ring. But what
we did, won't happen again, with the freedom, and all the
possibilities we were able to explore. I can't see, in post-AIDS,
nudity-shocked America that a straight couple could exploit the
innocence of their crowds, and their own adventurous spirit to do the
unimaginable, the surprising, the utterly unthinkable. Everything is
thinkable, there are no surprises, no stimulations that don't have to
be utterly sick to cause some kind of reaction, even if it's
revulsion.
Because of AIDS-fear, how can a truly happy, ordinary couple fuck
groups of ordinary guys. Without formula. Formula garters, formula
high heels, formula shaved pussy, formula whore outfit. Formula cum
shoot off. We played original sex games with guys who would never
have fooled around, in their whole lives, unless we had tripped our
funny sexy way into their lives. Guys who'd never even looked into
their wives' pussies spread, seen any snatch wide open, in the light
of day. I'll tell you something, jaws dropped, literally, jaws
dropped open when I exposed my wife's spread cunt to some of these
guys. You know what a kick that was for me? There I was, in front
of an audience, wheedling and seducing my apparently resistive and
embarrassed wife into giving the guys a look, getting her to bend
over and spread it wide. Just to see the looks on their faces?
These days I've sat at a nude bar and watched some cocaine-doped up
angel spreading her 19 year old pink pussy right over me, and gone on
drinking with a bar buddy, ignoring a display which would have
brought down the house when Eileen and I were doing those things.
Times really have changed, for the much, much worse.
Today ordinary guys, regular guys are scared of their shadows,
would never, in their right minds, hold a free-for-all gang fuck,
like we did, without fear. They're scared their dicks will fall off.
Today what ordinary guy would even dream of dipping a bare cock into
a gal's holes, without the perhaps realistic fear of dying a terrible
death? AIDS-fear chills a dick, for real. What kind of gang sex is
that, with condoms? Beat your meat!!! You meet a better class of
people. AIDS has turned us all into a nation of meat-beaters,
masturbation is definitely "in".
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Epilogue
If these reworks of Pace's "Books", as he calls them, interest you,
I will continue to post them here. From start to finish each page
costs me about an hour and a half out of a busy life. Reactions are
motivating. Especially appreciative reactions. I am not a
masochist and do not thrive on negative or nasty carping.
I believe that what he told me actually did happen. Would also
appreciate feedback in the form of remarks or information from other
people about other couples who indulged in similar activities. Or
first person descriptions by males who may have attended either
Pace's performances, or other such performances by amateurs,
especially from the New York, Chicago, Dallas, New Orleans, LA or Bay
Area.
Such couples as Pace and his wife Eileen intrigue me. If anyone
has has indulged in similar activity, correspondence or email of any
quality would be appreciated.
--
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Archive-title: Eileen - 3
Standard Preface:
This is correspondence with a man who used the pseudonym Pace. He
wrote me from about 1979 till 1987, because I answered an ad in a
swinger's magazine. I never met him. I have no idea what has
happened to him since 1987. He was born in the late 1920's and felt
he might have a heart condition. He may have died suddenly, because
the correspondence unaccountably went blank in mid-stream. Or he
could be alive. It bothers me. He was obsessed with performing sex
with his wife before groups of men. She was very pretty, gullible,
and very much his junior. The period of intense sex performance he
wrote about extended from 1967 to 1972. But he covered everything
leading up to it and beyond.
The material was scanned from typewritten pages and dot matrix
print-out. Then edited and edited. If Pace's writing "voice" seems
to change suddenly, blame my editing. Everything was originally
written "in one long string". Time and sequence are "bugs" of his,
and loom large. But all else is chaos. This man neglects typos and
grammar, can switch from the vulgar to the pedantic in the flick of
an eye. His personality was very Schiz, his lifestyle was, too, and
so was his writing. I give you Pace, as he was, heavily edited and
revised. He is honest, and self-admittedly an opinionated, bigoted
man. That's him, not me, please don't shoot the messenger.
IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE A MESSAGE TO DISCUSS THIS TEXT, OR OTHERS FROM
THE SERIES, LEAVE A MESSAGE TO H MILLER
____________________________________________________________________
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The Stag Show Scene The Way We Did It
The usual stag shows were performed by whores in the mid-Sixties.
What a kick we were. A pretty young wife in her mid-twenties, with two
little kiddies at home, a clean and caring mother did not expose her
pussy to the glare of Club klieg lights before a crowd of shocked and
drooling males.
Because I was making my own rules there were some peculiarities in
what I demanded of these Clubs. You know, 46 or 47 stag parties over
about a seven year period is hardly "burning rubber" in the stag party
sprint competition. But I interviewed at least ten times that number
before I would settle on a Club or group, maybe twice a week,
sometimes. And I had a couple of real strict rules.
If there was a gang screw, it was all open, in front of the entire
audience. A lot of Clubs didn't want that. A lot of Clubs didn't
qualify. See ya later. That was my kick. That's was my payoff, that
was what I was in it for. You couldn't take Eileen off into a side
room, and one after another go in and fuck her, so that maybe the whole
crowd would have gotten a chance to fuck her. That wasn't my thing.
If nobody from the audience could get it up to fuck Eileen in front of
his buddies, fine, at least everybody had gotten a good show, a good
look at her screwing. But just because of what she was, and what most
of them believed her to be, you would be shocked how many ordinary guys
who would never, in their life, have dreamed of taking their porkers
out to fuck a woman in front of buddies, who would not do it.
Now I want to make a point about that. You know, there are probably
between 900 and 1000 men and boys, and I mean from old men to young
boys, I really mean boys, little boys, who stuck their pricks into one
or another of that little mother's orifices. I don't even know if many
of the older guys are even still alive, today, because that pretty
little mid-twenties housewife was fucking and sucking off some pretty
worn-out old veterans of World War I and World War II in some of those
Vet's Clubs. She was a little baby when some of these guys were
grand-pappies. My wife Eileen was gulping cum out of the balls of guys
who were thirty and even forty years older than she was. Just the idea
she was so much younger than they were stimulated a lot of old cocks
into squirting off into my little wife's pussy hole, almost the minute
they got their excited hogs jammed into the young mother's twat.
Most of these gleeful, grinning and grateful guys were faithful older
married guys, or poor lonely bachelors, drinking in the Vet Clubs, or
other private clubs, living at home with their old parents. Fucking my
wife was the chance of their lifetime to screw another guy's wife,
without getting shot in the ass by a shotgun. Fucking the lady's pussy
in front of her husband's own face, yet!! I can't ever describe the
glee and excitement on these guys' faces when they first saw my wife
naked, and then actually jammed their rods into her holes. It was
unforgettable. Like their entire lives could have ended just then,
they could have died and gone to heaven.
Talk about excitement, though. You think those guys were excited?
My heart used to pump up so much, like I said, that half the time I
thought I was going to have a heart attack from watching. I'd get so
steamed up, often, at least at the first stag shows, that my dick never
went limp. I would jump in and fuck Eileen, join the crowd fucking my
wife maybe six, seven or even eight times in an evening.
And my wife? Forget it!! When she was new at stag fucking Eileen
was often so crazy with the excitement of this totally forbidden and
crazy activity that she was she was flushed from forehead to her collar
bones, like with hives on her neck. Orgasms!! Her pussy would not
stop twitching all evening. That's why we did stags on week-ends. It
would take Eileen two days after a stag party to even get up and move
around, that's how deeply into adrenal shock the mass fucking put her.
Once she got exposed to an audience, and I even touched the end of
Eileen's clit with my finger, her orgasms never stopped till the last
of the stag. There was no way to number them, orgasms would keep
coming for the entire evening. Often the only relief Eileen got,
because the minute a cock went into her pussy, her firecrackers popped,
was when the little girl was down on her knees, sucking off a line of
cocks. A lot of times the situation would get her so excited, sucking
on one cock after another in a line, that she couldn't resist putting
her finger down in her crack, and that would light up the firecrackers
again. This is no shit. Not like "cool sex" of today. More like what
that phony Madonna slut simulates, but fakes.
For some of those guys probably the only blow job they ever got was
from my wife, if the Kinsey Sex Report, shocking as it was at that
time, was right. According to Kinsey, back in 1954, I don't remember
exact figures, only some 30% of the entire male population of the
United States had ever gotten a blow job, even once. It was even less
for the some the men of the older generation that Eileen sucked off.
Only one out of ten of those guys who were fifty and sixty, in the
mid-sixties, had never gotten their dicks eaten, ever. The rest, the
90%, dreamed about it and could only imagine what it felt like.
About These Books
I don't know who the readers of this book will be. I mean, out of a
thousand guys, some of you readers could actually have been at one of
Eileen's shows and gang bangs. For those of you guys who wondered what
it took to bring a couple like us to Clubs and parties, like I said in
the beginning, I'd like them to know what my wife Eileen and I were
really like, how you got the chance to fuck my little sweetie. For you
kids of the younger generation, I don't see how any of you could
possibly be interested in this. With the adult movies, and the
routine, boring, boring over-exploitation of numb cock, numb cunt,
numb, numb, numb sex acts, scenes over and over again of guys squirting
off cum on girls, like drilled soldiers, this forbidden world we lived
in will be totally unreal. I'll try to bring back for the guys of my
generation what it was like. They can remember. After awhile, with
present day porno, there's no place to go from here, for the young.
There is no innocence. When everybody has seen everything, what's
hidden? The world is like a fucking animal barnyard!!
Anyway, that should fix an image in your head of our heroine. Now
this series of books, and the video tape featuring her sexually active
body, didn't just come out of the blue. The collection evolved.
Initially I wrote to Swinging magazine correspondents during the late
'70s and the early '80s. The original letters were accompanied by a
few dirty photos of my then-recently-divorced wife, Eileen. Along with
the pornography I mailed out, which featured my ex-wife's pussy and
tits, I included a photo-narrative describing events and personal
background for each dirty photo. I also mailed illustrative family
album photos to show how straight and conventional she was in real
life. Eileen had left me very few of either types of photographs when
she divorced me, she'd grabbed practically all of my porno and family
photo collection.
Anyway these photos that I sent out, and the accompanying extended
captions that went with the photos, which I called "photo narratives",
fleshed out the stories I wrote about the stag shows and other sex acts
that Eileen had been conned into doing for me. All of these stories,
which were originally in letter form, were fused into a version of
Eileen's sex biography. The biography was written bit by bit, and then
in a more organized fashion over a period of years. I told Eileen's
story year by year, from the time she was a young child, till she was
doing stag shows with me, because that was also the way I laid out the
photos, year by year. It seemed natural. So Eileen's sex biography
got the title of the "Chronology". There were two evolving documents,
the Chronology and the Photo-Narrative.
I got more and more questions from correspondents. The more I
answered, the larger the Chronology and Photo-Narrative grew. In fact
parts of the Photo-Narrative got so extensive and long that they had to
be broken off and joined into the Chronology. Correspondents asked for
all sorts of details; they were curious and amazed at the pair of us.
They wanted to know about our family life, about Eileen's early sex
life. They wanted to know very exactly how I managed to con Eileen
into becoming an amateur stag performer. Some guys wanted me to
describe other gals I'd fucked, like Eileen. They wanted to understand
how I got my almost hypnotic power over my wife.
When I first started writing to these fellows all I did was to
described certain stags that I'd enjoyed, but not in too much detail. I
talked about the first stag show we ever did, that was like a virgin
describing her honeymoon. And like a honeymoon that first stag party
set the tone for many of our other performances. My correspondents
wanted details, times and places, and most important to them, numbers.
They were obsessed with numbers, statistics of sex. My writers wanted
to know things like the number of guys Eileen had sucked off at some
particular stag party/gang bang, or the number of cocks that had pumped
her holes at both ends at that same party. They wanted details about
how many oversized cocks she'd shoved into her vagina, or sizes and
colors of cocks that Eileen sucked.
Their statistical curiosity was amazing. They asked for information
on the overall totals, like for all the stags she'd ever done, the
totals of how many guys in all she'd given blow jobs to, the grand
total for all of her stag blow jobs. Or else guys would want to know
the grand total of cocks or the total numbers of animals Eileen had
allowed to penetrate her little mother's pussy hole.
I had to rough all that in either raw, from memory, or based on
occasional notes I happened to scribble down at the original stag
shows. And I had to find those notes in all the jumble of disorganized
papers that had piled up around me, in disorganized depression after
Eileen had left me. I didn't have that many very detailed notes, they
were scattered all over, helter skelter. Those original notes had been
jotted down with nothing in mind, mostly out of my own amazement at
what had happened with my wife. So many times, though, most of the
numbers I supplied my correspondents were only guesses, and I made that
clear. Eventually a summary table was needed, including question marks
where my estimates of numbers were only rough guesses.
I kept adding stories or incidents to the letter documents, based on
requests to do so, or tried to reconstruct statistics which had been
asked for, and my audience got larger and larger. And so did the
hand-written letters I sent back, which I then ended up typing out in
more organized form. To my surprise I ended up with chapters, and then
I'd managed to write small books. Out of desperation, in the
mid-eighties, I invested in a computer and word-processor. Then, over
the years, more books were written, and the collection slowly took
shape.
The same format as I used in the letters is continued now in the
books. The individual books are in the same tradition as my Chronology
of sex, they are stand-alone descriptions of sex adventures. In a very
similar way the script of the companion video to these books plays the
same role as the Photo-Narrative did, and it's accompanying still
photos relative to the Chronology. The companion video, like the
material that went along with the Photo Narrative, still consists
largely of still photos, with the script being narrated or dubbed in as
voice background. For those of you who don't have access to the
companion video I've included the script of the video as a separate
book, and interspersed script extracts into the books, where
appropriate. I refer to the appropriate clip, often, to illustrate
some portion of the book.
My motivation for writing and sending out photos at first is obvious,
it grew from a sense of outrage at being abandoned by Eileen, and out
of a desire for revenge. Even before she'd left the girl had stopped
sleeping with me more or less, mostly less. As a matter of fact it was
almost by mutual consent. She'd turned into a no fun fuck. Even
though the stags had stopped I lived in a detached dream world of
denial of that fact.
I really went a little nuts, to be frank, denying the realities of
our situation. In a totally bizarre and looney way I believed that
Eileen was really taking a "sabbatical", a short leave from doing stag
shows, that it was all only temporary, that my little girl would "let
her pussy heal" and that she'd return to doing stags. To show you how
really out of touch I'd become, I actually continued to arrange for
totally insanely dirty stag shows, which Eileen had no intention in the
world of doing, crazily using photos of her former stag performances to
arrange these nutty affairs, and pulling out at the last moment on
screwball excuses. It was like the pull of habit. Most of my time had
been spent arranging stag shows for Eileen, is was my "kick", my high,
and I couldn't give it up.
Eileen's Destruction of my Porno Library of Her
Finally, in '76, four years after Eileen had stopped doing the stags,
my poor baby completely broke her ties, walked out, left me with the
kids, took up with a girl who'd been our family friend, but now in a
lesbian relation, and divorced me. The lesbian relation was new to
both of them, and it was very short-lived. During the four year dry
spell before the Finale, before Eileen walked out, and after she
stopped doing stags, I found I could live without fucking her, because
I spent those years whacking my fucking dick down to a frazzle, jerking
off over my photo collection of her stag performances, happy as a clam
over these momentoes.
However, when my now-infuriated wife finally screwed up the courage
to leave me, this lesbian-provoked, revengeful wife of mine grabbed my
entire porno collection, film canisters and all, in its entirety. The
vast majority of my dirty photo and film collection was centered around
Eileen, with some small excursions. If I'd retained the collection I
probably would've spent the rest of my years whacking off over images
of the little girl's pussy being pumped by hundreds of different
penises, and her mouth being pumped full of cum. I might have been too
busy whacking off over memories to write letters. And these books. It
was the loss of all that gorgeous dirty material that stimulated this
weird project. I tried to recapture the images with words.
So I got even with my ex-wife by spreading around the few surviving
photos I'd retained. These photos survived because they were random
and low quality filthy photos I'd unintentionally and carelessly kept
clear of the huge hoard, secreting them in odd places, so the kids
wouldn't run across them, but forgetting them, mostly.
Anyway these dregs of a once spectacular collection, showing Eileen
being fucked and sucking my cock, and shoving veggies up her cunt, were
sent to every guy I could. It was sort of dumb and careless, but I
really couldn't get over the loss. I circulated Eileen's dirty photos
via the sexually explicit Swinging mags of the eighties, blabbing about
what a filthy cunt she'd been, advertising as if Eileen was still
actively doing these dirty things with me. I kept wishing it were
still true. What an agony, if only she had!!! It not only stimulated
my correspondents, but it got my overcharged rocks off sending out the
photos. I continued getting the same ball tingle I'd had before, like
when I'd publicly spread open Eileen's vagina to crowds and watched
human and animal dicks plug her hole and mouth.
The Last Years of Stag Performances
From a current perspective I can't blame Eileen for running out on
me. Those first stags that started in '66, and for a few years after,
were fun and kicks and highs, all the way. The stags we performed in
the later years were very twisted. In fact we'd gotten very jaded,
ourselves. In the beginning my sweet Irish wife was young and sexually
inexperienced. Frankly, even though Eileen appeared to be very
reserved, like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, the little Irish cunt
was normal and had a healthy curiosity about what it would feel like to
stuff other healthy cocks into her very itchy crotch. And then, out of
her mind with surprise, having started out doing stag shows, and the
gang fucks that went with them, largely to feed my sexual perversion,
my wife herself got a twisted kick out of being gang banged in front of
me, having me witness her getting off her rocks over and over again
with other men's pricks jammed into her cunt.
Eileen confessed to me one time that she got this enormous kick at
being married to me, and putting the horns on me in public, cuckolding
me right to my face at stag party after stag party, with hundreds and
hundreds of different men pumping her pussy. My pretty little wife
said that guys would ask her, they'd whisper in her ear, while
vigorously pounding their pudding into her bowl, if it wasn't fun to
get fucked right in front of her husband, forcing him to watch other
guys fuck her, and her fuckers and she would giggle over it, like bad
little kids. That kick and that thrill was the fuel that kept both of
our sex organs red and swollen in the beginning.
Toward the end, in the later years, our stag shows got very
perverted. In those later days I was trotting this little
innocent-looking wife around to stag shows which featured Eileen in sex
performance in front of more and more jaded, glutted and demanding
audiences. They wanted to watch Eileen get ass-hole fucked, to suck
off blacks and animals, to fuck and suck immature boys. All of which
she did, including the young boys. My wife was uncomfortable that
these kids were just a year or two older than her own developing son,
and that our son would soon be the same age as the kids she was sucking
off and fucking.
Added to that funny feeling in Eileen's mind was increasing desire
from the audiences to view us in family sex acts, mixed with animals,
and so forth. Worse, though, there were increasingly perverted
"suggestions" and actual intimidations and all sorts of manipulation
from our stag "groupies". These "groupies" were often the actual Club
contacts and liaisons I worked with in producing stag shows, as well as
guys who hung around with Eileen and me, both after and before the stag
show, proper, these groupies were stag show "fans".
Quite often, for the extra kick of it, and on an unpredictable and
discretionary basis, Eileen and I, either before or after the show,
would initiate an improvised and stimulating little small-group
side-actions with our groupies. These mini-stags were a sort of sexual
bonus offered to the Club contacts. If we pulled off one of these
appetizer shows or fuck sessions, there was always the hope on my part
that this would serve like a sexual "payoff", a bit of sexual
"bakshish".
I hoped that such sexual extras would bias our contacts a little more
in our favor, in dealing with potential loss of control among the
crowds. That possibility always hovered over a performance, the chance
of a violent and disgusting gang rape of Eileen, an uncontrolled and
abusive use of her body. In fact, after our groupies had fucked my
little wife's hole, or shot off their loads into her mouth before the
main bang, the payoff turned out to be very real. Often enough to be
worth it, the contacts would indeed be protective of Eileen, when the
Club members, drunk, would get loud, vulgar, cursing Eileen like an
ordinary whore. Our groupies were a great defense, setting the tone
for the other Club members, in many ways, treating her affectionately
and familiarly.
These "Bonus Boner Bangs" could sometimes take place at the same Club
premises where the main bang occurred, either before the main event
started, or after everyone had gone. On some occasions we'd go off to
another location, like a friend's private home, or the contact's home,
or even our own motel room and have a little sex appetizer or dessert.
It made the contact or the groupies feel privileged.
The problem for us with some of these groupies, at the later period
stags, was that frequently a few of these characters turned out to be
little local tin-horn cops, or State Police or Sherrifs, or local
"big-wigs", jerks who thought they could push people around. Some of
these distasteful bully boys were even, by chance, low-level minor
Mafia-connected clowns, petty ante types. You could lump them all
together, no difference between cops and Mafia, in terms of sexual
intimidation. They got their sex kicks from the same source, having
someone sexually in their power. They got off, really got orgasms from
intimidating couples sexually, they would brag about it to us,
forgetting who we actually were.
Anyway, some of these slobs and creeps occasionally tried pressuring
Eileen and me, by threats of blackmail and other intimidation, like
implying how easy it would to get us busted, and even worse, physically
mashed up by muscle, if we didn't go along with indulging their
perverted tastes. And their tastes ran to having us indulge in family
sex on stage with our young kids, for their amusement. The fact that I
always carried a snub-nose had a chilling effect on some of that. But
not enough, as far as I was concerned.
As we moved into the '70s, in just that five years from when we
started doing stags, the climate had changed. It was wilder, less
intimidating, because obscenity laws had been blown off the books, but
I felt we were in very dangerous and threatening territory. It was
hard to avoid in the private Club stag scene. Clubs could now get
amateurs, suddenly, to do anything, anything at all in front of them.
Both Eileen and I felt the menace.
In '66, when we did our first stag I started out being afraid of
being arrested by the cops. Not Eileen, my ninny never had the thought
cross her simple mind. Eileen never read the news, and when our
neighbors got busted in '64, for similar activities, Eileen walked
around in coo-coo land, being very sympathetic to them, but never
really paying attent+ion to the gruesome details, the way I did. She
never personalized it, applied it to our situation, thought it could
happen to us. In spite of these unpleasant overtones I still could
find some "clean fun" situations, but the newer demands of the
seventies finally blew Eileen's fuse.
A Dumb Way to Destroy my Collection
Anyway, after doing stags for over six years Eileen flew the coop,
and for good reason, in retrospect. From what I just said you can see
how nasty things were starting to be in the stag scene. And she was
over thirty and no angel anymore. But Eileen really pulled guerrilla
warfare on me by destroying my collection. What amazed me was that the
silly asshole didn't even bother to burn it all, she and her lesbo
girl-friend just dumped the contents out of her car trunk packed in
closed cardboard cartons, intact, onto a pile of trash in a Town Dump
near our own Town. Dopes!! The damned stuff could've broken open, or
some nosey clown could've found it and Eileen's pussy would've been
famous among friends and neighbors. Eileen wasn't thinking straight
about anything, anything at all when she broke and ran. She left me
with our kids, after having been such a super Mommy.
I'd had four lock-safe file drawers packed with eleven years worth of
instant cock erection. There were black and white and color prints,
Polaroids, slides and 16 mm movies that showed my little housewife
jamming stuff into her pussy and fucking and sucking incredible numbers
and different kinds and shapes and colors of cock. I'd photographed &
printed up at least ten thousand prints, and Lord knows how many slides
and Polaroids. And maybe even a hundred hours of 16 mm sound film,
some of it from stag parties, some from little sex exhibitions we used
to do for pleasure in abandoned or deserted public places at odd hours.
All of it was high quality, sharp and unique, especially the animal
sex portions at the stag shows. These included a unique and
spectacular set of reels I took of Eileen getting her pussy fucked by
the front end of a little donkey's dong, where the donkey actually
dumped this huge stream of cum into the little mother's cunt hole
because I used a lubricated jerk-off tube I slid over the full length
of little animal's dong to stimulate an ejaculation.
The first five years' worth of the collection, taken before I'd
gotten Eileen to fuck crowds at stags, showed Eileen in solo sex, that
is either jamming stuff into her cunt hole, or having sex with her
husband. The collection from the early years progressed from nudes to
more outrageous acts. I "stage managed" a bunch of phonied up sets
that made it look as if Eileen was doing sex acts that had never
happened in reality, to stimulate my fantasies.
Our earlier photos were spread pussy shots in our home. Then I
seduced Eileen into posing for photos of me jamming my happy little red
cock into her hairy pussy, with her acrobatic body bent and contorted
into every possible position, or eating my cum in all sorts of deserted
places, like in the empty school I mentioned before, and other public
buildings in our little Town, when I'd succeed in getting keys to those
places. We did fuck around in our Church, and the only shots I dared
to take were photos of Eileen giving me a blow job in the minister's
study, because the study had no window and the flash wouldn't be
visible outside the Church.
These were all tame compared to the photos in the collection dating
from the last six years. This was the crazy stuff, it showed Eileen
performing for stag shows, sucking off cock line-ups, and getting her
young mother's cunt penetrated by animal cock, with bunches of blacks
roasting her at both ends on the spit of their pricks, like some little
pig with its mouth stuffed over a fire.
Pitiful odds and ends of my once glorious collection survived the
destructive onslaught, a hundred or so photos and slides that had been
overlooked, hidden in various places in the house to keep them away
from our kids. In spite of precautions, though, one of our baby
sitters had gotten hold of samples of my secreted photos, but I'll tell
about that in another book. Anyway, deprived of my collection I got
bugged on trying to remember how incredible it had all been, but I
didn't have my photos to stimulate me. You must be able to see how
frustrated I was. Which was partly the reason I started to write. To
remember.
Training Eileen for Stags
You'll see I'm not a real writer. I'm certainly a piggie. But not a
real writer. Of course I'd love it if this book made you feel like you
were looking over my shoulder, watching Eileen's cunt get filled, or
even inside my skin, feeling my dick being sucked like a vacuum cleaner
by my pretty woman's pretty mouth. This is not the fantasy of some
teen-age jerk-off artist imitating Playboy or Penthouse letters. That
kind of shit, describing cocks and cunts and tits and assholes in
repetitive "flowery" language keeps my dick limp. Some of you guys may
not like real sex description. Virgin teen-agers eat up that crap
about "sweet" cunts and "creamy" cum.
When I was trading photos I got "fantasy" bullshit back from some of
my correspondents. By contrast, when I say that a cunt smells like toe
cheese, that's on the level. Some lousy cunts smell that way for the
same reason that all toes smell that way. Cunts and toes are moist and
sweaty, with no air. The skin oil rots or ferments like any fat, and
when it rots it stinks. And I don't call cum "creamy". It's not. It
could be lumpy and stringy, and real foul-tasting, especially for my
wife, sometimes. In fact sometimes it made my wife gag, the cum from
some guys, if they ate the wrong things. She'd occasionally bitch
about it. Like mother's milk picks up tastes from what a gal eats.
You are what you eat.
O.K., enough of this philosophical bull-shit. Let's go back to '66.
The news magazines were full of stuff about the Beatles, Andy Warhol,
the Velvet Underground, psychedelic light shows, the Vietnam War. On
the sex scene topless dancers got busted and fined for showing bare tit
in San Francisco. Honest! Showing nipples without pasties, without
little nipple cups, nipple brassieres. How's that for medieval? And
bare pussy!! Jail sentences!!
Ordinary people got tossed into the clink for doing sex acts that
were yawn material, ten years later, like in the sex peep shows along
42nd Street in New York. You can sense that the same sort of legal sex
repression is starting up again these days. You can go to jail right
now in Georgia for having your wife suck you off in the privacy of your
own bedroom, because of a new law. Some dude in Georgia is currently
serving ten years because his wife fucked him over that way. That's
the way it was then, only ten times worse than today. Hugh Hefner of
Playboy fame was constantly harassed for just showing bare tit. For
sure. But now, the sixties are coming back, a nudist magazine, today,
one that shows anybody under 18 naked, not even sexually involved, is
open to prosecution in Massachusetts for "child pornography". The
wheel turns. It's coming back.
So what really happened? I'll give you a sample of what it was like.
At heart Eileen was shy, but she'd do anything I wanted her to to make
me happy, sexually. But it was all very tricky. She had to be
properly "handled". I'll tell ya', I had to do a lot of manipulating,
a lot of screwin' around to bend this gullible, completely trusting
Catholic wife of mine into satisfying even some of my less perverted
sex acts, in the early months of our marriage. Sooner or later she'd
do it all, but I had to concentrate. It wasn't only me that got my
rocks off at conning the little dummy. My blue-eyed sweetie pie
herself got a kick out of the seduction game. Even if she didn't know
what was in my twisted brain, my tootsie knew she was going to end up
doing what I wanted. But the cunt loved to play extra innocent, just
to tease me.
It took time. Like when we all lived in Camelot, and Kennedy was
"in", my 19 year old wife was being drawn into the exhibitionism. Five
years later, post Beatles, long hair and flower children and LSD Eileen
was showing off in public, for an audience. Here I was, 39, and
balding, a very unattractive Italian. I was married to this movie star
quality wife, who was only 24. You know what Eileen looks like, either
from my description, or looking at the video.
Here are the two of us in this scene. We're both at a VFW party in a
hick town near Brockton Mass. Let me call it Easton, a real little
cow-town that time let pass by. Here's this darling five foot high
wife of mine, a good mother of two small kids, out for a night on the
town with her husband. The two of us are dancing on a miniature dance
floor to the romantic sound of a tune crooning from a jukebox. As a
couple we're both dressed the way people do for cocktails and dinner.
I'm in a three-piece brown business suit, gold watch and all. My
blue-eyed wife is dressed very "upper class", a tasteful orange and red
paisley satin blouse, deep green woolen skirt, deep green, warm panty
hose kinds of things, and low heels.
We're doing a showy solo on a dance floor in this little Club. The
Club may have had a ship outside, on its sign, I'm vague on this.
Maybe it was called something like the Diplomat, or some such name,
that didn't go with the ship sign. I don't remember exactly, it's
possible, even at the best of times, to confuse one Club with another
when you go out "dancing". Anyway, there we are, my wife and I, all
dressed up to go out to dinner, and now we're dancing under intense
spotlights. Eileen is a great, talented dancer. She makes it all look
so easy. Nothing unusual. But Eileen is the only gal in that Club
that night, all alone, in a room packed to the rafters with VFW Club
members and invited male-only guests.
So what are we doing here? Well, this audience of small town hicks
are drooling in hot anticipation of what's been promised for that
night. Before we'd arrived at their darkened Club they'd been
circulating tasteful "artistic" nude color prints I'd made of Eileen,
and which I'd lent them for weeks before the show. These prints were
lying around on the bar tables, being glanced at from time to time by
the drooling patrons as my suburban-looking little wife and I dance
lovingly in front of them, kissing, cooing at each other. My wife's
ordinarily pale white face is red in the cheeks, flushed with
excitement in anticipation of what is going to happen.
Eileen has never done what I'm about to try with her, in her life.
There's a lot of suspense in the air, because the deal I worked with
this Club was that no-one could guarantee that this little girl
wouldn't get cold feet at the last minute. It might be just too much
for my wife, because I wasn't quite sure the little mother could
actually strip off her clothes and bare herself naked in front of them,
no less fuck her husband or do anything like that. I assured them that
my little housewife had never taken off her clothes in front of a crowd
of leering guys prepared to watch her husband fuck her mouth and cunt,
no less spread her legs for them to get a crack at her slit. These
guys are sweaty, panting to take out their dicks and jam them into all
her holes at once if I can get her fucking me in front of them.
Finally, after unbearable suspense, I don't strip my quivering,
panting wife totally naked. No. But what I do, on the shellacked
wooden dance floor, is to help Eileen, fully dressed, to step out of
her panty hose after she kicks off her shoes, one after the other. The
first step!! The flood gates are opened. The guys howl with delight.
Both Eileen and I take the cheer with raised arms, like victorious
prize fighters, while flashbulbs from cameras pop off. That won't be
the last of those for the night. Excited, giggling, laughing my head
off, I bring out a chair, Eileen bends down, her head on the chair,
and, with a flourish I jerk up my own wife's skirt while she spreads
her legs wide as she can for them to peer up her naked and exposed
wide-open hairy little mother's gash.
When the impossible finally happens in front of their goggle-eyes,
the girl's pussy is swollen and glistening fiery red as the exposed
organ actually drools a string of pussy wet down her inner thigh,
waiting for her red-faced and shaking husband to drop his pants and jam
his overheated cock up her hole. How about that!!! This is 1966 and a
cunt bush exposed in a San Francisco Topless Bar gets some poor girl 30
days in the slammer. But here's a straight suburban mother of two
small kids getting her pussy pumped for show!!!
This first Club stag turned out to be Act I in a long, crazy, bunch
of sex acts, all part of these exhibitionist adventures with Eileen.
At first this was my private sex fun. Performances in deserted places,
pretending I was fucking my wife in front of imaginary audiences. What
I did for private kicks eventually became real public entertainment.
The sex shows that Eileen gave were unlike anything seen elsewhere,
before or since. Nothing I've ever read before about stags is like
what we did. The point is that modern swingers are so jaded, do sex so
much by formula, that one whorish gang bang or stag show is pretty much
like the other. Why even bother? They're all the same. But back then
I didn't know there was any formula for a stag show. When a Club
wanted a formula stag show I told them to hire some whore. I just
didn't know any better. I'd never seen a stag show. I knew what would
be a wild send-up for me. It turned out to be the same for my
audiences. What gave me kicks gave them kicks. I was an amateur. The
acts that Eileen and I performed blew guys heads straight away, each
stag different at each club, never the same.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Epilogue
If these reworks of Pace's "Books", as he calls them, interest you,
I will continue to post them here. From start to finish each page
costs me about an hour and a half out of a busy life. Reactions are
motivating. Especially appreciative reactions. I am not a
masochist and do not thrive on negative or nasty carping. Comments
can be left to me privately, by invoking the R security restriction
on Rusty & Edie's BBS. I will answer.
I believe that what Pace described really did happen. Would also
appreciate feedback in the form of remarks or information from other
people about other couples who indulged in similar activities. Or
first person descriptions by males who may have attended either
Pace's performances, or other such performances by amateurs,
especially from the New York, Chicago, Dallas, New Orleans, LA or Bay
Area.
Such couples as Pace and his wife Eileen intrigue me. If anyone
has has indulged in similar activity, correspondence or email of any
quality would be appreciated.
--
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Archive-title: Eileen - 4
Standard Preface:
H MILLER
This is correspondence with a man who used the pseudonym Pace. He
wrote me from about 1979 till 1987, because I answered an ad in a
swinger's magazine. I never met him. I have no idea what has
happened to him since 1987. He was born in the late 1920's and felt
he might have a heart condition. He may have died suddenly, because
the correspondence unaccountably went blank in mid-stream. Or he
could be alive. It bothers me. He was obsessed with performing sex
with his wife before groups of men. She was very pretty, gullible,
and very much his junior. The period of intense sex performance he
wrote about extended from 1967 to 1972. But he covered everything
leading up to it and beyond.
The material was scanned from typewritten pages and dot matrix
print-out. Then edited and edited. If Pace's writing "voice" seems
to change suddenly, blame my editing. Everything was originally
written "in one long string". Time and sequence are "bugs" of his,
and loom large. But all else is chaos. This man neglects typos and
grammar, can switch from the vulgar to the pedantic in the flick of
an eye. His personality was very Schiz, his lifestyle was, too, and
so was his writing. I give you Pace, as he was, heavily edited and
revised. He is honest, and self-admittedly an opinionated, bigoted
man. That's him, not me, please don't shoot the messenger.
IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE A MESSAGE TO DISCUSS THIS TEXT, OR OTHERS FROM
THE SERIES, LEAVE A MESSAGE TO H MILLER
____________________________________________________________________
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Just and Old Pervert, Yours Truly
As for me, as I said, I'm just an old Guinea, ugly, balding, with a
hooked nose and double chins. I was born in 1927 in Little Italy, New
York City. I look a little like Marlon Brando, and felt gypped when he
played the Godfather. That should have been me! I'm certainly not
very attractive, to say the least, very average in prick size, even
under, barely six inches. Just to cap my physical repulsiveness, I've
got this fat belly hanging over my pants belt. Too much pasta.
So how come I've got this almost hypnotic control over some very
beautiful women, the classy "goody goody" types? These women, who will
do almost anything for me sexually, are almost always "proper" looking
girls and women. Almost cold-looking. Uptight. They're women who
look like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. When I get hold of
them, they'll do anything, things you couldn't believe, things even
they couldn't believe they'd done, afterwards. I mean anything, they
turn into the real pigs. All of these dames look so inhibited and
passive. Never fooled me. I've jammed my cock into maybe a hundred or
so different women in my sex life. Not a lot, these days.
Often other guys wouldn't look twice at some of these gals, because
the gals were either too shy, too "plain", not "foxy" enough, or so
spectacularly pretty that they were dubbed "cold fish". If I'd show an
interest in such women often I'd get told by other men with "superior
knowledge" that I'd never get any sex out of them, not to waste my
time. That was their opinion. But I knew my targets.
Well what's the secret? I think I know. I'm in many ways a lot like
my Italian mother, I even talk like my mother. I think I act sort of
feminine, almost "faggoty", in many ways. Like a fat old Italian lady,
almost like that comedian sidekick of Burt Reynolds. Dom Delouise.
But all I can think about, night and day, is fucking women. But only
certain kinds of women.
Women who like macho men never ever give me a second glance. The
bitches. They can't stand me. And I can't stand them. It's mutual.
But women who are drawn to other women, who don't want to compete with
other women, the way the bitches do, these gals absolutely accept me,
totally. And trust me, totally. It disarms them. I'm a wolf in
sheep's clothing. That's the nub of it, right there. In their guts
these women seem to accept me as just another kind of woman. It's
funny, sort of, peculiar. I talk recipes, and housework and other
woman things, around woman, and always, "feelings". I'm very sensitive
on that point. Lot's of women feel "mothered" by me. Passive women.
I've got a woman's sensitivity, and frankly, some of the women I've
made love to say I make love to a woman as if I were another woman,
except for this odd fact that I need to get my cock sucked, more than
anything else. They say that I seem to love every single part of a
woman's body. I do. Except for women who don't take proper hygienic
care of their pussies. I can't stand cheesy smelling pussies.
Since the age of six I've been bugged on womens' naked bodies, on
seeing erect pricks stuck into, or rubbing against cunts and tits and
asses. Or on seeing guys standing around with erect cocks, leering at
naked ladies. Can you believe this, at six years of age I was totally
turned on by sex? At six years old, a sex fiend??!! I've always spent
25 hours a day thinking about sex. I practically go out of my skull,
panting with my tongue out of my mouth, to see cock jammed into a
pretty girl's mouth. The first time I ever looked at my innocent wife
all I could imagine was how she'd look with my cock disappearing into
that pretty little mouth.
Conning Eileen into Stag Show Greatness
From the time my wife Eileen was 18, in 1960, till that incredible
first stag show, in 1966, I'd gradually manipulated the little dummy
into doing progressively more outrageous sex acts for me. Like first
getting her to suck cock. And then teaching her how to really suck
prick till it made the hair on my balls bristle. And then teaching her
to love getting a cock into her mouth. And the same for eating and
swallowing cum.
Eileen often said that she'd do anything, anything for me, just to
see me beaming at her with this enormously happy face. Usually I look
pretty serious. Not mad, but serious. I rarely smile. When I first
started training my Irish innocent, sexually, I'd never planned that,
at some time in the future, I'd end up showing off my naked Irish honey
in front of crowds of men, fucking and sucking my cock. I surely never
planned that I'd eventually be exhibiting my wife having sex with me,
and then, with more and more elaborate stag actor groups, and
exhibitionistic sex circuses, and that the act would happen over and
over again, in so many different places, with so many varieties of
settings.
When I married the 18 year old, in 1960, her belly full of my child,
I couldn't have envisioned that a mere six years later I'd be
encouraging one audience after another to fuck her holes en masse. If
you'd pardon the joke, the chance to fuck my wife in front of a bunch
of guys didn't just fall into my lap. We went on a long wandering
sexual journey before we ended up doing stags.
Without my knowing it at the time, I got some unexpected help out of
Eileen's past, when it came to conning the girl into having live sex
before a crowd. She'd never let on, until we'd been doing stags for a
while, that she'd been seduced as an 11 year old pre-pubescent girl
into showing off her pussy to a bunch of masturbating little Jewish
pigs. I think that one of the things that encouraged Eileen to go
along with my stag shows was that it gave her the chance to re-live
over and over that early pussy show she gave. My opinion. Eileen's
early exhibitionism gave me a "leg up", if you will pardon the terrible
dirty pun, in worming my wife into giving sex shows.
What started as one stag show didn't stop there. In spite of all the
filthy things she was conned into doing with her pussy and her mouth in
front of shocked and delighted audiences, and you'll read about them,
there is a strange irony, which my "customers" always commented to me
about, after they had witnessed one of her shows.
Eileen never acted twisted, or whorish. She looked and acted like a
freshman high school cheerleader. Exclusively male audience were
invariably stunned watching a pretty little thing like her with a huge
black cock pumping off gobs of cum into her mouth, while another black
guy would hold his his big black club in his fist, jamming the monster
up into the little housewife's cunt. It always looked like it was the
first time this outrageous thing had ever been perpetrated on her,
almost as if her husband had arranged for her to be raped by two black
studs in front of an audience.
What gave the entire thing its kick was the way I often compounded
the perversion, before the performance, by giving slide shows of Eileen
derived from our family album, or home movies, showing our wedding and
her life as an ordinary mother at home with her kids.
If you don't mind the aside, a pussy is just a pussy. It's like
food. Without the hype, without the enormous drama I concocted around
Eileen's stag, as a real showman at these performances, there would've
been nothing there. If I feed you hamburger in McDonalds, big deal!
If I give you a beautiful waitress, and red walls, and soft lights, and
a little sauce, this same crappy meat becomes "the experience of a
lifetime".
Bring in a whore to a stag, and it is pure "yawnsville". Who really
gives a shit? So she's going to fuck every cock in the place. Big
deal!!! That's what she does for a living. The girl is bored, the
audience is bored. Who the fuck cares, these days. You have to keep
looking for bigger and bigger "gimmicks". What the hell is so special
about watching fucking, unless there's some kind of "hook", something
that gets you in the gut. Which is why practically all the porno I see
these days is totally, completely predictable, and the most boring,
yawn-inducing crap in the world.
So, because my audiences knew Eileen was an ordinary housewife, and a
mother, it brought up their pricks straight and eager to be fucking the
woman. In contrast, regular whore stag shows were conducted with the
dregs, the really burned out whores who just couldn't give a damn.
Because Eileen was so conventional, in both the everyday style of her
life, and in appearance, well that was the ultimate kick for all of us,
for Eileen, for me, and for the fortunate Clubs that went along with my
very stringent conditions.
Young Eileen, Preparation for Stag Show Sex
Let me see if I can give you an insight into the girl, herself.
Eileen had grown up in a relatively stable home, even if it wasn't too
happy, with parents who were strangers to each other. She'd had a
mostly uneventful childhood, without any abuse. The little girl had
never been spanked or heard a voice raised in anger against her. And
with the few Irish Nannies that Mumsy hired, when Eileen was under 6,
that was quite an accomplishment. Mumsy had a thing about violence, so
she handed her child over to these very gentle and docile Irish woman
from the Old Country, which is also why Eileen hung onto her brogue,
even though she was brought up in NYC. The women were tickled pink to
have in their hands a very well-trained little puppy of a girl like
Eileen.
Then, later, Eileen had another brand of Nanny. That was after she
was over the age of six. These Nannies were lusty, hearty Jamaican
women. With accents that resembled her own Irish Brogue. Eileen
remembers these women with great love. Because she had these frankly
sexual, lustful black women in her early upbringing I think it
encouraged a hidden rebellious streak in Eileen. It gave her a chance
to give only surface obedience to the strict Catholic upbringing she
got, while inside she was felt more like a little Jamaican savage.
That freedom more or less neutralized the fearful Catholic background
in which she was growing up.
Eileen remembers these women as being very uninhibited about their
nudity around her. They encouraged her to go nude in front of them.
When she was a little six year old girl, still impressionable. Eileen
described to me the thrill of disrobing in front of them, and wanting
very much to disrobe in front of her mother, to shock Mumsy. That's
why Eileen worked with me so cooperatively the time I conned her mother
to join us in a nudist camp, with our kids, as a "family". That
experience allowed Eileen to live out a fantasy. Without Eileen
helping me manipulate her mother into the deal it would never have been
pulled off.
Anyway, these Jamaican Nannies of Eileen's had big asses, and were
always telling Eileen that she must be a little black girl, under her
white skin and blue eyes, because her bum was built just like theirs.
She'd be brought to their houses, during the days, sometimes, before
supper, and it was an erotic and free-wheeling atmosphere, with lots of
rum, and lots of men "feeling up" the women, in the most casual way.
Eileen thought she may have actually witnessed something like a real
sex act, but was never able to recall exactly what had gone on, it's
all fuzzy in her mind. On the other hand the experience wasn't
remembered as unpleasant, it was more something that happened in the
heat of the moment, accompanied by a lot of friendly laughter by her
Nanny, Constance. Maybe that's why it was so easy for Eileen to fuck
black studs with huge cocks, when I finally conned her into doing stags
with black studs, because of that early pleasant experience she
remembered.
My wife's fondest memories from childhood were those of her summers
in Camp, spent in the company of other kids. Mumsy was very stingy
about some things, in spite of the high-class upbringing she arranged
for her kid. Eileen's mother found it "an injustice" to pay "real
money" to send her kid to a camp. So, to save money Mumsy sent Eileen
to an uncharacteristically "un-posh" charity-sponsored camp. The place
was liberally peppered with black kids, also lots of Jewish kids from
liberal homes.
From the time Eileen was six or seven years old till she was 16, when
she was made a junior counselor, Eileen had a lot of immature weenie to
ponder over, because kids used to run around naked in the bunks, though
the initially shy Eileen never partook, in her earliest years. But
boy, did the little girl ever take it in with her eyes!! Eileen never
got over her curiosity about penises, from then on. And she confessed
to me that, as a little girl at these camps, she was utterly fascinated
by black cocks, based on having seen them when they were just
"sprouts".
Without knowing it, I even exploited those happy sensual camp
memories to give me totally outrageous pleasure, when we were deeply
involved in my more obsessive and risky sex adventures. That was when
I had my wife perform sex with under-age pre-teen boys. When Eileen
was sucking on a 12 or 13 year old boy's erect penis, or guiding it
into her mother-sized pussy hole she'd flush beet-red. It was a
sensation for the kids who were getting sucked off, or for members of
an audience watching her perform fellatio on a young cock, to witness
her blushing, to have visible proof of her deep embarrassment. It
really enhanced a sex performance beyond measure.
Eileen made no bones about it to me, she'd discovered that the
sensation of sucking off a kid's cock was the most intense orgasmic sex
she'd ever experienced in her life. It was almost like the dirty
movie, Deep Throat; Eileen claimed that a young cock shooting off a
load into her mouth brought her off to orgasm, all she needed was to
have her finger resting lightly as a feather on her clit at the same
time, just brushing her clit, and bang! that was it, Eileen's pussy
would be coming over and over and over again, getting wet as a shower
when there was an ejaculation by an immature penis into her mouth.
Eileen confessed to me way later, after she'd had sex with young
boys, that she'd gotten these deep crushes on little boys, like barely
pre-pubescent boys, or just pubescent boys, during the times she'd been
in camp, even though she'd been younger than they were, like when she
was in the seven to ten year age bracket. Even as a grown women such
newly pubescent boys stimulated her, sexually, even though she'd never
even mentioned it to me. Getting turned on by twelve year old boys was
Eileen's deepest, darkest secret, the one feeling about which she had
the greatest shame, but it was also like a time-bomb, when it came to
one of our performances.
This hidden part of Eileen only came to the surface after she'd had
sex with immature males at some of the freakier things I'd arranged, in
the latter part of our sex adventures. Eileen derived an interesting
insight from this, and an understanding of some male perversion. She
said that, if she got so much intensity from her relations with young
boys, then, for the first time she could understand why "dirty old men"
might get some outrageously strong reaction to sex with young girls,
though that didn't mean she could approve. She just understood it,
personally.
Eileen, as an only child was mostly neglected and left in the hands
of these Nannies. Eileen's father almost completely ignored her.
Mumsy was preoccupied with dragging Eileen to social functions. Mumsy
actually sent her daughter to a school to be trained in "proper"
manners, to be, in Mumsy's words, " a real lady". Mumsy succeeded.
But Mumsy never got to know her daughter as a real person. Eileen
behaved the way she was supposed to, acting like perfect little lady on
the outside. Mumsy accepted the right behavior from Eileen, insisted
on it, but behind Mumsy's back Eileen was always rebelling against
Mumsy in sneaky ways, which gave the little girl pleasure.
Eileen recalled for me, once an incident from when she was 13 or 14
years old. During those times she often would masturbate with Mumsy's
hairbrush handle, and not wash it off. One kick Eileen got from the
twisted sex acts I had her perform was when she'd kid me, giggling over
the idea of "what the neighbors would think if they knew", and likewise
what her mother would feel, if she ever knew what her "sweet" little
girl was doing. It gave the Eileen an enormous emotional jolt, doing
the forbidden and totally outrageous behind Mumsy's back. It also
allowed me to make my impossible fantasies real.
I knew none of this from the start, it all became revealed much
later. I think if I'd known at the time how rebellious she was about
Mumsy, consciously, and not so intrigued with how clever I was in
seducing Eileen into performing, I probably could've worked out an even
more exciting hype, with Eileen's cooperation, on the way I exploited
her Mumsy's nude photo, at stags. From that enlightened perspective I
suspect that it would've given Eileen a great huge kick to know that,
behind her Mumsy's back, I had dirty old men slobbering over photos of
her Mumsy's nudeness.
Eileen grew up pretty straight in the way she behaved, considering.
Out of necessity the young Eileen had developed tight friendships with
both boys and girls her own age, her peers, like most of the kids
growing up today. Since she was born in New York, in Manhattan, and
raised in a mixed ethnic neighborhood, the boys she was friendly with
were mostly Jewish boys. That's because the Irish Catholic males she
went to school with were tough little bastards who hated all manner of
females. They mostly punched the girls out, behind the Sister's backs,
or treated them with contempt. The Jewish boys who went to the public
schools, and who the little Irish adventurer Eileen had been attracted
to as a young girl, they were like forbidden fruit to Eileen. She
confessed to me that they almost seemed like women, underneath.
Eileen also confessed to me her impressions of practically all the
Italian boys she'd ever met, except for me. Eileen felt that italian
men were insincere, scheming, basically untrustworthy, with hidden
violence underneath. She said that she'd never, ever sensed that
violent quality in me. Eileen said that, as a matter of fact, I'd
reminded her more of the Jewish boys she had been charmed with.
Well, we both grew up in New York, which was loaded with Jews. Maybe
she caught that quality in me because I hung around with Jewish kids a
lot, when I was young. They were the only ones with wild sex ideas in
their heads who mouthed off about sex. Italian kids were just crude
and vulgar. In fact I was the first Italian male Eileen had ever let
inside the charmed circle. Also the first older person. I was her
substitute Daddy.
But Eileen sure missed the boat on my scheming, or maybe she actually
got a kick out of it. I certainly was not trustworthy when it came to
manipulating her so I could get my perverted sex needs met. On the
other hand I was sort of trustworthy about protecting her reputation.
It was in my own best interest to keep the sex game in business. But I
walked a very slender line in how well I kept the secret. I always got
excited over the prospect of exposing Eileen's activities to friends
and neighbors. However, I never went the distance, only because of the
mental damage that I feared this exposure might cause to my little
kids.
Impact on Our Kids
I needn't have bothered, as it turned out. Actually, our kids were
tougher than I thought. They told me, when they were grown, that
they'd caught on to the main thrust of what the two of us were doing,
it wasn't that big a secret from them. They'd overheard things, in
spite of all of our efforts. Little kids have big ears. As far as
they were concerned we were just their Mom and their Dad, and that was
it. For instance they, all three of the kids, knew that their Dad, for
one thing, took fuck photos of their Mommy. They evidently hadn't made
a big deal of that fact. It didn't mean anything, good or bad to them.
They had no sex curiosity at the time, or so they said to me as adults,
so the photos and "those other things" were just something that their
Mom and Dad, as "big people", did, just more silliness, as far as they
were concerned.
What surprised me more though, was that my son told me that those
kids had known for years that I'd been having his mother "have sex", in
his words, with other men. He'd evidently overheard me once, when he
was about eight years old, talking enthusiastically, but incautiously,
to some contact at a Club. Evidently I'd assumed he was asleep, and
had carelessly left my living room door partially open, instead of
locking it. I'd been very explicit as to what his mother was going to
do at the party, so my kid had a clear picture of what went on, though
none of it made much real sense to him.
So if we'd been "exposed" this would've been nothing new to the
kiddos. As a kid my son claimed that he'd made a kind of "kid's sense"
out of the conversation. It sort of bowled me over that my son had
known in a very vague way what the purpose of our trips was, when his
Gramma baby-sat the three kids during these over-night and over
week-end stag show excursions.
It was after I'd split with his mother. Here he was, in his
twenties, telling me these things. These incredible youngsters didn't
make any big deal of it. They'd always played Mickey the Dunce with
the two of us, for our benefit. As they explained it to me much later,
individually, when they were young adults, we two were the only parents
they had, and they adored us, no matter what we did for our sexual
amusement.
They loved us for the way we brought them up. They'd never been
physically punished, and had only rarely experienced a cross word
spoken to them. All three of our kids appreciated how much we played
with them as they were growing up, and and how we always treated them
adoringly. And they'd returned the love, and the trust. As a matter
of fact our kids confessed to us, when they'd matured to young
adulthood, that they's always felt they'd been treated with exceptional
love and affection, compared to their playmates. Their friends often
told them how much they envied them their parents. So no matter how
freaky the rest of the world would've thought we were, these kids were
loyal, they were really very strong little kids. Anyway, the
possibility of having our kids learn about our secret activities kept
me somewhat in line. That line disappeared when Eileen deserted me and
destroyed my porno collection of her photos.
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